He conquers twice, who shows mercy to the conquered. – Julius Caesar

She was last seen on the southern outskirts of Mexico City, attempting to gather information about a local cartel. – Sara’s briefing to Briel for her follow up mission.

San Antonio, April 28, late afternoon

Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, Briel opened the door to Nessa, who smiled at her friend. Why Briel cared what she looked like, she did not know; she had no reason to feel self-conscious. After their dinner at Chez Nous, Briel had eaten three meals with Nessa in two days, and somehow, Nessa had successfully intruded herself into Briel's life under the auspices of friendship. Briel had no idea how she had allowed herself to become so attached to the girl. Too late now, Briel sighed.

“Hey, Nessa,” she greeted her new friend.

“Hi, Briel,” Nessa replied, accepting Briel’s offered entre into the apartment. “Don't look so nervous,” she smiled gently.

“I’m not nervous,” Briel contradicted, forcing her shoulders to relax.

“Oh, of course,” Nessa smirked, allowing the obvious falsehood. “But you don’t really need to worry. I mean, you kinda know the guy.”

Contrarily, Briel's anxiety increased with the thought that she knew the “stranger.” “What does that mean?” she babbled. “That is something you should have told me. Who is he?” Her mind began to flash through her teammates, coming up with no prediction.

“We met him in Banff – well, at least, I did. I’m pretty new to this scene, but I think you might have met him before, if your interaction in Banff meant anything. It’s Jase Hamilton.”

Briel's vision suddenly obscured as a red haze rose before her eyes. Could she throat-punch a friend and still be friends? “Absolutely not. I am not going out with him.”

“Come on, Briel.” Nessa seemed so dismissive. “How can you dislike a guy who would risk his whole career to save an innocent.”

“Save her? Jase had some kind of agenda for her.”

“He liked her. He was moved by her plight – how many of us in this business still hold the capacity to be moved by innocence?”

“I know Jase – there is more to this story.”

“He's a really nice guy, Briel,” Nessa insisted.

“You really have to define ‘nice.’ Jase is charming, generous when it suits him, resourceful – ”

“Guapo,” Nessa interrupted.

“Are you shallow enough that his looks matter to you? I’ve known Jase a long time, personally and by reputation. Not a fan.”

“You almost sound as if you think he were a criminal.”

Briel paused. Perhaps she did give that impression, but she honestly didn't know for sure where he stood. Her bad blood with Jase went so far back, it seemed impossible to explain in a few words. “Not a criminal. Maybe less than ethical. I mean, who was he working for in Banff? All indicators point to ProtoComm. And we don’t have any certain confirmation that he intended to help Felicity Miller – she’s the one who saved all of us. Jase conveniently helped after the fact, which he could have done to save face. With all your talk about being ‘moved by innocence’, what he really did on the last mission was kidnap an innocent woman and hold her hostage.”

“Hostage? That’s an exaggeration. He did it to keep her alive.”

“And to try to convince her to leave her husband.”

“Son marido, who turned out to actually be a criminal…Jase was working under some misapprehensions, and he made some bad choices. We've all made bad decisions; moral lines aren't always clear in this job.”

“He knew what he was doing.” What Briel didn’t tell Nessa was about the rumors of another woman – a tall, leggy brunette with an accent – who had been seen with Jase all over Banff, laughing and kissing, and all while he was supposedly courting Felicity. Briel knew it was typical Jase. Apparently, Nessa didn’t want to hear anything bad about him. “And it wasn’t ‘saving’ her.”

“He literally took a bullet for her.”

“That doesn’t prove I should trust him. I have a lot of reasons not to – a history you don’t have.” Briel retorted. “He almost let me die in Venice.”

“What happened in Venice?”

“It’s…not something I really like to talk about.

She could still picture vividly the amused eyes of Signor Rotolo, a high ranking mafioso, as he closed the door to the wine cellar of his home in Venice. Looking into that man’s eyes, the cold chill that had run through Briel had stemmed from more than the air in the inky cellar. The man had planned to leave Briel there until she starved – or killed herself by drinking the wine.

He could have put a bullet through her brain and shown some mercy, but he wanted her to suffer. Though Briel had gone days without food before, the darkness, the total powerlessness, and the promise of endless time had wreaked havoc on her thoughts. She had suffered down there for three days with the memory of the pleasure on the man's face as he had locked her inside.

After those three interminable days, the crackling of the door's opening almost sent her into legitimate shock. She had finally popped open a bottle of the wine, compelled by intense thirst, but she was terrified of getting drunk. No food in her system, extreme thirst. She tortured herself taking miniscule sips to slake the thirst as much as she could without getting sloshed. By the time the mischievous gleam of Jase's eyes shone in the doorway, Briel was a mess, half-sodden and malnourished, weak and barely mobile.

