Vanilla-scented candles wafted through the room as Samantha Gustav sank lower in the bubble-filled porcelain tub in her temporary hotel room. Her aching muscles instantly relaxed as the warm water flowed over her naked body, draining away most of the tension locked in her bones.
Most, but not all. Her tension would never fully disappear until justice was served. She'd hoped, naively, nearly a year and a half ago, that justice would be swift in coming, but she hadn't taken into account all the men on her father's payroll. Senators, police officers, lawyers, district attorneys, PIs. Even one of Sam's favorite bookstore owners had turned out to be in her father's pocket. She had learned that the hard way when she'd mistakenly begged him for help exposing her father's traitorous and abysmal history.
It hadn't been easy finding someone to help her with a job this critical. She didn't believe there was anyone she could trust.
But then she had heard whispers about the elusive A-Team, prompting her to look them up online herself. A group of soldiers-for-hire who helped the little people for a nominal fee. If it was a truly desperate case, they would act pro bono as they were more interested in doing good for people than actually taking their money. She'd known right away that these were men who would not only get the job done, but who would do it discreetly.
When she'd read about the betrayal of their trust by the government, she'd very nearly changed her mind about seeking them out. Not because she couldn't trust them, but because she believed they wouldn't trust her. She was trying to save their country, their government, from possible nuclear attack in the future. Why would they want to help the very people who were seeking to jail them?
But then she'd thought, 'These are army men. Just because a select few betrayed them doesn't mean they love their country any less. Plus, they were acquitted of all charges years ago anyway.' And so she'd gone after them. It had only taken two months to successfully track them down and pass their tests.
As the water temperature cooled to a lukewarm degree, Sam pulled the plug and made her way out of the tub. She dabbed at the water droplets lingering to her skin with a terrycloth towel and then wrapped the towel around her body. She stepped in front of the sink and frowned at her reflection, at the tangled knots of brown hair flowing down her shoulders. These days, Sam rarely ever went out in public as a woman. It had grown far too dangerous. She was too easily recognizable as Giovanni Gustav's daughter. Another lesson she had learned the hard way.
Tenderly touching the still-healing scab wound on her left shoulder from the last time she had made the mistake of leaving her disguise at home, Sam trembled with a small sigh. Living as another person was taking its toll on her. She had no friends, no social life to think of, no one she could trust.
Her thoughts went back to the earlier meeting with Hannibal Smith and the man he had called Face. They had arrived at the restaurant before her and so she'd had the opportunity to observe them from afar for a few minutes before joining them. 'Face' had certainly been christened with the correct nickname as his beauty, in both face and body, was unrivaled, in her opinion. Everything about him was physically beautiful and she had no doubt he heard that more than once on a daily basis.
Sam wanted to know the real Faceman behind the nickname. That was one of the first thoughts that had filtered through her mind as she'd taken a seat across from him, her heart somersaulting through her chest like it was on steroids. He portrayed an aura of confidence, of knowledge of his own sexuality, but she sensed an underlying fear, an insecurity. Just because he was better-looking than, say, eighty percent of the population didn't mean he couldn't be just as vulnerable about himself. It was just easier to hide when you were so hot.
Those thoughts, of course, had been pushed to the back of her mind as soon as the meeting had officially commenced, but when they got up and walked away... Face sure did make a great view walking away.
Shaking her head, Sam cursed at herself in the mirror. "Don't think about that," she whispered, uncaring about how crazy it was to talk to one's self. "He's someone you hired. You have important things to do and fantasizing about someone you work with is not one of them."
She was just so lonely though. She'd never in her life had any sort of love life or love interests as she was too busy trying to stay out of her father's eye. His reputation and salacious interest in young girls was well-known. She didn't personally believe he was the type to go after his own daughter at least, but she hadn't been willing on taking any chances in the off-chance that she was wrong. Where she should have spent her childhood playing with dolls and making friends with other little girls, she'd spent hiding and learning - from servants who liked to whisper behind closed doors - about her father's proclivities and what it meant to disembowel disloyal men and women.
Sighing, Sam reached for her hairbrush and slowly, and painfully, began to work it through the awful knots of tangles in her hair.
Keeping her head ducked as she wandered through the semi-crowded sidewalk of downtown Tampa, Sam wrapped her arms around herself as she searched for the local grocery store Hannibal had instructed her to meet him at. When she finally reached it, she shook out her shoulders, lifted her chin high, and entered the store with a confidence she was nowhere near feeling.
The door slammed shut behind Sam, making her jump and her pulse pound in dread. Was this a trap? Had her father gotten to the A-Team before she had? Or had he discovered that she'd hired them and somehow got a message to her from Hannibal's number to trick her into walking into her own doom?
