Chapter 9
Chapter 9
I can’t, with her. I just can’t.
She’s…she’s so…imagine the most punchable person you’ve ever met and double it.
It’s either her or me on this island, and I was here first.
Jones sat staring at his computer a minute before wiping everything and starting over.
Ridge, you’ve got to get this woman away from me before I murder her.
He erased that also and sat back, sighing. Even though he hadn’t sent any iteration of the email, a little of the rage and tension had eased from his too-tight chest. Maybe what he needed was the catharsis of feeling like he had the option to get rid of Gum Lady. Typing the words, unloading on his unsuspecting computer, had felt like a therapy session. She was temporary; he was permanent. He could survive anything for a few days, even an obnoxious little spy.
He spent so long staring at his computer, imagining his hate letter to Ridge, that it felt surreal when his inbox dinged with an email from Ridge. Did I accidentally send him one? he wondered, feeling his face fill with heat. Ridge, he knew, would judge him for his inability to deal with Gum Lady. Grow up, Jones. He could practically hear his former lieutenant saying it, could feel the censure from a few thousand miles away.
But when he clicked on the email, it wasn’t a response to any of his. It was something wholly unexpected, a plea for help.
I was talking to the division head for your region, told him you interacted with his asset. He said there’s been no check-in and is concerned there’s a problem. I told him you’d make contact and deliver the message about a rendezvous.
The rendezvous was encrypted, using a familiar key, one that acted as a sucker punch of nostalgia to Jones. When he was in the SEALs, they’d developed their own code, using the date Ridge became their lieutenant as the key. It wasn’t hacker proof, of course, but it would slow down anyone nosy enough to peek into their private communication. Jones memorized the details and deleted the conversation, then leaned back and stared at his now-blank computer. He thought he was done with Gum Lady, but fate and Cameron Ridge had other ideas. This time, however, everything would be on his terms, and he wouldn’t let her get to him. No matter what.
T he best part of every job was the massage. Sometimes the spas themselves weren’t up to par, were dirty and not up to code. But the masseuse never lacked in skill. Some things were easy to hide. Dirty equipment was one of those things. But there was no way to hide being bad at touching people, if it was what you did for a living. For that blessed hour, Carol let herself go, let her mind drift and relax. Heaven, absolute heaven. At these moments she couldn’t believe she got paid for something so incredible. When the job got her down, this was what her mind returned to, the absolute bliss of having all the tension manually worked out of her body.
The room was the perfect warmth and smelled like plumeria. The masseuse applied the perfect amount of pressure in sweet, blessed silence. It was a no-brainer when Carol fell asleep, her head poking through the hole in the massage table like a squirrel staring out of its tree.
“Ahem.”
Carol heard the sound from far away but couldn’t at first figure out what was wrong with it. Someone is clearing his throat. Big deal. No reason to wake up.
“Ahem.”
There he goes again. Wait a minute—the masseuse was a woman. Why is a man closed in a small room with me when I’m only wearing a towel?
Abruptly, she sat up, belatedly remembering to grab the towel, too late to cover everything. Whoever her intruder was, he got a good glimpse of absolutely every part of her.
Except maybe he didn’t. The security guy stood by the door, hand firmly pressed over his eyes.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Not looking,” he said. “Very much not looking. Not a creeper.”
“That’s debatable. You know how you can tell you’re not a creeper? By not showing up in a woman’s room when she’s getting a massage.”
“In my defense, I waited until the massage was over,” he said.
“But not until I was dressed and out of the room,” she said.
“In my defense, I was afraid you’d get away.”
“Stop saying ‘in my defense.’ There is no defense for this. What is wrong with you? You tell me you never want to see me again and then you show up and see all of me.”
“I didn’t. Seriously, I only saw the towel. And maybe three freckles.”
“Oh, my lawsuit,” she said, pressing her hand over her mouth. “You are so fired, and this place is so shut down.”