Her adrenaline and thoughts of self-preservation kicked in, and she tried to rush Jase – half mad. Before she could reach him, though, he had gripped her hand and hurled her out of the room, pulling her up just short of the opposite wall.

She tried to shove him away, but he dragged her behind him with strength her deprived body didn’t have, and until he had literally carried her up the two flights of steps to the ground floor, she had been terrified of what he would do to her. She had watched Jase, seen him smiling and amused as Signor Rotolo instructed his henchman to rough her up, unmoving and unmoved while the mafia boss backhanded her across the face several times, smashed his huge fist into her stomach, and kicked her once she collapsed to the ground.

Once he carried her up the stairs, though, her mind went blurry. She remembered that he shoved her into a car – the driver’s seat, though she was hardly in a state to drive. Then he had turned and walked away.

“Why are you here?” she had slurred toward his back.

“Money, of course,” he shrugged, throwing her the most casual glance she could have imagined.

So, yeah, Briel had felt betrayed by her old classmate.

Money. Her mentor. The man who had stood between her and catastrophe all during her training. The man she had made excuses for when he had dated her and then dismissed her, imagining him a victim of a higher officer. At the time, she still believed that on some level, he had struggled with breaking up with her.

Apparently, a few years later, he had not held any similar difficulty in throwing her to the dogs. That had been when Briel lost all remaining idealism regarding her profession. If Jase Hamilton could turn mercenary, then Briel could turn cynic, and she had. Within two months of that mission, she had left the FBI.

When she had run into him again, on the ProtoComm mission, she had known there was some secondary motive for his insanity with Felicity. There was no way he had held some stupid, romantic notion. Whoever had paid him, Jase Hamilton had been paid. Briel had no clear answer, and she wasn’t about to undertake any serious engagement with Jase until she could follow the money trail. If he had shown up where she was again, he had an agenda.

The thought arrested her burgeoning protests. Jase had an agenda. Jase always had an agenda. And Jase had shown up again – right about the time that a mysterious stranger had hacked into her computer and tried to lure her into a connection. Maybe that was exactly what she should give him Stealing herself, she suppressed her earlier protests and started to plan her night.

“Just,” Briel responded grudgingly to Nessa. “Forget it. I'll go out with him this once – to help you, not for Jase. Why is he even here – with Drew?” To torment Briel?

“Honestly, I think Drew has been trying to recruit him to the Team ever since we moved from Atlanta. He's supposedly very good.”

He's good, alright, Briel agreed, irritated.

As they spoke, the doorbell rang again, and Briel's chance to change her mind dematerialized. She opened the door with reluctance.

“Um...hi,” she stuttered, avoiding the faces at the door. She wondered if Jase knew beforehand with whom Drew had set up the “blind date.” Even if he hadn't, he did now, and he didn’t look too thrilled at the evening’s prospects. Of course, there was a good chance that any expression of his was a ploy, a manufactured impression intended to invoke his desired reaction.

“Hey, Nessa.” Drew swept past Briel into the apartment without greeting his host.

“Come on in,” Briel mumbled sarcastically to the retreating form. She thought she caught a smirk on Jase's face where he stood in the doorway.

“Hi, Briel,” he levelled.

“Jase,” came her curt reply. If he thought she would pretend like they were friends, he was dreaming. “So, what have you been up to since leaving Banff behind?”

“Not much,” he mumbled, and she couldn’t imagine why he would choose to portray regret. “Just lamenting lost opportunities.”

Like messing with Briel? “So, Nessa says you're thinking about joining us. Not gonna get rich in my line of work.”

“There’s more to life than money,” he shrugged.

Now she knew he was lying. “More than money? For everyone but you, I imagine.”

“I see I taught you well,” he leveled. “So, I pretty much deserve that.”

Briel narrowed her eyes, thrown off by the continued humility. He was such a genius! And she would learn from him again. Stepping back, she gestured him into the room.

“Thanks,” he shrugged, breezing through the door.

As soon as he had entered, Briel realized her stumble as a friend. Nessa’s eyes riveted to Jase, as often happened with Jase. Before that moment, Briel had respected her friend and her insight, but if she was a blind to Jase’s issues as everyone else, Nessa was nowhere near as insightful as Briel had imagined. When Drew stopped talking, watching his girlfriend’s face, Nessa seemed to shake herself and reenter proper decorum. Unfortunately, Nessa could not share Briel’s suspicions about Jase, because Briel had failed to enlighten the woman of specifics.Even once they reached the restaurant, Nessa spent the rest of the night engaged in deep discussion with Jase where Briel could not.

