Not What She Seems
'*****
Grant Collier was looking in the mirror, frustration on his face as he fussed with his tie. He was thankful that he didn't have to wear them for his typical line of work; if tonight weren't such a special occasion, he wouldn't fiddle with one even now. They were so aggravating, and he'd never quite mastered the art of getting them right.
"Hey, Grant!" greeted a familiar voice.
"Hi, Max," Grant responded, glancing at his watch. This was not a good time to chat with his friend. He didn't want to be late.
"I was calling to see if maybe you wanted to go hang out for a while," the blond agent suggested.
"Jim's off somewhere on IMF business, Shannon's in Tahoe visiting her sister, and Nicholas is at some black-tie thing at the University," Max answered.
Of course, Grant thought to himself. Always impeccably dressed, Nicholas was the one agent who could always figure out how to tie a tie - unlike himself.
"Plans?" Max echoed, and Grant could almost hear his eyebrow arching upward. "What, some IT convention or something?"
"No, Max," Grant replied, somewhat smugly. "It just so happens that I have a date."
Grant couldn't help but chuckle to himself, but he feigned offense. "What, is it so hard to believe that a woman might find me irresistible?"
"She just hasn't met me yet," Max quipped. "Come on, who is she? Where did you meet her?"
"Okay, fine," Max relented. "Have a great time," he added sincerely before saying goodbye.
Grant yanked his tie into place - or, at least, as close as it was going to get - grabbed his keys, and hurried out the door.
It had started innocently enough. Finally back in the States after a two-week mission, he'd taken a simple trip to the local grocery store to pick up some essentials. He was on his way to his car, both arms around his bag of groceries, when he heard the scream.
"Ahhhh! My purse!"
Within a few short strides, he had caught the man, tackled him, and wrenched the purse out of his grasp. He waited briefly until the police caught up with them and apprehended the suspect, then he made his way back to where he had last seen the woman.
"I believe this belongs to you," Grant smiled as he returned the purse.
"Thank you," she said softly as she returned his smile. She reached for the purse and her smile faltered slightly as pain streaked across her face.
"I'm fine, I..." Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes, her long dark lashes pointing to a hint of rosy pink which spread across her milk chocolate complexion and landed on her cheekbones. She looked up, and her mocha-colored eyes met Grant's. His breath caught in his throat. She was stunning.
"Mind if I take a look?" Grant asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The woman nodded her permission, and Grant gently removed the small jacket covering her right shoulder. The strapless dress she was wearing underneath revealed creamy skin, flawless except for the red streak crossing her shoulder, just the width of her purse strap.
Both Grant and the woman were trembling slightly at Grant's touch. "I could grab some supplies, dress it for you..."
"Thank you," replied the woman, "but I'm sure I'll be fine." She looked deeply into Grant's eyes. "Thank you so much for everything, Mister...?"
"Grant," she echoed, extending her hand. "I'm Sasha Dumont."
As they walked, they took the same path that the purse thief had taken, and Sasha looked down at the bag of groceries strewn and broken on the pavement.
"Are those yours?" Sasha asked.
Grant didn't answer, but the embarrassment in his eyes told the truth.
"I'm so sorry," she said sadly. "I'll be glad to replace them."
"But you have to let me make it up to you somehow," she insisted. "Can I at least take you to dinner?"
Grant started to protest, but Sasha's eyes were pleading. "I'd like that," Grant answered. "I'd like that very much."
"Meet me at McArthur's on Saturday? Six o'clock?"
"It's a date, then," she smiled. "Goodbye, Grant. See you Saturday."
Grant pulled into the crowded parking lot and immediately spotted the red convertible. He parked his car and glanced in the rear view mirror, again straightening his tie, feeling the butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach.
He went inside and glanced around the room. When his eyes fell upon Sasha, his breath caught in his throat. The spaghetti-strap white sundress contrasted heavily with her creamy dark skin and long black ringlets. She was breathtaking.
"Sasha!" he greeted warmly, grasping her extended hand and lifting it to his lips.
"Hello again, Grant," she replied with a smile as they sat down.
"You're not so bad yourself," Sasha answered. Then her cheeks turned bright pink again as she reached up and adjusted Grant's tie. "Although something tells me that tying ties isn't your strong suit," she smiled.
"So, Grant," Sasha began, "I'd like to know a bit more about my knight in shining armor."
"There isn't much to tell," Grant replied evasively. "I work as an IT specialist at a computer firm here in the city. Overall, it's a pretty boring existence."
He looked deeply into her mocha-colored eyes. "At least it was boring until four days ago."
"I actually just got into town," she answered. "Making a fresh start, I guess you could say." Her voice trailed off and she did not elaborate.
Grant sensed that there was a great deal more to the story, but did not want to press her further. Somewhat uncomfortable, he changed the subject slightly. "Have you found work here yet?" he asked gently.
"I don't think you'll have any trouble finding that kind of work," Grant answered with a smile.
"I was," Sasha replied quietly, her eyes looking down at her hands which were folded in her lap. "My boyfriend died in Afghanistan a month ago."
"Don't be," she reassured him hastily, trying to blink back the tears that were peeking at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't mean to put a damper on our first date. Let's talk about something else, okay?"
"Me too," Grant answered in the same tone. "I was wondering if, uh...if it would be okay to, uh..." Blast it, why was he stammering like a schoolboy? Why wouldn't his mouth work? "Can I see you again?"
He had dated off and on during high school and college, but very few of those relationships had been serious. Even the ones that were didn't have him wrapped around their fingers the way that Sasha did.
"I've been thinking of you, too," Sasha smiled through the phone. "I'm so glad you called. Why don't I pack us a picnic lunch and we'll go for a walk in the park?"
"Where have you been?" demanded Max. "I've been trying to reach you all day!"
"Sasha, eh?" Max grinned. "So are you going to tell me about her? How'd you two meet, anyway?"
"Sounds like you're smitten," Max answered with a smile, sincerely glad that the friend he loved like a brother seemed so happy. "So will you be seeing her tomorrow?"
"She's trying to restart the modeling career she had in Seattle," Grant explained.
Once Max had apprised him of the time and location, Grant said goodbye and hung up the phone.
Grant was uncharacteristically last to arrive; when he walked in, he found it impossible to hide the wide smile that covered his face.
The other team members turned to look at Grant. Jim and Max remained silent, but Shannon broke into a wide grin.
"Really?" Nicholas raised his eyebrows. He had known Grant for years but had never known him to be in a relationship before. The truth was, none of them had been. In their line of work, leaving at the drop of a hat and staying gone for days or weeks at a time, and with so much undercover work involved, it was just easier to remain single.
Grant shot a glance at Jim, who remained stoically silent, just the slight hint of a smile on his face. He sensed that Jim wasn't entirely comfortable with his new relationship or this conversation, so he kept his response brief. Afterward, Jim spoke about IMF business for an hour or so, and then the team dispersed to go their separate ways.
Grant nodded at Max, who was walking out beside him. Max slapped Grant's shoulder affectionately and took his leave, while Grant stayed behind.
"I'm happy for you," Jim assured him, "but we need to talk about the implications for our team if this turns out to be something serious."
"I told her I'm an IT specialist," Grant shrugged.
"I'll tell her I'm at a convention," Grant replied simply.
"You know I do," Jim answered with a smile.
After meeting with the team, Grant worked for a few hours at his IT consulting firm. When he returned home, there was a message on his answering machine from Sasha. She had returned from her interview. Grant immediately called her back.
Grant needed no further convincing. After freshening up and changing clothes, he jumped into his Lexus and headed to Sasha's.
"Grant, sweetheart, you're a thousand miles away," she said softly, taking his hand. "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"
"I promise," he replied, squeezing her hand. "So tell me about today."
Grant's face lit up in a wide grin. "Baby, that's great!" When she didn't echo his enthusiasm, his smile faded. "You don't seem thrilled."
Sasha sighed. "It's a fledgling agency, just getting started," she explained. "They don't yet have any large contracts so they don't have any working capital. They're willing to take a chance on me, and get my image out there, but I have to supply my own wardrobe and everything."
She looked up to meet Grant's gaze, and her eyes were filled with tears. "I don't have the money, and I can't ask my parents. So I guess I will just have to keep looking."
"How much?" he asked again, his tone insistent but gentle.
The tears began to flow down her cheeks unbidden. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Shhh," she interrupted, smiling and gently placing a finger on his lips. "Just sit here and hold me."
"I can't," he answered, though silently thrilled by the idea. "It wouldn't be right." He stood up.
"Me, too," Sasha smiled, as she began to undo the top button on Grant's shirt.
Grant chose his words carefully. "I just don't want you to feel...obligated," he said uncomfortably.
Sasha reached out to take Grant's hand. "Come on," she whispered softly, and Grant allowed her to lead him upstairs and into her bedroom.
Grant didn't have a window in his bedroom, and for a moment he couldn't figure out where he was. Then he saw the beautiful woman sleeping peacefully beside him, and he smiled to himself as he remembered the events that had taken place last night.
Grant snuggled back under the covers as Sasha giggled gleefully.
"I'm afraid so," he replied. "I want to run by the bank before I go to work."
Max was riding his motorcycle down Main Street when he caught sight of a familiar black Lexus parked in front of the First National Bank. Impulsively, he whipped into the parking lot just in time to see Grant stuffing a wad of cash into his wallet as he walked away from the ATM.
"I needed some cash," Grant replied evasively. Max waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.
Grant didn't know whether to smile or be angry with Max for keeping tabs on him. "So what if I did?" he said, somewhat defensively, as if he expected Max to judge him. "We're both adults."
Grant looked down at the pavement. "I think you can guess what he said," he answered quietly.
"I'll take care of it, all right?" he responded, more hateful than he intended to. He swallowed hard; when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I don't know how just yet, but I will figure it out."
Grant winked at him in response. "We'll see," he grinned.
Max pulled his helmet back onto his head, started his motorcycle, and sped toward his condo.
"What is it, Max?" he asked. "I know something's on your mind."
But Max was serious. "I trust your judgment, Nicholas. You're the most level-headed one of us."
Max sighed again. "You know the girl Grant's been seeing? Sasha? He stayed at her place last night."
"Maybe," Nicholas admitted, "but is it enough to raise concern? Probably not."
"Or someone," Max muttered.
