“I have an address. A place she thinks I don’t know about,” the Grand Master said.
Damon paused but didn’t turn at his words.
“I will send it to you.”
“Fine.” Marco ripped open the door.
“I expect you back here in one month,” the Grand Master said.
“To be formally married.”
“Let’s hope we catch her by then.” Damon disappeared into the dressing room.
As he threw off the robe and put on his clothes, he was grinning. Despite the seriousness of the situation he was excited. When he joined Marco in the hall he saw the same expression on his best friend’s face.
“Want to go catch and marry a reformed Russian spy?” Marco asked.
Damon laughed. “As long as we can do it before Sunday. I’ve got to go to work.”
“A lawyer and a musician?
I’m sure we’ll have no trouble finding a highly trained intelligence agent.”
*****
Marco looked at the pretty yellow farm house and then back to Damon. “Do you think the Grand Master is testing us?”
“This is certainly not what I expected.”
They were in the middle of Oklahoma, deep in farm country. The road they were on didn’t have a name and the house didn’t have a number. They’d stopped in the little town off the freeway and asked for the scientist’s house, which is what the Grand Master’s instructions had said. They’d been given directions that included abandoned tractors and big trees instead of street names. Strangely, it hadn’t been that hard to find. There was no other house in sight. The only other structures were some massive poly-tunnel green houses. It was just before noon and they’d been traveling since five am—they hadn’t been able to get flights yesterday but had been on the first flights out this morning. The day was taking on a surreal feel. Marco wouldn’t have been surprised if a little old lady had walked out onto the porch holding a cherry pie.
“Well, we might as well knock.” Damon started up the steps.
Marco put his hand out. “Wait.” He stepped to the side, searching for the hint of movement he’d seen. “I think there’s someone in that poly tunnel.”
“The what?”
Damon asked as they rounded the house, taking a path back to the plastic and metal structures.
“That’s a poly tunnel.”
“Why do you know that?”
“When I’m bored I watch educational program
ming.”
Damon snorted. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life.”
Marco grinned. “I keep forgetting.”
“It feels weird to say it,” Damon admitted.
“Weird bad or weird good?”
“Weird good.”
The door to the closest greenhouse was open. Moving quietly, they crept to where they could get a better look.
A slim blonde woman wearing brown overalls and a white tank top was bent over a raised bed of plants. She was holding a little metal box with a probe on it, which she stuck into the soil. After a second, she picked up a clipboard and made a note. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid and covered with a navy-blue bandana.
As she turned, Marco caught a glimpse of her profile—Tasha.
“That’s Tasha,” Damon said. “Damn. I didn’t think I could be surprised again.”
Marco agreed. People were complex, but Tasha was a whole new level of complicated—from the sexy spy to the eccentric hacker and now the wholesome farm girl.
Without looking up, she said, “You might as well come in. I know you’re there.”
Marco led the way, entering the poly tunnel, which was humid and smelled of growing things. Inside it seemed even bigger—there were rows and rows of tables, each covered in lush green plants.
“Hello, Tasha,” he said.
She set down her clipboard and started picking dead leaves off the closest greenery.
“How did you know we were here?” Damon asked, folding his arms. He was wearing a suit and was already looking damp. Marco had on slacks and a dress shirt. They were both overdressed, but at least he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“I’m not so stupid as to think that I can’t be found. Even here.”
“And where is here?” Marco asked. Tasha still hadn’t looked at them.
“My home,” she said simply.
“This is where you live—in the middle of Oklahoma?”
“I have condos in other cities. I don’t get to spend all my time here.”
“But why here?” Damon asked.
Tasha wandered away from them down one of the aisles, fingers gently brushing the leaves. “I have a degree in agricultural engineering.”
Marco rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t expected that.
“It’s funny,” she continued, “because that’s what my parents wanted me to major in. That was part of their plan for me—probably some sort of bio-terrorism plot. When I got out of the CIA, I finished school—high school—and then went to college sporadically. I didn’t plan to study ag, especially since that’s what my parents had wanted, but all my best memories growing up were centered around plants and farming. I know now that they were building my interest in the subject deliberately, but when I was little all I knew was that we had fun when we went to farms or planted things in the garden.”
