Lucas sat at the bar, shoulders slumped in defeat as he looked around the room. The dance club was dark, with blue recessed lights beneath the bar as the only consistent lighting in the main area. It wasn't quite as loud by the bar as it was on the dance floor, which was the main reason he was sitting over here instead of at one of the tables that skirted the section of the club where most of the patrons, including Tony and Tim, were dancing. The pounding music had started to give him a headache and he'd retreated to the bar, leaving his shipmates to dance with the pair of women who'd picked them up practically the moment they'd walked in. He'd tried to get Tony's attention before moving to the other side of the club, but the enlisted man had been completely occupied with the buxom blonde on his arm, and eventually he'd just given up and come over here.
He'd tried to order a beer, but just like the bartenders at the first two clubs they'd been to that night, the guy behind the bar had laughed at his ID and told him to get a better fake next time. He was seriously contemplating making himself a fake ID when he got back to the boat, one with a birthdate that someone looking at him might actually believe, and only the thought of Hudson's wrath if the captain found out he was using UEO equipment to forge identification gave him pause. His life had been so much simpler when he'd really been eighteen.
Lucas took a sip of the soda that had been all the bartender was willing to serve him, and slouched down a little further on his barstool. Tim and Tony were still dancing with the same women, and Lucas wished they'd been a group of three girls instead of two. If there'd been a third, maybe he wouldn't be sitting there alone. He scanned the room, looking for any cute single women who might want company, but the club was mostly populated by couples or large groups of people. There was one woman sitting alone on the other side of the bar, but she was intimidatingly gorgeous, and he was also pretty sure that the bartender had a thing for her. He'd ignored Lucas for a good fifteen minutes before he'd come over to serve him the first time, but he'd gone straight over to the woman when she'd come up to the bar and he showed no signs of being ready to move on to another customer.
Lucas looked down at his soda, which was almost gone, and rolled his eyes. The likelihood of getting another one was slim to none as long as the bartender was busy chatting up the woman across the bar, and he resigned himself to finishing this one as slowly as possible.
"Here you go, Lena."
She accepted the drink from her favorite bartender, who also happened to be the owner of the club, with a smile of thanks. Her hand on his wrist kept him from disappearing back down the bar.
"Hey, Gary, what's the story with the blond guy?"
He glanced over his shoulder to where the young man sat, his lips quirking upward in a reluctant smile.
"Sailor. Came in with two other sailors, but they're both on the dance floor with a couple of the barflies."
"Mallory and Erin," Lena agreed wryly. The two women were well known by the other regulars at The Quarter. Lena had helped Gary break up several fights caused by their 'dates'. "Those sailors will have trouble shaking them off when their liberty ends. I wonder if they've figured out yet that the girls aren't exactly free company."
Gary shrugged. "That's their problem. I've told the girls they can pick up all the paying customers they want in here, but I don't want anything to do with their business transactions. The Quarter makes me plenty of money. I got no interest in bein' their pimp."
Lena snorted in amusement. She and Gary shared a laissez-faire attitude toward most of life's little things, and the presence of hookers in his bar didn't cause him a moment's pause so long as they weren't making any trouble for him. Although she wasn't likely to tell Gary this, Lena had actually encouraged Mallory and Erin to pick up their dates in the bar where she and Gary could keep an eye on them. Hookers or not, she liked them, and she didn't want anything unpleasant to happen to them.
"Anyway, the sailor at the bar tried to use a fake ID to order a drink."
"That happens all the time. You don't usually laugh out loud at them when they try."
"His ID says he's twenty-eight." He nodded at her surprised expression. "It startled me, that's all. Usually the kids who come in here looking to drink aren't so ballsy."
"You'd think he would've gone a little younger," she agreed. She would've made a joke about the sailor's lofty aspirations, but there was something tugging at the back of her mind that she couldn't quite remember. "Wait. Wait a minute…damn, Gary. I know him."
Gary gave her a tolerant smile. "Little young for you, ain't he, p'tite?"
Lena thumped his arm with the flat of her hand, shaking her head at herself. She was embarrassed to admit that she hadn't recognized the guy at first. Granted, she hadn't been looking for him, but it was still embarrassing to realize that she'd been eyeing him for a good five minutes before she'd realized who he was. After the disappearance of seaQuest, Lucas Wolenczak had become a legend in the way that sometimes happened when a gorgeous young man with lots of potential met a tragic and untimely end. She'd been fourteen at the time, just the right age to develop an enormous crush on the good-looking computer analyst, and she wondered now if he had any idea that his 'death' had turned him into her generation's James Dean.
She'd heard about his return, too, although she'd been busy with other things at the time, and all she really remembered from the briefing she'd received was that the seaQuest crew had been gone for ten years but hadn't aged a day. That had been strange enough that it had stuck with her despite her distraction, and now her eyes widened as she stared across the bar at an impossibility.
"He really is twenty-eight, Gary," she informed her friend, who gave a derisive laugh.
"Ain't no way."
"Hey, would I lie to you?"
"Yes," he pointed out calmly, and she grinned.
"Maybe I would, but I'm not now," Lena told him. She picked up the shot glass on the bar, tossing its contents back in one swallow and then handing Gary the empty glass. "I'm going over there. Come join us in a minute."
He gave her a doubtful look. In the two years since she'd befriended him, though, she'd never led him astray, and eventually he shrugged. The two Acadian transplants led very different lives, but they'd gotten along since the day Lena had come into his bar in New Cape Quest and ordered a Sazerac. She was a hellraiser, but she was also a true Cajun charmer, and in the years since he'd left New Orleans he'd missed having his own kind around.
