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  “It smells like it,” she agreed, forcing the smile from her face.

  Michael scooped up his onions and dropped them into the bowl before starting to clean up. Alina sipped her wine and watched him put the remaining vegetables back in the fridge and wipe up the island. She waited until he had rinsed, dried, and put the knives back in the butcher block before speaking.

  “So, what's it like being stalked by a co-worker?”

  Michael swung around with a short bark of laughter.

  “I knew you wouldn't leave it alone! You're just like your brother!” he exclaimed. Alina grinned and sipped her wine. “She's not a co-worker. She works in the White House.”

  “Don't you work in the White House?” Alina asked, setting her glass down.

  Michael shook his head and poured himself a glass of wine.

  “No. I work outside of the White House.”

  “But you work to protect the person who lives in the White House,” she pointed out. “Therefore, it could be argued that everyone in the White House is, theoretically, a co-worker.”

  Michael set the wine bottle down and looked at her.

  “That's like saying the sailors on a destroyer were your co-workers,” he retorted and Alina chuckled.

  “Point taken,” she conceded and Michael sipped his wine. “So, what's it like being stalked by someone from the White House?” Alina asked, her eyes dancing.

  Michael started laughing.

  “You're really not hungry, are you?” he asked. Alina laughed.

  “Ok. I'll stop.”

  She picked up her glass and slid off the stool to come around the island to refill it. Michael took it from her hand when she reached him and picked up the wine bottle to refill it for her.

  “It's frustrating,” he told her, handing the glass back to her, “and a little awkward.”

  Alina thanked him and leaned against the counter, looking at him thoughtfully.

  “I can imagine it might be,” she said slowly.

  “Don't tell me you never ran into this problem.” Michael looked at her, his hazel-green eyes very close. “You must have had sailors chasing you all over the globe. I'm sure you know how awkward it can be to try to keep a professional relationship professional.”

  Alina thought of a pair of cobalt blue eyes and was pricked by a sudden feeling of melancholy.

  “It's not easy,” she agreed.

  “No, it's not.”

  Michael sipped his wine, his eyes studying her over the rim. The timer went off before he could continue and he set his glass down, turning toward the oven.

  “Where's your bathroom?” Alina asked, setting her wine glass down.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Down the hall on the left,” he answered.

  Alina nodded and turned to walk out of the kitchen as he was opening the oven. A blast of hot tomato and cheese-spiced deliciousness wafted through the kitchen, bringing with it a comforting warmth that teased long forgotten memories of laughter and family from her past. Alina frowned and pushed the unfamiliar feeling away. Finding the bathroom, she switched on the light and closed the door. Sighing, she looked at herself in the mirror.

  “Stop the emotions, Viper,” she hissed, looking at her reflection critically.

  Her cheeks were flushed slightly and her eyes were bright. Alina stared at herself for a long moment. The sudden rush of melancholy and fleeting memories of days long gone were a direct result of the wine and congenial teasing of an old family friend. The warmth of Michael's kitchen and the smell of the hot lasagna coming from the oven had combined to make her feel comfortable and relaxed. It was pure and simple.

  She was feeling the emotions of memories, and they had no place here. Not now, not ever.

  Alina took a deep breath. She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. They're going to kill you. Michael is under orders to find you so that they can kill you. And you're in his house, having dinner.

  “I must be out of my mind,” Alina muttered, grabbing the hand towel and patting her face dry.

  She replaced the towel and shook her head. Hawk was right. If she had an ounce of sense left in her, she would run as far away from here as possible and disappear.

  Alina was stepping out of the bathroom when she heard her phone beep from her purse. She frowned as she went back into the kitchen. Michael was on the phone in front of the bay window on the other side of the kitchen. He glanced at her and smiled, motioning that he would only be a minute. Alina nodded and pulled her phone out of her purse. She swiped the screen and glanced at the text message. It was from Hawk, and it was brief.