Marco’s heart ached for Tasha. He wasn’t particularly close with his family, but he knew they loved him and were proud of him. Damon was very close to his parents, but they’d retired from their medical practice a few years ago and joined the Peace Corps. They were now running a clinic in Africa. They may not be close to their families, but they knew they were loved and supported by them.
“Tasha,” he asked. “Why did you run?”
She didn’t answer. Marco looked at Damon, who jerked his head. Marco nodded in understanding and then went after Tasha.
“Tasha.” He closed the gap between them.
“I shouldn’t have run,” she said. “I was upset when I needed to be calm. What I was trying to explain is that the Grand Master feels guilty for asking me to use my training. But now, after all the things I’ve done, I’m not a good match for anyone.” She crossed her arms over her belly, hugging herself. “When I realized it was the two of you, I knew the Grand Master was trying to solve two problems at the same time—he could punish you and assuage his guilt over me by binding us together.”
“Tasha, look at me.” Marco gently grabbed her arm.
She tried to pull away, but Damon had circled around and was blocking her retreat.
“You’re not our punishment,” Marco whispered. “And you’re the most amazing, beautiful, interesting woman I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispered, dipping her head. “Don’t.”
“It’s true.” Damon tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her face. In an instant, his expression changed from cajoling to horrified. “What did I do to you?” he asked.
Marco leaned so he could see her right cheek—which he realized she’d kept turned away from them. It was black and blue from her temple to her jaw.
Damon had his hands on his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. “Fuck. No wonder she ran away. Look what I fucking did.”
“Damon, no, that’s not it.” Tasha reached for him, but pulled her hand back. “It’s
fine, I just didn’t get a chance to put makeup on.”
“Makeup?
Did it look like this that morning? Were you sitting in the condo with your face all beat up?” he asked.
Her silence was damning.
Damon stormed out of the greenhouse. Tasha’s shoulders sagged. Marco felt sick seeing her face like that—bruised and battered. Tasha was undoubtedly the most capable person he’d ever met, and he was sure that if they were to find themselves in a dangerous situation she’d be the one to get them out. Yet, against all reason, he wanted—no, needed—to protect her. And he needed to protect Damon.
“Come on,” Marco said.
“Just go.” Tasha pulled away, but there was no anger, no fight, in her words, just sadness.
“No. I’m not going anywhere without you, both of you.” Marco took her hand and dragged her after him. His spouses were hurting, and he was going to fix them.
Marco had no idea how to do that. He was an experienced lover but a novice husband and boyfriend. He’d never really thought about how he’d manage the relationship side once he was finally married. Maybe he should have.
Then again, even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t imagined he’d be paired with his best friend and a dangerous and damaged former spy.
Damon was sitting on the porch steps, staring at their rental car. When Marco dragged Tasha up he stood, gaze focused on Tasha’s face. In the daylight it looked worse—her skin was maroon and purple, her eye a bit swollen.
“I knew I’d fucked it up,” he said. “I knew I hit you too hard.”
“You didn’t.” Tasha shook off Marco’s hold. “Truly, this is exactly what I thought would happen. You were right. If you’d really connected you could have easily broken my jaw.”
“I hit you.” Damon thumped down onto the step, head in his hands. “I hit my wife. I’m like some sort of fucked-up white-trash cliché.”
“Your…wife.”
Marco watched Tasha as she whispered the word wife. She looked both terrified and happy. He held on to that hint of happiness. She wanted to be with them. He could see it on her face.
Putting his arm around her, Marco kissed her head. “That’s right, you’re our wife.”
She swallowed.
“Both of you.”
“Yes.”
Licking her lips, she looked away. “No. I’m sorry, but we can’t do this. I would ruin your futures. You deserve—”
“What we want,” Marco cut in. “Is you. We both do. That’s why we kissed you.”
“But then you were mad.”
“That’s because we’re morons.” Marco said it so matter-of-factly that Tasha let out a startled little laugh. “Well, I’m a moron. He’s an abuser.”
