Armed And Dangerous (The McKinnon Legends - The McKinnon American Men Book 2) (7 page)

“At some point we will have to get into character.” Barbara broke the heavy silence.

“I know.” He looked at her in the polished stainless steel of the elevator doors thinking the next hour getting to the airport was never going to be enough for him to get into this. The ring on his finger felt foreign.

“Here, this might help,” she offered as if reading his thoughts.

She hit him below the belt. He was looking at the photo of Jesse.

“Dirty pool. Sneaky little bitch.” It was not meant as an insult. It came out with admiration for a worthy opponent. “I’ll have to really watch you, won’t I, Barbie Doll?” His lopsided smile usually did the trick to disarm his female opponents.

It was a miscalculation, he quickly saw.

This was Barbara that he was dealing with and if he did not get that through his head it was going to be a very long week.

They stared at each other in the steel doors.

“Yes, you will have to watch me like a hawk, and never call me bitch again, teasing or otherwise. I may look like a pole dancer, but trust me, Mason, your exotic dancer friends don’t have shit on what I could do to you, in or out of bed.”

That got his attention as he whipped his head around.

She never looked in his direction stepping out of the elevator doors as they opened as if on cue.

Dallas-Fort Worth Airport

Boarding Area - Terminal D

“For those of you in the boarding area, we will begin boarding Flight 235 to Panama City in ten minutes. Please have your tickets out and passports open for the ticketing agent.”

The announcement came over the intercom alerting them this was it.

“Game on,” Mason whispered under his breath, still trying to get into form. His best skill was recon, not undercover. This was going to be harder than he thought. After he briefed her, they had neither spoken much on the way to the airport nor much more going through security. Now, at the gate there was nothing to occupy them except each other.

He was never one to sit in an airport, so he leaned against a support column and used the vantage point to survey his surroundings. His training and bloodline had taught him to be hyper-observant and sensed that she was there even before she came into his peripheral line of vision.

Barbara looked up and leaned into him placing her hand on his pecks. “Baby, I’m really thirsty. Will you go get me a something from the coffee shop while we still have a little time?” She looked lovingly into his face, blue eyes pleading. “Please?”

“Back off, Barbie Doll,” he spoke the words softly, smiling while he did. He looked down at her hand on his chest, covering it with his own, then squeezed hard enough that it should have hurt. She never flinched, the smile never wavered. Then bringing those same fingers to his lips, he kissed them as if to say, “I’m sorry.”

She nodded in mute acceptance of that apology.

He was being a jerk. He knew it.

He did not want anyone to think that her request or physical contact pissed him off. It didn't, not really, and he went to go get her the drink as would any newly wedded husband would do, he supposed.

Getting a black coffee for himself, he brought her request back handing it to her and taking the seat beside her. He did not like it. It put his back to the crowd, but they were in a secured area. What possibly could happen? He could never seem to turn off the mercenary mode, even when he could. He figured it had kept him alive this long. So, why change?

“Thank you, baby.” She noticed he also threw in a piece of banana nut bread, a blue berry muffin, and a scone.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked.” He shrugged offering an explanation at her questioning look. “I’ll eat whatever you don’t. I’m not picky.”

“That’s an understatement,” she mumbled.

He heard, understanding the inference was not toward food.

“Just eat already, will ya. Seen and not heard, remember?” He gave her a small smile.

“Not on your life.” Low and direct, she let him know in no uncertain terms that she was not going to play the quiet, shy type. “Baby, you know I cannot eat nuts,” she said just a little louder than she needed to. “You remember what happened at your Uncle Ben’s birthday party last year.”

“Hives. Sorry, I forgot.” His reply was flat. He hated role playing and freely admitted that he did not need to give up his day job to become an actor. He had been approached by modeling agencies and producers alike. He knew that he had the looks, skill, and build for the next great Hollywood action hero, but he never could get the character down. For him real life was way better than some script.