Briel appreciated the distraction because it gave her opportunity to watch her ex-mentor. She threw in comments when necessary, but she did not have to invest. Drew, no doubt as jealous of Jase as men usually were, didn’t even manage contribution – just watched with humorless irritation. Though she did not know him well, Briel sensed that Drew had suddenly formed an aversion to Jase. She wondered if, after tonight, Drew would decide that the job opening had closed.

When Nessa turned the conversation back to her friend, Briel shot off a glare.

“I now realize that you two ran in the same circles before I entered the picture,” Nessa commented, “but I had no idea until tonight.”

“You did know I was dating someone, though,” Briel accused.

Rather than offer contrition, Nessa pursed her lips in defiance. “’Dating’ is a loose term.”

“We went on dates, only with each other – that’s dating.”

“And now you are not dating,” Nessa retorted, “so it is all fine.”

When Briel registered the amusement that had returned to Jase’s face, she gritted her teeth. Not that she could blame him – Nessa was digging in deep.

“And I don’t plan on dating again for a while, so I think I will take over my own social calendar for the time being.”

“I ran into a lot of interesting people at the gym this morning,” Jase interrupted. “Surely one of them interests you.” This was worse than she thought, with her date and her friend ganging up to nose into her love life.

“I'm sorry, Jase…” Nessa saved Briel from needing to answer. “You don't know the Team the way Briel and I do. She just can't date anyone we work with.”

“Why? Dating never affected her ability to do her job.”

That had been a low blow.

“Plus,” Jase continued, “if she dated someone outside of the Team, she would constantly have to choose between her relationship and her work.”

Nessa nodded. “True. I wasn't speaking specifically about Team members dating as a matter of policy.” Briel thought she saw a slight flush of color across Nessa's cheeks. Oh, that was a bad sign. If Briel cared about her friend at all, she would have to enlighten Nessa about Jase’s true character as soon as possible. “What I meant was that I know everyone on the Team, and none is Briel's type.”

Turning to Briel, Jase flashed a knowing smile, fully aware of how she would take his prying into her personal life. “What exactly was wrong with Liam?”

“Oh, it’s our business, you know,” Briel offered tersely, trying to play casual. “I’m sure you’ve run into the difficulty of maintaining a relationship with a colleague.”

“That’s not it at all!” Nessa contradicted, and Briel pulled a slow breath through her nostrils so she didn’t react. “No, Liam’s problem was that he treated her with no respect. Anyone who had half a brain would respect Briel, and if he didn’t it was because he took pleasure in screwing with her.”

“Nessa!” Briel complained – she did not need her one friend revealing vulnerability to a potential enemy.

Nessa seemed to recognize her error and started to backpedal. “I mean, it’s just in Liam’s nature not to respect people – women especially. My problem wasn’t his particular treatment of Briel, just that she was wasting herself on such a lout.” Chewing her lip, Nessa threw a clandestine look at her friend, and Briel closed her eyes in an effort to relax. Fortunately, Jase picked up the generic angle and seemed to move away from anything too personal. Had that been intentional? Not if he were engaged in a psy-op against her, but it did seem that’s what he had done.

“What, he's a chauvinist?” Jase wondered. “I'm surprised you would last six dates with him, much less six months.”

“No, no,” Briel corrected. “Nothing like that. He lacked the capacity to share any sense of relational responsibility. I got to serve his needs – he got to pretend like mine didn't exist.”

“So, Nessa,” he turned away from Briel, taking on a lighthearted tone. “We have to find someone who serves Briel's needs. If I remember correctly, that means classical literature? The French school of art?”

Touché…Lighthearted, but somehow acknowledging his long history with her. Very few people knew of her French origins, but Jase was one. Was he threatening to reveal her secrets?

“Sure, Jase. That's it,” she mocked. “Or maybe I would like to be able to talk about something more interesting than a player's batting average.”

“I love to talk about literature,” Nessa interjected ingenuously, and Briel relaxed a little as Jase turned his attention to the beautiful Latina. “And music. Not so much art. I don't know enough.”

“Art is just like music,” Jase explained, donning an urbane demeanor. “Once you understand the context and the medium, you can comprehend the personal value of each piece.”

From that point forward, any time Nessa or Jase thought to include Briel in the discussion, she artfully led them back to each other, and though Jase glanced askance at her several times, he did not seem inclined to press her to join the conversation. Interesting. Wouldn’t he engage more with her if he intended to screw with her? Or maybe the disinterest was the game? I could drive myself crazy with this.

Taking her mind back to that afternoon, she tried to consider her reaction to Kernal Ted. A stupid name, she laughed, though she didn’t know how else to think of him. Did she react similarly to Jase? Was the language the same, the personality? Jase was a nerd of sorts, but a cultured nerd, one who had trained himself to participate in intelligent conversations with a broad spectrum of individuals. Ted? Ted was a geek, with a sort of awkward charm that didn’t set off her alarms. Was even Jase good enough to fake that?