“Fuck you, dude,” Damon moaned without looking up. “Seriously, fuck you.”
Tasha broke out into deep belly laughs. She staggered to the steps, took a seat by Damon and leaned against his leg. He looked up, reached out a tentative hand and rested it on her shoulder.
She looked back at him. “It doesn’t hurt, and it’s actually better than I expected.”
“You asked me to hit you thinking that your face would be even more bruised than this?”
“Yes. Look at the size of you.”
“Then why did you ask? I knew I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I meant what I said that night. If it wasn’t you it would have been someone else, and then it might not have ended so well.”
“We’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” Marco said, drawing her attention.
She opened her mouth as if to argue but then just shook her head.
The tension had abated somewhat when she sat on the steps, but now it ratcheted back up. Marco looked between Tasha and Damon.
“Hit him,” he said.
They both focused on him. “What?” Damon asked.
“Tasha, hit him back. He’ll feel better.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hit him back.”
“Yeah, because she’s a good person, not an asshole,” Damon muttered.
Tasha’s brow rose. “Actually, my objection is that it would hardly be fair. I don’t have your upper-body strength. I wouldn’t be able to hit as hard as you did.”
Damon groaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll hit him for you,” Marco offered.
“You might hurt your hands,” Tasha scolded. “Don’t be silly.”
Marco considered that. “What if you used a weapon?”
“Uh…” Damon was starting to look alarmed.
“What kind of weapon?” Tasha
asked, her tone calm and curious.
“Whatever seems
fair. I assume you know more about weapons than me.” Marco had a bad feeling he was losing control of this situation.
“I have quite a few—knives, clubs, some more exotic ones, though those are for show.”
“A knife seems a bit extreme.”
She tipped her head in a considering manner. “I have a bean-bag gun.”
Marco nodded. “That seems fair, doesn’t it?”
Damon threw his hands in the air. “Not the face—I have to go to court.”
Tasha patted his shoulder as she went into the house. Marco tried and failed to hide his grin.
“You’re an ass,” Damon said.
“No, I’m not. I know you—you’ll obsess about this unless you feel that you’ve paid for your crime.”
“Okay, maybe. But you don’t have to look so happy about it.”
“Someday you will see how funny this is.”
“It’s not funny. Look what I did to her face.”
“And if it was anyone but you who’d done it I’d kill them. But you didn’t hit her out of anger or rage. It was part of a plan. Her plan. You’re the one who said we had to trust her expertise.”
“I know I did, but when I said that I didn’t…I didn’t care about her.”
“The way you do now?”
Damon nodded. “And you?”
“The same.”
The screen door squeaked as it opened. Tasha had what looked like a thick-barreled shot gun resting on her shoulder.
“You look like a sexy redneck,” Marco said.
“Thank you…I think.” Tasha came down the steps and turned to face Damon. “Where do you want it?”
He rose and stripped off his jacket. “Chest, I guess.”
She brought the rifle to her shoulder. “Ready?”
Marco balled his hands into fists. It had seemed funny a minute ago, but that gun was larger and more threatening than he’d expected. Marco had feelings for Tasha—he desired and wanted to protect her. But he loved Damon.
“Yes.” Damon’s arms were at his sides, jaw set.
Tasha glanced over at Marco. “And you?”
Marco looked at Damon, who nodded. He forced himself to relax. “Yes.”
Tasha dropped the gun. “You were really going to let me shoot him?” she asked Marco.
“You’re not going to?”
“No. Of course not. I expected you to stop me. It’s clear you love each other.”
Marco was shocked by her words—shocked that she’d labeled what was between them that way. He did love Damon, but he didn’t think anyone else could see that.
“We’re just…” Damon’s words trailed off. “I mean that we didn’t…we’ve never…”
Marco wanted to shake him. “You’re right,” he said to Tasha. “We do love each other.
Because we’re friends. We get each other. But we didn’t expect we’d be in the same trinity.”
“And now you are,” Tasha said.
“Yes.” Damon came up to where they stood. “And so are you. We’re in it together.”
Tasha shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do it. I won’t marry you.
Either of you.”