"Hey, sailor."
Lucas turned his head to the left and decided that maybe he'd finally gone crazy from pure boredom. Either he was hallucinating or the beautiful woman from across the bar was now perched on the barstool next to his, smiling at him.
"Let me buy you a drink?" she asked, when he remained silent. He flinched at the request. Now he was going to have to explain to her that the bartender wouldn't serve him because he looked like a teenager, because he was a teenager although technically he was twenty-eight, and that was a discussion he really didn't want to have tonight.
"I'm not thirsty," he replied, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. Surely he could've come up with some other way, any other way, to turn down the drink offer without making it sound like he didn't want her company. Now she was going to get up and leave him sitting there like an idiot while she went back to flirting with the bartender or hooked up with one of the big muscle-bound goons hanging out in the club. They were probably more her type anyway.
"You look thirsty," she rebutted, and flagged down the bartender before he recovered enough to think of a response. The man who'd taken eons to even notice Lucas showed up so quickly for her that it was almost offensive. Another brush-off, he thought darkly to himself, and then shook his head. What was he doing? The most attractive girl in the entire club was talking to him, and he was still feeling sorry for himself?
"Two Radlers," she told the bartender, interrupting Lucas's train of thought, and he looked up to see what the bartender would do. He expected a protest, or for the man to refuse to serve him again, but he merely nodded and went to get their drinks, leaving Lucas alone with her.
"So." He hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with a smooth line and drawing a total blank. "What's a Radler?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say.
She smiled up at him and he felt his heart beat a little faster. She was really pretty. "It's a mixed drink, half beer and half lemon soda."
"That's good?" he asked, not realizing how dubious he sounded until the words left his mouth. Before he could kick himself for it, she threw her head back and laughed.
"It's better than straight beer," she declared. "It's a German thing, but Gary turned me on to them a while back. They're - well, here, try for yourself."
Just like that, the bartender was back with the two requested drinks, and he deposited them on the bar with a smile and a wink at the woman next to him before disappearing again.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, and she laughed again.
"Sorry about Gary," she added. At his confused expression, she inclined her head in the direction the bartender had gone. "He can be sharp, him, but it's just his way. I'm sure he didn't recognize you or he would've been a sight nicer."
If she was friends with the bartender, that made him feel marginally better about how much faster she'd been served than he had. Then the second part of her statement sank in, and he gave her a suspicious look.
"Recognize me?"
She took a long sip of her drink, then looked up at him again, mischief in her eyes.
"You are Lucas Wolenczak, aren't you?"
"Hey, check it out!"
Grateful for an excuse to turn away from the incredibly clingy brunette who'd attached herself to his arm like a limpet mine, Tim looked over at Tony, who was pointing back toward the bar.
"Whoa," Tim said as he followed Tony's gaze to find Lucas sitting with a really hot woman. He also had what looked like a beer in front of him, which was nothing short of amazing considering that every other bar they'd been to that night had refused to serve him.
"His night's looking up," Tony opined with a grin, and then turned back to the voluptuous blonde he'd been dancing with. "And so's mine! Let's dance, Valerie!"
"It's Mallory," she corrected, but she was already taking his hand, and Tim rolled his eyes. He had no idea what it was about Tony that seemed to attract women, but the other man was like a magnet for beautiful girls.
"That's a good idea," said the brunette attached to his arm. Erin, he was pretty sure, but it was loud in the club and he hadn't really heard her name, and he was too embarrassed to ask her to repeat it. "Let's dance, baby."
He doubted she had any idea what his name was. As he declined her offer, it occurred to him that he was being an idiot - after all, even Lucas had found a woman to hook up with - but she just wasn't his type. His type of woman wouldn't hang out in a bar like this, he reflected, which made this night kind of a stupid idea. He'd only gone because Tony had invited him and Lucas had begged him not to make him go alone with the ebullient seaman. Tim had kind of assumed that he and Lucas would be hanging out together all night while Tony picked up women, but when Erin had come up and started flirting with him, he'd been so flattered she'd picked him that it took him a while to realize she wasn't what he was looking for.
Sitting at a table on the far side of the dance floor, he watched as Lucas talked with the blonde next to him, and hoped for his friend's sake that he was having a better time than Tim.
"Let me get this straight. I'm famous?"
The woman - Lena, he reminded himself, which was a cute name that was made even cuter by her pronunciation of it, her accent making the syllables melodic - wrinkled her nose. "You were," she corrected him. "Right after the seaQuest disappeared. I think it's died down some over the years as the girls from my generation got older."
"Why?" he asked, baffled, and she laughed.
"You were a heartthrob, cher." She pronounced the word 'sha', and it took him a moment to realize what she'd said. He spoke fluent French, but he was quickly realizing that the language he'd spoken in Paris as a child bore little resemblance to the Cajun French that kept slipping into her sentences. "A tragically handsome boy genius who was lost at sea. Every girl at my school was in love with you."
"Yeah?" He felt a surge of pride and the return of some of his old confidence. At least someone appreciated him. "So, were you in love with me, too?"
"I only had a thing for you for a couple of weeks." She smiled at his deflated expression. "Nothing against you, cher. Back then, I had quite the short attention span for boys. I've got girlfriends from high school who're still in love with you to this day, though."
"Seriously?" He sounded like he couldn't decide whether to be flattered or horrified.
"Seriously. In fact, I know one who'd leave her husband in a red hot second if she thought she had a shot at snaring the Lucas Wolenczak."
He considered that for a moment. "Is she pretty?" he asked finally, and Lena laughed.
