Enemy Lover (5 page)

Dominic Satriano cracked. “She’s too unstable.”

Godfather said nothing but walked to the mainframe housed in the massive black console in the corner of the large room. He pulled the keyboard out, grabbed the remote and hit a button. Light flickered across the screens surrounding them. Immediately, an image of Angela Giacomelli, beaten, bruised and broken, wrapped in a hospital gown, sprang up. “She is now,” Godfather admitted. With a press of his finger, a slideshow began. Shots taken at the hospital. Obviously after that piece of shit Montes had destroyed her. But L.O.S.T. would rebuild her. Make her stronger, smarter, more lethal. The ultimate weapon against a man.

Very little caused Godfather to feel more than his normal dogged determination to put pricks like Montes away. But something about Angela Giacomelli moved him beyond his usual sober awareness. She was damaged, flawed, and hurting badly, but beneath all that pain was a woman who still had more than a little fight left in
her. A woman who had the nerve and drive to clean up Dodge, one piece of crap at a time. He’d known when he’d read about her arrest last year that she was marked for L.O.S.T. Now he had her, and he was not going to allow her to slip from his grasp. She was perfect for what he had in mind, but he worried that it might take too long to bring her up to speed. There were two ops right now he could use her on, but she was in no shape to be turned loose. He cursed under his breath. Time was not a commodity he had right now. But he had no choice. He was a patient man. And he knew that Angela Giacomelli would deliver in spades if she was handled correctly.

“The bastard deserved what she did to him and more,” Brinks, aka Gage Stone, sneered. A chorus of agreement rang out. Godfather nodded and continued to watch the flat screen.

Images from Angela’s life flickered up one after another, cataloging her from birth to her police academy graduation. A chubby baby held in her proud grandfather’s arms. An eight-year-old riding a dirt bike, flying a mile high into the air as she challenged fate with a brilliant, exuberant smile. Her receiving first communion, looking annoyed in a prissy white dress. Sitting ramrod stiff on a horse as a judge pinned the blue ribbon to her mount’s bridle. Nailing the winning goal in the women’s NCAA Division One lacrosse championship. Then, finally, the chief of police pinning her badge on her chest when she graduated valedictorian of her class.

Something foreign kicked him in the gut. Powerful but poignant. Making his chest burn in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

Satriano cleared his throat. “Okay, yeah. She’s something. She didn’t deserve what was done to her. But I’ ll say it again, she’s unstable.”

Godfather nodded again, deep in thought.

“What are you thinking?” Stone asked.

Godfather threw the remote on the table with a casual flick of his wrist. “I’m thinking she’s perfect for at least two ops on the table right now.”

“She’s too volatile!” Satriano shouted.

Godfather let out a long breath and looked at Dom. “Satriano, there wasn’t a more pissed-off unstable operative than you the day we dragged your sorry ass through those doors. You were back on the street in less than a month.”

Dante, another operative and one who had no room to talk, snorted, smacking Satriano on the chest but quieting when Godfather turned on him. “And you, I remember the day you were hauled in here, telling us all to go fuck ourselves and swinging those ham fists of yours.” He looked past Dom to Slade and Dylan. “Don’t shake your heads, you both were as bad.” He turned to Gage. “And you, Stone? No one could get near you.” Godfather stared down every one of them. “You were all fuckups when you got here. That’s why you were chosen. Because of the hell you’d been through. Because you weren’t willing to take it lying down. Because you wanted payback.” He pointed to the frozen frame of a stunning, smiling woman. “Jax is no different.”

The room grew uncomfortably silent, and suddenly Godfather knew what was bugging them. He grunted. No one was willing to say it. Yes, they’d all been screwed
up, but they were all screwed-up
men.
They weren’t ruled by hormones or the urge to nurture. Save for Naomi, his assistant, they were an all-male squad. That was about to change.

“I respect your hesitation, men. But just in case none of you happened to notice, Jax Cassidy has some serious assets none of us have. We need a woman for the operations where a dick just won’t make the cut. We need a woman like Jax, who is trained, who is fearless and who won’t hesitate to use what she must to close a mission.”

“Calculating,” Cruz muttered.