~~~~
Chapter Nine
Tasha couldn’t help but be relieved when they followed her into the house. She wasn’t giving them a reason to stay, yet they were. It was hard not to read into that, not to get her hopes up.
Tasha still couldn’t believe that Damon would have let her shoot him—bean-bag rounds hurt. More than that, she couldn’t believe Marco would have let her do it. She’d seen the way the other man tensed and moved towards Damon, as if to protect him.
They were a unit, a pair. The fact that their friendship had just been turned into a marriage only strengthened that bond. Tasha could imagine that a different woman would hate the situation—would fear being left out of that relationship. But not Tasha.
On the bus ride here she’d realized that their relationship did what she’d wanted when she’d requested she be matched with a man and a woman. All her life she’d learned to quickly form and then dissolve relationships of all kinds. She had no idea what a real one looked or felt like—her parents certainly weren’t good role models—and she’d been terrified of having to try to create that. With these two she didn’t have to. They already loved each other.
Maybe it didn’t matter that they’d never love her.
Shaking her head, she opened the gun cabinet—the visible one where she kept legally purchased firearms—and put the bean-bag gun in there.
“Tasha,” Marco said. “Just because we know each other, and yes, we love each other, doesn’t have any effect on our trinity. Damon and I have to have a new kind of relationship, one that includes you—just because we know each other doesn’t mean we’re not going to love you.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she said, ignoring the way the word love made her heart race.
“Then why did you say no?”
“What I said in the ceremony room was true. Marrying me would be a punishment. It would mean your careers wouldn’t advance the way you were promised when you joined.”
“We’re not talking about that.” Damon loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, looking very much like the hard-working lawyer, while Marco was all casual dark elegance.
“I am,” she said.
“Tasha.” Damon stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If you don’t want to be with us because of what we’ve done in our pasts then please just tell us. If that’s the case we won’t fight with you about this.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“You know we’re not exactly choir boys. We haven’t always been the most respectful towards women—the orgies maybe weren’t our finest hour.”
“Speak for
yourself,” Marco muttered.
“You think…” Tasha raised her eyebrows. It was too absurd. She went into the kitchen, took three mismatched
glasses from a cupboard and poured them all water. “You think I’m fabricating reasons for saying I won’t marry you as a way to cover the fact that I don’t want to be with the two of you?”
“Yeah, I do,” Damon said.
Looking between the two undeniably handsome, sexy men, Tasha could only shake her head. “Any woman in the Trinity Masters would be lucky to have you. Which is why you shouldn’t be matched with me.”
She went through the living room to the first-floor bedroom and closed the door. She took off her overalls and pulled on a pair of leggings, a long nubby sweater coat and fuzzy socks. Back in the living room, she wasn’t surprised to see that they were still there, but their reaction to her return caught her off-guard. Each man rose to his feet, looking her up and down.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Marco said.
“Absolutely,” Damon agreed.
Tasha looked down at herself. She hadn’t consciously meant to be alluring, but if she were honest with herself she would admit that she’d gone for an approachable-girlfriend-hanging-out-on-the-weekend look.
Marco sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. Ignoring that, she took a seat in an armchair that matched the one Damon sat in.
There was quiet stillness between them for the first time since they met.
“Do you know what the greatest threat to women is?” Tasha asked, surprised at herself.
They both shook their heads.
“Men.”
Tasha wrapped her sweater coat around herself. “Historically and even currently, a woman is at her most vulnerable when she’s with a man—her father, brother, husband.”
They shared a confused glance but didn’t interrupt.
“Ever since I was young I’ve learned how to manipulate people. Not control them the way someone like the Grand Master controls us, but manipulate them nonetheless. Because I’m pretty and young and blonde, usually I was asked to manipulate men.”
“Tasha, you don’t have to tell us about your past,” Marco said.
“But if you want to you can,” Damon added. “Nothing you can say will change anything, will change how we feel about you.”
“My past is my own,” she said quietly. “This isn’t about that. What I’m trying to say is I know, maybe more than anyone, how vulnerable a woman is around men. My skills and training protect me. That night at the club I was manipulating the situation.” She motioned to her cheek. “I manipulated Damon into hitting me when that goes against his nature. I manipulated the rest of the people in the club into focusing on me. But I was not really in control. I was vulnerable.”