All of her training warned her to take evasive action, to do whatever she needed to secure her computer. Somehow, though, her instincts told her that she didn’t want to. Another proof that I’ve lost my mind…Glancing up at her companions, Briel narrowed her eyes at her date. Jase knew his way around a computer, if not with all the complication of an industry expert. And asking him directly might cause him to fumble and reveal something.

“I have a question for you, Jase…” she interrupted, and both he and Nessa seemed surprised that Briel still existed. “Regarding your recent work in Banff.”

“My work in Banff?” he returned, and his seeming pique shocked her. “What is it?”

“I just…” Briel stammered. What would have created that reaction? “Well, more Phoenix, I guess,” she redirected, pushing through. “A technical question. I know you installed cameras in the Miller home, but did you actually have to go into their house to do it? How easy would it have been to hack a computer instead, and use the internal camera?”

The vexation had dissipated almost instantly, and he seemed affable as he replied. “It’s pretty easy, though it wasn’t my method with the Millers. The camera on a laptop or desktop has a more limited view than what I needed, but if you don’t have time or access to install cameras, an internal one on a laptop will give you at least some visual on a space.”

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“Makes sense,” Briel noted with coolness. “And the same with a microphone, I imagine?” She watched him for reaction.

“Of course. Just like the camera. Wait, are you looking to try this?” Jase glanced at Briel doubtfully. “You're not particularly known for your computer expertise. I could make you a thumb drive.”

While the insult might have been an attempt to distract her from the question, Jase’s answer didn’t seem manufactured or manipulative. “No,” she countered. “I'm not going to try it. I'm just curious.”

The next words Briel heard came from nowhere, and for a minute, she did not recognize their source. “You are so lying!”

When Briel turned in the direction of the words, she encountered Nessa's horrified expression, as if shocked that words had left her own mouth.

“What?” Briel scoffed, aghast.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Well, apparently you did...” Briel stammered, trying not to give vent to irritation. Nessa couldn’t possibly understand the dance Briel engaged in just to exist in Jase’s presence, and with the need to evaluate his state of mind. What was Nessa thinking? “...so, what did you mean by it? Why do you say I'm lying?”

“I say it because,” Nessa hesitated, “I think you're more than just curious. Something in your voice – this is important to you. But not professional – not for a case.”

“Nessa!” Briel started to protest, but then remembered Jase and tried to backpedal. “It is for a case, though an unconventional one,” she huffed. “I guess I have a vested interest of sorts.”

“Which is?” Jase prompted, newly curious.

Briel stared at Jase to see if she could read any amusement or intention in his eyes. Nothing. Was he really that good? She should throw out some bait and see how he reacted. “On Wednesday, I checked my computer to see if I had a message from Sara. On the screen with Sara's message, I saw another message, one that should not have been there. I mean, I have several layers of security to block any unsolicited messages, but on my screen, I had a message from an unknown contact I hadn't authorized…I think maybe someone from the mission is stalking me.” Only mild interest from Jase.

Nessa, on the other hand…“Stalking you?” she demanded, obviously concerned.

“On the company app. But the communication was strange – not threatening or manipulative, as far as I could tell. First, the person asked me how the coffee is in San Antonio, which is a little strange, but I didn't find anything menacing about it. Since the sender seemed to be offline, I couldn't respond, and I thought I might have to just call in Team security to strip my computer. I hate doing that, though, so I didn't do it right away. I thought maybe I could fix it myself.”

“Thus the questions for me?” Jase inferred.

“Thus the questions for you.” Briel shrugged – that and the need to watch your reactions. “But that’s not all,” she continued. “I turn my computer all the way off when I leave the house, but when I’m home, it’s set to go into hibernation when it's not used for a few minutes, but it comes out of it if I touch the keyboard. So it's never really off. So, first and most importantly, I want to know how much of my life this person has monitored. Secondly, though, I have to wonder why someone would contact me like this. It seems so indirect – almost cowardly, even. Unless it’s in some way related to my current case. It seems an obvious probability, since lots of people would like to have access to the information I have acquired over the years.”

“But who keeps that kind of information on their computer?” Jase countered. “Anyone from the industry would know we keep important stuff offline. Business people might not know that – even criminal enterprises may not know that. A personal contact would have no idea.”

A personal contact? The idea seemed so improbable as to be laughable. Still, Jase’s conjecture awakened something in her. Could it be personal? “That’s true,” she allowed. “A lot of people wouldn’t understand how we run the business. I was thinking, though, that someone from ProtoComm who doesn’t understand the system, who wants to know what I have on the Emelia Alvarez case, might try to tap into my information, and when they found nothing, decide to investigate directly. I could see someone being concerned about corporate integrity after your defection, Jase.” If you really did defect. “They know you left the cabin with my team.” She just could not read Jase’s expression. Of course, I can’t.

