Double Dare (2 page)

Amanda frowned, fingered the feather on her dart. “I’m not saying he isn’t human, Kate. I’m saying—”

“Wow! You’re totally freaked out.” Kate leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. “Did he propose to you or something?” She took a swig of coffee.

Amanda flushed. “No.”

“But you think it’s coming.” Kate bristled at having to fish.

“Maybe.” Amanda looked up, panic riddling her eyes. “I’m thinking he might. Christmas, maybe.”

“Ho, ho, ho.” Maggie grinned. Just because her marriage had sucked didn’t mean Amanda’s and Mark’s would. Truly, they were the strongest, most connected couple she’d seen in her life. If they couldn’t make it, no one could.

“Maggie?” Darcy Clark, the unit’s intelligence expert, called. “Telephone.”

Cup in hand, Maggie slipped back to her desk, before grabbing the phone and she asked, “Who is it?”

“Karen.” Darcy peeked around the wall and cringed.
“She’s calling about Christmas. She and Jack want to invite you for dinner.”

Karen. Maggie’s former best friend.

Stiffening, she ignored the phone and hung the mostly dry star ornament on the tree next to an angel. That angel was the only thing that kept Maggie from cutting loose with a stream of curses. “Tell her thanks, but no. I’d rather be alone.”

“Alone on Christmas?” Darcy blanched. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look serious?” Maggie glanced back over her shoulder. “Would you like to spend Christmas with your ex and the new woman in his life?”

“Well, no. But I don’t know, being alone on Christmas really sucks, Maggie.”

“I know.” She’d been alone the past two years and hated it. “And I’ll still take being alone over being with them.”

Darcy lifted the receiver to her mouth. “Karen, Maggie can’t come to the phone right now. She said to tell you she appreciates the invitation but she won’t be able to make it.” Darcy paused, then relayed. “Um, no, Karen. She’ll be alone.” Another pause and then, “Um, no, I didn’t know you cried all day last year because she was by herself, but…”

Humiliated, Maggie grabbed the phone. “Karen, thanks for asking. Really. But I don’t need your pity. I’m just not interested in being with you or Jack.”

“But, Maggie, I just—”

“I know. You just want to ease your guilty conscience and Jack’s, too. Well, sorry. I’m dealing with my own guilty conscience, and you guys just have to deal with yours on your own.” Maggie put the phone down on the
table and threw one of Amanda’s darts. It just missed Kunz’s right eye. Bastard Jack was probably drunk again, insisting Karen invite Maggie over. Anger poured acid, burning in her stomach. Karen wanted him, she got him.

“Jeez, Maggie.” Amanda gave her shoulders a shake. “That’s a little cold. Karen just didn’t want you sad and alone on Christmas.”

“Uh, no.” Maggie turned to face Amanda. “Cold is me pulling a seventy-two-hour stint, working the anthrax issue after 9/11, finally hauling my exhausted ass home, and finding my beloved husband in
my
bed having sex with my most trusted, best friend. That’s cold.”

“I still can’t believe that.” Amanda set down her cup, picked up her darts. “What did you do?”

“What do you think I did?” Maggie asked, reliving the shock, the betrayal, the disbelief, the guilt and the incredible, overwhelming sadness she’d felt then and since.

“I’d have shot him right in the—”

“We know what
you’d
have done, Kate,” Amanda quickly cut in.

“Neuter his faithless backside with a .38,” Kate said anyway. “Hollowpoint, so it’d explode on impact.”

“Of course,” Amanda said calmly. “And we’d expect no less from you, Kate. But this is about Maggie, not you.” Amanda looked back at Maggie. “So what did you do?”

“Booted them both out—naked, like I found them. Then I dragged the mattress and all Jack’s clothes into the backyard and burned them. The next morning, I filed for divorce and took half of everything else he had.”

Amanda grunted, her arms folded over her chest. “You should’ve gone for all of it.”

“Especially since you didn’t shoot him,” Kate interjected, snagging a powdered-sugar doughnut from a box someone had brought in.

“You did have to buy a new bed.” That, from Darcy.

Maggie had. “And a new privacy fence and a new storage shed. I didn’t replace the boat.”

“What happened to the boat?” Amanda asked. “I missed that.”

“It was parked by the fence. The wind blew the fire and things got a little out of hand.”

“Right.” Kate snorted. “You’re a weapons expert and you’re telling me you couldn’t burn a mattress and some clothes without setting a boat, fence and storage shed on fire?”

