"Dad," she said out loud, "what could they possibly believe you were involved in that would still matter twelve years after you died?"

Chapter Five.

"You awake, kid?" Stella opened the door and popped her head inside.

Nicole jumped at the sound of Stella's voice. "Are the children okay?" she asked, leaping from the bed. Roughly two hours had pa.s.sed since Kira had stormed off.

"Fine. Kira said it was a false alarm. You should be sleeping."

"What time is it?"

"The trouble with an underground bunker," Stella said, smiling as she took a step into the room, "there aren't any windows. It's not quite twelve o'clock."

"Day or night?"

"Night. I saw the light under your door and figured you might want to join us. I just put frozen pizzas in the oven. You like pizza?"

Nicole's stomach growled in response, and she nodded.

Stella smiled foxily, wagging her finger at her. "You didn't eat enough of my soup."

Alone again, Nicole sat back down on the bed basking in the knowledge that no one had been hurt. Though she hadn't known Kira Anthony very long, the woman seemed to be quite proficient at her job, whatever that job allegedly was. Stella too seemed to hold Kira in high regard. Could Kira and Stella be lovers?

There was an obvious intimacy between those two women, perhaps one born from working closely together in tight quarters for long periods of time.

Or it could be one spurred by a deeper emotional connection.

The question nagged at Nicole. Now that she was contemplating the possibility, something ugly crawled up inside her. Could this be jealousy?

She placed a pillow under her head and pulled the thin wool blanket over her. In the past, when anything requiring deep introspection reared its big head, she packed it up in a tidy bundle and buried it in the back of her subconscious. For so many years, she'd done that with her s.e.xuality, but she couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

Especially the way she'd reacted to Kira's careless caress of her cheek.

No, there was absolutely no use in denying, covering, or avoiding it anymore. It was time to pull that securely wrapped parcel out from its place in the dusty cobwebs of her mind, rip it open, and expose the fragile contents to the light of day.

She was attracted to women. And one woman in particular right now-one she wasn't even sure she liked all that much.

She'd always known she had a preference for women. She remembered the pivotal moment in her childhood when she realized she was different. She'd been nine years old, watching t.i.tanic on the TV for the first time. But it wasn't Leonardo DiCaprio her eyes gravitated to whenever the movie's two stars appeared on screen together-but Kate Winslet and her cherry red lips and seductive, almond-shaped, blue-green eyes.

And so it had been for all other films and television shows Nicole watched. It was the heroine her eyes were drawn to, the pages with the female models she'd turn to in the clothing catalogs and innocently ogle when they came in the mail, or the young, pretty teachers in school she'd developed crushes on. Yet she'd never before found the courage to acknowledge her inclination, much less embrace it.

Not even after what had happened between her and Danielle.

Her thoughts ricocheted back to those five minutes in her life a few months back when everything between her and her roommate had changed.

Now was not the time for that skeleton to be dragged out of the closet, but now that she'd flung open the doors of the vault, the memories of her first and only semi-s.e.xual experience refused to remain locked away.

She met Danielle one day last summer in the university bookstore. They'd immediately clicked, and by the second month of their friendship, Danielle had suggested they get their own apartment together. Nicole knew it would upset her widowed mother that she was moving out, but she was too excited to feel guilty for long.

By November, Danielle was occasionally accompanying Nicole to her mother's when she went home on the weekends, and other than going to their respective cla.s.ses, they were rarely apart. But then came that somber Thanksgiving break and an ending to their brief friendship she never could have predicted.

"It's no big deal. You and I can bunk in your room together. I guarantee your sister will run back to her husband with open arms come morning when she realizes no one else is going to wait on her hand and foot like he does. C'mon, Nick, this will be fun."

Nicole could recall how uneasy her hollow laugh sounded when Danielle playfully tossed a pillow at her before disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

"You're awfully quiet. What're you thinking?" Danielle had asked as they lay inches apart on the worn twin mattress Nicole had slept on since leaving the crib.

"Nothing, just tired, I guess."

"Ya know, Nick, you never talk about guys. Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

She could remember tensing as Danielle turned toward her and placed one warm hand along the contours of her hip.

"I-I-I don't know. I just never-"

"G.o.d, do you even know how incredibly hot you are?"

Danielle's other hand reached out and pulled her closer. She'd been so nervous, scared, and simultaneously aroused that she thought her heart would literally explode within her chest. They kissed, and all the answers she'd been seeking seemed to fall from the heavens and into her being. At Danielle's urging, their kiss deepened, but then something changed; suddenly her friend's movements were no longer gentle but aggressive, almost painful.

"I've watched you for so long, wanting to f.u.c.k you so hard," Danielle admitted in a ragged murmur as she clawed at Nicole's pajama bottoms.

Nicole cringed. She'd never heard Danielle speak so crudely. It was like she was kissing a stranger. "Please stop," she had begged more than once, but Danielle would not be discouraged.