"That's what I can't figure out," Max admitted. "I don't know, Nicholas. Call me crazy, but I have a funny feeling about this girl."
"I've been thinking about that," Max answered. "We all know how Jim feels about the team being involved in serious relationships, so I don't think Grant would ever bring her to meet the whole team. But he might introduce her to me, and I could try to find out more about her."
Grant left the money with Sasha, along with strict orders for her to return to the modeling agency and sign the contract. Then he put in several hours of working at the IT firm. At the end of the day, Grant stopped by his house long enough to grab some clothes and check his messages, and then it was back to Sasha's place.
And Grant could not deny that being with Sasha made him very happy indeed. He still couldn't figure out exactly what it was about her, but being with her last night felt so...right. He hadn't said anything yet, even though she had, but he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Sasha too.
He walked in and was greeted by the sweet smell of dinner and a gentle kiss from Sasha.
After a hearty dinner, Sasha made no secret about what was on her mind, but Grant stopped her.
Grant reached out to hug her. "Oh, honey, of course not!" he said quickly. "Quite the contrary. If we are going to be together, there's something about me that you need to know."
Grant sighed. "Well, it's sort of like working undercover, usually on matters of national security," he answered.
"Sort of," he agreed, "but not exactly. For security reasons I can't reveal who my employer is, but my team and I often have to leave with very little notice and never know how long we'll be gone. And most of the time I wouldn't be able to contact you while we're away."
At Grant's panicked look, she added hastily, "I'm not asking you to. It's just a question."
Grant reached up to caress her cheek. "You make me happy," he answered, matching her tone, and then he leaned in for a kiss.
"There are five of us," Grant replied, "and we're all good friends as well as professional colleagues."
Grant grinned. "He's a hell of a chef," he answered. "You won't be disappointed."
"Max," he greeted when his friend answered the phone, "Sasha wants to know when you'd like to cook for us."
"All right. Dinner's at six."
"I'm not thrilled about it myself, buddy," Max admitted, "but I can't seem to shake this feeling in my gut."
For a moment, Max's mind went back to the day Nicholas had been given LSD at the hands of a madman. A powerful hallucination had driven him to the point of nearly killing himself, and only the uncanny feeling in Max's gut had saved his friend's life.
"Speaking of that," Nicholas offered, "I spoke with Jim this morning. He's going to be off doing some research on Saturday for what may turn out to be a new mission. And I know that Shannon is not due back from her sister's until Monday."
"I'll let slip that there might be a mission soon," Max stated. "I'm sure he'll want to spend every waking moment with Sasha."
"You're welcome."
Then he took a step backward. "This is Sasha Dumont. Sasha, this is Max Harte."
"Thanks for having us," Sasha replied, and again Max found himself cringing internally at the way she said "us."
Sasha looked a bit flustered for a second but quickly recovered. "There isn't much to tell. I grew up in Seattle, went to a community college, and did some modeling afterward."
Grant reached over and took her hand in his. "Her boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan," he finished quietly.
"What was his name?" he asked quietly. "Maybe he served with my big brother."
The combination of her tone and the look that Grant shot Max told him the interrogation was over. There was silence for a few moments, then the conversation resumed with a much lighter tone. Max was not able to glean any more personal information from her.
"Take it easy, pal," Grant smiled, thumping his friend's back. "If you hear anything about that mission, let me know."
Max watched them get into a classy red convertible and set off in what he assumed was the direction of Sasha's apartment. He waited until he was sure they wouldn't see him, then he jumped on his motorcycle and followed them, staying a few cars behind.
Early the next morning, Nicholas met Max at the condo Jim used as headquarters for their team meetings. Nicholas, as the unofficial second in command, had a key, as well as the password to Grant's laptop.
"Piece of cake," Nicholas quipped, as he punched a few buttons, hesitated, then punched a few more. Finally, he was able to bring the facial recognition software up. A quick search brought Max's footage from the night before to view on the screen.
"I know," Max replied wryly, "and he seems so happy with her that I hope I'm wrong about her."
"Now, this is interesting," Nicholas commented. "Sasha Dumont is apparently an alias she uses for her modeling career. Her real name is Shelly Davis."
"Yes." Nicholas continued to press buttons on the keyboard. Then, abruptly, he stopped and drew in a sharp breath.
"He was in the service," Nicholas replied, his voice low, "but he didn't die there."
Max quickly read the article to himself:
"And why tell everyone he died overseas?" Max asked rhetorically, matching his friend's tone.
"There's more," he said softly. "Another article, a week later."
"I don't think we have a choice, Max," he answered. "If she did kill her last boyfriend, Grant may be in danger."
"I'll try."
"Impossible to trace," Max muttered. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Nicholas. "This is her address and the tag number on her convertible," he explained. "Do you think you can find out how they were paid for?"
"Thirty-five thousand dollars," Max replied, and Nicholas nodded.
Max and Nicholas shut down the laptop and carefully removed all evidence of having been at Jim's condo. They knew the elder leader would be returning in less than two hours.
"I had a message from Jim," he answered. "We have a mission in Africa, and we need to be ready to board a plane in six hours."
"If there's anything left by then," Max mused bitterly.
"Good."
"See you in a little while." Nicholas bade farewell to his friend, who broke the connection with one finger, then promptly dialed the unfamiliar number.
Grant took both of Sasha's hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes, taking in every ounce of her, memorizing her features.
Sasha rubbed her hand up and down Grant's arm. "It's okay, honey," she assured him. "Do what you need to do. I'll be here when you get back."
"You're amazing," he grinned.
"Keep these," he told her, as he jotted down the PIN to his debit card on a scrap of paper. "I won't need them where I'll be, and you might need something while I'm gone."
For the most part, the mission went off without a hitch. The team spent eight days in Africa shutting down a poaching ring that was using its blood money to purchase government secrets. They worked together seamlessly, as usual, and only someone who knew the team well would have known something was amiss.
"What?" Max responded, oblivious to what Grant had said.
Grant, not wholly convinced but sure he'd get no further, let it go. And so did Jim, for a few hours anyway.
"What do you mean, Jim?" Nicholas feigned ignorance but could not hide his nervousness.
Nicholas tried to look away, but Jim's ice blue eyes caught his brown ones and held fast. "Would this have anything to do with Grant's new lady friend?" he asked knowingly.
"It won't interfere with the mission," Nicholas murmured, "if we wait until the mission is over."
"You'll have it," Nicholas promised, and Jim nodded once more and left the room just as the teakettle began to sing.
"Jim knows something's up," Nicholas whispered tersely, "but he didn't press me for details. Said it can wait till after the mission."
Max sighed. "Okay. I'll try a little harder."
"Oh, come off it, Max," Grant scoffed, not even attempting to hide his anger. "You've barely spoken to me all week, and when you have it's been all business. That's not your usual m.o. and you know it. So level with me here."
"Then where would you suggest?" Grant asked condescendingly.
"All right," Grant agreed reluctantly, hating the idea of waiting but realizing that having what he guessed would be a private conversation on a busy airplane would be next to impossible.
"God, I've missed you!" he responded as he wrapped her up into a tight embrace and swung her around and around.
Grant grinned at her, and the two of them rushed up the stairs giggling.
"I can't," Grant answered, his voice filled with regret, both for leaving her again and for the half-truth he was about to tell so he could have dinner with Max. "After each mission, Jim always has a debriefing which we all have to attend. It shouldn't take long."
"We both wanted to talk to you," Nicholas replied vaguely.
"I'm not really hungry," Grant murmured, "but I will have some coffee."
"Yes," Max admitted. "There are some things about her that you need to know."
"I don't get it, guys. I'm finally happy with someone, and now you want to mess it up. Well, what if I just choose not to listen?" Grant's voice was getting tenser by the moment.
"Her real name is Shelly Davis," Max clarified.
"And her boyfriend didn't die in Afghanistan," Nicholas added quietly, ignoring Grant's comment and handing him a copy of the first article they'd found.
"That's none of your business."
"Which is exactly the amount of credit on Robinson's three credit cards," Nicholas chimed in. "We don't think that's coincidental."
"Well, you'd better make sure that's where it went," advised Nicholas.
Max stood up. "Grant, wait-" he pleaded.
And with that, Grant walked off.
Nicholas nodded and withdrew his hand, and Max followed Grant toward the men's room.
"Some friend," Grant scoffed.
"How dare you!" Grant seethed. In a split second, rage at Max's accusation overtook him. Without thinking, he thrust his right fist upward, making contact with Max's chin.
Grant looked at Max for a moment, then turned and walked away.
"Yeah," Max managed to reply. "My head hurts."
"You must have bumped your head on the way down," Nicholas observed. "Think you can stand?"
"We need to go," Nicholas said tersely.
"And if Grant confronts her..." Nicholas' voice trailed off, but he didn't have to finish the sentence.
"Good. You know the way to Sasha's place and can get us there in a hurry. Just don't wreck us."
Sasha, wearing a long silk robe, was waiting for him.
Grant's face was a mixture of emotions, and his jaw was set firmly. Sasha walked over to him and rubbed his arm.
"Sasha," he began, "did you use any of my cards while I was gone?
Sasha turned her back to him, unable to meet his eyes. "I just needed a few things," she said quietly.
Grant began walking toward Sasha, who still had her back to him, hands in her pockets. He had to look her in the eye. He had to know.
Too late, Grant realized the foolishness of his move, as Sasha Dumont took the silver pistol out of her pocket and aimed it squarely against Grant's chest. He froze, utter panic gripping him.
Grant squeezed his eyes closed in anticipation of the shot being fired. "Why, Sasha?" he cried out. "I loved you! I would have given you anything you asked."
"I wonder what's going on in there," Nicholas hissed, as he and Max peeked through a tiny crack in the blinds that covered the living room window. At the same time, they both noticed the gun that was being held against Grant's chest, and they sucked in their breaths.
"Diversion," Nicholas blurted out as he picked up a large rock from the outside of the apartment. It was all he could think of at the time, and he hoped Grant would know what to do. "Get ready, Max."
Grant was only vaguely aware of the apartment door being kicked open behind him and someone approaching him from behind. Instinctively, he knew it was his friends.
Nicholas placed his hands on Grant's shoulders. "It's all right, Grant," he said gently. "Give Max the gun."