“I can’t imagine you would have anyone who would come after you personally,” he smirked, and she had to wonder at the expression.

At least it was finally some sense of a reaction. He smiled, but it bore no humor. No, more a sense of resentment…That would actually make sense. Briel could not forget the murder in his eyes when he had spat his furious accusation at her. “You sent Felicity in there!” Had Briel screwed up his strategy in some way? Forced him to choose his cover with Felicity Miller or his cover with ProtoComm? Interesting that he felt torn between the two.

“But, professionally,” he continued, “we have Banff. We have your current case. You’ve also worked a lot of successful campaigns over the past decade,” he pressed, his suave control now so thorough that his previous fury seemed an invention of her imagination. “I wouldn’t get too stuck on one option. Even in your current case, ProtoComm is not the only interested party. ProtoComm is a middleman. Whoever your client is might have enemies. And despite what I said a minute ago, with someone like you, it could be personal. You’re not always the most tactful person – I could see someone taking offense if he didn’t know you.”

Who was even “personal” in her world? Pretty much just Liam and Nessa, though Briel guessed that Jase was personal in a way, with their almost ten-year history and their relational past. Everyone else she knew was a purely professional contact. “I don’t really need your theories on identity. I’m trying to root out methods. I mean, if a man proves my enemy, he’ll be sorry. You have to know that I’m going to turn the table.”

“Tables, Bri. Turn the tables.”

“Excuse me?”

Instead of acknowledging her irritation, Jase just flashed his teeth and continued. “Even without Bill at ProtoComm, that’s a dangerous game, delving into their business…”

“That’s assuming this contact intends some kind of injury or insult,” she contradicted, wondering if the words had held a veiled threat. “Even with the eavesdropping, the follow up message didn’t seem manipulative or agenda driven.”

“The follow-up message?” Nessa wondered.

“It was…well, like Jase said – personal. You know the story, Nessa. You invited me out that first night, and then Liam came over, and I proceeded to break up with him..”

For a moment, Briel couldn't go on. Her mind had wandered to the exchange with Liam and the odd excitement she had felt at reading the message on the screen. Excitement? After all her years of levelheadedness, had she lost her mind? Any sane person would have planted tracing software on her computer, or added security, or called in a Team specialist. Yet, Briel had not. She had been afraid to scare the stranger away. Shaking herself, she pressed forward before her present audience could notice her distraction.

“So, did someone hack your microphone and camera?” Jase urged.

“Obviously…Because after my exchange with Liam, a message popped up on the computer saying to be cautious with him, as if the guy on the computer had heard the whole thing.” When she remembered the moment she realized Ted could hear her, the strange anxious thrill shot through her again, and she had to slow her speech so that Jase couldn’t sense how it had affected her, especially if he were responsible. “How could he do that?” she continued, calmer. “So, of course, I had to search my room for planted surveillance equipment, and when I did, the guy responded by telling me not to waste my time looking for equipment because he didn't plant any. Which meant he could see me, too.”

Nessa sat shell-shocked for a minute then ventured, “Wow, that’s…You said guy. Do you know for certain it's a man?”

Briel threw a glance at Jase. “Well, no. I guess I just meant 'person.' You know, like, 'you guys'? But then he told me to watch out for Liam, which I also thought was strange.”

“Liam?” Jase wondered. “That is odd, unless he wanted to isolate you.”

Forcing herself not to react, Briel considered. “That’s an interesting idea…Unless it’s just base jealousy, if he’s a loser stalker, which is what I’m leaning toward.” Not that she really got that vibe from Ted, but in case he were Jase, she wanted to throw in a good insult.

“A loser stalker who hacked his way through Team security? Not likely. Team security is pretty famous in the community. I’m leaning toward the idea of isolating you.”

He had a point, regardless of his intent. “Getting me away from Nessa would work better there – I was already isolating from Liam.”

“But the person might not have witnessed Nessa at your apartment, or he might be less intimidated by Nessa.”

“True. So he might be playing mental games with me, but that leans toward the personal, for sure. If it is a professional hack, why communicate with me at all?” she pressed “Or why not try to lure me into some business proposition or investigation – expose me somehow. It makes sense that, in our line of work, someone would want to monitor me. But wouldn't a professional want to remain undetected?”

“I would think so,” Nessa agreed. “It’s not the only option, but it would make more sense. And if they know you at all, they have to know that mind games wouldn’t work on you.”

“Exactly.” She threw a glance at Jase. “So, if this person is not what he says he is, then he is either a professional enemy or someone with a personal vendetta, but if that were the case, why play it this way at all?”

“It’s not the most logical,” Jase agreed.

