A Matter of Trust (8 page)

“Is there something off with the assignment?” he asked.

“No. No problem. I just have the feeling that the time might come when I’ll need to know everything there is to know about the two of them.”

She didn’t see any point in explaining to Jason how uneasy she felt, since she couldn’t explain it to herself. She just couldn’t envision Nicholas Burke folding his tent and disappearing without a struggle. Information was often powerful ammunition in these kinds of skirmishes, and if she could lend Michael a hand in the upcoming battle, she would. She told herself it was simply good business, nothing more. Certainly nothing personal.

“Where are you?” Jason asked with a sigh.

“I’m on my way to the gym. I just finished doing the initial scans of the Innova system.”

“Sloan, love...it’s Saturday afternoon. I bet
you
have plans for the evening, don’t you?”

She frowned at the thought. She did, and for some reason, she wasn’t particularly looking forward to them. “Dinner later with Claudia.”

“Uh-huh. Well, perhaps
I
have plans, too. And they didn’t include spending the night rifling through someone else’s virtual underwear drawer.”

She laughed. “Fine. Monday morning will be time enough.” She assumed the deep sigh from Jason’s end of the line indicated assent.

“What kind of background are we talking about? Am I going to need to call in favors?”

“I shouldn’t think so. There’s nothing to suggest classified information. I just want anything you can find, before and after their marriage, personal and professional.”

Jason heard the undercurrent of concern in her voice, and, suddenly serious, he asked again, “Are you sure there’s no problem?”

“I’m sure,” Sloan said tersely.

She and Michael hadn’t even talked much the last few hours that Sloan had been there. Then, when it was time to leave, she hadn’t wanted to go. She couldn’t explain that either. She’d had to force herself not to ask Michael about her plans for the weekend.

Impatiently, she brushed her hand through her hair, cursed at some fool who tried to cut her off, and continued, “I just want to know exactly what I’m dealing with here, Jason. Is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” With a hint of theatrical sarcasm, he added, “I live to serve you, almighty one.”

“Just do it, Jason.”

“Your wish is my command.” After a second’s hesitation, he continued, “By the way, Sarah phoned and left a message for you to call her.”

“Oh?” Sloan queried. “Did she say what she needed?”

“No,” Jason said somewhat distractedly. “We didn’t talk long.”

Sloan found it fascinating that
Jasmine
and Sarah shared an easy friendship that had blossomed almost immediately, and they never appeared to want for conversation.
Jason,
however, seemed awkward and unsure of himself on the occasions when Sarah had called or dropped by the office.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll call her when I get home from the gym.”

“Try not to offend anyone or break any hearts for the rest of the weekend, okay?” he said semiseriously.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered, crossing three lanes of traffic to a cacophony of honking horns and angry gestures as she exited into downtown traffic.
As if it were always up to me.

*

“You should have a spotter,” the pleasant female voice announced calmly.

Sloan looked up through her braced arms and saw Sarah’s face, bisected by the barbell, peering down at her with an affectionate smile. “Yeah,” she grunted, pushing up another rep. “So I’ve been told. How’d you find me?”

“I called the office again, and Jason told me where you were.” Sarah slipped two fingers under the bar, braced her legs, and followed the rhythm of Sloan’s arms pumping up and down, ready to take more of the weight if her friend began to tire. “Say, if you really want a workout, we could spar.”

Sloan blinked sweat from her eyes. She had been lifting ferociously for forty minutes, and her muscles were starting to hum. She still had the vague sense of disquiet that had plagued her since leaving Innova, and she welcomed the thought of a good bout. She lowered the weights to the upright cleats and wiped the back of her arm across her face.

“I thought you were all
pacifistic
now that you’re into Eastern medicine and yoga and the like,” she said teasingly.

“I’d consider whipping your butt just another form of meditation, Sloan.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled with challenge. “Besides, Kung Fu began with monks—that’s spiritual enough for me.”

Sloan pushed up off the bench. “You’re on, Sifu Martin.”

Ten minutes later, they faced each other in the adjoining studio, bowed respectfully, then stepped into fighting positions. Sloan faced Sarah full on, her lightly wrapped hands held face high, elbows in, balancing lightly on the balls of her feet in the typical Muy Thai kickboxing stance. Sarah turned sideways, knees bent, both hands extended slightly, ready to block Sloan’s punch or pivot away from one of her roundhouse Thai kicks.

It brought back memories for Sloan of the hot, humid jungles of Thailand, the crowded noisy streets of Bangkok, and the young naïve agent she had been nearly a decade before. It had been her first overseas assignment after joining the Justice Department right out of college, and she had been intermittently homesick and excited. She and Sarah had gravitated to one another because they were both Americans, both female, and close in age.

Sloan’s area of specialization had been communications, or at least that was her job description. In addition to developing networks for the government’s allies in Southeast Asia, she was also covertly helping to electronically infiltrate government and corporate systems of interest to the United States throughout the region. She didn’t think of herself as a spy, but looking back, there wasn’t any other word for it. Sarah Martin was a cultural liaison with the State Department. The two of them had become immediate friends and spent much of their free time together.

They had ended up training in the same dojo, and the spiritual bonds they forged went deeper than blood. Then Sloan had been forced to leave the agency under a cloud of suspicion. Despite their years of separation, their connection now seemed as strong as ever. Other than Jason, there was no one she trusted as much as Sarah.

Sloan’s temporary lapse into the past cost her a not-so-gentle strike on the side of her jaw and a resounding takedown from Sarah’s swift follow-up leg sweep. Fortunately, her reflexes were still sharp, and she managed to land without rapping the back of her head against the floor. Converting the fall into a back roll, she was up in an instant, shaking her head slightly and frowning at Sarah’s delighted laughter.

