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  “Ok.” Alina crossed her arms and nodded.

  “Two years ago, you're sent to Cairo to assassinate a terrorist named Johann Topamari. You get there, he walks out of a meeting, and he has the future Vice President of the United States with him. Right?”

  “Right,” Alina said slowly. “They walked out of the conference room and they were discussing hiring The Engineer.”

  “Did you hear who they wanted the Engineer to go after?” Damon asked.

  Alina shook her head.

  “No. They saw me at that point,” she answered.

  “So, you hear them discuss hiring The Engineer, and then all hell breaks loose,” Damon continued. “Fast forward two years. Ludmere is now the Vice President. Johann comes out of hiding and shows up, alone and without his security, in Pennsylvania. Everything has been carefully arranged so that he can enter the country and execute the largest terrorist attack since 9/11 on US soil. You're sent to take care of him and make up for your failure in Cairo.”

  “And The Engineer was sent to take care of the cleanup,” Alina said flatly. “This is a pointless exercise. Only one person knew I was in Cairo that day, aside from Johann.”

  “How do we know that he was the only person who knew you were there that day?” Damon asked. Alina frowned.

  “No one else was there,” she replied. Damon shrugged.

  “You don't have to physically be there to know something,” he retorted.

  Alina sighed and there was silence in the kitchen for a long moment.

  “All I'm saying is that, while we know the order for both the assassin and the terrorist came from DC, we need to be careful about jumping to conclusions on who gave the order,” Damon finally said, breaking the silence.

  Alina clamped her jaw shut and was silent. Damon was absolutely right. She had been convinced that the person responsible for everything was the person she saw in Cairo, the person who then moved on to become the Vice President of the United States. She had been so focused on him that she failed to consider any other possibilities. She had lost her objectiveness.

  And that made her furious with herself.

  Alina got up impatiently and went to the fridge. She yanked it open to pull out a beer and Damon watched her pop the lid off almost violently. He sat back thoughtfully. Alina was angry with herself, and that could only mean that she had never once considered the possibility that their mark could be someone else. That was uncharacteristic of Viper. She had a reputation for always playing devil's advocate. Viper always considered all the angles and all the possibilities. This time she hadn't.

  “You're right.” Alina finally spoke after taking a long pull from the beer.

  “I know,” Damon retorted.

  Alina stuck her tongue out at him, drawing a laugh from him.

  “We need Michael to start digging around,” she said, returning to the table, her temper back under control. “We need to find out exactly how the Engineer got into the country.”

  “I want to know who they wanted him to go after two years ago,” Damon said, moving on. Alina looked at him.

  “You think that will tell us something?” she asked. Damon nodded slowly.

  “Ludmere was meeting with Johann for a reason,” he said. “If we can track down why, I think it leads us to the proof we need.” He looked up. “And we do need proof. Charlie won't endorse you for long without it.”

  “Yes, I know,” Alina retorted. “Ok. You take that angle and run with it. I'll take Michael and see what we can find out from that direction.”

  The fourth laptop on the table beeped suddenly and they both looked at it, and then each other. Alina smiled slowly.

  “Speak of the devil, look who just logged in,” she said with satisfaction. “Here we go. Let's see where the Secret Service takes us.”

  She reached over, flipped the laptop open and started typing. A minute later the dark plasma on the wall came alive with a remote access view of Michael's computer screen. Damon watched her, his lips twitching.

  “So much for memory loss,” he remarked and Alina glanced up with a grin.

  “I told you I didn't hit him too hard,” she retorted.

  A phone rang shrilly, shattering the silence in the dark room, and the occupant of the bed groaned and rolled over. The second ring made her open her eyes with a start. She glanced at the illuminated numbers on her alarm clock. 3:27am. Another groan was followed by another ring. Reaching out blindly, she picked up the receiver.

  “This better be important,” she snapped.