Maggie looked her right in the eye with a straight face. “Shut up, Kate.”

A smile tugged at Kate’s lip. “But his car was too close to the house, right?”

“Parked in the garage.” Thank God, or she might have burned it, too.

“Slashed tires?” she asked.

“All four.” Maggie snatched a doughnut, more to cover her disgust than because she thought she could actually swallow it. “He and Karen departed, riding on rims.”

“Excellent.” Kate chewed and swallowed. “You got her car, too, then?”

“Her car wasn’t there.” Genuinely grateful, Maggie licked frosting from her lip. “It was parked down the street at Winn-Dixie, so the neighbors wouldn’t notice she was there while I wasn’t.”

“It survived?”

“I heard it was stripped, though that was a secondhand report, so I don’t know if it’s true or not.” And grateful she was that at least that wasn’t on her conscience, too.

“Good for you, Maggie. Victim no more.” Amanda grinned. “I do understand your style of justice.”

“It wasn’t justice. It was temper,” she confessed. “At the time, I thought he could’ve walked anytime without incident. All he had to say is he wanted a divorce, and it would’ve been bloodlessly civil. But there’s no excuse for showing a spouse such a lack of respect. We reap what we sow. It’s universal law—immutable.” That’s exactly what she’d thought, and she’d been partially right. We do reap what we sow, and boy, had she.

“I’m sure he wishes he hadn’t done it,” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah.” Kate snickered and brushed powdered sugar off her shirtfront. “Especially at tax time when he sees his dwindled net worth.”

“I’m sure he does.” Maggie had refused to claim a single dime of the loss with either the insurance company or on income taxes. Right was right, and none of it had been an accident. To avoid being charged with adultery, and Maggie naming Karen as a correspondent in the legal proceedings, Jack had opted for a quiet little irreconcilable differences divorce and had eaten the loss.

Amanda sat at the table. “So why does Karen call you to come for Christmas dinner?”

Maggie hated talking about this. But the S.A.S.S. operatives were a tight unit and few secrets survived in such a close group. Better to get it all over with now since the morning was already ruined, talking about Jack and Karen.
“Because, well, lately he’s taken to drinking. A lot. When he’s had too much, either he calls or he has her call. He’s sorry and wants absolution or help to get his life back together.” Which had to make Karen feel like dirt. She, unfortunately, was reaping, too.

“Figures.” Kate plopped down at her desk. “I’d have to be drunk to call you for help, too.”

“Shut up, Kate,” Amanda said. “Quit needling Maggie because she’s a rookie. You were one once, too, you know, and don’t you see this has her upset?”

“Sorry.” Kate tossed Maggie a glance.

Kate rode Maggie’s back all the time, and usually she stomached it because Kate was senior and Maggie was a rookie; it was expected until someone new came into the unit and became the rookie. But today, Maggie didn’t give a flying fig. She was tired of eating Kate’s dirt and in no mood to let her razor-sharp remarks slide off her back. “Save it until you mean it.”

Kate stilled and stared at Maggie a long second. It was hard, but Maggie was just irritated enough to stare down the devil. Staring down Kate was just a shade harder. “It’s a damn shame you finally think I’m a worthy human being and it’s over the one thing in my whole life I most wish I could change.” Maggie debated then plunged headlong. “I did all those things to Jack and Karen—all of them. I was so angry I didn’t want justice. I wanted revenge. They’d hurt me. So much I didn’t know anyone could hurt that much and survive.”

Maggie stepped away, turned, then faced them. “After they’d gone, I threw up. Then I stood in the yard watching the flames. I felt raw. Like someone had scraped all the skin
and muscle off my bones and there was nothing left of me worth keeping.”

“No, Maggie.” Darcy moved toward her.

Maggie lifted a shaky staying hand, her eyes brimming with tears she hadn’t cried then and couldn’t cry now. “I had my revenge. But I pay for it every day of my life.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “You know what’s left inside me now, Kate?”

“The satisfaction of seeing justice done?” Kate hiked a shoulder, but the glib expression on her face had turned sober.

“I wish,” Maggie confessed. “God, how I wish.”

“Well, what’s left, then?” Kate asked.

“Shame.”

Obviously Kate had no idea what to do with that, so did what she always did when something cut too close to the bone. She changed the subject. “Okay, then.” Nodding, she leaned back in her chair. “So, Amanda, when Mark asks, are you going to marry him, or what?”