“Oh, please. As if you have that kind of power,” he said.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” she said.
“Which brings me to the reason I’m here. Can I drop my hand?”
“No. Absolutely no.”
“My arm is getting really tired and you can’t possibly still be uncovered.” He scissored his fingers, peeking through the opening.
She made an indignant little sound and clutched the towel tighter.
Somehow he took that as agreement and dropped his arm. “See? You’re covered. We’re all good.”
Carol made a slow perusal of the room. “Is this one of those hidden reality shows? Is there some kind of camera set up to capture my reaction? Any minute a producer is going to jump out and tell me I’ve been set up and the security guy is not actually standing in my massage room, telling me he’s comfortable with my level of nudity. It’s the only possible explanation.”
“I got a message,” he said, deciding to ignore her outrage, outrage that had to be feigned. In her line of work, it was imperative to roll with the punches and be comfortable with anything.
“From God?” she asked.
“Close. From The Colonel.”
“Does he want you to be an ambassador for his delicious chicken?” she guessed.
He squinted, confused. “What?”
“I don’t know. What are you talking about?”
“I have to show you something,” he said.
Now it was her turn to press her hand over her eyes. “No, absolutely no. Look, I don’t know how you think this goes, but I was not hitting on you earlier. I have no desire to see anything you want to show me in this moment.”
Jones bit the inside of his cheek. She was a little funny when she was flustered and, as he’d expected, showing up unannounced in her room gave him the element of surprise. Maybe that was the key to dealing with her, to always keep her off kilter.
“It has to do with the reason you’re here.”
“To get a massage?”
“Not here, here. As in on this assignment.”
“What could you possibly have to show me?” she asked.
He sighed, becoming impatient all over again. “Look, could you just please get dressed so we can get out of here and get this over with? I have other things to do.” He didn’t, actually. But there was no need to tell her that. As far as she was concerned, he was taking time out of his busy schedule to help her, not tagging along on her more important/adventurous assignment like the pathetic hanger on he was now. I miss being in the game, he thought. So much that it was worth spending time with her if it meant he got to bask once more in that go-time feeling.
“Oh, I’m so sorry I interrupted your relaxing massage. Oh, wait, I didn’t. You can’t just come in here and demand I accompany you to an unknown location.”
“You know how this goes. These assignments are fluid, they don’t always go the way you planned. You get intel and plans change. This is me, telling you the intel is changing. But, being the altruistic person I am, I’m willing to help you.”
She was still studying him with the perplexed frown. “Are you telling me you’re going to show me something that’s going to change my mind about this assignment?”
“Yes,” he said, relieved she was finally catching up. She must wake up slowly, an odd thing for a spy who never knew where she might land. But sometimes biology couldn’t be helped.
“You promise you didn’t see anything when I sat up and the towel slipped.”
“Not a thing,” he said, maintaining unblinking eye contact until she finally looked away.
“Fine. Go away and let me get dressed, I’ll be out in a minute.”
He gave a little nod and slipped out the door, leaning against the other side with a smug smile. I lied bald-faced to a spook and she didn’t suspect a thing. This was one for the record books.
His conscience pinged, and he shoved it away. After all, he hadn’t seen much , certainly not everything. Just enough to know that Gum Lady wasn’t exactly the shapeless blob her layers of clothing and towels previously led him to believe. If he let himself dwell on it, he might admit she had a nicely rounded little figure beneath all the hate and anger. Not that it mattered anyway. When the interior was so unlikeable, it turned out it didn’t much matter what was on top. Turns out I do have standards, he thought, checking his watch for the time. It wouldn’t do to be late, but before he could knock on the door and urge her along, Gum Lady opened it and stepped out, arms crossed over her chest in what could only be a defensive pose.
“I have questions,” she said in the same snide tone that was quickly becoming her hallmark.
“Let’s walk while we talk. We’re on a schedule,” he said, turning to march determinedly toward the nearest exit.