6. February 9th-10th

FEbrUARY 9TH-10TH

Waters

What.The. Actual. Fuck?

"Zap" didn't even begin to cover what he'd just felt. Waters had been tasered as part of his training. He'd been given electrical charges as part of his torture during his captivity.

That was a fucking lightning strike.

While technically his brain understood it was static electricity, the primal portion of his brain felt the jolt as an earth-shattering bolt. Yet, the aftershock was a pleasant hum throughout his bloodstream, warm and pulsing, traveling at quicksilver speed. The points of contact from her hand still felt heated. By the expression on her face, Kubrick was experiencing the same thing.

He watched her try to put her focus back on the computer screen, trying to pretend whatever just happened hadn't happened. But the truth was, it had happened, and clearly, they were not going to get any more work done tonight because of it. He needed to leave… but it was also the last thing he wanted to do. Physically, he wanted to gather her into his lap, strip her down just enough, and fuck her until she couldn't speak. However, he needed to get the hell out of Dodge before she upset his equilibrium any further.

Becoming attached to her makes her vulnerable, and I've already made that mistake once. I cannot afford this distraction. I really can't make a play for her, no matter how much I'd like to. Now I'm so fucked up, I'm too paranoid to even think seriously about having sex with someone.

But if he didn't use sex to stay, coming up with another reason would be more challenging. And he for damn sure didn't want to leave her alone without anyone watching over her. God said to stick to her, but how was he supposed to do that? Once Steel and the others returned from their projects, it would be easier to watch from afar. With just him? Not so much. At one time, it wouldn't have fazed him to sleep with her just to be able to watch over her. But not anymore.

Yeah. It would be just because I need to watch her.

"It's late." He slid out of the booth seat and stood at the table edge. "I'll be back in the morning, and we can review what we went over today. I'll also bring you a signed copy of the contract for Big Bird."

She smiled up at him, a genuine uptilt of her mouth at his obvious nickname for Stapleton. "Thanks. I'll be here tomorrow around eight. Keep your badge. I'll let the guard shack know to expect you so you can come and go as needed."

He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside. He turned back to look at her, one hand on the door jamb, the other on the door handle. "Kubrick."

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

Her eyes went wide, and she sat frozen. He let go of the door handle and crooked his finger at her. Mesmerized, she slid out of the booth and walked trance-like the few steps to the door. He looked down at her. "Lock the door after me."

She swallowed. Nodded. A flicker of disappointment, perhaps? He stepped back and shut the door, waiting to hear the click of the lock. Then he jogged down the steps.

I'm definitely going with disappointed.

Three hours later,he was still camped out in the shadows of the nearest soundstage across from her trailer. Luckily there was a twelve-foot-tall crate and several smaller ones sitting outside the huge bay door to hide him. He could blend into shadows without shelter, but this certainly made it easier. The lot was quiet. About every half hour, a security guard rode through on the golf cart. There must have been three of them at least because he saw the same guard every other time, and he heard both report to a third voice over their radios.

Dumbasses. You can almost set your watch to their patrols. If anyone wanted to get to her, it would be easy.

He snorted. He'd broken back in, hadn't he? And he didn't even have to try.

Suddenly, he felt his butt vibrate. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. "Yep."

"Struck out, huh?"

"You're a persistent fuck, aren't you?"

"I figured for sure you'd have charmed your way into her La Perla panties hours ago, and I'd have to call at least twice before you fumbled in the dark to answer."

"I'm not charming my way into anything, dickhead. Now, what do you want?"

God grunted. "Midas looked into Kubrick. Squeaky clean. She owns a house on Ivywood Lane. Mother was connected somehow to the British aristocracy, but it's really far down the line—about seventeen people. Fifth daughter of a baron or some shit. However…"—he paused for dramatic effect—"she has a brother."

Waters exhaled. "Ka-Bar."

God agreed. "Fuckin' Ka-Bar."

"Why didn't she say something? It's not like he didn't come up. For fuck's sake, why didn't he say something when he contacted Steel?"

"Steel might have already known, so the information would have been redundant. As for her, I'm not even going to hazard a guess. But why Midas didn't find it the first time around is beyond me. He does not miss shit."