“You’re rusty, Sloan,” Sarah taunted good-naturedly. “Getting soft with that desk job of yours.”

“That was just luck.” Circling, she kept a wary eye on Sarah’s lightning fast hands and feet, and after feinting a left hook, stepped in quickly to deliver a knee strike to Sarah’s midsection. Air whooshed softly between Sarah’s lips at the impact. Sloan grinned in satisfaction.

They sparred continuously for twenty-five minutes until they were both dripping from the exertion and panting audibly. By mutual agreement, they stepped back, bowed to one another, and collapsed next to each other on the floor.

“God, I needed that,” Sloan gasped when she could catch her breath.

Sarah, lying on her back, turned her head so she could study Sloan’s face. “What’s up?”

Sloan shrugged. She didn’t want to try to explain it—she didn’t really even want to know. “Just tense, I guess. Too much time sitting at the computers, like you said.”

“Oh yeah, right. Remember to whom you’re talking. I’ve seen you work around the clock and then some without even noticing.”

“I was younger then,” Sloan said with just a hint of bitterness.

Sarah knew how difficult the subject of Sloan’s past was for her, even now, and did not pursue it. Instead, with uncharacteristic hesitancy, she said, “I want to ask your advice about something.”

“What?” Sloan shifted slightly so that she could meet Sarah’s eyes.

Sarah blushed faintly, but she continued in a steady voice, “I want to ask Jason out.”

For a second, Sloan was at a loss for words. It wasn’t totally unexpected, and the signs had been there for a while. Sarah seemed to be calling or dropping by the office more and more frequently. And of course, there were all the nights at the Cabaret when Sarah was front and center, watching intently while Jasmine performed. Still, Sloan was surprised that Sarah was taking the next step.

In a fairly normal tone, she commented, “I didn’t realize you were interested in him.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? He’s handsome and smart, and he’s got a great body,” Sarah stated somewhat defensively.

“What about Jasmine?” Sloan didn’t see any point in pretending that they didn’t both know what the issue was.

“I love Jasmine.” Sarah grinned, her eyes sparkling. “But you know me, I’ve never been into women that way.”

“I
do
seem to recall that.”

Sloan had to laugh. There had been a time in those first few months in Thailand when she had tried very hard to get Sarah into her bed. They’d had everything going for them—common interests, similar jobs, and they were thousands of miles from everyone they knew. Finally, one night after too many beers, Sloan had boldly leaned across a tiny table in a dimly lit Bangkok bar and kissed Sarah soundly on the lips.

Sarah had kissed her back, quite thoroughly, and then settled back into her chair and studied Sloan gravely. Her exact words had been, “I’ve been wondering for months what it would be like to kiss you. You’re a damn good kisser, Sloan. I thought you would be. As much as I love you, though, I’m just one of those girls who have a thing for those ridiculous male appendages. I hope you don’t take it personally.”

And Sloan hadn’t.

“Sloan?”

Sarah’s voice brought her back to the present. She seemed to be wandering into places she really didn’t want to go quite a bit lately. “Damn it, Sarah, I hate to get in the middle of these things. You’re one of my oldest friends, and Jason and I not only work together, I’m fond of him...and Jasmine.”

“I know; that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Sloan sighed. “How long has it been since you were with someone?”

For a moment, pain shimmered in Sarah’s green eyes. “Four years. He was an attaché in Bangkok.
I
thought we had something special. Turns out,
he
didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Sloan knew Sarah didn’t take relationships lightly, and she hated to think of her getting hurt. She also knew Jason had had more than his share of heartache because of the part of him that was Jasmine. Sometimes thinking about Jason and Jasmine made
her
head swim, and she was well used to it by now. She could only imagine what it would be like dating him. “Look,” she said, “it’s up to Jason to tell you how things are with him and Jasmine and everything. All I can tell you is that I don’t believe he’s ever dated a woman who knew about Jasmine. You might have your work cut out for you in that regard.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, remembering how much she had enjoyed watching Jasmine perform the night before, and how something in her had been excited knowing that Jasmine was part of Jason. It wasn’t something she needed to analyze in great depth. It simply was.

“I’m not fooling myself, Sloan. He’s a transvestite. It’s not just an act at the Cabaret for him—I know that. But we all have diverse dimensions, sexually and psychologically, that we express in slightly different ways. I appreciate that there are parts of Jason that are best expressed through Jasmine. I don’t understand it completely, but it doesn’t seem to bother me. At least not so far.” She sighed. “I just wanted to let you know before I did anything.”

Sloan sat up and reached for a towel. She tossed one to Sarah as well before rubbing her face vigorously and blotting some of the sweat from her hair. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see with him,” she finally said and smiled. She meant it.

“Speaking of that sort of thing,” Sarah flashed her another grin, “what’s the story with you and Michael?”

“There
is
no story,” Sloan said stiffly, halting in mid-motion. “There’s absolutely nothing between Michael Lassiter and myself.”

“Okay. My mistake, then.”

Sarah thought it prudent not to mention that both Michael and Sloan had spent an enormous amount of time studying each other when they thought the other wasn’t watching. It hadn’t escaped her notice either that Sloan had been particularly charming and touchingly attentive with Michael. It had also been obvious that Michael, for all her excited interest in what was happening around her, sparkled every time Sloan leaned close to speak to her.

Just before 6:00 on Monday morning, Sloan settled into the familiar seat before the computer in Michael’s office and booted up the system, hoping to have an uninterrupted hour before anyone arrived. She preferred to work during the off hours when there was less activity on the network, and more privacy.

At the sound of the door opening behind her, she turned, unexpectedly pleased at the thought of company. Especially if that company was Michael Lassiter. Her automatic smile of recognition changed swiftly to concern when she saw, even from across the room, the haunted expression on Michael’s face.