CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 32
The colonel kept looking between him and Maddy. “Is there a problem, Hines?”
As if he had a choice. “No, sir.”
“Good. Forret, tell them what you’ve set up.”
“We’ve rented a house on the same street as the apartment complex where the Hamman family lives. You’ll monitor their activities from the house. We’re not sure of risk, but we’re taking this assignment very seriously, Jeffers. Hines will be doing surveillance and will be your backup. This is a joint operation with everyone known to God as part of the team. The idea of ISIS in Seattle has every agency on high alert.”
Maddy leaned forward on her elbows, intent on the details of their mission, while Forret continued. “You’ll work at the center. Hines will pose as your engineer husband who worked on the clean water project for the ICRC while you helped reunite displaced families from the war.”
Hunter felt a kick to the solar plexus. He was going to have to live with Maddy as her husband? The gods were really messing with him. It would take all his years of discipline to keep his hands off her.
Maddy’s gasp was loud of enough for everyone to hear. “I have to…I have to pretend Hunter is my husband?” Confident Maddy seemed to have trouble breathing as she sputtered and took several deep breaths. You’d think the colonel was sending her into the deep caves of Afghanistan.
The colonel spoke in his hard-hitting, clipped voice that made probies shake in their boots. Maddy, not recognizing the threat, or simply not intimidated, drummed her fingers in staccato rhythm on the table.
“Is there a problem, Jeffers?”
“No, sir, but…”
The colonel’s rigid posture got even tauter—never a good sign. “But what?”
“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t understand why I need a husband. I’m very capable of defending myself. I’ve just completed my black belt in the Marine Corps Martial Arts program.”
“I’m very aware of your skills in the martial arts,” the colonel said, clearly unswayed by her argument.
“Yes, sir.” Her response conveyed her frustration.
Darney rolled his chair back to take a closer look at Maddy’s body. As if he hadn’t already checked out every luscious inch. The slimy bastard. “Marines are trained in the martial arts?”
“We study Okinawan karate, judo, tae kwon do, kung fu, boxing, and jujutsu. It gives us an edge in hand-to-hand combat, enabling Marines of every size to fight and defend themselves, despite the size of the enemy.” Maddy spoke to Darney but looked directly at Hunter. What had he done to warrant those baby blues filled with animosity? He thought she was the perfect size.
“Forret, can you and Darney give me a few minutes with my men?” The colonel hadn’t missed their exchange.
Forret nodded. “Sir, if there is a problem, I’m happy to team up with Jeffers.”
It took all of Hunter’s control not to take the jerk down. He knew exactly what Forret meant by teaming up with Maddy, and it wasn’t restricted to working in the field. Hunter squeezed his hands on his thighs, trying to not react. He stood up and closed the door after the agents left.
Hunter recognized the way the colonel’s square jaw clenched in silence—not a good omen for Maddy. She had been worried about being reprimanded. Now she was in the fryer, and he couldn’t protect her from his superior’s wrath. Marines worked as a team. Her questioning of her assignment bordered on insubordinate.
“Hines, you didn’t report that there was friction between you and Jeffers.”
“Sir, this is as big of a surprise to me as it is to you. I didn’t know Jeffers found it difficult to work with me.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but knew the colonel heard it.
“Sir, I had no trouble on my last assignment with Major Hines. We worked well together, but I was on my own in the field. I don’t see a need for us to be living in the same house.”
The colonel shook his head. “These are conservative, religious women. To be accepted, you’ll need to be married. It will give you more leeway, help your cover.”
Hunter snorted.
“Another one of your side editorial comments, Major Hines?” Maddy chimed in a too-sweet voice.
“You think religious women are going to accept you when you dress in that kind of getup?” Hunter stared at her, trying to intimidate with his patented piercing look.
Not in the least bit daunted, Maddy bolted out of her seat and glared back. “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. If you weren’t a dried-up old stick, you’d realize this is the way women dress.”