Not Ka-Bar's woman. She was technically no longer off-limits. If he was interested. Which he wasn't.

"I guess it's not like we didn't know there was a connection somewhere. I mean, he's not going to call in a favor for a stranger." Waters thought for a moment. "Did you talk to Steel yet?"

"He's still dark. He should be emerging soon, but until then, we're running blind. Unless Midas can work his voodoo. Stay frosty, Waters. If Ka-Bar's asking us to watch a family member, then he's scared. And scared military men are usually scared for a reason. Especially Spec Ops members. We probably should be bringing her into the Tribe right now, but… I'm gonna hold off on that temporarily."

Why the hell wouldn't God grant her absolute protection? There's certainly the bond of brotherhood to Ka-Bar, and they were ninety-nine percent sure she was in danger, so what was the holdup?

God broke the silence. "What did you learn today? Anything of value?"

Yeah. I learned she makes me wish I were a different man.

"She's popular. People seem to want to please her. Lots of positive relationships with people. She's good at what she does, at least so far. To be honest, I didn't spot anyone or anything out of place, but my spidey senses told me she's being watched. No guarded looks, no suspicious behavior, no masked expressions. Nothing overt except for Big Bird. He's going to be an issue. He's got a severe hard-on for Kubrick. She can handle herself, which is hot as hell, but something's off about him, and I don't trust him. Midas should run a check on him if he hasn't already."

There was a pause. "So. She's hot as hell?"

Fuck. Of course he'd latch onto that. Her lack of filter is rubbing off on you.

Waters heard the taunt behind God's question and could have kicked himself for the slip-up. He let the silence stretch. No use trying to deny he said it. It would only make it worse.

His boss let it go. "Who's Big Bird?"

"Stapleton, the executive producer. Ruffled feathers. Molting. Lots of screeching. Long story. Seemed better than ‘assclown' for a nickname."

"Okay. Trust your instincts and watch the fucker. I'll have Midas run a report. He's probably high on the list for him anyway, but I'll put a rush on that one."

After a long silence, completely serious, God added, "Waters?"

"Yeah?"

"Do not let her out of your sight. Unless you want to sit out in the cold every night and get no sleep, you better find a reason to get inside with her. And I still think inside of her might not be a bad idea either."

"Now who's the assclown?"

God laughed on the other end of the line and clicked off. Waters had to admit, the man wasn't wrong. It would be a lot easier if he could be inside her living space with her or at her side all of the time, but that just wasn't possible right now. He needed Steel and Nemo to get home from Cuba soon. He could go for several days without sleep, but it was dangerous and could make him sloppy. And he would not be sloppy about protecting Kubrick from whatever shitstorm was coming.

He chose not to think about why he was so concerned.

She had left justafter one o'clock this morning. He'd followed her to her house—a pink, turn-of-the-century, three-story house complete with a closed-in wraparound porch that formed octagonal gazebo shapes at the corners. Victorian streetlamps led up the walkway to her door as it was set back slightly from the street and bordered on a wooded area with a path.

There were neighbors, but there were easily several acres of wooded land in between the houses, which were on large plots, so there was minimal street traffic. He would have to find somewhere to park his truck, so it went unnoticed, and then it would be a long night in the woods, watching.

Damn. Can't catch a break, apparently.

Using the car"s customized navigation system, he found a pond about a half mile from the back of the house. Again, not optimal, but there was a dirt track leading into the woods back there, so he pulled the truck inside the trees. He changed into a pair of black cargo pants, made sure his jacket was zipped tight, then hopped out of the truck and jogged onto her property, doing a circuit of her yard. He sent a quick text back to the office, then watched from the tree line on the side of the building through her office window as he waited for a reply. A few minutes later, his watch beeped. Checking the time, he noticed it had been about ninety minutes from when she left the lot, and now she was finally turning out the light and going to bed. His watch beeped again. Completing the sweep of the property, he made his way back to his truck.

