Kate Donovan - Exit Strategy

“I almost think we have to,” she admitted. “I can’t take a chance on being here when Alexander Gresley arrives. He’ll recognize me, and he’d love to wring my neck.”

“Because?”

She outlined her adventure in London, adding solemnly, “See? Wild horses couldn’t keep me here any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“Unbelievable.” He rubbed his eyes. “Okay, we have a tentative deal. But if I sense the slightest hint of trouble, we leave right away. My call. Agreed?”

She nodded.

“Is there any chance we could turn Kell? Convince him to knowingly work with us against the Brigade?”

She shook her head. “He’s so sweet. But he’s obsessed with getting revenge against a system that abandoned him to torture and almost certain death. He hates America. Hates the establishment. And he craves being in a position of power, not for power’s sake, but just so he can finally feel safe.”

“I remember,” Ortega murmured. “Sometimes when they’d bring him back from a really rough session with Benito Carerra, Kell would be delirious. Ranting about his vision for a safer world.”

“Well, he found someone-or rather, a group of someones-that agree with him.” She slipped out of the bed and reached for her dress. “We’d better get back to him.”

“Don’t wear the same clothes. I want him to know what happened between us. Wear something sexy. Lots of leg. Something you’d wear for a lover afterwards.”

“Okay.” She smiled ruefully as she watched him dress in his Brigadier uniform. “Want to do me a favor?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“I had to overpower one of Kell’s guards so I could get his gun. He’s on the balcony, bound and gagged. And probably furious.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“His name is Carl. I had to act fast, or I never would have been so rough on him, even though he’s a pain in the ass. Tell him I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m the Brigadier,” Ortega reminded her. “I’ll tell him to suck it up.”

“That works, too.” She watched with wistful admiration as he strode onto the balcony. He was just what Jonathan Kell claimed him to be-a flawed man with heroic potential. Of course, she had seen the other side of him firsthand, and knew he wasn’t perfect. Then again, who was?

Hurrying into the bathroom, she dressed in sexy pajamas consisting of white silk shorts and a matching sleeveless tank top. Bare feet. No jewelry. Just the glow from Ortega’s lovemaking to adorn her.

When she returned to the room, Ortega was standing there, and from the look in his eyes she could see he approved of her outfit. But still she asked, “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse with regret. “I’ll always wonder what would have happened if…”

“Me, too.” She walked past him to the door, then smiled. “Showtime?”

“Yeah.”

He surprised her by taking her hand and leading her to the stairs. Then she remembered that this was Ortega-the master. Hadn’t he taught her to stay in character at all times, even when she didn’t think anyone was watching? They were lovers again-publicly and privately. And in these roles, they were going to kick some serious ass, mission-wise.

She had attributed her amorous behavior to role-playing, too, but she suspected Ortega had also been right when he blamed some of her friskiness on the power pill. Jonathan had said it best, hadn’t he? With the drug, there was no baggage. Just the here. The now. Forget about the past.

She had to admit, it had been amazing. Absolutely no regrets over making love with the man who had once been her nemesis.

But holding his hand? She wasn’t sure what to think about that. But he was right about staying in character, so she went along with him, imagining how Jonathan would react when he saw the Brigadier in full uniform, including his pistol, and “Jennifer” in skimpy loungewear.

But when they reached the drawing room, Kell was nowhere in sight, despite the fact Ortega had ordered him to stay put. It worried her. And apparently, it really worried Ortega, because his voice was close to a growl when he asked, “What the fuck? Where is he?”

“We were gone a long time,” she whispered soothingly. “He probably had to use the rest room. Or get a drink of water-”

“I ordered him to stay here,” Ortega said between gritted teeth. “Not to move a muscle! This is fucked. We’re fucked.”

“Shh…the guards aren’t around. That shows he isn’t suspicious, right? Let’s check his laboratory. And the bathroom. You scared him so bad, his stomach is probably twisted in a knot.” She gave an encouraging smile. “He’s ultraphobic, remember? And you’re his hero. The last thing he’d do is cross you.”

“Okay.” Ortega nodded. “We’ll check the lab and the bathroom. If we don’t find him, we’re outta here. Right? I mean it, Miranda.”

“We can use the back passage to get to the lab.” She waited until he had drawn his pistol, then she led him along the rear hall. “If he’s in there, don’t scare him again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ortega growled. “Worry about us, not him, will you?”

They reached the doorway to the lab, and Miranda scanned the room, which at first appeared to be empty. Then she saw a sight that sent a chill down her spine.

Jonathan Kell, curled in a fetal position in the far corner of the room, was so pale it bordered on lifelessness. On the floor in front of him were two paper cups, and she knew before she sprinted over to him what was in those stupid receptacles.

“Oh, Jonathan, no! You poor baby.”

He stared at her through bloodshot eyes. “I w-wanted to save you, J-J-Jennifer. I tr-tr-tr-tried-”

“Shush.” She cradled him against her chest, rocking him gently. “Oh, Jonathan. You did this for me? Oh, sweetie, I can’t believe it. You’re my hero, do you know that?”

“I d-didn’t take the pill.”

“But you tried to take it. With your delicate system, and all the possible side effects? You still tried to take it? To save me? Don’t you know what that means to me? Ortega!” She gave the pseudo-Brigadier an accusatory glare. “Say something.”

Ortega leaned down and said simply, “Pull yourself together, man.”

“Ortega!” She stared in disbelief. “Have a heart.”

“Come on, Jonathan,” Ortega insisted, ignoring Miranda’s criticism. “We’ve been through worse than this, haven’t we? We survived then. We’ll survive now.” Yanking Kell up by his shoulders, he reminded him firmly, “Breathe. In and out. Just like we did when Carerra had us.

“And don’t worry about your precious Jennifer,” he added with a wink. “She’s got something I want, so she’s safe. As long as she does what I tell her to do.”

Kell grimaced but made eye contact with Miranda. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip, then managed a flirtatious smile-for Kell’s sake. “Ortega and I came to an understanding, sweetie. So don’t worry, okay? We’re all in this together now.”

Miranda could only imagine what Ortega was thinking as they sat with Kell in his drawing room enjoying an impromptu dinner of sandwiches, fruit salad, beer and tea. The former SPIN director had traveled across an ocean. Left the sanctity of his mountain retreat. Risked his life. All to save her. And she hadn’t even said thank you? Instead, she was making a fuss over a lunatic who didn’t have the guts to save himself let alone someone else!

“My hero,” she crooned. “Have another sip of tea, Jonathan. Please? For me?”

Kell cuddled happily against her. “I’m fine. Just confused. I’m glad the Brigadier didn’t hurt you, but… He said you’re CIA-”

“She was CIA,” Ortega interrupted. “I’ve convinced her to join us.”