Sam automatically started reaching down into the hidden left pocket of her jeans for her pocket knife; a pocket she'd had sewn in for an extra lump sum of money. She never went anywhere without some sort of weapon at hand. Usually she carried more than one, but today she'd decided that only one was needed as she was meeting up with the men she'd hired to protect her.
She prayed she hadn't made a fatal error.
Out of the darkness, a tall, muscular form drifted out of the light shadows to lock the front door of the store. Sam tensed, arm held out in front of her with the knife clutched tightly in her right hand. She remained in that position until the man stepped beneath the low fluorescent bulbs from above, revealing it to be Face.
Releasing a shaky breath, Sam's shoulders drooped and her arm fell to her side. "You could have warned me you were there," she griped in the male voice she had developed and perfected well before yesterday.
Face's left eyebrow rose in a cocky way that kind of made her want to smack him. Or kiss him and see what that might be like. Either/or would be good for her.
"I thought you saw me in the window when you walked in," he calmly replied. "Not my fault."
Sam scowled as she slipped her knife back into her hidden pocket. "Why were you lurking there anyway? To make sure no one but me came into the store?"
"Precisely. Come on. Hannibal's in the back."
Without another word, Face walked past her towards the back of the store, not paying her another spare glance. Sam glared at the back of his head, silently marveling at his height. It wasn't that he was a freakish height. She just wasn't used to anyone taller than 5'10; 5'11 at most. (She'd felt the same when standing next to Hannibal; more so as he was even taller than Face.) It made her feel vulnerable. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing just yet.
Face pushed open the door that led into the storeroom and held it open to allow her to pass through and then he shut and locked that door as well. Without realizing she'd even been doing so, Sam un-tensed and relaxed at the extra precautions they were taking. These men were definitely serious about their job.
Sam sat down in the empty chair next to Hannibal, who didn't wait for Face to join them before speaking.
"We've decided you're going to stay with Face and BA until we've gotten your father out of the picture."
Sam's eyes darted over to Face, who neither looked pleased nor put out at the news that she would be imposing on him and his roommate.
'I would hate to play poker with this guy,' Sam absently thought to herself.
"Okay," Sam hesitantly replied.
"There are only two bedrooms in their house," Hannibal went on, "so you will have to decide with whom you're going to bunk."
Sam's eyes widened comically and she nearly fell off of her chair in surprise. She couldn't sleep in the same room, the same bed, as these men. There would be no way she could keep her secret if any of them shared even the slightest enclosed space with her.
"I can just sleep on the couch," Sam insisted quickly. "That won't be an issue for me."
"You can't sleep on the couch," Hannibal insisted, though his thoughtful blue eyes had narrowed, watching her with hawk-like perception. No. Studying her. "That's too open a space. Too easy for someone to sneak in and get to you. We - and I'm sure you as well - would feel much better about your safety if you were not only in a secured house with locked doors, but also behind an additionally locked bedroom door."
"BA snores and I sleep naked," Face added, bright eyes gauging her every reaction. "Take your pick."
Sam paled and began to pick at her cuticles in a nervous habit ingrained from childhood. An image briefly flashed through her mind of Face naked, but she quickly banished it from her thoughts and then silently berated herself for it. Of the two options just presented to her, obviously this BA fellow would be the lesser of two evils. But she hadn't met this guy yet and in any case, she would never feel comfortable sharing a bedroom with a man. Even if it was in the interest of her own safety.
"Perhaps one of you could sleep on the couch," Hannibal suggested to Face. "The two of you are trained to wake up to even the most minimal sound. Sam is not. If someone were to break into the house, he might not be aware of it until it was too late. However, if they came in through the living room or the front door, as would be most likely, either of you would be up and snapping their necks in two seconds flat."
Sam cringed at the imagery of his words. It wasn't like she was an innocent when it came to violence, but it wasn't something she was eager to get more of either.
Face's eyes looked to his colonel. "I'll have a talk with BA. Maybe we'll do a rotation thing or something."
Hannibal nodded.
"I don't want to be any bother," Sam spoke up. "I mean, really, I can just continue living out of my hotel room and hire round-the-clock bodyguards."
"Too suspicious," Hannibal said. "I'd thought of that. But if someone was constantly seeing you with men standing at your door, they could unintentionally, or even purposely, tip off your father or one of his henchmen. Not something we want."
Sam licked her dry lips and glanced at the tabletop. "When do you want me to move in?"
"Tonight. As soon as possible. From what I've read, your father does not give up until he has definitive proof of whether or not someone is no longer a threat to him."
"And that proof is in the form of a dead body," Sam finished. "Whether he did the deed or not is irrelevant."
"Exactly. Face will drive you to your hotel, you'll get your things packed, and then you're coming back to his house where you will be moving in. Any questions?"
"Just one. Can I stop for a drink first?"