He locked the doors and engaged the window tinting, then turned on the truck's navigation screen. After pressing an unlabeled button by the radio volume control, the navigation screen changed to a black background. A glowing red frame appeared around the terminal, and he spoke three separate codes—his identification number, a sixteen-digit alphanumeric string, and then the day's passphrase. A young man's face—scalp-cropped dark hair, soulful brown eyes—gazed back at him. His mouth was smiling and chewing at the same time, a hum of enjoyment at the chocolate, peanuts, and nougat. He waved the candy bar, label clearly framed, at his teammate and winked.

And the bastard is eating a Snickers. Goddammit, I'm gonna have to throat-punch my boss for starting this nonsense. Betty White, my ass.

"You're a lot more clothed than I expected, Boss," he mumbled around the candy in his mouth. The Afrikaans-tinged accent didn't help with articulation, either.

Waters glared at Midas. "Don't talk with your mouth full. What do you have?"

Midas grinned his Cheshire smile and chuckled. "You mean other than a major sugar rush and probably twelve instant cavities from this piece of shit candy bar? They're so awful, they're fantastic. How did I not know about these?"

"You're not going to have to worry about cavities because the next time I see you in person, you won't have any teeth. You'll be sucking your food through a straw."

Midas tsked him from his side of the call. "I will not be sucking anything. I think that's something she should be doing."

For the love of…

"Quit pissing me off. Are you going to fill me in on what you've got, or am I going to kick your ass all the way back to Johannesburg before I get the update?"

"You are very confused this evening, brother. I'm not filling anything. That is your job," he corrected with a point of the candy bar toward the screen. The dark-haired man turned his head to his left and perused another screen. "However, I gotta admit. She's pretty hot. I could probably be persuaded to ‘fill in' if you feel you're not ‘up' to the task."

Oh, hell no!

"Go anywhere near her, and I will break those golden fingers of yours, Midas. You're not irreplaceable, you know. Computer experts are a dime a dozen."

Still grinning wide, Midas shook his head. "You're way too easy, mate. Collect yourself." The grin disappeared. "Seriously, though, she's totally into you. You should go after her."

Waters took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was in such trouble. His Tribe were worse than the stereotypical coffee klatch. Midas had been watching the meeting with Kubrick, which meant by now, the entire team had, too.

"I can see your gears grinding. Relax, Boss."

"Spare me, Midas. You telling me you didn't make a copy of the initial meeting with Kubrick and send it to everyone?"

"What do you take me for?" he asked innocently.

Waters sighed with relief.

"Of course I did!" Midas joked. "Don't be an idiot. That's the best entertainment we've had since Nemo got caught with that waitress and her ass on the salad bar."

Water exhaled and resisted the urge to growl, which would just make the whole situation worse.

Midas continued, "I meant relax because I also made everyone a hard copy for posterity. Don't ya wanna be able to show your grandchildren where it all started?"

Midas needs to die. That's all there is to it. Then I'm going to have to hide a body.

"As stimulating as this conversation is, do you have anything useful to tell me?"

Midas went all business. "Check your email."

Waters grunted as he scanned through the documents. Midas had enclosed property maps of Kubrick's house, the studio, and the shoot locations, including the house the actors would be living in beginning February sixteenth.

Waters began spitting out orders. "I want eyes inside her house and trailer. You'll have to get in during the day tomorrow. She said she'd be at the studio starting at eight a.m. I'll try to lure her out earlier to breakfast. What's the ETA for the rest of the team?"

"Dumb and Dumber are en route. Just doing an overnight stop to drop off the defector with his new baseball team. TB got back an hour ago from his little side job."

That left just one player out of the mix. "And Demon?"

Midas looked at him and shrugged, his face noncommittal. "His week off. Not a fucking clue. Somewhere with a vat of Sex Wax, I'm guessing."

Great. Demon's out "hanging ten," and I need help with recon. Perfect.

"Okay, so I need a few more things."

"Deep dives on Kubrick, Ka-Bar, and Big Bird." Midas started clicking away on one of his many keyboards. "Already started. You should have final reports on all three by morning, but I'll continue digging even after that."

"Why didn't we know about the Kubrick/Ka-Bar connection?"

Midas huffed in frustration. "Because they're both adopted." Head shaking, he continued, "Basically, it's because they aren't blood-related. And both have their real parents on their documents, so the relationship, or lack of it officially, was not obvious."

"How the hell does that happen?"