Unable to sit still, she started to pace. Piece by piece, she peeled back layers of justification and defenses, telling them things about her fears that she only barely admitted to herself.
“The only way I know how to protect myself is with manipulation. I can become anyone or anything that I need to in order to get what I want.”
“That was your job,” Damon said.
“It was, but it’s also who I am.” Tasha twisted her fingers together to hold her hands still. “I don’t think I’m a good match for anyone—especially the elite members of the Trinity Masters. I’ve known that I wasn’t going to be part of a trinity for years. That made me sad, but I knew it had to be that way. Not only because my past and my reputation would
ruin anyone associated with me, but…”
She sighed, shoulders sagging. “But because I knew if I was paired with a man, I couldn’t stop myself from manipulating him in order to protect myself. I would change who I was every day, every hour, in order to be
who or what I thought he wanted.” She forced herself to resume her seat. “When I joined, I thought maybe having another woman in the trinity would help that. Would give me someone to copy, a model to base myself on. It wouldn’t really be me—I’d be playing a role, but I might be safer.”
“You will always be safe with us,” Damon said quietly.
“Even from myself?”
Marco rose, sleek and dark like a panther in human form, and held out one hand. “Tasha, come here.”
She looked at his outstretched hand, fighting tears. She wanted to take his hand, wanted to believe she could be the kind of woman who could take what he was offering.
“Tasha.” His tone was soft, but there was a hint of command.
You can pretend, just for a little while.
Unfolding her legs, Tasha rose tentatively. There was a hush in the room, as if the whole world was watching her, waiting to see if she’d take what was offered. But it wasn’t the whole world watching her and Marco, it was just Damon, his hazel eyes intent on her.
Tasha slipped her hand into Marco’s.
He drew her against his chest, sliding his hands under her sweater to rest on her lower back. She was instantly aroused, aware.
“Do you trust me?” Marco asked.
“No,” she said, completely honest.
“That’s fair. Will you let me kiss you?”
“You didn’t ask before.”
“This time I am.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I will respect that, but I will be very sad. Kissing you is all I’ve been able to think about since you stormed into the ceremony room. Have you thought about kissing me?”
“No,” she lied.
“Have you thought about kissing Damon?”
“No.” This time her voice quavered a little. She was an excellent liar. What was wrong with her?
Marco roamed his hand up her back and then down to her ass. “Have you thought about Damon and I kissing you at the same time?”
Tasha’s whole body was thrumming with arousal. It was making her lightheaded. She’d never felt like this before. She leaned away from Marco.
Her back hit something warm and solid.
Damon was there, his size all too apparent as he stood behind her, crowding her toward Marco.
“Have you thought about Damon and I doing other things to you, with you?”
Damon spread his hands over her belly, his thumbs just below the lower swell of her breasts. A vivid image of them in this same position, except naked, popped into her head. It terrified and aroused her. For all her experience, being with them would be something new, something foreign.
But there was something she had to tell them.
Sighing, Tasha grabbed one forearm each and twisted, breaking free of their hold before they had a chance to react. Both men stumbled back, surprise clear on their face.
“Too fast,” Damon said.
Marco nodded.
“My fault. I’m sorry, Tasha.”
“It’s not that. There’s something else you should know…about me.” She pointed to the couch and they sat shoulder to shoulder.
She perched on the edge of a chair, resting her elbows on her knees. Looking at her men—my men? Did I really just think that?—she realized when they’d followed her into the house she’d started to accept their trinity was real. She’d run, giving them the perfect out, giving the Grand Master every reason to reconsider. But they’d come for her. They hadn’t let her push them away.
Tasha was tired of running, of hiding. She knew i
t wouldn’t last, knew that someday she’d be proved right and they’d want the world-class careers and lives that came with being a member of the Trinity Masters. But right now they wanted her—she believed that much. And she wanted them too.
“There’s something you need to know about me.”
“Like we said, your past is your own. You don’t have to tell us anything, but if you do, it won’t change how we feel about you.”