"Just one question," Grant said quietly to the lady who'd just threatened to kill him. "Did you ever love me?"
As the sound of approaching police and paramedics got louder, Grant turned away from Sasha for the final time and walked out the open doorway.
It was a better question than "Are you all right?", because he knew that emotionally Grant wasn't all right and wouldn't be for quite a long time. But at least he could gauge Grant's physical injuries.
The police entered the apartment and took custody of Sasha Dumont, also known as Shelly Davis. Max joined his friends outside.
"I think I could use a drink," Grant responded, his voice low.
Grant managed a small grin as he handed Max the keys to his Lexus. "Just don't wreck us."
Grant gave Max's a hearty slap and climbed into the passenger seat of his car. Max got into the driver's seat and headed towards Macgregor's, with Nicholas' BMW close behind.
"I'm a fool," Grant chided himself. "A damn fool!"
"You guys were right all along," Grant muttered, "and I couldn't see it. Didn't want to see it."
"Yeah, I do," Grant countered quietly. "I was mean to both of you, and even after all that you saved my life." Grant smiled his thanks.
"I don't deserve friends like you," Grant said softly, looking down at his empty glass.
"I imagine it will hurt for a long time, buddy," Nicholas empathized.
"Thanks, guys," Grant smiled.
"Hey, Jim. What's up?"
Grant sighed. "Sure, Jim. Just let me take a shower and I'll be there."
After the team members exchanged greetings, Jim offered up the morning paper for them to read. The story outlined the arrest of Shelly Davis, who was a suspect in the murder of Tim Robinson of Seattle and the attempted murder and theft of property of one Grant Collier.
Jim looked at Max. "And I'm guessing that you found out the truth about her, and that's why you were acting strangely toward Grant on our last mission." Jim turned his gaze to Nicholas. "And you were involved somehow, as well."
Nicholas and Max shot a look at one another, knowing their leader would disapprove of their off-mission surveillance... and even wondering what Grant would think about his privacy being invaded.
Nicholas sighed and nodded at Max, who explained how he'd seen Grant withdraw money and assumed it was for Sasha. Then he and Nicholas took turns explaining how they'd set up the surveillance cameras and used Grant's laptop to utilize the facial recognition software as well as searching for the information they'd found in the Seattle newspapers. When they were finished, Jim sighed, got up from his chair and began to pace.
"But, Jim," he protested respectfully, "if they hadn't found out about Sasha's past, I'd probably be dead right now." Grant filled in the rest of the story, from the confrontation at Macgregor's to the discovery of the stolen cash to the scene at Sasha's apartment. "If Max and Nicholas hadn't known how dangerous she was, she'd have blown me away and then disappeared without a trace," he concluded.
Jim gave Max a fatherly smile. "Your intuition continues to be uncannily accurate, and your concern and loyalty to one another is what makes us such a great team."
"Yes, sir," replied Max, barely able to suppress a smile.
"We've learned a few things about Ms. Davis," the investigating officer, whose name badge said Helton, told Grant once he was finished. "Just as she used Robinson's money to finance her relocation to San Francisco, she apparently used your money to pay for an apartment at her next destination: San Antonio, Texas."
Grant shrugged in response.
Grant nodded. "Then why don't I feel any better?"
"How'd that go?"
"I know, pal," Max said sadly, realizing that it was going to take Grant a long time to heal but knowing that with time he'd be all right...with a little help from his friends.
Disclaimer:
I do not own either of the Mission: Impossible series or any of the characters therein. I receive no compensation or other tangible benefit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended. I am just a fan who enjoys taking the team out for an adventure every now and then.
Summary:
There’s a new lady in Grant’s life. Why can’t his friends be happy for him instead of so suspicious? When loyalties are divided, can the team stay together? Off-mission and focused on Grant’s personal life.
*****
Chapter 1
Grant Collier was looking in the mirror, frustration on his face as he fussed with his tie. He was thankful that he didn't have to wear them for his typical line of work; if tonight weren't such a special occasion, he wouldn't fiddle with one even now. They were so aggravating, and he'd never quite mastered the art of getting them right.
Suddenly, the telephone rang, which only increased his frustration. Cursing under his breath at the interruption, Grant answered it.
"Hello?" he spoke into the receiver, trying hard not to take his irritation out on the innocent caller - whoever it was.
"Hey, Grant!" greeted a familiar voice.
"Hi, Max," Grant responded, glancing at his watch. This was not a good time to chat with his friend. He didn't want to be late.
"Look, Max-" he began, but Max wasn't listening.
"I was calling to see if maybe you wanted to go hang out for a while," the blond agent suggested.
"Where's everyone else?" Grant queried, hoping to divert his lonely friend's attention.
"Jim's off somewhere on IMF business, Shannon's in Tahoe visiting her sister, and Nicholas is at some black-tie thing at the University," Max answered.
Of course, Grant thought to himself. Always impeccably dressed, Nicholas was the one agent who could always figure out how to tie a tie - unlike himself.
Grant sighed. "I'd love to, Max, but I have plans already."
"Plans?" Max echoed, and Grant could almost hear his eyebrow arching upward. "What, some IT convention or something?"
"No, Max," Grant replied, somewhat smugly. "It just so happens that I have a date."
"A date?!" Max cried, incredulous. "You?"
Grant couldn't help but chuckle to himself, but he feigned offense. "What, is it so hard to believe that a woman might find me irresistible?"
"She just hasn't met me yet," Max quipped. "Come on, who is she? Where did you meet her?"
"What is this, twenty questions?" Grant asked. "Look, Max, I'm supposed to meet her in fifteen minutes and I don't want to be late. We'll talk tomorrow, and I'll tell you all about her, all right?"
"Okay, fine," Max relented. "Have a great time," he added sincerely before saying goodbye.
Grant yanked his tie into place - or, at least, as close as it was going to get - grabbed his keys, and hurried out the door.
*******
As Grant drove his black Lexus toward the fancy eatery known as McArthur's, his mind wandered back to the events of four days before.
It had started innocently enough. Finally back in the States after a two-week mission, he'd taken a simple trip to the local grocery store to pick up some essentials. He was on his way to his car, both arms around his bag of groceries, when he heard the scream.
"Ahhhh! My purse!"
Grant turned to see a young woman picking herself up off the sidewalk outside the grocery store. He started to rush over to check on the woman when a man carrying a woman's purse came running by him. Instinctively, Grant knew this was the purse thief. Dropping his groceries, he broke into a run in pursuit of the man.
Within a few short strides, he had caught the man, tackled him, and wrenched the purse out of his grasp. He waited briefly until the police caught up with them and apprehended the suspect, then he made his way back to where he had last seen the woman.
She was still standing in the same place on the sidewalk, the crowd that had gathered around her now dissipated. Grant was relieved to see that she seemed unhurt.
"I believe this belongs to you," Grant smiled as he returned the purse.
"Thank you," she said softly as she returned his smile. She reached for the purse and her smile faltered slightly as pain streaked across her face.
Grant immediately sobered, concern piercing his soft brown eyes. "Hey, are you all right?" he asked gently.
"I'm fine, I..." Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes, her long dark lashes pointing to a hint of rosy pink which spread across her milk chocolate complexion and landed on her cheekbones. She looked up, and her mocha-colored eyes met Grant's. His breath caught in his throat. She was stunning.
"I guess when that creep jerked my purse off my shoulder, the strap must have pulled a bit. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Mind if I take a look?" Grant asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The woman nodded her permission, and Grant gently removed the small jacket covering her right shoulder. The strapless dress she was wearing underneath revealed creamy skin, flawless except for the red streak crossing her shoulder, just the width of her purse strap.
Grant whistled softly. "He got you, all right. It's a pretty good size abrasion, but your skin isn't broken."
Both Grant and the woman were trembling slightly at Grant's touch. "I could grab some supplies, dress it for you..."
"Thank you," replied the woman, "but I'm sure I'll be fine." She looked deeply into Grant's eyes. "Thank you so much for everything, Mister...?"
"Grant," he answered, his breath hitching in his throat. "Grant Collier."
"Grant," she echoed, extending her hand. "I'm Sasha Dumont."
"Pleased to meet you, Sasha," Grant smiled as he took her hand. "May I walk you to your car?"
"Sure," Sasha replied, then she realized with embarrassment that she was still holding Grant's hand.
As they walked, they took the same path that the purse thief had taken, and Sasha looked down at the bag of groceries strewn and broken on the pavement.
"Are those yours?" Sasha asked.
Grant didn't answer, but the embarrassment in his eyes told the truth.
"I'm so sorry," she said sadly. "I'll be glad to replace them."
"No need," Grant assured her with a smile as they reached her red convertible.
"But you have to let me make it up to you somehow," she insisted. "Can I at least take you to dinner?"
Grant started to protest, but Sasha's eyes were pleading. "I'd like that," Grant answered. "I'd like that very much."
"Meet me at McArthur's on Saturday? Six o'clock?"
"I'll be there," Grant promised as he opened the driver's door for her.
"It's a date, then," she smiled. "Goodbye, Grant. See you Saturday."
Then she drove away, leaving Grant staring after her.
Chapter 2
Grant pulled into the crowded parking lot and immediately spotted the red convertible. He parked his car and glanced in the rear view mirror, again straightening his tie, feeling the butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach.
He went inside and glanced around the room. When his eyes fell upon Sasha, his breath caught in his throat. The spaghetti-strap white sundress contrasted heavily with her creamy dark skin and long black ringlets. She was breathtaking.
As soon as she saw Grant, she stood up at her seat and waved. Grant strode across the room.
"Sasha!" he greeted warmly, grasping her extended hand and lifting it to his lips.
"Hello again, Grant," she replied with a smile as they sat down.
"You look stunning," Grant smiled.
"You're not so bad yourself," Sasha answered. Then her cheeks turned bright pink again as she reached up and adjusted Grant's tie. "Although something tells me that tying ties isn't your strong suit," she smiled.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Grant asked sheepishly, silently thrilled to feel her fingertips brush against the underside of his chin.
"So, Grant," Sasha began, "I'd like to know a bit more about my knight in shining armor."
"There isn't much to tell," Grant replied evasively. "I work as an IT specialist at a computer firm here in the city. Overall, it's a pretty boring existence."
He looked deeply into her mocha-colored eyes. "At least it was boring until four days ago."