  “You wanted to be alerted if there was any movement on the Gleason woman,” a male voice answered. She sat up on her elbow, suddenly awake and alert.

  “Yes?”

  “The FBI agent from Philadelphia was at her grave this afternoon,” the man told her. “Just paying respects, but I thought I'd better keep an eye on her.”

  “Good.” The woman stifled a yawn and sat up fully. “What happened?”

  “She went to the site of the accident and took some pictures. Afterwards, she went and talked to the mechanic,” the man reported and she pursed her lips, rubbing her forehead. “She's back at her hotel now, but it looks like she's poking around, looking for answers.”

  “Well, make sure she doesn't find any,” the woman snapped. “Keep watching her and report in tomorrow. Don't call me at the office. Call my private cell.”

  “Will do.”

  The man disconnected and she dropped the phone back into its cradle. Rubbing her eyes, she swung her legs out of bed. She had suspected that the agent would become an issue, but when three months went by without a murmur, she started to think that Ms. Walker had decided to leave it alone. After all, an accident was an accident.

  The woman got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Stephanie Walker was becoming a nuisance. She had been the one to ask the Gleason woman to poke around three months ago. Then, when she found out that she had been killed, she kicked up a huge fuss and demanded a full-blown investigation into the woman's death. That particular demand had necessitated a ton of extra paperwork and bribes. Even now, they still weren't sure that they had covered it all up. You never could be sure with something like that. In retrospect, the accident hadn't been the wisest of moves, but there was no point in crying over it now. What was done was done.

  The woman opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink and pulled out a bottle of antacids. Now Ms. Walker was poking around herself. What if she found another witness they missed three months ago?

  The woman popped two antacids into her mouth.

  No. They had covered it up. They hadn't let anything get by them. She had personally cleaned it all up, and it was clean. She didn't make mistakes with things like that. She couldn't afford to, not in her position.

  She switched off the light to the bathroom and went back to bed thoughtfully.

  Maybe it was time to put an end to Ms. Walker.

  She got into bed slowly. It would take care of the last person who could possibly have any suspicion over the Gleason woman, and it would have the added bonus of pulling Viper out of hiding. She had no doubt that Viper would show up if her FBI friend turned up dead. The woman settled back under the covers and stared at the dark ceiling.

  It would take care of two lingering issues at once.

  The woman closed her eyes and slipped back into sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Michael glanced at his watch as he waited outside the busy restaurant in Georgetown. His encounter with Viper had made him paranoid. He had been looking over his shoulder all day, watching everyone who passed him. Even now, he scanned the busy street again while he waited. Michael knew she wouldn't risk another meeting so soon, if ever, but he couldn't stop himself from looking. Especially now. After spending most of last night digging up information on this so-called Engineer, he had some questions for her.

  A cab pulled up to the curb and the back door opened. A very high black heel emerged, attached to a long leg. Michael glanced at the leg ap
preciatively and watched as the rest of the woman emerged. He wasn't disappointed. The long and slender leg was part of an equally sleek woman, dressed in a short and slinky black dress that was as stunning as it was simple. The high heels added inches to an otherwise average-height frame, drawing attention to those non-stop legs.

  The woman stepped onto the pavement and slammed the cab door shut, glancing around. Red waves swirled around her shoulders as she looked around the crowds on the pavement. Someone let out a low whistle and she smiled slightly, her dark eyes glittering. She caught sight of Michael, standing to the side of the restaurant entrance, and smiled at him. Michael was already smiling back when he realized with a shock that made his gut lurch that this had to be Alina.

  “Michael?”

  She moved across the flagged pavement towards him, still smiling, but somewhat hesitantly now.

  Michael swallowed and nodded, speechless. This was Dave's sister? He recalled her being attractive, but this was much more than what he remembered. She stopped in front of him, her dark eyes locking with his bemused ones. She held her smile, but was quiet, waiting. Michael realized suddenly that he was staring at her in total silence. He blinked, shook his head slightly, and smiled ruefully.