"Depends on your idea of pretty," she replied. "Everybody's got their own opinion on what makes a woman beautiful."
"Does she look anything like you?" he asked, hoping the line wasn't too cheesy, and her lips curved into a sly smile.
"I don't know if I'm what you're looking for," she warned him, practically purring the words into his ear. "Some beauty is dangerous."
Lucas reached up slowly, and when she made no move to pull away, slid his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head. She leaned in, her face only inches from his, and he smiled.
"La Belle Dame sans Merci," he murmured to her, his accent flawless. Her eyes lit up.
"You speak French," she breathed, delighted, and he grinned.
"My dad worked in France for a while when I was a kid. I just kind of picked it up."
"I never knew that about you. Lord, cher, those girlfriends of mine would just die if they knew."
"What if they knew I was about to kiss you?"
"Hmm…not if I kiss you first."
He started to lean in, but she was faster, capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. He had no idea how long they sat there, her knee pressing against his thigh and his hands in her hair as they kissed, but by the time they pulled apart he was breathless and desperate for more.
"Why don't we get out of here?"
Lena's smile was wicked, and Lucas swallowed hard.
"Uh, yeah. Okay," he agreed, taking her outstretched hand and letting her pull him toward the door. He glanced back at the dance floor, hoping to catch a shipmate's gaze long enough to let them know he was leaving, but he couldn't even see the others through the crowd of dancers. Forget it, he decided, and wrapped his free arm around Lena's waist. She beamed up at him and he gave her a smile, promptly forgetting about everything but her. Tonight he wasn't Captain Hudson's scapegoat, or Tony's geeky roommate, or the teenage kid whose appearance lagged a decade behind his age. Tonight, he was just a guy, and a beautiful woman had picked him up in a bar and was taking him back to her place.
Resolutely, he pushed all thoughts of seaQuest out of his head. While he was at it, he did his best to forget about Sandra Kirby, too. After what had happened with her, he was nervous about leaving a nightclub with a woman he'd just met, but as far as he could tell Lena wasn't a radical activist out to seduce him to further her own causes. She was just a woman who happened to find him irresistibly attractive.
Nikolai Bazin tapped his brother's shoulder. "That's her," he murmured when Alexei turned, and the younger man cursed, grabbing his own binoculars to see for himself.
"You're right," he replied. "Good eye, Nik. She wasn't supposed to leave for another couple of hours."
"And she wasn't supposed to leave with anyone," Nikolai agreed. "What do we do about him?"
Alexei shrugged. "You know how the boss feels about witnesses," he pointed out. "We'll have to kill them both. Not too close to the nightclub, though."
The Quarter was neutral territory, a place where career criminals and gangbangers could drink side by side with cops and military personnel without the fear of violence erupting. If they killed Thibodeaux and her date here, within shouting distance of the bar, there was sure to be a backlash. Their bratva didn't fear the police, the local gangs, or the other mafia families in the area, but that didn't mean they wanted to take them all on at once.
"It would be rude to kill them so close to Benoit's territory," Nikolai agreed. He'd been to The Quarter a time or two himself, and Gary Benoit served the kind of good strong unfiltered vodka that was nearly impossible to find elsewhere in town. There was no point in angering Benoit if they didn't have to.
The brothers folded their collapsible binoculars, checked to make sure their laser pistols were fully charged, and set off into the night after their target.
"So are we going to your place?"
Lucas was proud of himself for not tripping over the words. His brain still hadn't quite caught up to the reality of the situation, and he was a little worried that if he said or did the wrong thing, Lena might change her mind about taking him home with her.
"No," she replied, surprising him. "There's a nice hotel a few blocks up this way."
"You don't live around here?" he guessed, and she smiled.
"I do, cher, but I'm not in the habit of bringing strangers over to my place. It's safer this way."
That gave him pause. Up until now, Lena had seemed so carefree. He was taken aback by her sudden security-conscious practicality.
"Look, if you'd rather - I mean, I could just take you to dinner, or to a movie or something. We don't have to -"
Lena's finger on his lips silenced him.
"You're a sailor," she pointed out gently. "In a day or two, you'll be gone. And I'm not looking for a boyfriend anyway. I'm offering you one night with no strings attached." Her lips curved into a smile. "One really incredible night. But if that's not what you want, you won't get any pressure from me. We can go back to the bar and pretend this never happened. No hard feelings."
Lucas took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Lena's matter of fact tone told him that she was serious, that at a word from him she'd call the whole thing off. It was oddly reassuring. When Sandra had taken him back to her apartment, she'd been pushy, making sure that he came with her and stayed the whole night. Not that he'd noticed it at the time, but in hindsight it was obvious that Sandra had an agenda. Lena clearly didn't.
"I want to be with you," he said finally, unable to resist a smile at the way her expression brightened. "I just don't have much experience with this kind of thing, you know?"
She grinned, pulling him close for another kiss. "You will," she murmured against his lips. "By tomorrow morning, you'll be an expert."
"I'm looking forward to it." He slid his arms around her waist, holding her close as he kissed her again.
A high-pitched whine shattered the quiet of the night, and Lena was pulling away from him before the noise fully registered in his brain. When it did, he grabbed for her, catching her wrist and yanking her toward the nearest alley.
"Get down!"
He shielded her as best he could, the two of them sprinting for cover as the laser fire continued. Lena ducked into the alley, putting the brick wall of an apartment building between her and the shooter. Lucas was half a second behind her, and he'd almost made it under cover when a searing pain shot through his arm. His momentum carried him to Lena's side as he cried out.
