Kate Donovan - Exit Strategy

The problem was, she was beginning to think she might not be more than that. After all, she had made a gigantic mistake in South America, letting Angelina Carerra sneak up on her, thereby losing the HeetSeek documents. Now she had made a second strategic error in London, going to Gresley’s place alone even though she had seen firsthand what a depraved fellow he was.

It would be even worse with Kell, she knew. If she made a mistake-any mistake-she wouldn’t survive. He was so unstable, so prone to fits of paranoia, he would almost certainly overreact if someone dared invade his sanctuary. From all reports, there were dozens of armed guards and massive security at the fortress. Compared to that, Angelina’s guards and Gresley’s driver had been child’s play.

Which meant Miranda had two choices. She could return to the States and give Kristie a chance to plan a solid scenario for her. While that option might take days, even weeks, it would increase her chances for success, not to mention, for survival.

Or she could proceed with her original instinct and tap into Kell’s devotion to Ray Ortega, the man who kept him alive during weeks of torture, and then liberated him by shooting an arrow through his captor’s throat. It was a powerful image, and one she intended to invoke often.

Jonathan Kell loved Ortega. And Jonathan Kell had phobias. Enter Jennifer Aguilar, a woman who also loved Ortega, and was loved by him. And by coincidence, she had a nearly debilitating case of claustrophobia. The latter would be easy to feign, given the fact that Miranda really did experience mild discomfort and eventual panic in closed spaces.

As for feigning love for Ortega? That would be easier than she had expected, thanks to the experiences of the past week. She had grown to crave her sessions with the breathing technique, and credited it to a large extent with her success in South America and again in London. Her ability to stay calm, to think under pressure, had mushroomed, and she owed it to Ortega and Kell.

Beyond that, she had meant what she told Kristie hours earlier. She had stood over Gresley’s motionless body and had felt a surge of power-of domination and righteousness-like nothing she had ever experienced. Wasn’t that what Ortega had tried to explain to her?

I couldn’t handle it…

She hadn’t understood it then, but she got it now. And while she could feel superior for having resisted it to some extent, she had felt the pull-embraced the possibility, if only for a moment-and she understood that for a black ops assassin, the day could easily come where pulling back was no longer an option.

So what are you saying? she asked herself ruefully. You’re starting to like the guy? The guy who ruined your life?

No, she didn’t “like” him. But she was beginning to understand what had seduced him. And maybe she even understood his decision to banish himself, although it still seemed selfish and cowardly.

But at least he wasn’t a heartless monster anymore. That was progress.

And since she had to pretend to be in love with him, it was fortuitous that she had watched them together on the alibi video. The perfect couple, falling in love for the cameras. The perfect guy-charming, seductive, attentive. That was the Ortega she needed to focus on now.

He’s got zillions of good points, she reminded herself, opening her laptop and creating a document entitled “Ortega,” then dividing the page into two columns: Plus and Minus, as she had done countless times in the past when agonizing over a boyfriend.

It’s time to explore the kinder, gentler, sexier side of this guy, she told herself. So you can convince Kell how hooked you are.

Forcing herself to be honest, she made her first entry in the Plus column: The Best Sex Ever.

Why deny it? It was not only true, but amazingly so.

The second entry, “bronze flecks in his eyes,” was equally undeniable, and just the sort of thing a real girlfriend would count. Smiling ruefully, Miranda added “great body,” and “sexy smile,” followed by, “taught me the breathing exercises” and “taught Kristie to be a great spinner.”

Unfortunately, that seemed to be it, so she started on the Minus column, and within seconds, it was disturbingly longer. Worse, Miranda couldn’t help but notice that the entries in that column seemed a little more serious.

“Liar,” “criminal,” “ruined my career,” “uses other people, then throws them aside,” “refused to help his country when called upon,” “turns his back on his friends,” “frequents prostitutes…”

Miranda scowled. This wasn’t going as well as she had hoped.

Okay, so he refused to help his country this time. But what about all the times he did help it? Put that in the Plus column at least. And didn’t he save McGregor’s sister? Although, it’s kinda canceled out by the fact that he got her into danger in the first place.

She sighed, admitting that Ortega still wasn’t boyfriend material. On the other hand, didn’t high-priced call girls use slightly different criteria? For them, “best sex ever,” “generous,” “pays on time,” and “not too kinky” had to be the only criteria that mattered, right?

This was definitely going to take a little work. But when all was said and done, he was a hunk-and she was a normal female-so getting there might just turn out to be fun.

“You’re out of control, Miranda,” Kristie Hennessy announced to her empty apartment as she paced the floor, willing the phone to ring. “I should have stopped you. Call, dammit! Or I really will stop you.”

The spinner wasn’t accustomed to these feelings. She was always in complete control of her ops. And the few times she had decided to bend the rules or take outrageous chances, those had been her decisions! But somewhere along the line, Miranda had apparently mounted a coup.

If the phone conversation right after the Gresley incident had alarmed Kristie, the call from the London airport had been worse, and the last call, from Geneva, had scared her half to death. Her operative had been so full of herself-so frightening confident-Kristie had intentionally tried to make her feel insecure, even going so far as to refer to the poor girl’s father! But nothing had worked.

Miranda-or rather, Jennifer-was on a roll. Or maybe a “role,” given how completely she had embraced the part of Ray Ortega’s mistress. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been terrifying. After all of Kristie’s efforts to bring the two of them together, based on a show of heat in the video, Miranda was now going too far in the opposite direction, insisting that Ortega was a hunk.

A hunk? Kristie literally cringed as she remembered how giddy her operative had sounded. And while she had to admit it would probably fool Kell, at least temporarily, she feared what it must be doing to Miranda’s psyche. To her sense of self-worth. The CIA agent despised Ray, yet here she was, convincing herself that he was God’s gift. It was downright scary.

When the phone finally rang, she leapt on it, ready to threaten the rogue agent into submission. “Miranda?”

“Goldie? Are you okay?”

“Oh!” She sank onto the floor, loving the sound of McGregor’s husky baritone. “Hi, Will. It’s so nice to hear your voice.”

“You sound stressed. What’s going on?” When she didn’t respond right away, he demanded, “You were expecting a call from Miranda Cutler? I thought she was on vacation.”

Kristie took a deep breath, then admitted, “Miranda and I are getting to be pretty good friends these days. I’m worried about her, Will. She’s all alone, with a lot on her plate.”

“If she’s got you for a friend, she’s not alone anymore,” he observed quietly. “She’s lucky.”