Sasha smiled and lowered her eyes. "And what about you?" Grant asked.
"I actually just got into town," she answered. "Making a fresh start, I guess you could say." Her voice trailed off and she did not elaborate.
Grant sensed that there was a great deal more to the story, but did not want to press her further. Somewhat uncomfortable, he changed the subject slightly. "Have you found work here yet?" he asked gently.
"Not yet," Sasha answered. "When I was in Seattle, I worked as a model. I guess I was hoping to find something like that here."
"I don't think you'll have any trouble finding that kind of work," Grant answered with a smile.
Sasha blushed. "You know, Grant, I was really nervous about asking you to dinner," she confessed. "I was afraid you'd turn out to be in a relationship already."
It was Grant's turn to blush. "Nope," he replied. "And I'm surprised that you aren't spoken for yet, either."
"I was," Sasha replied quietly, her eyes looking down at her hands which were folded in her lap. "My boyfriend died in Afghanistan a month ago."
Grant's heart came up in his throat, as instinctively he reached out to grasp her hand. "Oh, Sasha, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"Don't be," she reassured him hastily, trying to blink back the tears that were peeking at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't mean to put a damper on our first date. Let's talk about something else, okay?"
For the next two hours, Grant and Sasha talked and laughed until they felt like they were old friends by the end of the evening. As Grant walked her to her car and opened her door, Sasha took his hand in hers.
"I had a really nice time, Grant," Sasha said quietly.
"Me too," Grant answered in the same tone. "I was wondering if, uh...if it would be okay to, uh..." Blast it, why was he stammering like a schoolboy? Why wouldn't his mouth work? "Can I see you again?"
Sasha smiled broadly. "I was waiting for you to ask," she answered. She reached into her purse, got out a piece of paper and a pen, and jotted down a number. She pressed it into his hand as she kissed his cheek. "Call me," she whispered, then she got into her car and he watched her taillights disappear into the dusk.
Grant glanced down at the piece of paper he held in his hand, and absently reached up to touch his cheek, still warm from the gentle pressure of her lips. After spending two hours with Sasha, he didn't know much more about her than he'd known before their date. What he did know was that whoever this mysterious creature was, he couldn't wait to see her again.
Chapter 3
Grant was scarcely able to sleep that night, and when he did sleep he dreamt of Sasha. He wasn't sure what it was about her, but she certainly had him spellbound.
He had dated off and on during high school and college, but very few of those relationships had been serious. Even the ones that were didn't have him wrapped around their fingers the way that Sasha did.
He couldn't wait to talk to her again. He managed to make it until 10:00 before he finally picked up the phone and dialed her number.
"I've been thinking of you, too," Sasha smiled through the phone. "I'm so glad you called. Why don't I pack us a picnic lunch and we'll go for a walk in the park?"
"That sounds great!" Grant responded. He jotted down directions to Sasha's apartment, quickly changed clothes, then got into his Lexus and sped away.
*******
Grant and Sasha said their goodbyes and parted ways at eight that evening. Grant had scarcely been home ten minutes when his telephone rang.
"Hello?" he greeted, smiling through the phone, half expecting Sasha to be on the other end of the receiver.
"Where have you been?" demanded Max. "I've been trying to reach you all day!"
"Hey, Max, sorry about that," Grant answered, recalling his promise to talk to his friend today and tell her about the new woman in his life. "I was out all day with Sasha."
"Sasha, eh?" Max grinned. "So are you going to tell me about her? How'd you two meet, anyway?"
Grant told Max how he and Sasha had first met. "She's something else, Max. She's beautiful and smart and funny. I don't know what it is about her, but I just want to spend every single moment with her."
"Sounds like you're smitten," Max answered with a smile, sincerely glad that the friend he loved like a brother seemed so happy. "So will you be seeing her tomorrow?"
"Doubtful," Grant replied, and Max could hear the disappointment in his voice. "She has an interview tomorrow."
"An interview?"
"She's trying to restart the modeling career she had in Seattle," Grant explained.
"Well, maybe you'll have time to come hang out with the rest of us," Max suggested. "Jim just got back from a business meeting and wants to bring us up to speed."
"Yeah, that sounds nice," Grant replied absently.
Once Max had apprised him of the time and location, Grant said goodbye and hung up the phone.
*******
The next morning, everyone gathered at Jim's condo, the same place they usually met when they were being briefed on an upcoming mission.
Grant was uncharacteristically last to arrive; when he walked in, he found it impossible to hide the wide smile that covered his face.
"It's about time you got here," Nicholas teased. Then, catching sight of Grant's giddy smile, he added, "And what are you so happy about?"
The other team members turned to look at Grant. Jim and Max remained silent, but Shannon broke into a wide grin.
"Yeah, Grant, what's going on?" she asked. "You're positively glowing!"
Grant shot Max a pointed look. "You mean you didn't tell them?"
Max grinned and held up his hands. "Hey, it wasn't my place to tell," he answered. Then, seeing Grant's nod, he continued. "Grant met a girl."
"Really?" Nicholas raised his eyebrows. He had known Grant for years but had never known him to be in a relationship before. The truth was, none of them had been. In their line of work, leaving at the drop of a hat and staying gone for days or weeks at a time, and with so much undercover work involved, it was just easier to remain single.
"So what's she like?" Shannon wanted to know.
Grant shot a glance at Jim, who remained stoically silent, just the slight hint of a smile on his face. He sensed that Jim wasn't entirely comfortable with his new relationship or this conversation, so he kept his response brief. Afterward, Jim spoke about IMF business for an hour or so, and then the team dispersed to go their separate ways.
As Grant started toward the door of Jim's condo, Jim called his name.
"Yes, Jim?" Grant responded, turning around.
"Can we talk for a minute?"
Grant nodded at Max, who was walking out beside him. Max slapped Grant's shoulder affectionately and took his leave, while Grant stayed behind.
"Grant," Jim began tentatively, "you seem very happy in this new relationship."
"I am," he responded curtly, sensing where the conversation was headed.
"I'm happy for you," Jim assured him, "but we need to talk about the implications for our team if this turns out to be something serious."
Seeing Grant's expression change slightly, Jim held up his hand. "Don't get defensive, Grant. I want you to be happy. We've just never had to talk about this before."
Grant nodded wordlessly as Jim continued. "Have you told her about your occupation?"
"I told her I'm an IT specialist," Grant shrugged.
"Don't you think she'll wonder why you disappear at a moment's notice and you're not even able to tell her when you'll return?"
"I'll tell her I'm at a convention," Grant replied simply.
"And she won't question why she can't go with you? Why she won't be able to get in touch with you while you're there?" Jim asked gently.
Grant sighed. "Look, Jim, I know you're just being cautious, but I'll take care of it. Without placing the team at risk. I just need some time to think." His dark brown eyes met Jim's bright blue ones. "Do you trust me?"
"You know I do," Jim answered with a smile.
Finally, Grant smiled back. Jim had made some valid points, and if Grant was going to be with Sasha he did have some thinking to do. But it didn't sound like Jim was asking him to give up.his relationship. Good thing, too. Grant cared deeply about his teammates and believed in the IMF; he would never do anything to cause harm to either. But, honestly, if Jim had forced him to choose between Sasha and being part of the team, He wasn't sure if Jim would have liked his choice.
Chapter 4
After meeting with the team, Grant worked for a few hours at his IT consulting firm. When he returned home, there was a message on his answering machine from Sasha. She had returned from her interview. Grant immediately called her back.
"Hi, sweetheart," he greeted when she answered the phone.
"Hey, yourself," Sasha replied. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too," Grant smiled. "How'd it go?"
"Why don't you come over?" Sasha suggested. "I made dinner."
Grant needed no further convincing. After freshening up and changing clothes, he jumped into his Lexus and headed to Sasha's.
*******
On the way, Grant couldn't stop thinking about his earlier conversation with Jim. He knew that if he continued to see Sasha - and he sincerely hoped he did - he would eventually be called out on a mission and would have some explaining to do. He dreaded that day, for several reasons.
He tried to put the thought out of his mind once he arrived at Sasha's apartment, but she quickly noticed that something was amiss as they sat down to dinner.
"Grant, sweetheart, you're a thousand miles away," she said softly, taking his hand. "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"
Grant flashed her a smile. "I'm sorry, hon," he said dismissively. "Just some crazy work related stuff. It's not important."
"Are you sure?"
"I promise," he replied, squeezing her hand. "So tell me about today."
Sasha smiled demurely. "Well, they offered me a contract."
Grant's face lit up in a wide grin. "Baby, that's great!" When she didn't echo his enthusiasm, his smile faded. "You don't seem thrilled."
"Oh, I am," Sasha assured him, but her voice was without conviction.
"But?"
Sasha sighed. "It's a fledgling agency, just getting started," she explained. "They don't yet have any large contracts so they don't have any working capital. They're willing to take a chance on me, and get my image out there, but I have to supply my own wardrobe and everything."
Sasha's eyes were downcast. "When my boyfriend died, I had to get away from my old hometown. Too many memories. My dad gave me his car and paid my rent for six months to give me a chance to make a fresh start. But I know it took everything he had."
She looked up to meet Grant's gaze, and her eyes were filled with tears. "I don't have the money, and I can't ask my parents. So I guess I will just have to keep looking."
Grant was moved by the tears in Sasha's eyes. This was her dream, and there was no way he could watch this opportunity pass her by and not do anything to help.
"How much do you need?" he asked quietly.
Sasha shook her head vehemently. "No, Grant-"
"How much?" he asked again, his tone insistent but gentle.
Sasha named a dollar amount, then quickly added, "but, Grant, I couldn't ask you-"
"You didn't ask," he interrupted softly. "I want to do this for you, Sasha. I'll get you the money in the morning."
The tears began to flow down her cheeks unbidden. "Thank you," she whispered.
Grant reached up to gently wipe a tear from her cheek, and Sasha trembled at his touch. She looked deeply into his soft brown eyes, and then they drew closer until their lips met.
The kiss was electrifying, and time stood still as Sasha melted into Grant's arms. After a moment, Grant withdrew, breathless and feeling his knees weaken.
"Sasha, I-"
"Shhh," she interrupted, smiling and gently placing a finger on his lips. "Just sit here and hold me."