Lena swore, shoving him behind her, and through the haze that had settled over his vision at the throbbing agony in his arm he saw her reach into her purse and pull out what looked like a pulse pistol. Except that didn't make any sense, because why would Lena have a pulse pistol -
She dropped into a crouch, making herself as small a target as possible, and leaned past the edge of the building, returning fire in a smooth sequence of movements that indicated to Lucas he'd made a massive mistake in his choice of female companionship. Again.
"How bad is it?"
His head jerked up when she spoke, and he realized belatedly that the shooting had stopped.
"Your arm," she added, when he didn't respond. "How bad?"
"I'm fine," he snapped, pulling his arm instinctively against his chest as she slid toward him, pulse pistol still gripped in her right hand. "Like you care."
Surprise flashed across her features. "Of course I care, but we need to get out of here. There's a safe house nearby -"
"What's going on? Was all of this a setup? Were you just using me?" he demanded, feeling that familiar ache in his chest. He'd been wrong to trust her. She wasn't interested in him. She was just another Sandra, using him for her own purposes -
"Get over yourself," she retorted, in a tone of voice that said she had no interest in indulging his self-pity. "He was shooting at me, you idiot."
That was new. Typically, people who were kidnapping him for their own agendas didn't yell at him or call him an idiot.
"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"
"Because I recognized the shooter, and unless you've done something to piss off the Russian mafia lately, this is about me. Bazin is down but I don't know if he's dead, and he never works alone. Now can we please get the hell out of here before his backup arrives and kills us both?"
She didn't wait for his answer, setting off at a brisk jog down the alley. After a moment's hesitation, he followed her. He still wasn't sure that he trusted her, or that this wasn't some sort of setup to get him to go along with her, but going with her was better than the alternative of sitting around here and waiting for the mafia to show up. With his arm throbbing in protest, he took off after Lena.
They ran through the city's back alleys for less than ten minutes, but for Lucas, it felt like an eternity. Lena hadn't said anything further to him, but she'd slowed down when it became obvious that he wasn't able to keep up with her any more. His arm felt like someone had taken a red-hot poker to it, and he did his best to focus on anything but the pain.
Their course took them through the streets of downtown New Cape Quest and dumped them out in a lower-middle-class neighborhood that was still and silent in the middle of the night. Lena led him over to a house that didn't have any distinguishing features other than the peeling paint on the porch railing. She picked the lock on the front door with a hairpin while Lucas watched, more convinced every minute that he needed to stop picking up women in bars. It never seemed to end well for him.
Once she had the door open, they entered the living room, which was decorated in bland colors with secondhand furniture. Lena locked the front door behind them and went over to the fuse box as he continued to watch her, confused and in pain.
"What are we doing here?" he asked finally, and she looked up with the ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Watch this."
She flipped a sequence of switches in the fuse box, and he stared in shock as a portion of the wall in front of her swung open.
"A hidden room?"
"A panic room." She stepped through the open panel, beckoning for him to join her. He glanced at the concealed door as he passed through it; it looked like titanium, and was nearly six inches thick. "The door will stop grenades, rocket launchers, and pulse rifles set to maximum," she informed him, yanking the thick door shut behind them and slamming the locking lever home with her shoulder.
"Is the whole room made of that stuff?" he asked, avoiding the obvious criticism that there weren't any lights turned on in the room. Now that the industrial-strength door was closed, it was so dark that he couldn't see past his own nose.
"It wouldn't be very effective if it wasn't," Lena pointed out. He heard the soft click of a switch, and then the room was flooded with light. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and took his first good look around. This room was clearly intended for a different purpose than the average-looking living room they'd just been in. It was stark, with white walls and no decoration, and it didn't contain much more than a couch situated along one wall and a small stack of cots in the corner. "We'll be safe here," she added. "You should sit down, cher. I'll find a first aid kit."
Lena gestured toward the couch as she headed for the far side of the room. He stayed where he was despite the still-throbbing pain in his arm, pinning her with a sharp look.
"If no one else is going to start shooting at us, then I think it's time for you to explain what's going on."
She sighed, digging in one of the cabinets built into the wall and coming up with a bright red box that she brought over and set down on the floor by the couch.
"Look, I'm sorry about all of this. I didn't know I was being targeted, and I sure as hell didn't know there would be an assassin waiting for me outside the bar." She smiled ruefully. "If I had, I would've brought Gary home with me. The man could stop a pulse laser with his disapproving glare alone."
"Why are you being targeted?" Lucas insisted. "Who are you?"
"I'm a federal agent. I work for Section Six."
"Section Six?" he repeated, confused. "Not Section Seven?"
"Military intelligence was the first group to be brought under Section rule, as part of the consolidation of the different military units that made up the UEO, but they weren't the onlygroup that ended up as a Section," she told him. "Section Six is the federal law enforcement division. Over a dozen federal agencies were absorbed by Section Six. It happened mostly in the past ten years, which is probably why you aren't familiar with it. Basically, picture the FBI, DEA, ATF, and every other law enforcement agency you can think of all shoved together into one big box made of bureaucratic red tape."
"So what do you do, other than get shot at by the mafia in your down time?"
That drew a smile from her. "I work for START."
The way she said it made it sound like the word 'start' was in all caps, but other than that, he had no idea what she was talking about. She glanced over at him and elaborated when she saw his perplexed expression.
"It's an acronym," she told him. "Special Tactical Action Response Teams. We deal with acute or high risk scenarios; things like negotiating hostage situations, infiltrating criminal operations, and tracking and arresting dealers of illegal weapons or drugs."
"How did you get the mafia angry with you?"