Finally, Nicole pushed her friend from the bed with a powerful shove, and she fell to the hard floor in an undignified heap.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Danielle had complained groggily. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Nicole denied in a whisper, tightening the tie to her pajama bottoms and b.u.t.toning her top. "This just doesn't feel right."

Danielle shook her head. "Feel right? Nothing's ever felt better. Don't be scared. I know you're a virgin."

But she wasn't afraid. She was repulsed.

"I don't want this to ruin our friendship, Danielle." She'd grabbed a blanket and headed for the old lumpy couch downstairs in her mother's den. "Let's just pretend it never happened."

Only things were never the same between them after that weekend. By Christmas break, Nicole had moved back into her mother's house, and she hadn't spoken to Danielle since.

Tossing the blanket aside, she wondered whether or not she had the fort.i.tude to face Kira again so soon after their squabble. The thunderous rumbling in her belly told her she did-but not in kitty pajamas. As she bent to turn the water on to take a quick shower, her eyes caught sight of a green metallic bedpan leaning on the side of the toilet bowl. She'd not given a thought to how her bodily functions had been disposed of while she'd been sick, and the image of Kira overseeing such an obscenely intimate task set her reeling on her heels in horrified mortification.

"This nightmare can't possibly get any worse," she muttered under her breath as she ran a bar of soap over her body. As predicted, there was a large bruise along her arm where she'd collided with the metal frame of the bus. After drying off, she threw on a pair of jeans, astonished to see how loose they now were around her waist. Pulling a pair of socks over her feet was difficult, so she decided to remain shoeless. Her ankles were still red and chafed, but the blisters were starting to heal.

As she made her way from her bedroom down the stark concrete corridor, she wondered whether she was supposed to have waited for Stella to come get her. Visibility was hindered by the limited amount of wattage the tiny emergency lights mounted a foot from the floor generated. Hesitant, she wasn't certain in what direction she should go. It was as if she were in the catacombs of h.e.l.l. One wrong turn and the devil would be waiting with pitchfork and fire.

And that's exactly what happened. She took a left when she probably should have gone right, coming face-to-abdomen with a real-life giant.

He was huge, close to six and a half feet tall, with skin the color of dark chocolate and biceps that challenged the seams of his shirt. His head was completely hairless and it seemed even his skull had muscles. The revolver he was aiming at her stole her attention.

"Relax, Bogie. It's only Nicole." Kira appeared from thin air.

"Ahh, yes." The black man smiled, transforming himself from merciless killing machine into gracious dignitary complete with a captivating South African accent. Nicole recalled hearing his name. Stella said he'd been the one to collect her luggage from the bus.

"Old habits," he offered, tucking the gun into the waistline of his camouflage-patterned pants, and extended a large, beefy hand. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Nicole managed to reciprocate the engulfing handshake. I must be getting used to having guns waved in my face, she thought.

"Bogie's part of our team," Kira said casually, leading the way to another chamber. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and the jeans she'd been wearing earlier had been replaced with a pair of dark athletic pants. The fabric molded itself to the length and form of her long legs. Nicole felt Kira's eyes a.s.sess her in return and was glad she'd taken the time for mascara and lip gloss.

"Good! Just in time!" Stella greeted them jubilantly, hunched over a large industrial oven.

Harsh, fluorescent tubes illuminated the room, momentarily blinding Nicole, who was still used to the dim lighting of the corridors. A round table and four austere chairs made from metal and plastic took up the center of the spa.r.s.ely furnished s.p.a.ce. Steel shelving units stocked with everything from Oreo cookies to self-heating emergency meals packaged in fancy colorful boxes lined the walls.

"Our provisions reflect our needs," Kira informed Nicole, responding to the direction of her curious gaze. "Bogie has a sweet tooth, Stella needs her salt, and I'm ashamed to say I'm a caffeine addict."

"No way. You have a weakness?"

Stella hid a smirk but Bogie rolled back his dark head and released a loud laugh.

Kira regarded her through half-lidded eyes. "I do like my coffee. It's not as detrimental to my well-being as some of my other cravings," she confessed, grabbing a can of Nicole's favorite diet cola from the refrigerator and handing it to her. "But I suppose we all have our monkeys."

Nicole drank her Diet c.o.ke in silence, watching as the three pulled dishes and grabbed silverware. She studied Kira and Stella closely. So far, she hadn't seen any indication they were lovers; no smoldering glances or romantic love taps. There was an easy camaraderie between all three of them, as if they'd spent many a late night together just like this one.

So who exactly were these mysterious strangers awake at one o'clock in the morning and cooking frozen pizzas? It seemed unlikely any of them worked for the United States government. Two of them weren't even American.

Two weeks earlier, as Nicole and her mother had sat at the kitchen table discussing the details of her trip, her sister Liz had come bouncing in, eager to tell them about the television show she'd watched the night before. The show had been a news doc.u.mentary about college girls disappearing while vacationing and studying abroad. According to Liz, some of the missing girls had turned up years later, claiming to be victims of an elaborate s.e.x slave operation involving an intricate underground network of shady government officials, gangsters, and even drug dealers who would broker the girls to the highest bidders.