*******
"It's getting late," Grant whispered, reluctantly removing his arm from Sasha's shoulders. They'd been sitting on her sofa, talking, for hours. "I'd better go."
"Grant," Sasha replied, grasping his arm, "why don't you stay?"
"I can't," he answered, though silently thrilled by the idea. "It wouldn't be right." He stood up.
"Don't you want me, Grant?" Sasha asked quietly, as she stood facing him.
Grant felt his body lurch with desire. "Of course I do," he responded, his voice husky.
"Me, too," Sasha smiled, as she began to undo the top button on Grant's shirt.
He grasped her hand, stopping the motion. "Sasha," he said softly, "are you sure this is what you want?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she replied, matching his tone. "Why can't you believe that?"
Grant chose his words carefully. "I just don't want you to feel...obligated," he said uncomfortably.
Sasha knew he was referring to the money he'd promised her. "Grant, that's not what this is," she promised, squeezing his hands. "I know we just met, but I think I'm falling in love with you. And it has nothing to do with the money."
Sasha reached out to take Grant's hand. "Come on," she whispered softly, and Grant allowed her to lead him upstairs and into her bedroom.
*******
The sunlight peeking through the window woke Grant from a peaceful slumber.
Wait. Sunlight?
Grant didn't have a window in his bedroom, and for a moment he couldn't figure out where he was. Then he saw the beautiful woman sleeping peacefully beside him, and he smiled to himself as he remembered the events that had taken place last night.
Grant felt a slight movement beside him. Sasha opened her beautiful mocha eyes and smiled at him.
"Good morning, beautiful," he whispered.
"Good morning, love," she responded. "Last night was amazing."
"It sure was," he replied huskily, leaning over to give her a soft kiss, "but I gotta go to work. What time is it?"
"A little after seven," Sasha answered. "We've got some time...."
Grant snuggled back under the covers as Sasha giggled gleefully.
A few minutes later, Grant stepped out of the shower, dressed, and sat down on the sofa to slip his shoes on. Sasha brought him a cup of coffee, and he accepted it gratefully as she sat down beside him.
"Do you really have to go?" she asked, her eyes shimmering.
"I'm afraid so," he replied. "I want to run by the bank before I go to work."
"Grant," she began, but he held up his hand.
"We've already talked about this, Sasha," he declared. "Let me do this for you. I'll go get the money right now and bring it back to you before I go to work."
He kissed her tenderly. "Be right back," he grinned.
Chapter 5
Max was riding his motorcycle down Main Street when he caught sight of a familiar black Lexus parked in front of the First National Bank. Impulsively, he whipped into the parking lot just in time to see Grant stuffing a wad of cash into his wallet as he walked away from the ATM.
"Hey, pal!" he greeted warmly as he cut the engine and removed his helmet.
"Max!" Grant responded as he walked over to greet his friend with a handshake. "What are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood," Max quipped. "How about you?"
"I needed some cash," Grant replied evasively. Max waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.
"I tried to call you last night," Max stated. Grant said nothing, but Max didn't miss the faint blush on his cheeks. "You stayed with Sasha, didn't you?" he grinned.
Grant didn't know whether to smile or be angry with Max for keeping tabs on him. "So what if I did?" he said, somewhat defensively, as if he expected Max to judge him. "We're both adults."
"Hey, man, don't get mad," Max pleaded, thrusting his palms in the air. "If she makes you happy, I'm good with that. I just wanted to ask you what Jim said after our meeting yesterday, that's all."
Grant looked down at the pavement. "I think you can guess what he said," he answered quietly.
Max nodded. "Did he ask you to break up with her?"
"No," Grant replied, looking up at Max. "He just told me that if I continued to see her, I'd have to figure out how to explain some things. I told him I'd take care of it."
"How, Grant?"
"I'll take care of it, all right?" he responded, more hateful than he intended to. He swallowed hard; when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I don't know how just yet, but I will figure it out."
Grant glanced at his watch, then he reached out to slap his friend's arm affectionately. "Hey, I gotta run. I got something to do before work." Grant started walking toward his Lexus.
"You going to be home tonight?" Max asked.
Grant winked at him in response. "We'll see," he grinned.
Max lingered until he saw Grant pull out of the parking lot. He wasn't headed toward his apartment or his IT firm. Max reasoned that he might be headed toward Sasha's, and he got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Max pulled his helmet back onto his head, started his motorcycle, and sped toward his condo.
********
"Hello?"
"Hey, Nicholas."
"Max, how are you?" Nicholas greeted his friend.
"I'm okay," Max sighed, and Nicholas immediately noticed that something was off in his friend's voice.
"What is it, Max?" he asked. "I know something's on your mind."
"It may be nothing," Max conceded. "You can tell me if I'm jumping to conclusions."
Nicholas chuckled. "What makes you think I'll know?"
But Max was serious. "I trust your judgment, Nicholas. You're the most level-headed one of us."
"Except for Jim," Nicholas protested.
"I can't talk to Jim," Max replied quietly. "Not about this."
"So what is it?" Nicholas asked, his interest piqued.
Max sighed again. "You know the girl Grant's been seeing? Sasha? He stayed at her place last night."
A smile curled across Nicholas' lips. "Is that what's bothering you?"
"He's only known her for a week," Max reminded him. "Don't you think that's moving pretty fast?"
"Maybe," Nicholas admitted, "but is it enough to raise concern? Probably not."
"There's more," Max said softly. "This morning, I saw Grant at the bank withdrawing a pile of cash."
"And?"
"I've known Grant for years, Nicholas. He never uses cash for anything. He's always whipping out that credit card."
"Maybe he needed it for something special."
"Or someone," Max muttered.
Nicholas paused as the implication set in. "You think he's giving it to Sasha?"
"That would be my guess."
"But why?"
"That's what I can't figure out," Max admitted. "I don't know, Nicholas. Call me crazy, but I have a funny feeling about this girl."
Despite his own concerns, or lack thereof, Nicholas knew better than to dismiss Max's intuition; it had saved his life more than once. He sighed. "So what are you planning to do about it?"
"I've been thinking about that," Max answered. "We all know how Jim feels about the team being involved in serious relationships, so I don't think Grant would ever bring her to meet the whole team. But he might introduce her to me, and I could try to find out more about her."
Max paused, and Nicholas could almost hear him running his hand through his hair. "If I get some information," he said tentatively, "do you think you could help me run it through some of Grant's gadgetry?"
"Sure, Max," Nicholas replied, "if it will make you feel better."
"I just don't want to see Grant get hurt," Max mumbled. "If it turns out to be nothing, I'll be as happy as anyone." Max glanced at his watch. "I'd better let you go. You have a class to teach. Thanks, Nicholas."
"You're welcome," he answered fondly. "Let me know what you find out, okay?"
"Will do," Max agreed, and he said goodbye to his friend.
Chapter 6
Grant left the money with Sasha, along with strict orders for her to return to the modeling agency and sign the contract. Then he put in several hours of working at the IT firm. At the end of the day, Grant stopped by his house long enough to grab some clothes and check his messages, and then it was back to Sasha's place.
As Grant drove to the upscale apartment, he mulled over the message he'd received from Max. He wanted to meet Sasha, he'd said, and had asked Grant to talk to her to see when would be a good time. Briefly, Grant wondered if Max could have an ulterior motive, especially given their chance meeting at the bank this morning but then Grant chided himself. Max was a good friend; he probably just wanted to meet the woman that had made his friend so happy.
And Grant could not deny that being with Sasha made him very happy indeed. He still couldn't figure out exactly what it was about her, but being with her last night felt so...right. He hadn't said anything yet, even though she had, but he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Sasha too.
Grant's heart filled with dread as he thought about the conversation he was about to have with her. He hoped he could make her understand without betraying the confidentiality of the IMF.
He walked in and was greeted by the sweet smell of dinner and a gentle kiss from Sasha.
"Welcome home, love," she smiled.
"Wow, Sasha, something smells fantastic!" he replied. Eyeing her apron appreciatively - for she didn't seem to be wearing anything underneath it - he continued. "And you look fantastic!"
After a hearty dinner, Sasha made no secret about what was on her mind, but Grant stopped her.
"Sasha," he said gently, "there's something I need to talk to you about."
Sasha's heart came up in her throat and her eyes began to sting involuntarily. "Grant, you're not...breaking up with me, are you?"
Grant reached out to hug her. "Oh, honey, of course not!" he said quickly. "Quite the contrary. If we are going to be together, there's something about me that you need to know."
The two of them sat down on the sofa, Sasha hanging on Grant's every word. "I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you about what it is I do for a living," he began. "Yes, I am an IT specialist, but I also have another...um, sort of freelance occupation."
"What is it?" Sasha asked.
Grant sighed. "Well, it's sort of like working undercover, usually on matters of national security," he answered.
"Sort of like the CIA?" she questioned, her expression impossible to read.
"Sort of," he agreed, "but not exactly. For security reasons I can't reveal who my employer is, but my team and I often have to leave with very little notice and never know how long we'll be gone. And most of the time I wouldn't be able to contact you while we're away."
Grant paused, and Sasha spoke. "It sounds dangerous."
"It can be," he conceded, gazing into Sasha's eyes. "I need to know if you can handle that."
Sasha was silent for a few moments. Finally, she asked him quietly, "Grant, if you ever had to choose between that life and your family, what would you do?"
At Grant's panicked look, she added hastily, "I'm not asking you to. It's just a question."
Grant sighed. "I honestly don't know, Sasha."
"You love doing that work," she observed. It was not a question.
"Yeah, I do," he smiled involuntarily.
Sasha returned his smile and reached for his hand. "Then I'll support you in whatever makes you happy," she said quietly.
Grant reached up to caress her cheek. "You make me happy," he answered, matching her tone, and then he leaned in for a kiss.
*******
Following the heavy conversation, Grant and Sasha went upstairs to spend some time together. Afterward, Grant agreed to stay another night at Sasha's, and as the two lay in bed together, Sasha began to speak.
"So how many of you are there on this team of yours?" she asked.
"There are five of us," Grant replied, "and we're all good friends as well as professional colleagues."
"Do I get to meet any of these friends of yours?" Sasha wanted to know.
"Maybe," answered Grant. "One of them - his name is Max - told me today that he'd like to have us over for dinner one day, so he could meet you."