  “Lina!” he exclaimed, clearing his throat and holding out his hand. “I'm sorry. It's just that...well, you've changed.”

  Alina laughed and grasped his hand in a friendly handshake.

  “So have you!” she replied lightly. “It's been a few years.”

  “That it has,” Michael agreed, smiling at her warmly. He realized that he was still grasping her hand and let it go quickly. “Let's go in and get seated. I hope you're hungry. This place has the best prime rib in the city.”

  He motioned for her precede him through the doors, rebuking himself mentally as he followed her through the door and into the crowded restaurant.

  Good God, man. Get it together! So she's hot. A lot of women are.

  But they weren't his dead friend's kid sister and, as they approached the hostess stand, Michael was acutely aware of the fact that he was lusting after Dave's sister.

  “Reservation for two. Michael O'Reilly,” Michael told the hostess.

  She checked her monitor and nodded, motioning for a waiter to come forward.

  “Of course, Mr. O'Reilly,” she said. “Patrick will show you to your table. Enjoy your dinner.”

  Michael nodded and Alina smiled at him before following the waiter through the restaurant to a table tucked away in the corner. Her eyes scanned the restaurant as she walked, taking in every face at every table and noting all the entrances and exits to the large dining area with a single glance. She felt uncomfortable being out in public like this, and in Georgetown of all places. Half this room probably worked for an agency that was hunting for her. Her lips twitched despite herself. When she left the cabin, Hawk told her that she was insane. Alina wondered briefly if he was right. She was certainly experiencing a reckless thrill at walking past people who probably had their minions searching the world over for her.

  “Here we are.”

  The waiter stopped at the table in the corner and stepped aside. Alina smiled at him slightly and moved to the chair with its back to the wall. Michael seated himself across from her and the waiter handed them menus.

  “Can I get you a drink while you're looking at the menus?” he asked.

  Michael ordered a scotch and Alina ordered a glass of wine. The waiter nodded and disappeared toward the bar.

  “Best prime rib in the city, huh?” Alina asked, glancing at the menu. Michael nodded.

  “Trust me,” he said, looking at his own menu. “You won't be disappointed.”

  Alina glanced at him from under her lashes. He was dressed in black slacks and a light sports jacket that she knew was concealing his side arm. His skin was tanned and he had more freckles on his face then she remembered. His red-blond hair was more blond than she remembered as well, probably from the summer sun. He glanced up and his hazel-green eyes met hers. He smiled and she smiled back, dropping her eyes back to her menu. Michael O'Reilly had turned into a very handsome man.

  “Well, I don't know why I'm even looking at the menu.” Alina closed it with a snap and set it down. “You had me at prime rib. I'll trust you on this one.”

  Michael chuckled and set his own menu aside.

  “I've been thinking about steak all afternoon,” he admitted before focusing his attention on her. “How long are you in Washington?”

  “Just for the weekend,” Alina answered readily, sitting back in her chair. “I came in for a meeting.”

  “I'm glad you looked me up,” Michael told her. “I wanted to keep in touch after the last time we met, but I lost track of you when you joined up.”

  “Well, I heard that you had ended up with the Secret Service, so I took a chance and hunted you down,” Alina said with a smile, looking up as the waiter returned with their drinks.

  She scanned the restaurant quickly again while Michael gave their orders to the waiter. More diners had arrived and the restaurant was getting busy. They had arrived just before the rush.

  “I'm glad you found me,” Michael told her after the waiter had departed. “So tell me about yourself. What did you do in the Navy? It was the Navy, wasn't it?”

  He settled his arms on the table, focusing his full attention on her, and Alina was conscious of a twinge of discomfort. She felt like she was being examined.

  “Yes, it was the Navy,” she told him. “I ended up in military intelligence.”

  Michael's sandy eyebrows soared into his forehead.

  “Now there's a surprise!” he exclaimed and Alina smiled slightly.