She sighed again. "It's a long story. The short version is that the guy who was shooting at us used to have two brothers in the crime business, but after a drug bust gone wrong a few weeks ago, he's down to one."
"You killed his brother?"
"To be fair, I may also have killed him just now," she pointed out. "I didn't stop to check. And I really need to call my boss and tell him what just happened."
"Especially if there's a third brother who's still out there," Lucas agreed, and then winced as a fresh surge of pain shot through his arm.
"Sit, cher," she insisted, steering him over to the couch and opening the first aid kit as he collapsed onto the cushions. "Let me take a look at that."
"I thought you were going to call your boss."
"I will, as soon as I'm sure you aren't planning to drop dead on me."
He would have insisted that Lena call for backup before tending to his arm, since he wasn't enthused by the idea of testing the panic room's titanium walls against any actual laser fire, but Lena had started unbuttoning his shirt while she talked and he was unable to focus on anything but her nimble fingers as she stripped the fabric away, exposing his bare skin.
"Relax." She smiled mischievously up at him as he fidgeted. "You must've known when we left the bar that you wouldn't be wearing that shirt all night."
He started to smile at the innuendo, but it turned to a grimace as her hand closed on his upper arm.
"Don't - ow!" he yelped as she manipulated the injury, and she made a sympathetic noise but didn't loosen her grip as she applied disinfectant solution and then a layer of medical sealant.
"Oh, it's barely a graze," Lena informed him, her tone teasing. "You men in uniform act so tough, but you're just a bunch of big babies when you get a boo-boo."
"I was shot," he pointed out defensively. "I should get at least a little credit for that."
"I've been shot," she informed him tartly, most of her attention focused on applying a gauze bandage over his wound. "It never got me anything but unpleasantness. There, you're good as new."
He watched as she dug a phone out of her purse, hitting one of the speed dial buttons.
"Sorry to wake you, sir," she began, standing up and wandering over to the other side of the room as she talked to her boss. "We've got a situation…"
Lucas listened with barely disguised curiosity to Lena's side of the conversation as she described the night's events. In her version of the story, he became 'an acquaintance', which was probably more prudent than calling him 'the one night stand I picked up at the bar'. He was interested that she specified he was Navy, and suspicious when she gave the man on the other end of the call his full name.
After a minute or so of silence on Lena's part, she agreed to something and then hung up. When she turned around, he did his best to appear uninterested, and she laughed as she came back over to flop down next to him on the couch.
"You don't have to pretend you weren't listening," she told him. "In your place, I'd be eavesdropping shamelessly."
"So what's the plan?" he asked, deciding to change the subject rather than discuss his eavesdropping. "And why did he need to know my name?"
"The plan is for you and me to stay put while my team finds both of the Bazins and solves the problem. The head of my team, Agent Wyatt, will probably end up getting Organized Crime involved, so it could be a few hours yet. He needed your name to check up on you and make sure you don't have any ties to the mafia, or the Bazins, or anyone else who might have a stake in getting me killed." Noticing his surprised expression, Lena reached over to pat his leg reassuringly. "It's got nothing to do with you, cher. He doesn't trust anyone who isn't a part of his team. If you're going to be in here with me while the rest of the team is out there, he wants to know I'm safe."
"No, I get that," Lucas agreed, thinking of how Bridger had reacted to Sandra even before they'd known that she was trying to manipulate him into betraying the seaQuest. Smart leaders didn't entrust the safety of their people to strangers who might not have their best interests at heart. "I wouldn't trust me either, if I didn't know me. I just don't think anyone's ever considered me a threat before."
"And see, people trust me fine until they get to know me," Lena replied with a grin. "No one realizes I'm a threat."
"I treat every woman who carries a pulse pistol in her purse with the utmost respect," he assured her, and she laughed.
"I hope not," she rejoined, her hand moving a little higher on his leg, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. Her expression said she was getting ready to kiss him again, but he didn't think he was quite ready for that after all of the revelations of the past fifteen minutes.
"Is this your safe house?" he asked instead, trying to redirect the conversation back to a neutral topic. She took the hint, letting her hand fall to the couch cushion beside her as she leaned back.
"START agents don't usually work a case long enough to need safe houses," she informed him. "We're a short-term, immediate-action unit. My cousin works Organized Crime, though. This is one of their safe houses. I'm not supposed to be using it - I shouldn't even know where it is, me - but I'll make it right with them later."
"Did your boss know where this place was when you called him?"
"Wyatt knows everything." Her tone was mingled respect and exasperation. "I like to think I know more about the ins and outs of law enforcement than most people, especially in New Cape Quest, but Wyatt makes me feel like a rookie."
"How do you know so much about it, being as young as you are?" Lucas asked, interested, and then stopped as a thought hit him. "Wait, how old are you?"
He winced when the back of her hand made contact with his ribs. It hadn't been a particularly hard hit, but it wasn't exactly a love tap either, and he hadn't been expecting it.
"Here's a tip, cher," she told him, raising her eyebrows at him when he looked over at her in surprise. "If you want to get laid, don't go around asking women how old they are."
"Can you give me a ballpark, at least?" he persisted, watching to make sure she wasn't going to take another swing at him. "I'm not sure how big an age difference I'm comfortable with."
"Me either," she retorted. "I'm fine sleeping with a twenty-eight year old, but eighteen is barely legal."
He made a face, not wanting to admit that she had a point.
"I'm legally twenty-eight."
"And I'm legally younger than that, and that's all you're getting out of me," she said archly. "You have to be at least twenty-one to make Section Six, so there's your range."
That was fair enough, he decided. At the bar, he would've guessed she was around twenty-two, but seeing her in action in the alley had raised that estimate by a couple of years. She was as competent and precise with a weapon as Brody was, and that kind of skill didn't develop overnight.
