Get Blondie. Carla Cassidy
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often in her life. She could only remember two other times. The first had been on that initial day and night she’d found herself alone on the streets of L.A. At eleven years old she hadn’t understood the deep ache and in any case it hadn’t lasted as the need to survive was far more important.
The second time she’d experienced this kind of lonely had been in the days and weeks after she’d walked away from Kane and the agency that had brought them together.
Even though she’d known she’d made the best choice for herself and for him, that didn’t stop her from missing him. She’d missed his smell, the cast of his smile and the way he looked at her when he wanted her.
She’d missed him, but she’d gotten over it. She’d gotten over him.
Maybe she was just feeling lonely because she missed her house, her things and her life. Surely it was a temporary emotion and would go away once this crazy job was done. The job, yes, that’s what she needed to focus on. Getting it done without getting killed, then forgetting Kane and the agency for good.
With this reassuring thought in mind, Cassie fell into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter 5
“Go away!” Cassie shouted the words from her comfortable burrow in the bed. The room was dark and her sleep had been dreamless and she sure wasn’t in the mood to face a new day.
The irritating knock fell again on her door and she fought the impulse to grab one of her knives, throw it, and see if she could impale Kane’s fist on the other side of the door. It would be wasted effort. Even if she succeeded he’d only knock again with his other hand.
“All right, all right,” she yelled and pulled herself upright in the bed. She looked at the clock, shocked to discover it was almost ten. She’d grown quite fond of the puke-green curtains that blocked the light of day in the early mornings.
She stumbled from the bed and to the door. She unlocked the chain and bolt, opened it to see Kane, then turned and hurried into the bathroom. She didn’t want to hang around and greet him in her nightshirt.
Shock rippled through her as she saw her reflection in the mirror. She still wasn’t used to the new look.
At the moment it wasn’t the new look that startled her, it was the fact that she looked like a zombie.
Red eyes stared back at her from the mirror, eyes that felt gritty from lack of sleep. The T-shirt she’d slept in bore tomato sauce testimony of the 2:00 a.m. piece of pizza she’d both eaten and managed to slop down the front of her.
For the past twenty-four hours she’d been on a marathon cram session, but unlike college students who crammed for an exam, she hadn’t resorted to junk food and caffeine pills to keep the adrenaline flowing. As far as she was concerned pizza wasn’t junk food and massive quantities of liquid coffee beat pills any day of the week.
Yesterday had been like the day before, with Kane spending hours in the room drilling her with questions about the woman she was about to become and about Adam Mercer. He’d been relentless, cold and demanding as a drill sergeant.
Under normal circumstances, she would have protested, but she knew he was working her hard to save her life. Along with trying to stay focused on the job and the questions he asked, she had to keep her mind away from him as a man.
She’d been almost grateful when he’d finally left the night before near midnight. At least with him gone she relaxed a bit more. She’d continued to go over the file for several more hours.
By 5:00 a.m. she had crashed, falling into a hard, dreamless sleep. Groggy and cranky were the two words that came to mind as she assessed her current mood. She changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt she’d left in the bathroom the night before. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, then ripped a brush through her hair to tame the errant blond strands. There, she felt better ready to face the day.
She left the bathroom and walked to where Kane sat at the table. Before him was manna from Heaven, two large foam cups of coffee and half a dozen various kinds of doughnuts.
Sinking into the chair opposite him, she reached for one of the coffees at the same time. He didn’t say a word to her until she’d taken a couple of sips. Smart man.
“Good morning.”
“I think it will be once I get about a gallon of this coffee in me,” she replied.
“You were never much of a morning person,” he said and reached for the only chocolate frosted doughnut in the bunch.
“If you take that one, I’ll have to kill you.”
He quirked a dark eyebrow up in amused indulgence and grabbed a glazed instead. “Drink your coffee, it will make you human.”
The problem was at the moment she felt far too human. Seeing Kane again, spending time with him brought to the surface memories of the often playful, always hot sex they’d shared years before.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, needing to keep her mind focused on the present and not on the past. That’s the way she survived all the pain and hurt of her childhood…day by day.
The half smile that had lifted one corner of his mouth disappeared and he leaned forward, his eyes glittering as he studied her intently. “The plan is up to you. If you need a day or two more to prepare that can be arranged.”
Cassie shook her head. “No.” She gestured toward the thick manila folder on the nightstand next to the bed. “I know the material backward and forward. You know that. I didn’t miss a single question yesterday when you were grilling me. Another day or two won’t make me any more prepared. I’m ready now.”
Kane reached for another glazed doughnut, then apparently changed his mind and dropped his hand on the table. “You realize you’re going in utterly alone. No wires, no cameras, and no real backup. If things go south you’re on your own unless you can contact me and, depending on the situation I might not be any good to you.”
An edgy adrenaline rush pumped through her veins, a rush she hadn’t felt since the last time she’d worked for the agency. “Things won’t go south,” she said with a touch of bravado. “But if they do I can take care of myself.”
For a moment their gazes remained locked, their past a haunting specter between them. She broke the eye contact. “I can take care of myself,” she repeated.
“Then we proceed with the plan.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “This is the key to your new set of wheels.”
“I don’t suppose it just happens to be a Jaguar.” She already knew it was that crappy old blue car in the parking space in front of her motel unit.
“Dream on. It’s a ten-year-old Ford Escort with a hundred forty-five thousand miles on it.”
“Des Moines, Iowa plates?” she asked, even though she knew it was a dumb question. Of course SPACE would see to it that every aspect of her new identity held up.
Kane nodded. “Licensed and tagged to Jessica Sinclair.” He held up the next key on the ring. “The key to your apartment. You already know the address from the file. This third key is to a safe house. I’m staying there. It’s a fifteen-minute drive from the safe house to your apartment. I can make it in seven.”
“You must not be driving a ten-year-old Escort,” she said dryly.
“I’ve got news for you. Not only are you driving an old clunker car, your new apartment isn’t exactly the Ritz, either.”
“Somehow I figured as much,” she replied and once again reached for her coffee cup.
Kane pulled a small spiral notebook from the breast pocket of his navy shirt. He ripped off the top sheet of paper and handed it to her. “This is the address to the safe house. Memorize it.”
She took the paper from him and looked at it: 7207N. Oak. The safe house was only a couple