“Let’s just wait and see if he asks.” She honestly looked hopeful. “Maybe he won’t. I do and don’t want him to, you know?”

“Good God, you’re neurotic.” Kate huffed and dug into the doughnut box, this time opting for a long-john with chocolate frosting.

Maggie grabbed a dart, still unnerved by the discussion and the phone call. How Jack could put Karen through that, she had no idea, but after hearing her crying in the background on a call last Christmas, Maggie had resolved not to take another call from either of them—ever. Woman to woman, she knew the pain of betrayal, and no way was she going to be a party to inflicting it on anyone else—not
even on Karen. Though she couldn’t help but wonder why Karen tolerated this in Jack. It wasn’t her nature…or was it? Hell, Maggie couldn’t figure out herself half the time, much less Karen.

“Amanda,” Darcy said. “I just can’t believe it. You’ve been with Mark a year, for pity’s sake. You still don’t trust him?”

“I—I love him. Of course, I do.” Her words came out in a rush.

Darcy stared at her, quiet and still. “I didn’t say love, I said trust.”

Amanda squirmed, then sighed.

“What woman ever truly trusts men?” Maggie spared her and tossed the dart. It stabbed Thomas Kunz right in the snoz. “We know they practice deceit for years, most of them from the cradle. By the time they become men, they’re so good they believe their own lies. Women don’t stand a chance. We have to doubt them.”

Kate folded her arms back, behind her head. “Spoken like a bitter woman who doesn’t trust men
and
doesn’t trust her own judgment about them.”

Bitter, yes. Because she’d allowed the worst in her to run amok. Maggie cocked her head. But how could she trust her judgment when she’d been
so
wrong about Jack? “You could be right, Kate.” Bitchy to point it out, but right. “Let’s just say I prefer working with women I can trust to throw their knives in my face but never stab me in the back.”

Kate split her lips in a toothy grin. “Why I do believe that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Considering how grumpy you are—” Amanda pulled out a file and cracked it open “—I can believe that.”

Katherine Kane had more bristles than a hairbrush and
about a thimble’s worth of faith in Maggie’s abilities. Typical anti-rookie bias, but seeing is believing, and her lack of confidence would resolve itself soon enough. Maggie had only joined the S.A.S.S. eight months ago and had just completed her initial training.

Someone cleared her throat.

“Colonel?” Darcy said, surprised.

Everyone turned to look at the hallway door, including Maggie. Colonel Sally Drake had dyed her hair blood-red, which meant she was ticked to the gills about something, and her expression proved she’d been standing there awhile and had heard far more than she’d wanted to—especially considering there was a man standing beside her.

A sexy-as-sin, gorgeous and unfortunately familiar man who was biting back what would be, at the moment, a very unwelcome smile, considering the women had been trashing his gender. In his mid-thirties, he wore steel-gray Dockers and a dove-gray shirt and tie.

Maggie’s stomach clutched. Dr. Justin Crowe, owner and chief researcher for Crowe Pharmaceuticals. Now what the hell was he doing here? And why did he have to be here
now?

Crowe nodded in Maggie’s direction. Her stomach clutched again, knocking at her backbone. She knew a great deal about him. As one of the unit’s resident biological weapons experts, she monitored the bio aspects of his current Department of Defense programs. The DoD had awarded him a major contract and the brilliant doctor had successfully developed an antidote to DR-27, a black market lethal virus in Thomas Kunz’s arsenal. Only God knew what Kunz would do with it. Or what U.N.-sanctioned country he’d sell it to, to use against the U.S.

Maggie’s face burned hot. Crowe and Colonel Drake had just heard her sound off about Jack and Karen, and her humiliating and shameful response, and she’d be lucky if the colonel ever assigned her to any mission.

A lack of control was a detriment in a S.A.S.S. operative’s line of work. She swallowed hard. What had she done? Burning beds, slashing tires, and…Oh, God. Why couldn’t the floor be merciful and open up and swallow her before Colonel Drake bounced her ass right out of S.A.S.S.?

Colonel Drake spared her and abstained from formal introductions. She knew they’d be moot. “Staff meeting. Conference room in two minutes.”

Justin Crowe never let his gaze wander from Maggie. The embarrassment burned down her throat to her chest and up to the tips of her ears.

“Dr. Crowe?” Colonel Drake urged him.