  You have company.

  Awareness streaked down her spine. Hawk was out there somewhere, watching, covering her back. Alina lifted her eyes from her phone as Michael hung up. She was just opening her mouth to suggest that he move away from the window when something flashed behind him outside and there was a loud crash. Glass shattered at both ends of the kitchen as oblong objects smashed through both the bay window where Michael was standing and the window above the sink simultaneously.

  Viper reacted purely on instinct. She had her gun out and cocked before the objects hit the floor. Diving behind the island, she took cover as one of the missiles landed on the other side. There was another shatter of glass and the smell of fire and gasoline filled the air. Scrambling to her knees, Viper moved quickly around the island to be confronted with the quick-burning flames from the remains of a Molotov cocktail. Without a second thought, she grabbed the lasagna from the top of the stove and dumped the pan, upside down, directly on the budding fire. Reaching over the edge of the sink, she flipped on the water and grabbed the spray nozzle. She yanked it forward and directed it onto the smoldering blaze at the base of the island. Flames were trying to escape the smothering lasagna pan and lick up the side of the island. At the first shot of water, however, they gave up. Staying below the edge of the counter, out of sight from the window, Alina held the water on the mess, ensuring the flames couldn't get hold of anything to give them life again.

  Glancing over to the other side of the kitchen, she saw that Michael had contained the fire on his side by ripping down one of the heavy curtains from the window and using it to smother the budding flames. Catching the flames before they had time to gain momentum and oxygen, Alina and Michael had both fires out within a few seconds. As soon as her fire was out, Alina released the spray nozzle. As it retracted back into the sink, she reached up and turned off the water.

  The acrid smell of smoke and gasoline filled the air and there was a second of complete silence. She looked across the kitchen at Michael breathlessly, her heart pounding. He had finished putting out his fire and their eyes met across the smoky kitchen. He motioned to the back door between them and she nodded, taking a slow, deep breath. Michael's eyes dropped to her gun and he raised an eyebrow slightly.

  Viper didn't notice. Her ears had picked up a noise from the front of the house. She pointed to the front of the house and he nodded to indicate that he heard it, motioning that he would take the new threat from the front. She nodded and turned her head to the back door just as the lights went out, pitching the house into total darkness.

  Alina immediately squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and held them closed for a few seconds. She opened them briefly and then squeezed them shut again, trying to acclimate her eyes to the sudden darkness as quickly as possible. She didn't have time to be temporarily blinded. When she opened them the second time, she was able to make out shapes in the darkness and, in the split second before all hell broke loose, Viper sensed rather than saw Michael move swiftly to the wall at the side of the hallway. Standing, she moved forward along the counter in the darkness. Her breathing steadied and her heartbeat fell to the regular, rapid tempo Viper knew so well. She was ready.

  When the back door crashed open, the first person through never knew what hit him. Expecting to still have surprise on his side, he never even saw the right hook that knock
ed him out cold. As he hit the ground, Viper raised her pistol and met the second intruder face to face, the barrel of her gun planted firmly on his forehead.

  In the darkness, she judged his height to be just under six foot and his frame solid. He froze as soon as her metal touched his skin and she watched his eyes widen in shock before he held his hands up in surrender, slowly starting to back out the door again. Before he had gone two steps, Viper heard the distinctive crack of a fist on a nose behind her, followed by a howl of pain. The howl was suddenly cut short and she turned her head in time to see Michael drop another intruder at the entrance of the hallway with a sharp hit on the temple.

  That split second was all her opponent needed. He stepped forward quickly and knocked her firing arm aside. Alina's gun flew out of her hand and landed on the floor a few feet away. Viper snapped her head back to the man and swiftly blocked his fist, aimed for the side of her head. A quick jab from her right fist made his head snap back. He stumbled awkwardly backward with the force of the blow and she took full advantage of his disorientation by delivering a hard kick to his sternum that sent him flying backwards out the door. Viper followed him out as he sailed over the few wooden steps leading up to the door, landing on his back in the grass a few feet away. Before he could catch his breath and sit up, a military knife was being pressed against his throat.