Furthermore, he understood what she was doing. It was better to get into full character here where the chances of someone seeing them associated with Del Torres was slim to none. Once they boarded that plane, touched down in Panama, and passed through immigration, there was only one way to look at everyone, the enemy. Once the passports were swiped and the information fed into the immigrations computer system, their presence in Panama would be undeniable.

The fact that they were going in the front door might be the only way to keep them alive. It was just too blatant not to look bona fide. Mason was on almost every third-world country’s watch list. So, passing through customs and immigrations in full-blown daylight was gutsy if he were on a mission. He hoped it would be so overt that the local authorities would not necessarily overlook him, but at least not stop them outright. If he could just get past the fact that his partner was Barbara they just might, in a few days time, board a flight back to Dallas sitting in first class and not in the cargo hull in cardboard caskets and body bags.

He really had no choice other than to get past it. He had chosen to take this mission, knowing full well what it entailed, or so he thought he understood what it entailed.

Reaching over and taking her hand, he squeezed her fingers for a different reason.

“I may not always like you, Barbara, but I promise to keep you alive. You deserve that much from me.”

“And that is a promise I fully intend to make you keep, Mason.” Her smile was genuine, and he saw the woman behind it. She was human.

Damn, he thought. She really was a woman after all and not some mechanical robot encased in frumpy coveralls.

But more than that, she was a woman who was unselfish enough to agree to go into a foreign country and risk getting killed just to save a child that she never met simply because it was the right thing to do. There was only one kind of woman he knew who would do that voluntarily. She was a warrior at heart.

Christ, what was Robert thinking? She should not even be here. She could die. He could have done this alone getting into the country on some other farce. Maybe it was not too late.

“You need to back out and let me do this, Barbara.” He had to try.

“No, Mason. We are doing this together or not at all.”

He felt and heard her resolve.

“Till death do us part?” he spoke softly as if mulling it over out loud. Looking away, he found he could not face her. “Maybe not such a great vow after all, huh,” he questioned as he took a drink from his coffee cup, hoping to wash down the words that were lodged in his throat.

“Not in our case, no. Probably should have left that one off. Right along with love, honor, and obey,” she lightly teased. “I’m thinking those will be tough to live up to for us.”

He grunted in reply.

Not meeting her gaze, she studied his profile. He was six years younger than her, but he had lived hard and fast. His life was such a contrast to her very private and quiet personal life. She had lived her life in the C.I.A. with her fair share of close calls and life-threatening scrapes; she sported the scars and medical records to prove it, too. Now, she just wanted to settle back. He, on the other hand, grabbed life by the balls and just did not let up.

Maybe, she was a little jealous. Then maybe not, she decided.

The lines around his eyes and hard look to his body could only come from playing hard. Extreme sports were his first love. Cliff diving, sky diving, and extreme vertical skiing were just a few of those sports he practiced. Many thought Mason McKinnon had a death wish. She saw through that, seeing a different wish. He just had a life wish, sucking up as much of life as he could. Not that she agreed with all his tactics, but she could see it. It just wasn’t for her. Whether she like him or not was irrelevant because she worried for his safety regardless. He was Robert’s brother, she reasoned. It would kill Robert and Chase if anything ever happened to Mason. Furthermore, from her perspective, he was a huge asset to the company. She also admitted he was not totally unlovable even if she didn’t really like his lifestyle.

She was sure he did his fair share of hard partying, but he took care of himself too. It was a prerequisite of the job they did for a living. Still, there was no denying Mason lived it up and it was beginning to tell on him. He was, in her opinion, the best looking of the McKinnon men going all the way back to 1499 and the patriarch, Nic McKinnon. But he was beginning to look older than his twenty-eight years. Eventually, some jealous boyfriend or husband was not going to take kindly to Mason flirting with his woman, no matter if Mason felt it innocent. Like James Dean, she feared he might wake up dead one day from living life in the fast lane. His sky diving chute might not open at ten thousand feet or his racing bike might crash with him doing a hundred and twenty on a hairpin curve. There were a lot of other ways for them to depart each other's company caused by death, and Del Torres would have absolutely nothing to do with it.