"Their ‘adopted' parents are their godparents. Both sets of biological parents were killed when Kubrick and Ka-Bar were young, and the third couple were the named godparents for both kids, so when the kids were orphaned, the third couple took them in. Not atypical adoptions, but no one ever bothered to make it legal, hence why I didn't find it."

"Got it. Anything there look like it might be related to the marker being called in?"

With a shake of his head, Midas turned his attention back to Waters. "No. Both sets of parents were killed in separate accidents, but there's no link between the deaths, and there's never been anything threatening to either of the kids. Ka-Bar's family were some kind of archaeological ambassadors—mother was a British national; father was American, both professors with expertise in ancient Egypt—killed in a car crash by a drunk driver in Cairo." Midas cleared his throat as he snuck a look at his boss. "Sorry, Boss."

Waters waved off the apology. Yeah, definitely a place to forget. His own fault as to why, but the guys had to stop getting twitchy like they were bringing up an ex-wife someone on the team was sleeping with. "Continue."

"Kubrick's family were British born but lived in the U.S. most of their lives other than Oxford schooling, which is how the three couples—Ka-Bar's parents, Kubrick's parents, and the godparents—met. Mother was a socialite with a minor royal connection. Her father worked at the embassy in Washington, D.C. They were killed in a personal seaplane crash just off the coast of Athens while on vacation. Four years between deaths, six years difference between the two kids, and they look nothing alike, so while I shouldn't have overlooked the relationship, it's not all that surprising. I'm used to digging for information, not having it in plain sight."

"No worries, Midas. Only connection seems to be the Egyptian Embassy, but in your abundant free time, keep looking." Midas winked and took another bite of his candy bar with the label still clearly in view. Waters shifted in his seat. "Anything immediate on Big Bird?"

"Other than he has some serious issues with women, no."

"Do tell."

"In summary, he's a douchebag overall and a real pain in the ass to any woman who's trying to make it through the glass ceiling. Kubrick seems to handle him much better than most. A couple of formal complaints against him, but mostly just for being…" Midas scrutinized a screen to his right, squinting. "‘A number-crunching Neanderthal who can't read his own spreadsheet with the help of a shit-flinging monkey.' Huh. Not sure where the monkey comes in, but it certainly creates an image." Midas laughed. "Fuck, Boss. Your girl is unfiltered." He flipped a screen or two. "I've been keeping a list. Asshat, Assclown, Assnozzle—I think she shares your ass fetish, you lucky bastard." Waters grunted. "Fucktwat—very British, must get that from Mom—I like it; Ruptured Douchebag—ewww; Man Whoring Sycophant, and God's personal favorite, Jizzmop." Midas started laughing hard. "But this is the best: ‘Try that douchebaggery again, and I will kick your ass so hard that your vertebrae will spit out of your mouth one-by-one like a Pez dispenser.'" He looked at his boss with a shit-eating grin. "Whatever you do, don't piss her off."

Waters rolled his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I don't think I want to know what provoked that comment."

Midas' face went serious. "Let's just say, the threat fits the cause. She can clearly take care of herself, which rumor has it, is hot." Midas winked.

Waters shook his head in disgust.

"I have to admit I'm surprised she still has a job after some of what she's put in print to him, but… I'm thinking he's a masochist and figures that it's all foreplay."

Waters went stone cold. "Has he threatened her physically?"

"Easy, tiger. No, you know I would have led with any sort of threat, physical or otherwise. It's more demeaning her gender and verbally harassing her staff. Not physical. But the guy is clearly a Fucktwat," Midas agreed with one of Kubrick's assessments.

"Definitely not going to be alone with him again."

"What's that, Boss?"

"Nothing, Midas. Just proved my instincts were right about the man." Waters leaned his outside elbow on the window frame, his index finger running back and forth on his lip, his eyes staring out into the night. "Get some sleep now while things are quiet. My brain is saying that this will get twitchy at some point, and then no one will be sleeping."

"Copy that, Boss. I'll get you some coverage ASAP so that you can stock up on sleep yourself. Never know when you might need the reserves." Midas gave one final smirk, taking another chunk off his candy bar.

Waters blacked out his screen.