Colonel Dawson chuckled. “You two are already acting like an old married couple.”
Maddy’s face turned beet red. She sat back down.
“Sir. For devout Muslims, the husband’s word is law. As you can see, Maddy will never be able to play the part of a subservient wife.” Hunter was as reluctant as Maddy to accept the assignment, albeit for very different reasons.
The colonel rubbed his square jaw with his thick fingers. “You’ll only have to pretend you’re married when you’re seen together in public. Is that too hard for you, Jeffers?”
That he allowed her such leeway was another surprising facet of the colonel’s relationship with Maddy.
“No, sir. I’ll have no problem. But, sir, I’m having trouble believing Major Hines can carry off his role as a caring husband.”
The colonel stood. “Your concerns have been duly noted, but this isn’t a choice for either of you.”
Hunter stewed over Maddy’s comment. If Maddy were his, he’d take tender care of her marshmallow center and her hard-ass persona.
Hunter turned toward the colonel. “Is there any information suggesting that the mother and sister are involved in any way?”
The colonel shook his head. “I doubt either one has any knowledge of Hamman’s activities. This is a fishing expedition to see if we can catch the big one.” The colonel rose and walked toward the door, then turned back. “Seems like you both have a lot of work to do. I expect you to expunge your existence in Seattle and move into the house on Tuesday…a young couple in love. This is the new face of fighting the war on terror.”
Chapter Three
Maddy held her M4 carbine while she mentally shifted through what she’d need, undecided whether to bring her rifle or not. Sorting through the entire contents of her rucksack wasn’t simple. Everything she owned was spread on the bedroom floor in Angie Hines’s apartment while she tried to decide what might be necessary for this unusual assignment. She had no reason to take the rifle, but as a Marine, her rifle and knife were as essential as makeup and hair products for other women.
The right side of the small bedroom held the leave-behind pile, mostly items necessary for an invasion assignment such as boots, cold weather gear, GPS, chem lights, med kit, first strike rations. Finally, after way too much dithering, she placed her rifle in that pile.
On the left side were the definite-takes—her Glock, three magazines, her knife, her urban survival kit, including her Bogota Mini go-to picks, a universal handcuff key that couldn’t be metal-detected, and straight and key-style shims.
Her sleep system gear wouldn’t be necessary since she would be living in a house with a husband. She shook her head. This next assignment was like nothing she had ever tackled. Translating and engaging with the women would be easy; the prospect of living with Hunter left her restless and nervous. She lifted her high heels. The light, strappy shoes had been worth the forty bucks to rile up Hunter. Her inner brat was still doing a victory jig.
Angie walked into the bedroom and caught her red-handed, gloating over the high heels and the effect they had on Hunter. “Are you working undercover as a prostitute?” Angie joked, knowing Maddy couldn’t share anything about her new assignment.
“No, I wore them to a meeting where I had to look the part of an office worker.”
Angie snorted. “There is more to this story. You were messing with someone. And why do I get the feeling it was my brother?”
Angie did the same covert work as Maddy and, like her half-brother, was a talented intelligence agent. Maddy got a crick in her neck every time she talked to her lanky roommate. And like her brother, Angie was almost always a head taller than anyone else in the room. She also had the same jet black eyes and full lips as Hunter. The differences between the siblings were that Angie was quick to laugh and had generous curves, whereas Hunter brooded and was rock-solid muscle.
Today, the prominent dark circles around Angie’s eyes looked like bruises against her yellow-olive skin. Maddy had heard Angie walking around the apartment in the middle of the night. Nightmares of IED explosions kept them both awake regularly.
Angie dropped to her butt and sat with her legs crossed on the floor next to Maddy’s sleep gear, holding a floppy-eared bunny against her chest.
“Was it like when we dressed in those tight skirts and tanks to put it to Joe Hunnex?” Angie howled with a deep laugh. “The asshole kept calling us ‘lesbos’ under his breath.”