"So why do you know so much about New Cape Quest?" he asked, returning to their previous discussion. "You're clearly not from here."
"How'd you know, cher?" she said, thickening her already audible accent with a rueful smile. "I left Louisiana after college when I went to work for Section Six. I've been in NCQ for almost two years, and I make it my business to know everything I can about the place I'm living. I also come from a huge extended family, and they're all law enforcement. It's kind of a family tradition. Because of it, I've got more contacts in the field than most agents twice my age."
"I bet that's helpful," he agreed, glancing over at her again. A strand of her dark blonde hair had fallen into her face, and he restrained himself from reaching over to brush it back. When she'd been just a girl in a bar, he'd been attracted to her, but now that he was finding out more about who she really was, he felt that attraction deepening. She wasn't just a pretty face; she was actually a pretty cool person. "Can I ask you something?"
She made a vague go-ahead gesture.
"If we hadn't been shot at, and we hadn't ended up here together - if the night had just gone the way it was supposed to - would you have told me any of this stuff? About who you are and what you do?"
Lena gave him a wry smile. "Not a chance. Nothing against you, but I don't want people I don't know knowing so much about me. I figure any guy who takes a laser blast meant for me deserves a little more leeway than most, though." She paused, toying with the silver ring she wore on her right hand. "I really am sorry about that, Lucas. If I'd known what was going to happen tonight, I never would have exposed you to that kind of danger."
"At least it meant something," he said, unable to help the bitterness in his voice. "Getting shot protecting you is the first useful thing I've done in weeks."
"Hey." She reached over to touch him, fingers stroking lightly down his bare chest. The gesture sent a pleasant tingle through him, and reluctantly he met her concerned gaze. "What's that about?"
He was going to blow off the question, to say something flippant or maybe try to steal a kiss instead of answering her at all. Instead, he opened his mouth and everything he'd been holding back for the last six weeks came spilling out. He told her how frustrating it was to wake up one day and find out that he'd gone from being a promising young genius to a useless relic overnight, all of his knowledge hopelessly outdated, leaving him struggling just to keep up. How lost he felt without Captain Bridger, who'd been the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. How much he hated Hudson for turning seaQuest into a place that felt cold and unfamiliar, for taking away the only home he'd ever really known. How angry he was with himself for being so sharp with his friends these days, but how, in the face of his overwhelming frustration and anxiety, he'd fallen back into his old habit of pushing people away before they could hurt him.
He talked for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes. When he finally fell silent, a wave of exhausted relief hit him, but it was followed closely by dawning horror. He'd finally unburdened himself, had said all of the things he'd been holding in for all this time, but he'd said it all to a woman who was the next best thing to a stranger.
"I can't believe I just told you that." His voice was hollow. "I just met you. I must be seriously screwed up to be telling you this stuff."
At some point during his monologue, Lena had taken his hand in hers, and now she gave it a squeeze.
"It's all right. You have to talk about this stuff, Lucas. Talking bleeds off the poison."
He stared at her blankly, unable to think of any reasonable response. What was he supposed to say to follow something like that?
Lena sighed, tucking her legs up under her on the couch as she leaned into him and rested her head against his chest. Surprised, he put his arm gingerly around her, trying not to aggravate his injury.
"I've been a START agent for almost three years," she told him quietly. "I started out on Team Six. I had good teammates and a decent lead agent, or I thought I did. After a few months, though, one of my teammates started making comments. He'd say things to me, and to other agents about me. Things about the way I looked, the way I dressed…about how attractive he found me. I grew up in a family full of cops and agents, so I knew it was best for female agents to just ignore that sort of thing. I tried, but the more I ignored Grayson, the worse it got."
"Where was the rest of your team?" Lucas demanded, upset on her behalf. Even Hudson, for all of his faults, would never tolerate sexual harassment aboard seaQuest. "Why didn't they do anything about it?"
Lena shrugged. "I complained to my lead agent, Davis. He told me to suck it up. The rest of the team stayed out of it; I think they were worried about being caught in the fallout when things finally came to a head. I ended up filing a formal complaint, since Davis wouldn't do anything to stop Grayson. The next day, we got called out on a weapons bust, and during the action I got shot." She was silent for a long moment. "The official ruling by Internal Affairs was accidental friendly fire. Which is a stupid name, because no matter who shoots you, it's not friendly."
"And it wasn't an accident, either, was it?" Lucas asked slowly, realizing what must have happened. "Grayson shot you."
"No one could prove that it wasn't an accident," she pointed out. "Grayson got an official reprimand. That, combined with the harassment complaint, eventually got him kicked out of Section Six. Davis came to see me in the hospital after the bust. It was naive, I guess, but I really thought he'd apologize for not stopping Grayson before that. Instead, he told me that I was off the team."
"He kicked you off of the team? Why?"
"He said that he had concerns about my professionalism." Her lips drew back in a vicious snarl. "He also said that if I'd just slept with Grayson, I wouldn't have wrecked his team."
"Seriously?"
"I'm not exactly a prude, me," she acknowledged, her expression softening into a grim smile. "But I'm the only one who gets to decide who I sleep with."
"Man," Lucas muttered, shaking his head. "That really sucks, Lena."
She shrugged again. "It wasn't all bad," she pointed out. "After Davis cut me loose from Team Six, Wyatt asked me to join Team Four. If that hadn't happened, I never would have known what it was like to be part of a real team, with solid teammates and a lead agent who actually cares about his people. Even when I get frustrated with Wyatt for being a humorless killjoy - which he is, cher, you have no idea - I never forget what he did for me."