  “Who sent you?” Viper demanded, placing her knee on his chest and holding him flat against the ground.

  He was silent, staring up at her. Viper leaned forward until her face was inches from his.

  “I asked you a question,” she hissed, pressing the blade more firmly against his throat.

  The intruder gasped as the sharp blade broke skin.

  “I don't know!” he choked out. “We were hired by some kind of go-between. We were told it was an easy mark.”

  “Really?” Viper drawled. “What kind of mark?”

  “A man, ex-military, and we were paid to rough him up and get his laptop.” He was speaking freely now as blood trickled down his neck. “They told us he was a Marine. They didn't say nothing about a chick being here.”

  “Always be prepared for surprises,” Viper said. “When were you hired?”

  “Yesterday,” he muttered.

  “How many of you?”

  “Four.”

  “Paid cash up front?” Viper asked.

  “Yes.”

  He stared up at her and Viper considered him for a moment coldly.

  “Next time, I wouldn't take a job on an ex-Marine,” she finally told him. “They're very unpredictable.” She lifted her blade off his neck and he sucked in a deep breath. “I'm giving you one minute to get the hell out of here,” she told him calmly. “Tell anyone you saw a chick here and I'll find you and make sure that cut goes all the way through. Do you understand?”

  He nodded, his eyes locked on her cold ones. Viper nodded.

  “Good.” She slid her knife back into its holster on her ankle and lifted her knee off his chest. “Now run,” she whispered.

  He rolled away from her and jumped up, taking off into the night without looking back. Alina stood up and turned back toward the house. When she reentered through the back door, she heard a fight ensuing in the front of the house. The intruder Michael had dropped in the hallway was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the one she had knocked out. Alina glanced to the right and cursed softly.

  Her gun was also missing.

  She moved through the kitchen swiftly and into the dark hallway. The commotion was coming from the dining room and Viper stopped with her back to the wall next to the dining room door, scanning the stairs in the darkness. Seeing nothing there, she peeked around the corner into the dining room.

  Moonlight filtered through the front window, lending just enough light for her to watch Michael slam his opponent's head into the dining room table. A second figure was already inert on the floor a few feet away. The intruder that Viper had left unconscious on the kitchen floor was moving up behind Michael, her gun in his hand.

  Alina advanced silently in the darkness. Kicking the back of one of his knees, she grabbed the arm holding her gun as he stumbled and his legs buckled.

  “This is mine, thanks,” she informed him, wrenching his arm backwards at an awkward angle.

  His fingers released the gun as he cried out in surprise and pain. Removing the gun from his hand, Viper used it to hit him in the temple as she released his arm. He sank to the floor, once again out cold. Michael turned his head from where he was holding his intruder pinned to the table with a strong hand on the back of his neck.

  “You ok?” he asked. He didn't see Alina's cold smile in the darkness.

  “Yep,” she answered, tucking her gun back into the holster at her back. “Never better. You?”

  “Fine,” Michael answered shortly. “There's a circuit breaker box in the garage. There should be a flashlight inside the door. Think you can try to get the lights back on?”

  “Sure.” Alina glanced at the two men on the floor. “They won't stay out for long. You got them?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Yep,” he answered. Alina nodded and turned to leave the dining room. “Garage door is in the kitchen,” Michael added over his shoulder.

  Alina headed back down the dark hallway into the kitchen. The smell of burnt fabric, smoke, and chemicals combined with the lingering smell of now-ruined lasagna and she shook her head slightly as her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she was still hungry. So much for dinner.