She looked down at her tennis shoes.

She was thinking about Jesse and how scared the girl must be. Her mother dead at her step-father’s hand, her mother’s lover holding her hostage at gun point, she must be scared to death.

Mason was watching her. He could see she was focusing on something intently as her brow furrowed in the tell-tale 11 between bright and intelligent blue eyes. None of the girls he dated had any wrinkles on their face. It was either youth or botox, but either way lines of expression did not exist. He had always felt Barbara cool, but never unemotional. Some of the fights they had over the years were full of highly charged feelings. He tried to remember if any of those feelings were positive. He could not remember any except that morning when she was sitting in his lap. Her scent washed over him, giving him a feeling of belonging and comfort. That was right before she had told him to go to hell. He would never figure her out.

He knew she questioned and did not approve his lifestyle or his refusal to grow up. It chapped him that she judged his life decisions. Maybe he did not want to grow up? In actuality seeing no real reason to change, he just did what he wanted when he wanted. He supported his obligations, did his work when asked, and risked his neck for others on assignments. He fell in line when necessary with his missions for McKinnon-Bride. His personal life just was not where he needed to keep it high and tight. He liked his life just fine.

Barbara on the other hand was so private he knew absolutely nothing about her, not that he had ever really asked and what little he did know to this point, he was questioning the validity and truthfulness of it.

She was a retired C.I.A. field operative. That was a total shock. She was his boss, another total shock. She was a college graduate, not so much a shock now that he gave it credible thought. He had never questioned her intelligence. How old was she? She was retired from the C.I.A., but there was no way that she was old enough for that, so her retirement must have been medical rather than age forcing her out. His best guess was she was in her mid-thirties. But she looked really good with great skin. She felt soft and touchable from what he remembered earlier when he held her face to kiss her. Where was she from? What had life dished out fot her? How had she come to be at McKinnon-Bride? She had never been open with him. Frozen, detached and unyielding maybe, but never was she open or straightforward. Nevertheless, he was beginning to see small glimpses of what Barbara Allen Bride really was all about. Sharp as a knife just scratched the surface. Fearless, honorable, and courageous was also in the offering. He conceded those were not bad things to have in the lineup.

She surprised him by snapping her head up to face him.

“I know we have never really been on the same side of the sheet, but we can do this, Mason. We are professionals and training will dictate that I have your back and you have mine once the chips are down. We are in this together for better or worse.” She laughed ironically at the fact their “vows” also included that catch phrase. “And we may have to come to the conclusion till death do us part may be part of it.”

Immediately, the idea was not acceptable to him.

“No, don’t even think that way,” he quickly ordered. He may not have a great love for her, but he also could not see a life without her around. She was as much a part of his life as Robert or any other family member.

She saw his denial written all over his face. “What we are doing is not child’s play, Mase. People die. It is a byproduct of what we do and who we are as operatives. These bastards have real guns and will use them liberally. And what's more is there are no
‘cut and let’s do a retake’
like a movie set. We get one shot here and Jesse is all that matters.”

He balked at her patronization, treating him as if this was his first assignment. “Don’t lecture me on the dangers of the job we do, Barbara. I, of all people, am fully aware. I may seem reckless with my own life and I probably am, but you stick with me and when the chips are down I’ll always be there for you. Call it honor, code, or whatever, but those under my care, custody, and control are my first priorities when I’m on a mission,” he told her not raising his voice above a low whisper.

“Maybe that was true with your troops or family, but does it extend to me,” she asked pointedly.

He paused. Did it extend to her past the job? He was beginning to have a little more respect for her and beginning to see what Robert saw in her. She was one of them. She was a warrior. She was soft and pretty on the outside, but cold hardened steel on the inside where it counted when things went bad in the field.