Sasha raised her eyebrows. "He's cooking?"
Grant grinned. "He's a hell of a chef," he answered. "You won't be disappointed."
Sasha smiled back. "Why don't you call him? I'm up for any day that I don't have to cook." She handed him the cordless extension and he dialed Max's number.
"Max," he greeted when his friend answered the phone, "Sasha wants to know when you'd like to cook for us."
"How about Friday?" Max suggested. "That will give me time to get everything together."
"Sounds good," Grant agreed, after checking with Sasha.
"All right. Dinner's at six."
After saying goodbye to Grant, Max broke the connection, then dialed a familiar number.
"Nicholas," he greeted, "I'm meeting Sasha on Friday."
"Good," Nicholas replied. "I'll be over tomorrow to help you get things set up."
Chapter 7
"I kind of feel bad about doing this," Nicholas told Max. They'd spent the morning installing tiny surveillance cameras in Max's living and dining rooms, which would be linked to the facial recognition software on Grant's laptop.
"I'm not thrilled about it myself, buddy," Max admitted, "but I can't seem to shake this feeling in my gut."
Nicholas smiled affectionately at his friend. "Well, I'm certainly not going to question your intuition," he remarked.
For a moment, Max's mind went back to the day Nicholas had been given LSD at the hands of a madman. A powerful hallucination had driven him to the point of nearly killing himself, and only the uncanny feeling in Max's gut had saved his friend's life.
Max reached up to slap Nicholas' shoulder and returned his smile. "Thanks for not thinking I'm nuts," he muttered. "I'm pretty sure Jim and Shannon would both disagree with what we're doing."
"Speaking of that," Nicholas offered, "I spoke with Jim this morning. He's going to be off doing some research on Saturday for what may turn out to be a new mission. And I know that Shannon is not due back from her sister's until Monday."
"So we should be able to get into Grant's laptop on Saturday morning to review the tapes," Max mused.
"Yes, as long as Grant's distracted somewhere."
"I'll let slip that there might be a mission soon," Max stated. "I'm sure he'll want to spend every waking moment with Sasha."
"Good idea," Nicholas agreed, as he gathered his things and prepared to leave for his class at the university. "Call me tomorrow evening and let me know how it went."
"Yeah, I will," Max promised, as he said goodbye to his friend with a handshake and a hearty back thump. "Thanks again for your help, Nicholas."
"You're welcome."
******
The following evening, Max was putting the finishing touches on a three-course Italian feast when the doorbell rang.
"Hey, pal!" Grant greeted his friend with an affectionate hug.
Then he took a step backward. "This is Sasha Dumont. Sasha, this is Max Harte."
Max smiled warmly and offered his hand. Grant was right; she was breathtaking. "Nice to meet you," he said sincerely. "Thank you for coming over."
"Thanks for having us," Sasha replied, and again Max found himself cringing internally at the way she said "us."
As the three of them were seated and began their meal, Max broke the ice. "So, Sasha, tell me about yourself," he said strategically, planning to find out what she would reveal about herself before asking any obviously pointed question.
Sasha looked a bit flustered for a second but quickly recovered. "There isn't much to tell. I grew up in Seattle, went to a community college, and did some modeling afterward."
"You're a model," Max echoed. "Well, you're certainly a beautiful woman so I'm not surprised." At Sasha's blush, Max continued. "So what brings you to San Francisco?"
Again, it seemed that Max caught a slight bit of hesitation. "I wanted to make a fresh start after..." Her voice trailed off.
Grant reached over and took her hand in his. "Her boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan," he finished quietly.
"I'm sorry," Max mumbled, sincerely regretting the question. Sasha had been so bright and bubbly before, and her mood had become melancholy in just the last few seconds. Max hoped he hadn't ruined the night, but he couldn't resist one more question.
"What was his name?" he asked quietly. "Maybe he served with my big brother."
"He was only in for a couple of months," Sasha replied, matching Max's tone but without meeting his eyes. "I don't think your brother would have known him."
The combination of her tone and the look that Grant shot Max told him the interrogation was over. There was silence for a few moments, then the conversation resumed with a much lighter tone. Max was not able to glean any more personal information from her.
At the end of the evening, Grant and Sasha were back to being cordial again.
"Thank you for a lovely evening, Max," Sasha smiled, as she and Max shook hands.
"It was nice meeting you, Sasha," he replied, reaching for Grant's hand.
"Take it easy, pal," Grant smiled, thumping his friend's back. "If you hear anything about that mission, let me know."
"I will," Max promised, "but I'm sure Jim will be calling you."
"Tell him to call Sasha's place," Grant winked, and he followed his girlfriend out the door.
Max watched them get into a classy red convertible and set off in what he assumed was the direction of Sasha's apartment. He waited until he was sure they wouldn't see him, then he jumped on his motorcycle and followed them, staying a few cars behind.
The convertible stopped in front of a high-end apartment complex. Max waited until Grant and Sasha went inside, then he made note of the address and the convertible's tag number before heading back to his own place. There, he telephoned Nicholas and made arrangements to review the information and camera footage the following morning.
Chapter 8
Early the next morning, Nicholas met Max at the condo Jim used as headquarters for their team meetings. Nicholas, as the unofficial second in command, had a key, as well as the password to Grant's laptop.
"Are you sure you can get into Grant's software programs?" Max asked skeptically as Nicholas put on his glasses and settled down at the computer.
"Piece of cake," Nicholas quipped, as he punched a few buttons, hesitated, then punched a few more. Finally, he was able to bring the facial recognition software up. A quick search brought Max's footage from the night before to view on the screen.
Nicholas pushed some buttons until Sasha's face appeared in full view. He gave a low whistle. "She is a beauty," he breathed.
"I know," Max replied wryly, "and he seems so happy with her that I hope I'm wrong about her."
Nicholas zeroed in on her features and pushed more keys. A set of demographic information popped into view.
"Now, this is interesting," Nicholas commented. "Sasha Dumont is apparently an alias she uses for her modeling career. Her real name is Shelly Davis."
Max shrugged. "Ordinary sounding name. I suppose a lot of models do that. Is she really from Seattle?"
"Yes." Nicholas continued to press buttons on the keyboard. Then, abruptly, he stopped and drew in a sharp breath.
Immediately, Max snapped to full attention. "What'd you find?"
Nicholas sighed. "Sasha's boyfriend."
"I thought he was dead."
"He is," Nicholas confirmed.
"But he didn't die in service?"
"He was in the service," Nicholas replied, his voice low, "but he didn't die there."
Nicholas turned the screen slightly so that Max could get a better look. "I did a cross reference of Sasha's real name and Seattle in this periodical database and got a hit on this news article."
Max quickly read the article to himself:
A U.S. Marine has been shot and killed at his home in Seattle. Police say that 29-year-old Tim Robinson was found dead yesterday. The apparent cause of death was a gunshot wound to the back.
According to a statement obtained from Seattle police, robbery is the suspected motive because Robinson's wallet was missing from the scene. Also, there were no signs of forced entry, so police cannot rule out the possibility that the killer is someone he knew.
At the time of his death, Robinson was on furlough from Afghanistan at the home he shared with his girlfriend, 28-year-old Shelly Davis. Police have not been able to locate Davis, and it is not known if she is another victim or a suspect at this time.
If anyone has any information about Robinson's murder or the whereabouts of Shelly Davis, please call the Seattle police.
"I don't think you were wrong about her, Max," Nicholas said softly, his voice filled with regret. "If she wasn't involved, why did she disappear?"
"And why tell everyone he died overseas?" Max asked rhetorically, matching his friend's tone.
Nicholas punched another button or two, and then gave a low whistle.
"There's more," he said softly. "Another article, a week later."
Max again read silently:
Seattle police have released additional information about the death of 29-year-old Marine Tim Robinson last Friday. Robinson's wallet containing three credit cards was stolen during the murder, and police now say those cards were maxed out shortly afterward.
Police are now calling Robinson's live-in girlfriend, 28-year-old Shelly Davis, a person of interest. She has not been seen since the murder. If anyone has any information about Davis, they are urged to contact Seattle police.
"Do you think we should call them?" Max asked his friend.
Nicholas shook his head. "Not until we talk to Grant," he answered. "He'd never forgive us."
"So you think we should tell him?"
"I don't think we have a choice, Max," he answered. "If she did kill her last boyfriend, Grant may be in danger."
Max nodded. "Can you find out anything about where Robinson's credit cards were used after they were stolen?"
"I'll try."
Nicholas pushed a few buttons and pulled up a series of records. "All three were emptied of credit through repeated cash advances."
"Impossible to trace," Max muttered. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Nicholas. "This is her address and the tag number on her convertible," he explained. "Do you think you can find out how they were paid for?"
Nicholas worked diligently in silence for a few moments. Finally, he looked up at his friend. "Cash," he said simply.
"Both of them?"
"The car was paid for in full," he answered. "Rent on the apartment was paid up for six months. Both in Monty Davis' name. The total paid was $35,000." Nicholas paused. "Care to guess how much total credit was on the three credit cards?"
"Thirty-five thousand dollars," Max replied, and Nicholas nodded.
"She probably took his money, just like she's taking Grant 's," Max grunted.
"Yes, and once she emptied his bank account, he caught on and cut her off," Nicholas chimed in.
"And she killed him," Max finished. "We definitely have to tell Grant now, and soon."
Nicholas could see the fear and hesitation on his friend's face as he imagined Grant 's reaction. He patted Max's arm in a gesture of solidarity. "Don't worry," he assured him, "we'll tell him together."
Chapter 9
Max and Nicholas shut down the laptop and carefully removed all evidence of having been at Jim's condo. They knew the elder leader would be returning in less than two hours.
Obviously, they did not want to confront Grant at Sasha's house. So the plan was for Max to return home and invite Grant over to discuss IMF business, and then once Grant was on his way, Nicholas would also head there. Since he lived closer, Nicholas would arrive first and be there to help Max break the news to Grant.
But the best laid plans sometimes go awry.
Max arrived home and reached for the phone to dial Sasha's number. As his hand closed around the receiver, the phone rang, startling him slightly.
"Hello?"
"Max, it's me." Nicholas' voice was tense. "Have you called Grant yet?"
"I just got here," Max replied. "What's wrong?"
