Striking Distance

She laughed softly, anticipation already rushing to steady her spinning head. Let him take his best shot. “I know so.”

“We’ll just see about that.”

He started toward her, and Tasha did as she had been trained.

She shut down all nonessential functions.

Closed him out.

Closed everything out.

Chapter 6

They’d covered her head and tied her hands behind her back again. Tasha stayed very still, absorbing the details around her as best she could in her current state of near numbness. The vehicle—a cargo van maybe—she’d been shoved into glided smoothly toward its destination. City streets, well maintained. No back road. Not yet. Wherever they were taking her she had a pretty good idea they planned to execute her and dump the body.

She hadn’t given either of the men who’d interrogated her what they wanted. She was of no further use to them. Those words echoed through her throbbing skull as she allowed her senses to awaken more fully, inch by slow inch. The bruised ribs and split lip were the least of her worries. Unless she finagled an escape she was dead.

Just in case she managed a getaway, she had studied each face she’d encountered very carefully. Had even gotten a DNA sample under her nails when she scratched one of them. She almost smiled when she thought of the head butt she’d pulled off, taking one guy down. She hoped his nose was broken.

Well, at least she’d put up a good fight and she hadn’t given them the code.

That was something.

Though an alien emotion, what felt like fear, moved through her. She had to admit that the thought of dying so young lacked any appeal whatsoever.

The vehicle rocked slightly as it slowed, then stopped briefly. She listened intently. No traffic sounds. A left turn. Then a right. They were likely nearing their final destination now. Her heart rate quickened.

The vehicle bumped over a rise and then stopped. Parking lot, she surmised. The sound of metal sliding over metal and a rush of cool air told her the cargo door had been opened.

It was now or never. She had to make a move.

When she would have pushed herself up, brutal hands shoved her forcefully from behind, sending her hurtling out of the vehicle.

She landed hard. Her skin, wherever exposed, identified asphalt beneath her. Struggling frantically, she maneuvered into an upright position, her legs folded painfully under her. If she could only get up...

Those hands pushed her back down.

She braced for the impact of a bullet.

Silence.

Footsteps retreating.

Tires squealed as the vehicle spun away.

Stunned as much by the shock of being left alive as by the pain now making itself known in a big way, for one long moment Tasha could only sit there, bewildered.

The sound of clapping jerked her out of her state of dazed confusion.

She stumbled to her feet, battling with the bindings on her wrists. Within seconds she was free, the knots oddly easy to escape. Not like before.

“Bravo, Agent North.”

She jerked the cloth sack from her head and glared in the direction of the voice. Martin. Her mentor. Her recruiter. The man she trusted above all others.

“What the...”

Her words drifted off as realization seeped into her muddled gray matter. She’d been set up. He hadn’t needed a tracking device...he’d planned this.

“You son of a bitch,” she snarled as she charged toward him.

He held up both hands to halt her attack. The streetlamp on the outer perimeter of the abandoned parking lot provided sufficient light for her to see his features. “Now, don’t go taking it out on the messenger.”

“What the hell was this?” She swiped at the blood leaking from her split lip, wincing at the burn.

“Just a small—” he held his forefinger and thumb close together “—final test,” he assured her with a knowing nod.

“Test?” she roared. “You people played enough mind games on us during training. I’ve been out of training for three months! What else do I have to do to prove my loyalty?”

He sighed and braced one elbow on the other arm so that he could rest his chin in his hand as he’d often done when pacing before the class. “You see, Tasha,” he offered quietly, his easygoing tone making her want to slug him, “there are a chosen few who get special notice. For those, like you, we have exclusive plans. But, there’s always one final test. And that test can only be administered after you have access to negotiable information, otherwise it’s pointless. You, of course, passed with flying colors.”

Some of the fire went out of her fury. But she was still as mad as hell. “What does this mean?”

He smiled. “It means, my dear Tasha, that you are on your way. Very soon you’ll be brought into that exclusive club.”

She narrowed her gaze, her suspicion mounting. “How soon?” She wanted more than an empty promise. She’d had that.

“Soon.” He surveyed her haggard appearance. “Now go home, take a long hot bath and enjoy your weekend.”

Before she could demand any other information, he got into his Jag and drove away.

“Bastard,” she muttered as she staggered to her own waiting, considerably more modest, vehicle.

She’d lost one of her shoes, so she kicked the other one away before climbing behind the wheel of her Bug. Her panty hose were shredded, and one knee was skinned. She dragged off the ragged nylon and tossed it out the window. Only one button held her blouse together. But at least she still had all her teeth, she mused, sliding her tongue over her undamaged pearly whites.

A quick glance in the mirror and she grimaced. She looked like hell. Well, as long as it got her where she wanted to be. No pain, no gain, right?

She started the engine and pointed the car toward home. Damn she was beat.

Literally.

Half an hour later she braked to a stop at the curb outside her small Crystal City duplex. Swearing profusely she eased out of the car. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest of each move. Fat lot of good three nights per week of martial arts had done her. With her hands tied behind her back she’d scarcely landed a single blow.

Appeasing herself with the memory that Martin had said soon, she padded barefoot up the steps and to the front door. Soon she would join an exclusive club. She knew what that meant—field operations. Smiling, she reached to insert the key into the lock. She stilled. A chill raced over her skin. Her pulse tripped into the rush zone.

Something wasn’t right.

It was past midnight and damned dark. Most of her yuppy neighbors were in bed already. Like her they all worked too many hours to bother with pets, so the whole neighborhood was dead silent. They were all good little robots, spinning their wheels in their white-collar world by day and playing nice, tidy little home owners by night.