Nicole had never seen her mother's eyes bulge from their sockets quite like that before. Even now her toes recoiled, recalling the painful blow they'd dealt her sister's shin under the table.

She doubted these three were involved in something so deviant or sinister, but she also wasn't convinced they were part of any government-sanctioned operation. She'd spent the last five years commuting to school in Washington DC and had the opportunity to observe civil servants up close and personal. The image of the swashbuckling undercover spy secretly working to save the world was the stuff of fiction. Did Kira really believe she was that naive?

For some reason, having her intelligence doubted by the haughty blonde was irritating.

She suspected Kira was the ringleader of whatever con they were scheming. Maybe they thought her family was wealthy?

Perhaps they'd already made demands for a ransom.

She snorted into her forearm. They were in for a sad surprise if that was the case. Hope they take Visa, she thought.

And they'd better get the charge preapproved first.

Chapter Six.

"Let's eat," Stella said, slicing through the crust and melted cheese with a pizza wheel. "Usually we stay away from junk food, but sometimes it's good for the soul. But not my hips." She laughed.

They all sat down at the table and proceeded to devour the two pizzas while Kira explained how their groceries were delivered.

"We receive a text, in code of course, providing us with coordinates and a time when a helicopter will make a drop not too far from here. They're usually done in the early hours just before dawn."

"Sometimes those guys in the copters miss the drop point," Bogie complained in his deep voice. "You gotta look out for animals. They don't bother me none. They'll just tear open the food and have at it. But this area is teeming with illegal marijuana plantations. The type of migrant workers those farms employ are far more dangerous than any denizen of the wild. And if they found our net filled with boxes of perishables, they'd be very suspicious." He finished his fourth slice of pizza in one quick swallow. "You like Mallomars?" he asked Nicole, lifting his muscled ma.s.s from the chair and rummaging through the shelves crammed with boxes of cookies and cakes.

"Dessert can wait," Stella cautioned, placing the last slice of pizza onto Nicole's empty plate before placing the pan into the sink. "Little one here needs to eat more starch. She lost too much weight."

Nicole would have loved nothing more than a chocolate-coated marshmallow right then, but she wasn't about to undermine Stella. She genuinely liked the woman.

"So what happened tonight at the villages?" she asked, taking another bite of pizza while looking back and forth between the two other women.

"A false alarm based on bad intelligence," Kira was quick to answer. "It happens."

Bogie, who'd been studying the inventory of cookies with a scientist's intensity, confiscated an entire package of Walkers shortbread in one of his giant paws and vanished from the room without a word. Nicole looked around. Stella had disappeared as well.

"Where'd everyone go?"

"Stella and Bogie are involved in another project. By the way, I'm sorry about the way I reacted earlier. You had every right to be angry." Kira couldn't quite master the emotion she was trying for. Instead, her words came out hollow and forced, as if she were reading from a script. "You've been kept in the dark way too long. I'd planned on explaining everything to you as soon as we got here, but you fell ill, and now," she reached across the table, enfolding Nicole's wrist in a soft, warm hand before gently turning it so that she could read the time on her watch, "it's late. I'm on duty in a bit. We'll have to put that discussion off until morning."

Kira's fingers were still wrapped around her wrist and it was all Nicole could do to breathe. The sweet smell of baby powder and the fresh clean scent of soap clinging to Kira's skin filled the small s.p.a.ce between them. The blood flowed from Nicole's chest to the crown of her head in a rush, and she was certain the action produced a surge of bright color along her cheeks.

"Are you feeling okay?" Kira's hand moved from Nicole's wrist to her forehead. "You look like you're still running a temperature."

The contact and their proximity to one another was simply too much for Nicole to bear. She felt her insides turn to mush and her senses start to short-circuit.

"I'm fine," she announced, standing up so quickly Kira was almost knocked from her chair. "Do you mind if I have another c.o.ke?"

"You'd do better drinking water, but help yourself."

With her back toward Kira, Nicole stood at the refrigerator for a few seconds collecting her composure before pulling the door open and grabbing a soda. She placed the cold can up to her cheek, hoping it would cool her off. Had she seen a flicker of reciprocating desire in those ice-blue eyes boring into her own, or had it been a trick of the lighting overhead?

Or maybe just another part of Kira's act, she reminded herself.

"When you say you're on duty," Nicole's voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and unsteady even to her own ears, "what exactly does that mean?"

Kira turned around in her chair, regarding her thoughtfully.

Grateful for the distance between them, Nicole leaned back against the refrigerator. The appliance was st.u.r.dy and she needed its support. She was feeling insecure in her shoeless feet, loose jeans, and damp hair. She wondered what it would be like to have a tenth of the confidence Kira possessed. Never had Nicole come across anyone so supremely self-a.s.sured, perhaps not even in any of the films she'd watched or the fiction she'd read. The woman was certain of her place in the universe, exhibiting a smooth polish in every aspect of her manner, be it as simple a gesture as the way she tucked her hair behind an ear, the subtle swagger in her step, or the precise enunciation of each word when she spoke.