The Phoenix (2 page)

“Why are you here, Ms. Martin?” Guy McCann abruptly wanted to know. “I’m sure Juan Carlos has told you that we only hire former military—Rangers, specifically.” “You’re wasting everyone’s time” wasn’t said, but hung in the air like an unwanted stench.

All righty then.
They’d reached the nut-cutting part of the impromptu interview much more quickly than she would have liked. But she appreciated brevity as well, so be it.

“I’m here because I want a job, obviously. With Ranger Security.” She looked at all of them in turn, gauging their responses. Payne was in lock-down mode, not betraying so much as a twitch. Flanagan’s face was set as well, but a tightening around the eyes told her that it was harder for him to remain impassive.

McCann didn’t even try to hide his expression and he might as well have said, “When hell freezes over.”

“I realize that I’m not former military,” Charlie said, because in for a penny, in for a pound. She had absolutely nothing to lose at this point. “But I think my résumé speaks for itself and I’m more than qualified to handle the sort of work you do here. Surely you could see the benefit of having a female agent on staff…particularly considering how many of your cases have married women associated with them,” she added. A gamble? Yes. But she’d never been one to play it safe.

Jamie Flanagan stood a little straighter and a blush crept across Guy’s cheekbones. Payne still didn’t move, though the icy gaze he directed at her would have made a lesser person quail.

“That’s not public information,” Payne said, studying her with unnerving intensity.

“Neither are your eBay IDs, your private email addresses or your most recent physical exams, but I’ve seen them.” It hadn’t been nearly as difficult as it should have been, considering their line of work. Thanks to a cool little program she’d written herself, it had only taken a few keystrokes. She mentally snorted. Their firewall was a joke.

No longer trying to imitate a stone statue, Jamie leaned forward, a mask of incredulous shock on his admittedly handsome face. “You
hacked
us?”

Charlie merely smiled at him. “I like the pendant you’ve picked out for your wife for her birthday. It’s quite lovely.”

The three shared a significant glance—one that might as well have communicated “doom”—then Payne turned that arctic gaze on her. He did not smile. “Thank you for pointing out the flaw in our computer security, Ms. Martin. Clearly that is something that will need our
immediate
attention. That said, we aren’t hiring at the moment.”

At this precise moment, no, so it wasn’t technically a lie. She seriously doubted Payne ever lied if he could avoid it—he wasn’t the type. But, due to her computer reconnaissance, she knew they were looking for another agent and fully intended to hire someone within the next couple of weeks.

Just not her.

Her blood boiled, burning away the instant disappointment. For whatever reason, she’d expected them to be
smarter.
To be
better.
To see reason. To look beyond her breasts and give her a chance.

“Right,” she said, her eyes widening significantly. She knew exactly why they wouldn’t hire her and knew her tone, which carried an edge sharp enough to cut granite, told them so. She stood and extended her hand. “Thank you for your time.” Graciousness had been ingrained in her, though she wished she could have suppressed the impulse. The niceties over, she turned and headed for the door. She paused at the threshold and threw them all a look over her shoulder. “Give my congratulations to Major Weatherford, would you?” she said, her lips curving with biting humor. “I’m sure he’s going to fit in much better than I would have.”

And with that parting shot—and the narrowing of Payne’s pale blue eyes (a reaction at last!)—she turned and made her exit.

“WELL, HELL,” JAMIE said, pushing a hand through his dark hair, his expression wavering comically between alarm and dumbfoundment.

Guy’s lips twisted in irritation. “You’ve got the
hell
part of it right.” His incredulous gaze shot to Payne. “Do you have any idea what just happened here?”

That was what Payne was trying to sort out, and a strange tension in his gut, one that was distinctly akin to discomfort, wasn’t helping. He knew they were perfectly within their rights to hire whom they pleased, and not bringing on a woman who’d had the nerve to hack into their computer system
and then tell them about it
was completely justifiable. In truth, he could have threatened to have her arrested but didn’t see the point, because if she’d been good enough to get into their system, then she was good enough not to get caught. He frowned thoughtfully.

Impressive, that.

But knowing they were within their rights and feeling good about what just happened apparently weren’t willing to coexist. He reviewed her résumé once again, mentally reexamining the forced interview, and came to a startling conclusion—the résumé alone would have gotten Charlie Martin in the door. Would they have hired her if she’d been a man? He didn’t know. But based on the résumé alone, he would have granted the interview.

No doubt Juan Carlos had known that, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the risk.

Still…

“Juan Carlos,” Payne called quietly. No need to raise his voice. He was certain the little Latino man was lurking just outside the door.

Looking equally guilty and put-upon, the office manager strode quietly into the room. “You called?”

Payne purposely let the silence lengthen and pinned him with his gaze. “If you ever do anything like that again, you’re fired. Do I make myself clear?”

Though it should have been impossible for him to nod with his nose so high in the air, Juan Carlos still managed it. “Yes, sir.”

Jamie gave an imperceptible nod, approving of this rebuke. Guy, on the other hand, clearly thought firing him
now
would be the better option. Other than being an occasional pain in the ass, Juan Carlos was a flawless employee, keeping the office running with a smooth sort of efficiency that made their lives considerably easier. Even Guy’s, though he’d be loath to admit it. In truth, this was the first toe Juan Carlos had put over the line and Payne knew their office manager wouldn’t have done so without good cause.