  She found the door to the garage and opened it, feeling around inside. Her fingers touched a metal shelf and she felt around until her hand found a flashlight. Alina switched it on, playing the strong beam around the garage curiously. The fresh smell of wood and sawdust was overwhelming. Michael had turned it into a workshop, which had a wood-working bench and an electric table saw along one wall. Lawn mower, leaf blower, and snow blower were all lined up along the other wall and garden tools hung on the walls above them. In the center of the garage, there were two saw horses with what looked like a tabletop in progress laying across them. Alina raised an eyebrow in some surprise. Michael just kept getting more and more interesting.

  She stepped into the garage and located the circuit breaker box on the wall a few feet away. It was already open, and all the breakers were flipped off. Alina frowned and turned, guiding the flashlight beam around the garage again more slowly. The garage door was closed and a quick glance showed an electric door-opener hanging from the ceiling. Another trip around the walls revealed a window, on the side of the lawn tools. The light paused there for a moment and Alina tilted her head thoughtfully. Someone had entered the garage and flipped all the breakers off, and she was willing to bet heavily that it was not any of their intruders.

  She turned back to the breaker box with a slight smile, flipping them back on. Light poured out from the open door to the kitchen and she heard the sound of the refrigerator starting back up. Alina closed the box and switched off the flashlight, turning to go back into the house.

  As she stepped into the kitchen, one of the intruders came barreling out of the hallway. It was the one she had knocked out twice and when he spotted her, he looked wild-eyed and held up his hands, stumbling through the kitchen. Alina raised an eyebrow and watched as he stuttered unintelligibly and lurched toward the back door. He disappeared through it a moment later. She moved to the shattered window above the sink to watch him continue to stumble as he ran out into the night.

  Alina turned from the window, a faint smile hovering around her lips, and her eyes fell on the sopping, burned mess at the base of the island. Her momentary amusement vanished as her stomach rumbled again. She moved away from the window and around the island, bending to pick up her phone from where it had fallen to the floor. She dropped it back into her purse and headed down the hallway. When she entered the dining room, Michael had the intruder he had been holding against the table handcuffed in a chair. They were the only two in the dining room.
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  “Where's the other one?” she asked Michael.

  He glanced at her and she saw that he had an oozing cut on his cheekbone. Swelling on his jaw and split knuckles were testimony that the man in the chair had not gone down easily.

  “He took off as soon as he came to,” he answered.

  “I just passed their friend in the kitchen,” Alina told him. She looked at the remaining intruder, slumped in the chair. “What are you going to do with him?”

  She studied him curiously. He had brown hair and a brown beard and was built like a pit bull. He was probably still seeing stars, which would account for the vacant look in his face as his head lolled to the side. One eye was already swelling shut and blood was pouring from his nose.

  “Charge him,” Michael responded shortly.

  “He's bleeding onto your carpet.”

  They both looked down to where blood was dripping onto the carpet and Michael sighed, grabbing the back of the chair. He tilted it onto its back legs and dragged it across the floor and out the door of the dining room. Alina grinned as he continued out the open front door and onto the front porch. Turning the chair so their visitor was facing the road, he moved around it to stare down at him. Alina leaned on the door jam of the front door, her eyes scanning the dark front yard and street beyond. The neighborhood was quiet and still. The neighbors obviously hadn't heard a thing.

  “Who are you?” Michael demanded, bringing her attention back to the pit bull in the chair. Her eyes narrowed.

  Michael had handcuffed him with his arms behind the chair and Alina found herself staring at a Special Forces tattoo on his right bicep. She glanced at Michael and knew that he had already seen it. This was no ordinary hired thug like the others.

  “Who sent you?” Michael asked when there was no answer to the first question. Silence also greeted the second one.

  “He won't talk,” Alina said, shaking her head.

  Michael stepped back and glanced at her.

  “He'll talk eventually,” he replied grimly. “I'm going to get some ice for his nose.” He stepped back into the house, pausing next to her, his face inches from hers. “You're sure you're ok?” he asked softly, his eyes probing hers, and Alina smiled slightly.