"I had a message from Jim," he answered. "We have a mission in Africa, and we need to be ready to board a plane in six hours."
Max cursed softly.
"I know, pal," Nicholas said sympathetically.
"We can't tell him right now," Max reasoned. "It would distract him from the mission, and that could be dangerous."
"You're right," his friend responded. "We'll just have to wait until we get back."
"If there's anything left by then," Max mused bitterly.
"Listen, you mind to call Grant and tell him about the mission, since you have Sasha's number?"
"Sure, Nicholas," Max replied. "What about Shannon?'
"Jim's already called her. She's meeting us at the airport."
"Good."
Nicholas heard the bitterness still in Max's voice. "Hey, Max," he said gently, "you can't let this get to you. We have a job to do. We'll take care of Grant when it's done, okay?"
Max sighed, recognizing the wisdom in his friend's words. "All right," he agreed. "I'll do my best."
"See you in a little while." Nicholas bade farewell to his friend, who broke the connection with one finger, then promptly dialed the unfamiliar number.
*******
"All right, Max, I'll see you all in a few hours," Grant promised, as he hung up the phone.
"What is it, baby?" Sasha asked, detecting the subtle change in Grant's mood.
Grant took both of Sasha's hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes, taking in every ounce of her, memorizing her features.
"Sasha," he answered softly, "do you remember that conversation we had about what I do for a living?" At Sasha's nod, he continued. "Remember how I told you that I sometimes have to leave suddenly and don't know when I'll be home?"
"This is one of those times?" she asked.
"Yeah," Grant replied, unable to hide his disappointment.
Sasha rubbed her hand up and down Grant's arm. "It's okay, honey," she assured him. "Do what you need to do. I'll be here when you get back."
Grant smiled briefly at her, then his smile faded again. "We're going to Africa," he advised, "and I won't be able to contact you until I get back to the States."
"Grant," Sasha interrupted gently, "it's fine. I understand."
"You're amazing," he grinned.
Grant took his wallet out of his pocket, plucked his debit and credit cards out of it and handed them to Sasha.
"What is this?" she asked, incredulous.
"Keep these," he told her, as he jotted down the PIN to his debit card on a scrap of paper. "I won't need them where I'll be, and you might need something while I'm gone."
"Grant, I couldn't-"
"Please, Sasha."
Finally, she relented and took the cards. They shared a passionate kiss for the road. Afterward, Grant headed to Jim's condo to pick up his equipment, stopping by his place just long enough to grab his already-packed suitcase from the closet.
Chapter 10
For the most part, the mission went off without a hitch. The team spent eight days in Africa shutting down a poaching ring that was using its blood money to purchase government secrets. They worked together seamlessly, as usual, and only someone who knew the team well would have known something was amiss.
Shannon, as the newest member of the team, didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. But Jim did. Oh, it wasn't anything overt - Max made sure of that - but the subtlety spoke volumes. The customary banter that was commonplace, particularly between Max and Grant, was nearly nonexistent. Max was much more subdued and hardly even cracked a joke, something totally out of character for him.
Once, Grant said something to Max which would have ordinarily caused the blonde agent to engage in some good-natured needling. But Max remained quiet, as if he hadn't heard him at all.
"Are you okay, Max?" Grant asked.
It was a few seconds until Max realized that his friend was talking to him. By this time, the other agents had also turned to see what was going on.
"What?" Max responded, oblivious to what Grant had said.
"What's wrong with you, man?" Grant questioned. "It's not like you to pass up a comeback."
Grant didn't see the split-second glance that passed between Max and Nicholas. "Oh, nothing, Grant. I'm just thinking about the mission is all."
Grant, not wholly convinced but sure he'd get no further, let it go. And so did Jim, for a few hours anyway.
Late that evening, he caught Nicholas alone in the kitchen making tea.
"Nicholas," he began, "do you want to tell me what's going on with Max?"
"What do you mean, Jim?" Nicholas feigned ignorance but could not hide his nervousness.
"Don't tell me you don't know, Nicholas," Jim said sternly. "I saw the way he looked at you earlier. You two are hiding something from Grant, aren't you?"
Nicholas tried to look away, but Jim's ice blue eyes caught his brown ones and held fast. "Would this have anything to do with Grant's new lady friend?" he asked knowingly.
"Please, Jim," the dark-haired agent begged, "don't make me do this. I gave Max my word."
Jim nodded. "You are a very loyal friend, Nicholas, and I will honor that, as long as it isn't something that will interfere with the mission."
"It won't interfere with the mission," Nicholas murmured, "if we wait until the mission is over."
"Fair enough," Jim said in satisfaction, "but I'll expect full disclosure once you've spoken with Grant."
"You'll have it," Nicholas promised, and Jim nodded once more and left the room just as the teakettle began to sing.
As Jim left the kitchen, Max entered, on the pretense of helping his friend carry the cups of tea into the common room.
"What was that all about?" he asked quietly.
"Jim knows something's up," Nicholas whispered tersely, "but he didn't press me for details. Said it can wait till after the mission."
Max smiled wryly at Nicholas. Of course the dark-haired agent would have kept the secret; there wasn't even a question. "Thanks, pal."
Max reached for the tray, but Nicholas grabbed his arm. Startled, Max met his friend's eyes, and the latter's were worried. "Max," he said softly, "I know this is tough for you, but you have to stay focused until the mission is over, and try not to arouse any more suspicion. Then we'll talk to Grant together, okay?"
Max sighed. "Okay. I'll try a little harder."
*******
For the entire week, Grant could tell that something was up with Max. He'd confronted him once but got nowhere, and he suspected it was because they were in the midst of the mission. So Grant had managed to keep his annoyance and curiosity in check, but now that the mission was over he could hold back no longer.
"All right, Max, out with it," Grant demanded once they'd safely boarded the plane home.
"Out with what?" Max inquired, pretending not to know what he was talking about.
"Oh, come off it, Max," Grant scoffed, not even attempting to hide his anger. "You've barely spoken to me all week, and when you have it's been all business. That's not your usual m.o. and you know it. So level with me here."
Max wouldn't continue to pretend he wasn't keeping something from Grant; that would only make him angrier.
"Grant," Max began, "here isn't really the place."
"Then where would you suggest?" Grant asked condescendingly.
"Why don't we grab dinner somewhere once we get back to California?" Max suggested. "Then I promise I will tell you everything."
"All right," Grant agreed reluctantly, hating the idea of waiting but realizing that having what he guessed would be a private conversation on a busy airplane would be next to impossible.
The team sat in virtual silence until the plane landed. Then Grant turned to Max. It was 4:30 p.m.
"I'm going to see Sasha first," he advised, and there was no hiding the tension in his voice. "I'll meet you back at Macgregor's at six."
Max shot a lightning-quick glance at Nicholas and saw him nod almost imperceptibly. "That'll be good," he agreed, and the team parted ways.
Chapter 11
Grant pulled into the parking space beside Sasha's red convertible. Sasha met him at the door and flew into his arms.
"Baby! You're home!" she shrieked.
"God, I've missed you!" he responded as he wrapped her up into a tight embrace and swung her around and around.
"Do you want to show me how much you missed me?" Sasha asked with a wink.
Grant grinned at her, and the two of them rushed up the stairs giggling.
A little while later, as Grant was dressing, Sasha sighed. "Won't you stay and let me cook you dinner?"
"I can't," Grant answered, his voice filled with regret, both for leaving her again and for the half-truth he was about to tell so he could have dinner with Max. "After each mission, Jim always has a debriefing which we all have to attend. It shouldn't take long."
Grant picked up his debit and credit cards off the dresser and stuffed them into his wallet, not noticing the look that crossed Sasha's face when he did so. Then he walked back over to the bed and kissed her gently. "Be back soon."
*******
At six o'clock sharp, Grant walked into Macgregor's and found Max's table. He was somewhat surprised to see that Max was not alone.
"Nicholas," he greeted, and his voice was cold, "what are you doing here?"
"We both wanted to talk to you," Nicholas replied vaguely.
"Two against one, huh?" Grant mused, and Max winced. Already he was on the defensive. "So what is it that you have to tell me?"
"Why don't you order something first?" Max suggested, as the waiter approached their table and he and Nicholas gave their orders.
"I'm not really hungry," Grant murmured, "but I will have some coffee."
Once the waiter stepped away from their table, Grant looked Max dead in the eye.
"This is about Sasha, isn't it?" he began, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," Max admitted. "There are some things about her that you need to know."
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?" Grant asked.
"Grant-"
"I don't get it, guys. I'm finally happy with someone, and now you want to mess it up. Well, what if I just choose not to listen?" Grant's voice was getting tenser by the moment.
"Grant, please-"
"I already know everything I need to know about Sasha."
"You mean Shelly," offered Nicholas.
"What?" cried Grant, surprised.
"Her real name is Shelly Davis," Max clarified.
Grant let this sink in for a moment, and then shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything. Models do that all the time."
"And her boyfriend didn't die in Afghanistan," Nicholas added quietly, ignoring Grant's comment and handing him a copy of the first article they'd found.
Grant skimmed the article quickly, and then wadded it up. "So he didn't die overseas. So what? Sasha is probably traumatized about what happened. Don't you think it would have been easier for her to tell someone that he died overseas than to tell them he was murdered?"
"What about the missing wallet, Grant? And the fact that there were no signs of forced entry?"
"You can't possibly think she had anything to do with that, Max," Grant cried.
"Look at this, Grant," Nicholas said gently, handing his friend a copy of the second article.
Grant skimmed it and wadded it up quicker than he'd done the first one. "That doesn't prove anything, either. Of course they would call her a person of interest. That doesn't mean she's guilty." Grant stared at the two men, hate in his eyes. "What brought this on, anyway? Why did you decide to investigate my girlfriend?"
Max sighed. "That day at the bank... the cash you withdrew... you gave it to her, didn't you?"
"That's none of your business."
"Grant, she stole Robinson's credit cards and got cash advances to pay for her car and apartment."
"Her father paid for those!"
"Monty Davis?" Max asked, himself getting impatient at his friend's thickheadedness. "Yeah, they're in his name, all right. And together they cost thirty-five thousand dollars."
"Which is exactly the amount of credit on Robinson's three credit cards," Nicholas chimed in. "We don't think that's coincidental."