“Well, whatever his plan, I intend to find out …”

“You’re putting the cart before the horse,” Jase offered. “Your first order of business should be to protect yourself from this person, not waste time on an investigation. You need to wipe your digital signature.”

Wipe her digital signature? Why would he want her to do that? One of two reasons: either to discourage her investigation – or because he was actually wanting to help her. For the first time, she began to doubt her suspicions of Jase. True, Ted had suddenly appeared just as Jase came back into her life, but the tactic seemed a little too obvious for someone like Jase, who held an uncanny sense of the subtle. He had hardly been his normal controlled self in Banff. Maybe he had endured some real change that had altered his methodology.

“But if the person has sought me out,” she pressed, “then I want to know who he is. Someone who could do this once could just find me again – or seek me out in person. I don't want this mysterious thing hanging out there to jump at me unexpectedly.”

“I would want to know,” Nessa insisted.

“And, I'm not getting rid of the computer,” Briel leveled.

“So, if you won’t wipe your equipment, unplug the camera if it’s external and uninstall the mic,” Jase shrugged, his mien surprisingly casual. “...but keep up the conversation. If you're going to protect yourself, you need to understand the threat. Message him, then you can search for clues to his identity while you talk. Also, if you'll let me see your laptop, I might be able to backtrace his location from the connection.”

Like hell, I will! Still, she didn’t know exactly how she needed to go forward to investigate him, and she needed to process what she’d already found out. With a sudden change of direction, she started an interrogation of Nessa regarding computer security, and the entire party seemed distracted enough to give Briel space to think.

When Jase asked for the check a few minutes later, he seemed to have dropped the subject, and when the waitress stumbled, the pitcher splashing a small puddle onto Jase’s lap, he quickly excused himself completely.

Jase returned a moment later, strangely nervous, and he kept glancing at her. Had something happened in the five minutes that he had gone to dry his pants? Drew interrupted her thoughts, obviously insecure at his lack of contribution to the night’s entertainment.

“I'll get the coffee,” he offered weakly, spurred on to competition by Jase's chivalry. “Does everyone like Au Lait's?”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” Jase smiled.

Briel rose quickly and headed to the door, eager to escape the scrutiny of her friends so she could process what they had said. To her surprise, Jase reached the exit before her and pushed the door open, holding it securely until everyone had preceded him out in the balmy September air. Briel had not expected his ease with Nessa, the ultimate character judge, but then again, even Nessa might not be able to see past Jase’s carefully crafted facade.

When Jase caught up to Briel, she quickly scanned the surrounding area for Nessa, somehow shocked that the woman hadn’t accompanied Jase to his car. Of course, then she remembered that Jase had been her date for the night, not Nessa’s, and she recognized Nessa’s silhouette against a blue SUV a couple of rows away. Briel had ridden in Jase’s high-dollar sports car, and though she had forgotten, instinct had sent her memory back to the proper location.

Jase, for a reason Briel could not fathom, caught up to her and placed his hand behind her back as he opened her car door. Was he really unleashing a charm initiative against her? Could he actually hold the delusion that it would work? He waited until she was seated and closed the door behind her before moving to the other side and taking his seat.

Such a personal gesture, more than he would have done even when they were dating.

“So, Briel,” he prompted as he shifted the car into drive, “that conversation brought a couple of questions to mind: first of all, do you have any idea who might have hacked your computer? It seems criminal, but you have other ideas apparently?”

Was he trying to figure out if Briel suspected him? Or actually interested in her dilemma? “Is this not something you could ask in front of Nessa? Why wait to corner me in the car?”

Raising his hand in denial, Jase huffed a laugh. “Not trying to trap you, Bri. I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of Drew and Nessa. No pressure.”

Briel couldn’t help but laugh at Jase – he knew he deserved the reaction more than pretty much anyone. Charm initiative. It was working better than she would have hoped, if the smile on her face meant anything. “Okay, in that case…I’ll share a couple of my less compromising theories. Someone from FBI days, someone I met on the ProtoComm mission, someone I put away.” Generic enough, and nothing he could manipulate.

“So assuming this is personal – which I’m not, but just for discussion’s sake – anyone in particular from the Bureau?”

“Not something I’m going to tell you…”

Jase grinned. “Okay, I’m just wondering which of our crew you thought would actually step out of the hierarchy and culture to do something like this. Maybe Will Crenshaw. Devin Torres. Abel Jilani. None of the others from when I was there. Did someone else come in after I left?”

“Not that type.” Briel shook her head. Jase seemed so sincere, too relaxed and indifferent to be manipulating her, but she surely couldn’t let her guard down.

“Well, Jilani is newly married, so not him. And Crenshaw is in the hospital in an induced coma after injury on the job.”

The information shook Briel – Jase could have no reason to make up something like that. “He’s a computer guy! How did that happen?”