Godfather smiled. “Exactly.”

He turned and stared at the static images left on the screen. At every turn, Jax had challenged life—no fear, no hesitation, no regrets. The woman who’d left the room less than twenty minutes ago was hard as nails on the outside, but terrified on the inside. He’d seen it in her eyes. And he’d seen it magnify each time she’d thought someone had been about to touch her. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck.

When he had chest-butted her, he’d honestly had no clue what she would do. But when she hadn’t attacked, he’d known then he had her. He liked that despite her instinct to fight, she had the self-control to do what was in her best interest.

“She does a good job hiding behind that mouth of hers,” Stone said. “But she’s not just unstable. She’s scared, and fear causes mistakes.”

Godfather nodded. The future of the team hung on every member’s being in top form, mentally and
physically. “Fear can be turned around and used to one’s advantage,” he said.

“It can also make you second-guess yourself,” Cruz said from beside him.

“In Jax Cassidy’s case, her fear will keep her focused,” Godfather rejoined.

“I know we all agreed to recruit a female operative,” Stone started, “but . . . she makes me nervous. Our motto has always been no rules. We do the job and we do whatever it takes. Stealing. Killing. Fu—” Stone hesitated.

Godfather shook his head. “She’s too smart to use her body as a first assault.”

Cruz coughed. “Didn’t she just tell us she seduced the information she needed out of that fed?”

Godfather nodded again, trying very hard not to get pissed at his men. Didn’t they see the potential in her that he did?

“Different set of circumstances. When I’m done with her, she won’t have to use her body in a sexual way to gain the upper hand. Her brain will do all the work. It’s why I recruited her.”

Stone swiped his hand across his face in frustration. Godfather knew what bugged Gage. He didn’t attempt to quell his concerns. It would go down as it always did. When the team had reservations, they hashed it out, then came to an agreeable, mutual resolution. The last thing he wanted was for there to be dissension among his operatives. Each one of their lives depended on complete trust in the other.

“Did any of you notice how she practically jumped out of her skin when she thought I was going to touch her?” Stone asked, then directed his next question at
Godfather. “And when you chest-butted her, she about caved on the spot.”

Godfather nodded. “Normal behavior in a perceived hostile environment. She’ ll be desensitized soon enough. She’ ll go through the same assimilation you all went through, but the accelerated version.”

“I don’t think—” Stone started.

Godfather flashed. “You don’t think what? Or do you suddenly have a problem with my authority, Stone? Or is it something personal?”

Stone met the stares of his teammates. Leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, he looked squarely at Godfather and said, “Nothing personal, sir. She’s just damned distracting.”

Godfather smiled. “I know. Another reason she was handpicked. I’m counting on every man we set her up against to be blindsided.”

“How much time do we have before she needs to be up to speed?” Cruz asked.

Godfather stood, thoughtful, then said, “As much time as she needs.”

Every man in the room stood, slack-jawed. Godfather shook his head in bewilderment. “Do I have to explain the differences between the sexes again?”

“How long is as long as it takes?” Cruz demanded. “And why?”

“Because, Cruz, she’s a female! And a traumatized one at that. She needs to heal.” He glared at each man in the room. “Do you want her discharged before she’s emotionally stable? Do you want her as your cover and take the chance she’s going to nut up, or do you want to give her the time she needs to work things out?”

“What if she doesn’ t?” Stone said.

“She will,” Godfather flatly answered, then exited the room.

Godfather stalked from the war room and down the hall to the office area. He nodded at the petite blonde who turned from one of her four computer screens in her chair. Her dark brown eyes shone bright with intelligence and, he could see, concern.

He frowned and put his hand up in the stop position. “Not you too, Naomi.”

He watched her set her jaw. Always a prelude to an argument. “I might be just your paper pusher, sir, but I have a stake here too. That woman is half cocked, loaded and about to go on a killing spree.”