"He's lucky to have you on his team," Lucas told her, and she nodded.
"I'm good at my job. Any team would be lucky to have me."
"And you're so modest, too."
She snickered. "I don't believe in false modesty. Wyatt didn't take me because I was talented, though. He had no way to know if I was any good. We'd never worked together, and it wasn't like Davis was singing my praises to the other team leaders."
"So why did he pick you?"
"He's never said. I suspect one of my cousins might've twisted his arm, but Wyatt is hard to influence, so maybe not. Regardless of why he did it, I know what a chance he took on me. Any agent who's been involved in a scandal like that usually becomes a pariah, no matter whose fault it was." She sighed, snuggling a little closer to him. "Anyway, now it's fair. My story for yours."
"Yeah," Lucas said halfheartedly, his frustration warring with his pleasure at having Lena in his arms and losing by a hair. "I guess."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"If you're so unhappy on seaQuest, why don't you leave?"
He pulled back far enough to meet her gaze, looking at her as though she'd grown a second head.
"Leave seaQuest?"
"Don't sound so shocked," she told him. "You're a smart guy. I'm sure the thought has crossed your mind. If you hate your new captain so much, and you're so upset with the way things are, why not just go?"
"I joined the Navy so that I could stay," he pointed out. "They don't let you walk away from that commitment just because you're unhappy."
"That's an easy answer."
"What?"
"It's a copout, Lucas," she informed him, with a soft smile to lessen the blow of her words. "Most commitments have an escape clause, a loophole that you can take advantage of. You haven't even looked for one. Why?"
He felt the sudden sting of tears at the back of his eyes. Horrified, he clenched his eyes shut, willing the emotions away. He might have told his secrets to Lena, but there was no way he was going to cry in front of her.
"I don't have anywhere else to go."
They were silent for a long moment, Lucas fighting back tears and Lena at a loss for anything more to say.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice quiet. "Me too."
A high-pitched chirp interrupted them. They both jumped, and Lena grabbed her phone off of the arm of the couch, flipping it open.
"Hey, Boss," she greeted Wyatt. Lucas leaned back against the couch as she talked, ignoring her conversation in favor of using the time that she was distracted to pull himself together. He'd been under a lot of pressure since the seaQuest's return, with Bridger leaving and Hudson taking over, and finding himself suddenly ten years older and wearing a Navy uniform, but he hadn't really understood how much it had affected him until tonight. Spilling his guts to Lena was a release mechanism, a way for him to let off some of that pressure. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he felt better now that he'd told someone. He just wished it had been someone other than her.
Lena nudged him, and he looked over to find that she was no longer on the phone.
"Well?"
"Good news. They found the Bazins."
"Both of them?"
"Both of them," she agreed. "They're in custody. Organized Crime had a talk with the head of the mafia branch they belong to. Of course, now they're falling all over themselves swearing that they had nothing to do with it, that the Bazins were acting alone. They know that if they admit to targeting an agent, Organized Crime will destroy them."
"Really?"
"It's a delicate peace, Lucas. Organized Crime doesn't have enough evidence or enough personnel to shut down every gang and cartel in the UEO, but if one of them stops playing by the rules, they won't hesitate to make an example out of them. Singling out a specific agent for assassination, particularly one who doesn't even work Organized Crime, won't be tolerated. No, I expect both of the Bazins will be killed in prison by their own mafia organization as a show of good faith. Proof that the rest of their people wouldn't be involved in assassinating cops."
"Wow." Lucas shook his head. "I'm glad I don't have your job."
"You could, you know." At his startled look, she smiled slightly. "Maybe not as a field agent. It would be a waste of your talents, and I get the feeling it isn't really your thing anyway, but Section Six employs a lot more than just field agents. We have analysts and tech specialists and computer gurus who do all kinds of electronic magic to keep us alive and help us catch the bad guys."
"I joined the Navy, Lena. They aren't going to just let me go so that I can come and work for Section Six."
She cleared her throat, glancing away from him. "Section Six has an understanding with the military about sharing personnel. In order to get transferred over, you'd have to know the right people, which you don't…"
"But you do?" he finished for her, and she nodded.
"If you ever decide you really want out, cher, just tell me. I'll make it happen."
He stared at her for a long moment. She still wasn't meeting his gaze, looking at the far wall rather than at him.
"You only met me a couple of hours ago. You told me then that you weren't looking for a boyfriend, that this was going to be no strings attached, and now you're offering to find me a new job? A whole new life? Why?"
"I know what it feels like to not have a way out." Lena sighed, sounding tired. "No one should have to feel that way."
"I…" He shook his head slowly. "Thanks, Lena. Really, thank you."
"You're welcome." She smiled up at him. "You know, the threat is taken care of, so we don't have to stay down here."
"Organized Crime would probably like us out of their safe house," he agreed.
"If you'll tell me where you and your shipmates are staying, I'll get you back there. Safely this time, I promise; no more assassins shooting at us."
"So I guess you aren't still interested in, you know…going back to your place."
She looked startled. "I didn't think you were still interested. I mean, I did get you shot."
"Yeah, but according to you, I'm good as new." He tried for a cocky smile, and to his surprise it didn't seem like such a terrible fit. "I don't have to report back to the boat until tomorrow night. I'm yours until then, if you want me."
He gave her a moment to consider the offer, and was rewarded when she gave him the same sly grin she'd given him in the bar.
"No strings attached, right?"
"Absolutely no strings," he promised. Lena took his hand, pulling him toward the door.
"Then let's go, cher. We're wasting time."