“He was in the van, you know. Remote. Someone marked it and broadsided it in a getaway attempt. They got the SOB, but Crenshaw was smashed up. He’s expected to make it, and I’m pretty sure they’re bringing him out in a few days, but that does take him out of the running for your computer guy.”

Damn it! There was that Jase who acted like he cared – the Jase she could never quite disbelieve, and the Jase that left her susceptible. “I’m glad he’s okay,” she allowed before quickly changing the subject. “I don’t think Devin would do this. He was a friend – I know him well.”

“But Devin had a thing for you.”

“Devin didn’t like to take no for an answer, and he thought I would make an impressive girlfriend, but he had way too much ego to stoop to this.” In other words, if Jase were doing this, hopefully he would get the message that Briel considered it pretty pathetic.

“Maybe, which leaves ProtoComm. That is certainly a minefield that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“It wouldn’t be personal though.”

“Probably not,” Jase shrugged. “It has to be someone you encountered, I guess, but pretty much anyone you encountered there could prove suspect.”

“Very true.” Anyone, including you.

“For your sake, I hope you’re wrong about Devin. That ProtoComm bunch would have no good intent for you. And as far as the third group, did you put down anyone that has the skills to do this?”

Briel paused. If she had to guess, she would bet Jase already knew the answer. “I doubt it. At best, I was a peripheral player for any computer op. That’s just not my specialty, as you know.”

“So you don’t think it could be just someone you know, someone from the team?”

“No one from the team would dare,” Briel leveled coldly. When Jase laughed out loud, Briel held back the smile that threatened. Don’t fall for it, she reminded herself.

“I admit,” he appeased, “that you are right for most of your team. Which brings me to my second question – can I ask you about Liam?”

“It’s not Liam,” Briel interrupted.

“No, that’s not what I mean – not as the hacker; he’s not that smart. What I mean is…I know you said you guys have broken up, but I’m kind of in agreement with your computer guy. Do you really think Liam has accepted your rejection?”

Briel blew out a breath. “Is it too late for me to say you can’t ask me?”

“Well,” he teased, “I mean, I am your date tonight, and he’s your ex.”

“You’re my ex, too,” she reminded him.

Jase laughed. “Fair point, but I know my place in this hierarchy. I’m not trying to overstep. I just know what I have observed. There were two men I noticed at the gym today who seemed significant at all. One was Adam – that man is a machine. And the other was Liam, though I didn’t realize who he was at the time. Liam seems – I don’t know – a little unstable. Are you sure you’re safe?”

There he was, her mentor: confusing and considerate and potentially as dangerous as a man could be. “You’re right, Jase. You are at the bottom of the hierarchy. I agreed to go on a date with a friend of a friend. I did not agree to go on a date with you; I will not make that mistake again. I certainly didn’t ask for your advice on my dating life. I know you know my ability, and I have Liam under control.” If she kept letting him get to her, she would hand him all sorts of ammunition against her. Rein it in. “Besides, you know what it’s like when you’ve been on the frontline with someone. Some people – even one’s you may not want to be friends with – are solid in the field, unlike others. I’ve known him for years, and he’s that kind of solid about his work. And I’m part of the job. It was a relationship of convenience for him.”

Maddeningly, he just smiled. “I get it. You claim the Code. I’ll step back. But you need to watch out for him if you ask me.”

The Code…she had almost forgotten that little irritating piece of shared history. Mostly, the fact that Jase had thrown the phrase around for a year when they had met and dated but had never bothered to explain what it meant. As if she could claim it. Jase still didn’t seem ready to expound, and though Briel considered trying to end the years-long mystery, she wasn’t ready to bring up the past with Jase any more than she already had.

Of course, Briel found herself mistrusting Jase’s expressed concern – rebelling against it, in fact. For many years, Jase Hamilton had exemplified everything brilliant and accomplished, and she had let herself believe the image. She had learned her lesson with him, though, both in training and in Italy – even in Banff, if she thought about it – and admiration did not equal trust. She would have to keep her eye on him if he stuck around. He had betrayed at least minor resentment from Banff, for whatever reason, and minor resentment from Jase Hamilton was nothing to take lightly. Her battle with the past caused her enough trouble without letting Jase back into her life.

Seeing him again, though…Falling back into the comfort of his counsel, but fighting the connection with all her might…it stirred up the visions that had been chasing her for months. It was as if her internal structure had begun to crumble, and every partition she had erected to protect herself had failed at the same time.

++++++++++++++++++++++

“You know that wasn’t your father’s fault, right?”

Though Briel could smell the warm, leather scent of the man’s jacket and the spice of his early morning trek through some outdoor venture, she could not make out his face or the details of the room where she sat, as if she were looking through a foggy window at the events around her. Portland hiked a lot. St. Albans. Roanoke. Bangor. Of those, only Portland had managed any real attachment, but still...