There was not much that got past Godfather’s right arm. Naomi Sullivan was the one who facilitated the details. While he was lord and master of the team and ops, she was mistress of the internal working of L.O.S.T.—reports, dossiers, procurement of official dummy docs, fact finder, travel agent, realtor, shopper of all things necessary for survival, and, ultimately, backup. She even hired the housekeeper.
And
the cleaners who took care of messes they left behind. She was the glue that held them all together. Rarely did she work in the field. They were all better served by her doing what she did best—keeping them alive and making them disappear, all from a stroke on the keyboard. She was to Godfather what Miss Moneypenny and M combined were to 007.

“Did something happen between here and the assimilation chamber?”

She shook her head, her short blonde bob brushing her cheeks. “To the naked eye, no. But she’s as jumpy as a rabbit and has serious people issues. She looked haunted. Unstable. She scares me.”

“We all have people issues, Naomi, that’s why we’ re here.”

“She’ ll run the first chance she gets.”

“While she was out we implanted a GPS chip in her scalp.”

Naomi gasped, her big brown eyes widening before narrowing. “You are a bad, bad man, Mr. Black.”

His smile retracted. “Don’t forget it.” As he strode past her to the observation room that gave him complete access to the assimilation chamber, Godfather scowled again. He stopped at the door to the observation room. As he opened the door, his frustration mounted. Did Angela Giacomelli have too much crap in her head to be of use to him? Would she be the downfall of L.O.S.T.? Had he made a mistake? He would never jeopardize what they had all worked so hard for. His gut told him she would work out. Yes, she was a head case right now. Unpredictable and too damaged to use. But he knew that with time and training he would have the perfect foil for getting to criminal masterminds.

He stepped into the dimly lit room. Though she wouldn’t be able to hear or see him, Godfather was still careful when he entered. He was surprised to see Cruz and Stone inside, both intently watching the lone figure on the other side of the mirror.

Wrapped in a thick white robe, her dark hair hanging damp around her shoulders from her shower, Jax sat at a table, facing them, with a feast of Italian food spread
out before her. He knew she hadn’t eaten that day, and probably not much the day before. From his extensive file on her, he knew Italian was her favorite. He’d hoped to entice her with it, but her head hung from her shoulders as she picked at the meatballs in front of her.

“Dr. Martin is on her way,” Stone said.

Godfather nodded.

“It’s going to take more than a shrink, even one as good as Barb, to fix that,” Cruz said, inclining his head toward Jax.

“Yeah, but I’m going to make her into a lethal weapon. Better than all you assholes combined,” Godfather mused out loud.

“What’s wrong with us?” Cruz asked, indignant.

“Not a damn thing. She’s just going to be more.”

Gage snorted. “I’ ve got a hundred bucks that says Doc Martin won’t be able to crack her.”

“You’ re on,” Godfather said.

They all knew firsthand what Barbara Martin was capable of extracting from someone who wanted to keep their pain buried. They had all been at her mercy at one time or another. She was ruthless and relentless. Godfather always had the feeling she had lost someone close to her, and maybe felt like she had something to prove to the rest of the world. When he’d voiced his thoughts, she’d shut him down, curtly reminding him he’d not been there to discuss her private life but to let her get into his head and make him healthy enough to bring in the bad guys the regular cops couldn’ t.

Godfather let out a long breath and looked back at Jax, who now twirled the spaghetti on her plate until she
had a huge glob of it on her fork. She flung it down and absently started to twirl another glob.

“I liked her better full of piss and vinegar, not like this. Beaten,” Cruz grunted.

“Don’t underestimate her,” Stone said. “Underneath that wet hair is a sleeping tiger.”

“You’ re right, Stone. I don’t think she has it in her to quit anything. Our problem, once she buys into her new life, is going to be keeping her leashed.”

“You should have seen her all bristly and hissing in the sally port at the courthouse—and even on the bus. I think it’s just part of her nature.”

Godfather watched her intently as Stone’s words penetrated his brain. She’d fallen hard, but it
was
in her nature to fight. But not quite yet. She wasn’t done crashing and burning.

He knew from experience that it could take years just to be able to function on a most basic level. The hardest part was reaching out and asking for help, then accepting it. Because accepting help meant you had to be honest, and being honest meant exposing the ugly rawness inside. He still had his own demons that lurked deep inside him. Every day he wrestled with them, and every once in a while they got the upper hand. Yeah, he knew exactly where she was coming from.