Lucas laughed. "We've got until tomorrow night, Lena. There's no hurry."
"I promised to make you an expert, remember?" She drew him down for a lingering kiss. "That takes practice."
"Hmm." He leaned down a little further, nuzzling the side of her neck as she giggled. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Twenty-two hours later
Lucas made it back to the boat with only minutes to spare. It seemed more crowded than usual, sailors scurrying up and down the passageways as the boat prepared to leave port, but he managed to avoid running into anyone he would have been required to exchange more than a friendly greeting with - or, consequently, anyone who might have noticed the smug grin that he wasn't quite able to hide.
His luck ran out when he reached his quarters. Tony was there, sprawled out on his bunk, but he jumped to his feet when Lucas stepped through the hatch.
"It's the man of the hour!"
"Hey, Tony," Lucas greeted him, doing his best to sound nonchalant.
"'Hey, Tony'?" the seaman echoed. "That's all I get?"
"What were you expecting?"
"Come on, Luke. You left the bar with that woman, right? The blonde?" Tony grinned, slapping his roommate's shoulder. "You dog! You got some action, huh?"
Lucas rolled his eyes as he tossed his jacket up onto his bunk. "That's between me and the blonde," he replied, and Tony laughed.
"She didn't turn out to be a hooker, did she?" he persisted, and Lucas gave him a disbelieving look.
"No, she wasn't a hooker, Tony," he retorted, a little offended by the suggestion that the first woman who'd been interested in him on leave must have been a prostitute. "Why would you think she was a hooker?"
"Hey, Luke?" Tony waited until Lucas looked up, then gave him a meaningful look. "Those two chicks who picked up me and O'Neill at the bar?"
It took Lucas a moment, and then he nearly choked on a laugh. "Are you serious?"
Tony nodded, a rueful grin on his face. "We figured it out at the end of the night. At least we hadn't already taken 'em back to the hotel with us."
"Yeah, because that really would've cost you."
Tony threw a balled-up pair of socks at him and Lucas snickered. He would miss this if he left, he realized suddenly. There were a lot of negatives for him aboard seaQuest, but there were positives too. If he went to work for Section Six, he'd be leaving behind every friend he had in the world. Not to mention that there wasn't anyone aboard who had half of his knowledge about the inner workings of the boat; if seaQuest ran into trouble and he wasn't around, there was no guarantee that the computer techs aboard would be able to fix the problem. It could put his friends' lives in danger…
"Yo, Luke." Tony waved his hand in front of his roommate's face, interrupting his train of thought. "You still with me?"
"Get your hand out of my face, Tony." Lucas swatted lightly at Tony's hand. "And don't call me Luke."
"You're thinkin' about that girl, aren't you?" Tony grinned, irrepressible. "I guess you had a pretty good leave…and it's all thanks to yours truly. If it weren't for me, you never even would've been at that bar."
Lucas ignored Tony with the ease of long practice, his thoughts returning to Lena. She'd offered him an incredible night, and she'd certainly lived up to her word. They'd spent nearly a full twenty-four hours together, most of them in bed, and he'd learned more in that time than he could have imagined. He'd thought he'd known what sex was. He'd certainly understood the mechanics, and he'd read enough on the subject to teach a class. He'd even had that night with Sandra, although it hadn't been particularly successful. Last night, though, he'd found out that none of that held a candle to being with Lena. Being with her was exhilarating, but there was also something about her that put him at ease. There wasn't any of the awkwardness or embarrassment he'd felt with Sandra or Juliana. He hadn't needed to worry about whether he was doing things right, because she'd been vocal about the things she liked and given him gentle correction on the things she didn't. He'd always been a fast learner and was almost obsessively detail-oriented, both of which were traits that Lena had appreciated enthusiastically. It had been the best night - and day - of his life.
Tony's laughter drew him out of his reverie, and he looked up to find his roommate watching him with the same kind of expression Ben Krieg had once worn whenever Lucas did something that reminded him of how young the computer genius really was.
"You're pretty far gone over her, huh?"
Lucas rolled his eyes again, doing his best to hide his reflexive wince. Tony had no idea how far gone he would really be if he decided to take Lena up on her offer to work for Section Six.
"I'm going to bed," Lucas declared, deciding that nothing good was going to come from letting this conversation go any further.
Tony watched as Lucas climbed into his bunk, still fully dressed, and smiled to himself. The kid had it bad for that girl. It was good for him to be interested in something other than computers once in a while.
"Does Hudson still have you working double shifts?"
"What do you think?"
"That's a yes," Tony decided. "What's with him, anyway? He picks on you way more than any of the other officers, except maybe O'Neill."
"I'd noticed," Lucas agreed dryly.
"It doesn't seem fair," his roommate opined. "You work hard, but he doesn't appreciate it."
Lucas shrugged, thinking again about Lena's offer. "Yeah, well, some people don't know what they've got until it's gone."
Tony considered that for a minute, not sure what Lucas meant. It wasn't like Lucas was going anywhere. Sure, the last time the kid had met a girl, he'd nearly left seaQuest, but this was different. He was in the Navy now, so he couldn't just quit - which was a good thing, since Hudson probably wouldn't let him come back if he left. Not like Bridger had. Still, the way Lucas had said it made him a little concerned.
"Hey, Luke?"
There was no answer. Tony looked over at him and grinned when he saw that Lucas was passed out cold in his bunk. He guessed it didn't matter that much what Lucas had meant, since the boat had already left port. There would be time later to find out whether Lucas was thinking about leaving seaQuest for this girl, and plenty of time to talk him out of it before their next shore leave.