“There’s a lot of history you don’t know,” she retorted, just managing not to roll her eyes. She tried to use her reason to see out the windows, but she got nothing. All she could sense was her frustration at the interaction. It was the dilemma she always faced when she dealt with a mark, trying to manufacture enough connection to make them manipulable without making herself vulnerable. Some people seemed to hold a knack for catching every hint of sensitivity, especially people who committed crimes for a living.

The worst had been Yusuf “Chuck” Sahin, a classy Manhattan businessman with ties to organized crime. Her attraction to danger had kept her in the apartment long after she should have left him If Liam hadn’t shown up and killed the man, Briel might have breathed her last on the man’s couch. Even a year later, she could feel the man’s fingers on her throat, the sense of shock and hollow panic as all her training swam into insensibility in her mind. Strangely, she still remembered the events of those few moments, though she had successfully suppressed the less traumatic details leading up to the attack.

In a sense, Chuck’s actions had been self-defense – she had targeted him and would have sent him to prison without a second thought, despite all the affected connection she had manufactured as misdirection. Every person bore some humanity, and she had found it even in Chuck – before he tried to choke her out. Humanity or not, she had held no qualms about stopping him in his tracks if she could, easily keeping the vision of his victims in her mind. Had he ever watched as his crime boss, Cem Kaplan, had smashed up a woman – as had happened to Briel in Venice, or had sentenced someone to death – as had also happened to Briel in Venice? What about the trafficking victims, the supplies he sold criminals, the coercive control he held over so many people. No, Briel generally held no sympathy for people who willingly got in bed with organized crime.

Her memory told her that the scruffy-faced man who now lectured her on her childhood anger issues was not a criminal, though. Just a useful idiot, and someone Briel wanted to get away from as quickly as possible. So, why was her mind drudging up her time with him? She didn’t know if her problem with him stemmed from the fact that he was just an asset and uninvolved in her case, that he was more vulnerable to her than her usual mark, or that he was smarter than her average contact and therefore more dangerous to her mission. Whatever the case, he managed to get right to the heart of her own vulnerability, even though she offered him all the same stories she offered every other mark. “My family died in a car wreck, I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen, my dad was selfish to leave our comfortable home to move for his job, blah, blah, blah.”

Everyone could relate to a family story, and her long-dead family offered little vulnerability for anyone to take advantage of – or so she had thought.

“Maybe so,” her companion acceded, “but you could have been in a car wreck anywhere. Your family didn’t die because your dad moved you.”

Blowing out a breath, Briel turned her back on the worn sweatshirt and jeans that hugged muscles just impressive enough that her teammates found great pleasure in teasing her about the man.

Had she sensed the heat of a kiss lingering on her lips? She had kissed Portland, certainly. New York. Not St. Albans, since she had only stayed with him two weeks, and he had been highly religious. All the others were so far back. Had this man – this mark – followed up his probing examination by sliding in behind her, wrapping one arm around her in a sensual restraint of motion, slipping his hand up to caress the skin of her neck…and then clamping his fingers onto her throat with enough force to send her into a panic so profound that only the unexpected gunshot from across the room had relieved her terror?

“You’re completely missing the point,” she insisted, certainly not sensing a hint of aggression from her companion. “I’m just saying that I don’t intend to be dependent on anyone else or make someone dependent on me for anything more than the most professional of purposes.”

Could she just make out a smirk? As soon as she did, the cloud thickened to obscure her companion’s face completely. Light brown or dark blond hair, though, she could make that out.

“So, you’re saying I should give up because you’re a lost cause?” The smirk again. Did she sense a five o’clock shadow on his chin? She tried desperately to clear the fog away from his eyes, but as she did the vapor instead thickened, as if determined to keep her from the truth.

“I told you that from the beginning,” her memory self insisted.

Her companion paused, and she knew he wanted to disagree with her. “Someday you’re going to realize that you only thought you had control all these years. What you’ve really had is self-flagellation through self-denial.”

Did she let herself suffer this every time? Did every mark dig claws into her heart and force her to rip them out when she left? Her breath sped at the weight of the thought, and Briel froze to her seat. She couldn’t afford to let a mark see the terror that gripped her when the connection started to take hold. She wasn’t punishing herself like he had suggested, but what was her problem? Maybe this guy actually was a criminal, and he was manipulating her, using her personal struggles to weaken her resistance to him. Or maybe he honestly worried about her and wanted her to face her past.

It didn’t matter –he wouldn’t make her care, not about him or about the loss of her family. That was the past, and this was pretend. The real Briel…well, maybe the real Briel didn’t exist, but that was fine. Things were easier that way.