“I’ll never forget the drool on the side of his open mouth and the difficulty he had swallowing when we sashayed into the canteen. I still have those dangly earrings somewhere.” Maddy grinned. “I was glad they kicked him out. He was no Marine. But I’d love to take down his two-hundred-pound flabby butt now that I have my black belt.”
She and Angie had worked their asses off to prove themselves to their male counterparts. But there were times when a woman needed to use her God-given gifts and audacity to rattle the male brain bias.
“Need to level the playing field with Hunter? Shake up his detached, analytical approach?” Angie’s dark eyes gleamed, showing way too much interest in Maddy’s relationship with him.
Maddy didn’t want to criticize Angie’s brother, but since she would soon be Hunter’s proxy wife and she hadn’t worked out how she felt about the hunky man… “Kind of.”
Angie snorted. “Fess up!”
“He’s good at his job, and he’s always professional, but…”
“You can tell me. He’s the brother I hardly know. But it was awfully sweet that he came to help search for me.”
Now it was time for Maddy to snort. “Sweet? Hunter, sweet?”
“I find it endearing to know he felt the need to protect me.”
“But that’s the problem. I almost prefer the sexist comments. At least you know where you stand with them. Hunter never says anything, but his dark, scrutinizing looks accuse me of not measuring up to his expectations. Somehow he doesn’t see me as competent.”
“Yeah, he’s got that you’re-a-problem look down perfectly. He uses his intense stares and size to intimidate people the same way our father did. The old man never raised his voice, but he’d give you one look and you felt two inches high. I guess it’s why Hunter and I are both Marines, still trying to prove ourselves to our departed dad.”
“What happened to Hunter’s mom?”
“His mother split for someone in my father’s battalion when Hunter was ten. Left him to be raised by our bitter father, a no-nonsense Marine.”
Maddy nodded. “That explains a lot. I try not to take his coldness personally. He never openly criticizes, but he looks at me as if I’m some sort of alien, newly arrived on earth, or I’m suspected of a horrendous crime. And I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a woman.”
“It’s definitely the woman deal. Nothing to do with your competency as a Marine. My brother has the hots for you.”
“I don’t believe it.” Then Maddy remembered the way his wide chest hitched and his face got two bright red spots when he first saw her all gussied up in her “office” dress and shoes.
“I’m sure he has some whacked up notion about women. My dad was pretty bitter, and he fed Hunter a lot of bullshit.”
“But your father married your mom. He must have loved her.”
Angie shrugged. “What kid understands why their parents got married?”
Maddy flashed on her girlhood memories of her parents. She remembered they loved each other.
“My father was handsome, just like Hunter,” Angie continued. “Big, muscular, black hair, with those same piercing eyes. My mom was older and lonely. I asked her once if she regretted marrying him, and all she said was if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had me. Kind of telling, huh?”
“I remember my parents laughing.” Maddy remembered a lot, but now, fifteen years after their car accident, she didn’t really know how much was real and how much was fantasy. But those daydreams had helped her survive in the crazy foster homes. “But I’ll never know if they were truly happy.”
Angie stretched her long legs “We’ll miss you at meetings. Everyone keeps asking about you.”
“I called Dr. Dagger and told her I’m on assignment and would be back to PTSD group as soon as I could. How are Shana and Lois?”
“Trying to forget.”
Angie had suffered the most traumatic experience of those in their PTSD recovery group. She and Angie had been part of a special group of Marine women trained to gather information from the local women in Afghanistan. They were working in a small village believed to be a hiding place for the Taliban.
Angie had become friends with a sweet, young mother with soft, doe-like eyes. She hadn’t spoken about what happened even once during the entire tour, but had shared the horrendous experience in their group. Angie had been waving goodbye to the mother who held her toddler in her arms when the IED exploded. Watching a child being blown to bits in front of you did things to your head. According to Dagger, seeing a child die was the most stressful of all war causalities.
“I’m tired of being ‘in treatment.’ I want an assignment,” Angie said.