He wanted to hear it.

“I assume you owed Ms. Martin a favor of some sort?”

“I did.”

“What for?” Jamie asked, his voice still strained. He settled heavily on the couch and snagged a packet of candy off the coffee table. He was an emotional eater, his wife liked to say.

Juan Carlos’s thin nostrils flared and color raced across his cheeks. “I’d rather not say.”

Guy’s gaze narrowed, his temper barely in check. “You lost that right when you brought her in here this morning.
Speak.
”

A muscle in Juan Carlos’s jaw jumped and the heat that had colored his cheeks had painted the rest of his face, as well. Seeing the usually unflappable office manager so unsettled was concerning.

He took a small breath and released a smaller sigh, seemingly resigned. “Six years ago I met a friend for a drink in a club downtown. There were a couple of guys at the bar who heckled us, but I didn’t think anything about it. After a while, it just becomes noise, you know?” He paused. “Fast forward an hour later. I paid the tab, left the bar and rounded the corner.” He looked at Payne and his mouth turned into a mockery of a smile. “Before I knew it they were on me. It was Charlie who came to my rescue,” he said, almost wonderingly. A bark of dry laughter erupted from his throat, his gaze turning inward. “This little scrap of a girl felled those big bastards like saplings.” He paused as Payne and the others absorbed his story. Irony lit his gaze. “Needless to say, I didn’t go to her self-defense classes for the free pizza.” He shrugged. “We’ve been friends ever since. You took a chance on me, knowing what I am,” he said, referring openly for the first time in his many years of service to his homosexuality. “Big, bad-ass military guys like you. I came to the interview fully expecting to be shown the door. You surprised me. Was it so wrong to hope you’d surprise her, too?”

The discomfort in Payne’s gut intensified. “We hired you because you were the most qualified candidate for the job.”

“I’ve been the most qualified candidate for lots of jobs I didn’t get,” Juan Carlos told him. The phone rang and, looking profoundly relieved, he jerked his head toward the door. “I’d better get that.”

Payne nodded and watched him go.

“Wow,” Jamie said, exhaling a disbelieving breath. He passed a hand over his face and absently rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Not a trace of irritation remained on Guy’s face. He pushed up from the chair he’d been occupying and ambled over to the bar, where he poured himself a shot of Jamie’s favorite Irish whiskey. He winced at the burn, then cleared his throat. “I’ll admit her résumé is good and her wading into a fight to protect a stranger is admirable…but does that make her the better candidate?”

Payne mentally reviewed Jay Weatherford’s credentials and compared them to Charlie Martin’s. “No, it doesn’t,” he said.

“Then we’re agreed?” Jamie asked. “Jay Weatherford is better qualified?”

Better qualified to fit the current job description, yes,
Payne thought. Still… He couldn’t shake the pesky premonition that they were going to live to regret their decision. Charlie Martin’s determined, resourceful personality reminded him strongly of someone else he knew—his wife.

2

FORMER RANGER MAJOR Jay Weatherford flicked the end of the match against his thumbnail and watched the tip ignite with a strange sort of fascination that was quickly becoming all too familiar. The strong scent of sulfur perfumed the air in his new SUV, where he waited the last few minutes before his interview with the founders of Ranger Security. He felt the heat glaze his fingertips as the match burned down, before resignedly extinguishing the flame with a low, fatalistic exhalation of air.

Despite the fact that he’d walked out of a burning building in Baghdad without so much as a blister—not a single singed hair—he’d played with enough matches since then to know that he would, in fact, burn. Why hadn’t he then? When other soldiers who’d been within inches of him had suffered terrible, agonizing wounds?

He had no idea.

“A miracle,” his mother had said. “Sheer dumb luck,” friends had insisted. A “freakish set of circumstances,” the doctors had concluded. Probably a combination of all three, if you asked him.

The incident had earned him the nickname the Phoenix and, though he’d admit it had a certain cachet, he wasn’t altogether comfortable with it. How could he be, given the circumstances? When, for reasons he could never adequately explain, he felt as if his comrades had quite literally taken heat that was meant for him.

Improbable as it would seem, given his chosen profession, Jay had never given much thought to his mortality, but after that little occurrence he’d become distractingly, unhealthily obsessed with it. Though he knew it was unreasonable, he’d come to the bizarre conclusion that he wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. And luck, he’d realized, that mystical, magical thing that had always seemed to rest on his shoulders and ensure that, whatever reckless situation he charged into, he would be safe, had gotten other people hurt this time.

It was unacceptable, horrifying.

Had he shared these thoughts with anyone? No. He had trouble enough admitting them to himself. Sharing them was out of the question, a fact that had extremely annoyed Colonel Carl Garrett, who’d ultimately recommended him to Ranger Security. In truth, he understood Garrett’s frustration. When a career soldier whom the army had spent considerable time and money training suddenly announced that he wanted to leave, an explanation was surely wanting. But how could he explain something he didn’t fully understand? He only knew that he couldn’t do the job anymore.

And an ineffective soldier got people killed.

He couldn’t have that on his conscience.

Jay glanced at the clock, then exited the car and made his way around the building to the front entrance. A cold wind whipped through the bare trees lining the streets and rattled the branches, sending a flock of birds into the pearly-gray sky. Winter’s only purpose was to make one appreciate spring, Jay thought, huddling deeper into his jacket.