  “For me, as well,” she agreed as Michael stared at her. “But there you have it. It also turns out that the whole marksmanship thing runs in the family. I turned out to be a pretty good shot myself,” she added with a quick grin and Michael chuckled.

  “Now, that doesn't surprise me,” he said, continuing to stare at her. Alina stared back and he shook his head slightly. “I'm sorry. I just can't imagine you...I mean...well, it's just a surprise,” he ended lamely.

  Alina's eyes had narrowed slightly during his stumbling and Michael didn't miss the sudden flash in her glance. It disappeared almost immediately and she was smiling again faintly, leaving him to wonder if it had ever really been there.

  “Because I'm a woman?” Alina asked softly, her fingers slowly spinning her wine glass. He looked up, clearly surprised.

  “What? No!” he replied. “Because you're Dave's kid sister!”

  Alina blinked and the simmering anger inside her receded as quickly as it had appeared.

  “What?” she asked, staring at him.

  Michael flushed slightly, but leaned forward.

  “I'm sorry,” he apologized earnestly. “You have to bear with me here. Understand that all I heard about you from Dave was the big brother talk. When I came stateside and saw you after he died, you looked like a lost soul. You looked like a kid sister, and that's what I remember. So, seeing you like this,” he moved his hand to encompass the two of them at the table, “is disconcerting, to say the least. Then, to hear that you were military intelligence, well...it's like you're all grown up. It's just not what I was expecting.”

  “Maybe we should have ordered pizza and beer and watched baseball,” Alina teased, her lips curving. He grinned.

  “No.” He shook his head and his eyes met hers. “I wouldn't change a thing.”

  “Neither would I.”

  Alina was glad that they had met like two adults for dinner. She was glad that she had worn this ridiculously sexy dress with the highest heels she had ever put on her feet. She had enjoyed the look of male appreciation in Michael's face when he watched her get out of the cab, and she was enjoying the obvious appreciation in his eyes now. Alina reached for her glass of wine. Regardless of the circumstances now, this man had been Dave's best friend. He became a part of her life before the military, before the Org
anization, and before she had forgotten what it was like to feel like an attractive, normal woman.

  “Good.” Michael sat back. “Besides, you're probably a Phillies fan, aren't you?”

  Alina laughed.

  “Absolutely,” she replied. “Wait. You're from New York, aren't you?”

  Michael winked.

  “Brooklyn, born and bred,” he answered. Alina rolled her eyes and groaned.

  “Definitely no football games,” she muttered. “I don't know if I can sit and eat steak with a Giants fan.”

  Michael burst out laughing.

  “You haven't tried the steak yet,” he retorted.

  Alina smiled at him and sipped her wine.

  “How did you end up in the Secret Service?” she asked after a moment.

  Michael shrugged.

  “It just fell into my lap, really,” he answered readily. “When I discharged from the Corps, everything just kind of fell into place. It's a good job. It has the structure and discipline I'm used to. You know, we have a lot of ex-military work with us,” he added. “What are you doing now that you're a civilian?”

  “I'm a consultant. Security,” Alina answered briefly as the waiter appeared with their dinners.

  Michael accepted her brief explanation without comment, turning his attention to the steaming plates of prime rib, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Alina watched the waiter as he arranged her meal before her, thanking him when he was finished. He nodded and disappeared again and she looked across the table at Michael.

  “This looks delicious,” she said and he looked up with a grin.

  “I told you to trust me.”

  Alina turned her attention to dinner as the thought crossed her mind that, while she would love to trust him, he couldn't trust her. And with that thought, she sighed silently, the smile fading from her lips.

  Damon checked his watch, glancing around the dark and deserted park. He was leaning against a tree, waiting, and a slight breeze ruffled his hair. He breathed deeply. It felt good to be out and about. Two days in the cabin in the woods had just about killed him, and he now had new respect for Alina. He was pretty sure he would go insane after three months of it.