“Yeah, I wish we could work together again instead of…” She caught herself before saying “with your brother.”
Maddy lifted her new suitcases. “I need to get going.”
Angie forced a laugh. “I promise this time I won’t go looking for you.”
“I’m sorry I disappeared. The terrorist group was moving, and I had to join them without any warning. I’m sorry I caused you and everyone else the worry.”
“No sweat. We all understood. And lucky you did…”
Maddy didn’t want to think about how close they’d come to a bomb exploding on Pier 69. “I’ve got to catch a bus. Not sure when I’ll be back.” With suitcases in hand, Maddy left the most permanent residence she’d had in years. She was on the move again.
Chapter Four
Hunter crossed his arms and leaned against the blue rental Prius. He checked his watch, acting impatient, a man waiting for his wife to arrive. Wife? He was a professional soldier, a top-notch intelligence officer, and the idea of a wife—not any wife, but Maddy—terrified him. This assignment made Belarus and Yemen seem like child’s play.
Before a dangerous mission, hours were spent in physical and psychological preparation. All possible complications were evaluated and their potential solutions considered. Like waiting during a pause in the Second Battle of Fallujah, this time he had no idea what to expect and no way to know how he’d respond to living with the spunky, sexy woman. The uncertainty left him feeling untethered and adrift, and he didn’t like the sensation. The unknown, unchartered waters of this assignment sent logic and control spinning.
He had no strategies for the complication of Maddy and his inexplicable, intense, driving attraction to her. She could bring him to his knees if he allowed her. But he had to keep the upper hand. He was the ranking officer.
He leaned away from the car and spotted the #14 bus barreling down Broadway. Maddy was crisscrossing the city by bus, obscuring any link to the apartment she shared with Angie.
He had fantasized about this moment, wondering what sexy getup she’d wear to bludgeon him with her sensuality. He knew he had been the target of her sexy outfit at their last meeting, knew she was messing with his head. He got how Miss Maddy Jeffers rolled, but she had no idea who she was messing with.
The #14, jammed with commuters returning from work, pulled up to its stop at Denny and Broadway. He told himself it was the heat making his palms sweat and his heart race. He took one slow, deep breath and focused. He was a career Marine, not an adolescent having his first wet dream.
But like an adolescent, he had wondered what she slept in. T-shirts and panties? A teddy? Or did she sleep in the nude? Those thoughts and fantasies were why he’d ended up with the busty blonde barista from Starbucks last night.
The bus hissed to a stop, and the doors opened so the hot and harried passengers could file down the steps. Maddy was one of the last to exit, carrying a flowered duffel bag over her shoulder. She was definitely not Marine-issue this afternoon in her skimpy denim shorts and a white tank top that showed off her toned curves. Desire and longing for Maddy thrummed through him.
The way Maddy blew the curls off her forehead while she descended the steps told him she was hot after her long bus ride. Her head was turned to the person behind her—a big, blond guy in a tight T-shirt with bulging biceps who carried her massive suitcase. His longish blond hair hung over his eyes as he tracked Maddy’s sexy walk like a hound dog. Hunter’s possessiveness and anger combusted.
Maddy watched while the guy placed her matching suitcase on the sidewalk. The dude angled over her, making a slow sweep of her body. Hunter started toward them with a burning need to break up the intimate moment.
Maddy shook her head and turned toward Hunter. She waved with her fingers in a girlish, non-Maddy way, and his heart picked up speed, as did his pace. He bolted across the fifteen yards to her. He shot his best I-can-kill-you-in-less-than-ten-seconds look at the surfer dude, but the guy was either stoned or too hot on Maddy’s tail to notice the danger.
Hunter stepped in front of Maddy, forcing the dude to step back. “Honey, you’re late.”
Maddy’s eyes widened in shock.
And, without any thought, simply responding to primitive, male instincts, he pulled Maddy into his arms. He felt her stiffen when he held her tight against him and kissed her—not a slight peck but a hot, possessive “you’re mine” kiss.