"We just don't want her to do the same thing to you," Max finished.
"She didn't ask for any money," Grant said defensively. "It was my idea to give it to her, to pay for the things she needs at the modeling agency."
"Well, you'd better make sure that's where it went," advised Nicholas.
That was the last straw for Grant. He stood up forcefully. "I trust Sasha!" he exclaimed. Then, his voice dangerously low, he added, "Just like I used to trust you two."
Grant turned to walk away.
Max stood up. "Grant, wait-" he pleaded.
But Grant held up his hand. "I can't work with a team I can't trust," he said quietly. "Tell Jim I quit. He'll have my resignation paperwork in the morning."
And with that, Grant walked off.
Max started after him, but Nicholas grabbed his arm in gentle restraint.
"Let him go, Max," he said softly.
Max turned to look sadly at Nicholas. "I can't," he whispered. "He's my friend."
Nicholas nodded and withdrew his hand, and Max followed Grant toward the men's room.
Chapter 12
Max pushed open the door to the men's room and saw Grant washing his hands at the sink.
"Leave me alone, Max," he growled.
"I can't do that, Grant," Max answered, his voice low. "You're my friend."
"Some friend," Grant scoffed.
Max winced internally at the pain of Grant's words. "I'm worried about you, Grant. If Sasha is responsible for Tim Robinson's death, you could be in danger."
"How dare you!" Grant seethed. In a split second, rage at Max's accusation overtook him. Without thinking, he thrust his right fist upward, making contact with Max's chin.
Max was totally unprepared for the uppercut. His head snapped back and he lost his balance. He fell on the bathroom floor, banging his head against a sink on his way down. He lay there, stunned.
Grant looked at Max for a moment, then turned and walked away.
*******
An unknown amount of time passed before Nicholas opened the men's room door.
"Max?" he called uncertainly, peering into the room. Then his eyes fell upon his friend, lying in a heap on the floor, barely beginning to stir. Nicholas rushed to his side.
"Easy, pal," he soothed, placing a hand on his back and helping him sit up. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Max managed to reply. "My head hurts."
"What happened?" Nicholas asked, then he spotted the bruise already forming on Max's chin. He gently tilted Max's head to get a better look, then let out a low whistle.
"Grant did this?"
"Guess you were right, Nicholas. I shouldn't have followed him in here." Max rubbed his head gingerly.
"You must have bumped your head on the way down," Nicholas observed. "Think you can stand?"
"I think so," Max answered, and allowed his friend to help him to his feet. Nicholas held Max's arm for an extra moment to make sure he was steady. His brow was furrowed with worry for Max, but there was something else there, too.
"We need to go," Nicholas said tersely.
"What's the rush?" Max questioned.
Nicholas sighed. "Grant came out of the men's room and paid for his coffee," he answered. "I decided to pay for our stuff while I was waiting for you, so I got in line behind him. He pulled three cards out of his wallet before he found one that went through."
Max stared at his friend as the implication sunk in. "The first two were declined?"
"Insufficent funds," Nicholas confirmed.
Max cursed aloud. "She's already done it."
"And if Grant confronts her..." Nicholas' voice trailed off, but he didn't have to finish the sentence.
"Let's go," Max urged, as he started toward the parking lot at a rapid clip.
"We'll take my car," Nicholas offered, knowing Max had brought his bike to Macgregor's. "You okay to drive?"
"I'm fine, Nicholas," Max replied, as his friend tossed him the keys.
"Good. You know the way to Sasha's place and can get us there in a hurry. Just don't wreck us."
Despite the situation, Max couldn't stifle a small grin. Then he turned serious again as the teammates sped off toward Sasha's apartment.
*******
Grant's mind was racing as he arrived back at Sasha's place. He killed the engine and sat quietly for several moments before he went inside.
Sasha, wearing a long silk robe, was waiting for him.
"Welcome back, lover," she crooned.
Grant's face was a mixture of emotions, and his jaw was set firmly. Sasha walked over to him and rubbed his arm.
"Bad meeting?" she asked softly.
"Something like that," Grant replied, his voice barely audible. Then he sighed heavily, dreading the question he was about to ask.
"Sasha," he began, "did you use any of my cards while I was gone?
Sasha did not reply, but the expression on her face gave her away.
"How much did you spend?" Grant asked softly.
Sasha turned her back to him, unable to meet his eyes. "I just needed a few things," she said quietly.
Grant stood frozen for a few seconds. Then, as the truth dawned on him, a wave of emotions...anger, sadness, hurt, betrayal...washed over him.
"Oh, my God," he breathed. "It's all true. Everything Max tried to tell me is true."
Grant began walking toward Sasha, who still had her back to him, hands in her pockets. He had to look her in the eye. He had to know.
"You killed him, didn't you?" he asked tersely. She did not respond, and Grant reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "Sasha, look at me!"
"You weren't supposed to find out so soon."
Too late, Grant realized the foolishness of his move, as Sasha Dumont took the silver pistol out of her pocket and aimed it squarely against Grant's chest. He froze, utter panic gripping him.
"Oh, I knew you'd find out eventually. After all, you're a detective, or whatever it is you do." Her voice was icy cold. "If you'd just given me a few more days, I'd have had everything arranged. Then I could have just disappeared and you'd have never found me. But I couldn't figure out the PIN on the last damn credit card."
She cocked the hammer and it gave a soft click. "Too bad you know now, because that means you die," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
Grant squeezed his eyes closed in anticipation of the shot being fired. "Why, Sasha?" he cried out. "I loved you! I would have given you anything you asked."
"That's not how the game is played, Grant," Sasha answered, teeth clenched, as she pressed the gun further into his chest. "These are the rules, so listen carefully. I take your money and move on to the next player. If I get away, you get to live. If you find out first, you die."
Chapter 13
Max spotted Grant's Lexus and Sasha's convertible as he pulled into the parking lot, careful to minimize the tire noise.
"I wonder what's going on in there," Nicholas hissed, as he and Max peeked through a tiny crack in the blinds that covered the living room window. At the same time, they both noticed the gun that was being held against Grant's chest, and they sucked in their breaths.
"Oh, my God," Max muttered. "She's gonna kill him!"
"Diversion," Nicholas blurted out as he picked up a large rock from the outside of the apartment. It was all he could think of at the time, and he hoped Grant would know what to do. "Get ready, Max."
Nicholas drew back his arm and hurled the rock against the window with all his strength. The window shattered.
Both Sasha and Grant were startled by the sound of breaking glass. Fortunately, Grant's well-practiced reaction time was quicker. He grabbed Sasha's gun with his right hand and wrenched it out of her grasp, training it back on her before she knew what hit her.
Grant was only vaguely aware of the apartment door being kicked open behind him and someone approaching him from behind. Instinctively, he knew it was his friends.
"You wouldn't kill me," Sasha sneered at Grant as he aimed the gun; she could tell that his hands were shaking. "You love me!"
"Maybe he wouldn't," Max growled, stepping up beside Grant, "but I damn sure would."
Nicholas placed his hands on Grant's shoulders. "It's all right, Grant," he said gently. "Give Max the gun."
Grant allowed Max to slowly take possession of the gun as Nicholas made a quick call to emergency services and then returned to stand behind Grant. Sasha looked defeated, but otherwise her expression was hard to decipher.
"Just one question," Grant said quietly to the lady who'd just threatened to kill him. "Did you ever love me?"
Sasha thought for a moment before responding; when she did, her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm not sure I've ever loved anyone," she answered, "but I came the closest with you."
As the sound of approaching police and paramedics got louder, Grant turned away from Sasha for the final time and walked out the open doorway.
Nicholas followed him out. He hesitated for a moment, hands in his pockets, then, "Do you need a doctor, Grant?"
It was a better question than "Are you all right?", because he knew that emotionally Grant wasn't all right and wouldn't be for quite a long time. But at least he could gauge Grant's physical injuries.
"No," Grant replied softly. "I wasn't injured."
Nicholas noticed how Grant had avoided saying, "I'm fine," and suspected it was for the same reason.
The police entered the apartment and took custody of Sasha Dumont, also known as Shelly Davis. Max joined his friends outside.
"C'mon, buddy," Max coaxed, laying a gentle but strong hand on Grant's shoulder. "I'll drive you home...or anywhere you want to go."
"I think I could use a drink," Grant responded, his voice low.
"Back to Macgregor's, then?" Max offered. "I'm buying this time."
Grant managed a small grin as he handed Max the keys to his Lexus. "Just don't wreck us."
Max chuckled. "You know, that's exactly what Nicholas said a little while ago. You all act like I can't drive or something."
Grant gave Max's a hearty slap and climbed into the passenger seat of his car. Max got into the driver's seat and headed towards Macgregor's, with Nicholas' BMW close behind.
*******
Grant was two drinks in before he broke the silence. When he did, he slapped the table in disgust, startling his companions.
"Easy," Max whispered, instinctively laying a hand on Grant's arm.
"I'm a fool," Grant chided himself. "A damn fool!"
"You're only human, Grant," Nicholas soothed. "It could have happened to any of us."
"You guys were right all along," Grant muttered, "and I couldn't see it. Didn't want to see it."
Grant looked up at Max. "I trusted a stranger more than my friends," he said apologetically. "I even hit you, Max. I'm so sorry-"
"You don't have to apologize," Max interrupted.
"Yeah, I do," Grant countered quietly. "I was mean to both of you, and even after all that you saved my life." Grant smiled his thanks.
"We're your friends, Grant," smiled Nicholas. "We've got your back."
"And it'll take more than just a bruise to change that," Max added fondly.
"I don't deserve friends like you," Grant said softly, looking down at his empty glass.
"Well, like it or not, pal, you're stuck with us." Max slapped his friend's back, trying to lighten the mood.
"I think I like it," Grant quipped with a grin. Then he grew somber once again. "It hurts," he mumbled. "It hurts like hell."
"I imagine it will hurt for a long time, buddy," Nicholas empathized.
"But like he said, we've got your back," Max chimed in. "For as long as it takes."
"Thanks, guys," Grant smiled.
Four drinks later, Grant allowed Max to drive him home in his Lexus, with Nicholas following in his BMW. Once Grant assured them he'd be okay for the night, Nicholas dropped Max off at Macgregor's to pick up his motorcycle. Then both men retired to their homes for the evening.
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