HOW THE GAME IS PLAYED

Kayla expected Carson to be in bed by now, so she dug her door key out of her handbag and inserted it into the deadbolt lock. When it didn't turn easily, she realized that it wasn't locked. Odd. Right before a job, Carson was almost obsessive compulsive about his sleep. He went to bed and rose at the same time without fail. Kayla took out her key and turned the knob. The door opened and she slipped inside. Sure enough, Carson was sitting on the couch, watching television. She had had too nice of an evening to pay attention to him right at that moment. However, she figured he'd have plenty to say. Before it all began, Kayla placed her handbag onto the low table by the door and kicked off her shoes. She was still thrown by Frank's soft kiss. He had caught her entirely off guard with that, but she hadn't been one ounce offended that he had done it. In fact, she thought she might have been offended if he hadn't done it. Silently, she padded into the living room, past the stoic Carson, and on into the kitchen. Although washing the sweet taste of Frank out of her mouth was the last thing she wanted to do, she needed to get something to drink. When she was as nervous as she had been tonight, she tended to drink like a fish. As she poured herself a glass of iced tea, she found herself hoping…no…praying that Frank's life would be so sedate that she could keep seeing him. And this was only after one date. One date. She didn't know what it was about him that made him so wonderful in her eyes, but there was something about him. Something that she couldn't yet identify. Her life was so 'special' that not just any man could come knocking at her door. Carson reminded her of that every other day, every other time she met a man.

The last fellow she had dated was someone Carson had known back in high school. His name was Tom and he was a dark, longhaired musician. Kayla had met him after hers and Carson's first big job. They had nearly messed up and had barely gotten away with their lives. After the excitement and adrenaline had died down, Carson suggested that they go to an all-night music club type of thing to wind down. Kayla hadn't been in the mood. All she wanted to do was go home and soak in a hot tub for three or four hours. The fear of almost getting caught had not gone away yet and she was trying to learn how to deal with that, but Carson was feeling particularly cocky. When he was like that, he was pushy. Reluctantly, she agreed to go. After all, he was the brain and brawn of the operation. If he said all was well, who was she to argue with that? She went to the noisy club and immediately regretted it. However, the first person she met without the probing eyes of Carson was Tom. He was attractive and had nice eyes. His band was playing the club that evening, and as it turned out, they weren't half bad, either. It wasn't until later that evening that she found out Tom knew Carson. Of course, Carson approved, but only because Tom had hung around Carson's crowd in high school. As it turned out, the romance didn't last very long. Tom had a roving eye. However, Carson didn't break his ties with him. He invited Tom to be a part of the gang, and Kayla was horrified when she realized he agreed to join them. Carson liked Tom and wanted Kayla to give him another chance. He thought Tom was perfect for Kayla. He knew about their operation and he supposedly genuinely had feelings for Kayla. Sometimes, she thought Carson was cracked. She knew there was no way in hell her brother was going to approve of Frank, even if he found out Frank was an ex-convict with a rap sheet as long as he was tall. It didn't matter. This was one thing she wasn't going to give over. Hell no. She had given over many things in the last year.

Kayla carried her glass of tea into the living room and sat down in her favorite easy chair. She noticed that her stoic brother was still staring at the television. His eyes were unseeing. She knew he was preparing his speech. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. His laptop lay mutely beside him. He had probably just shut it down moments ago. Just come on out with it and get it over with already. Have your temper tantrum so I can go to bed. If not, let me have my nice evening. Please. Just this once. Let me have a nice evening and forget about it. But she knew he wouldn't. It wasn't Carson's way.

"The next job is going to be Nigel and Louisa's," Carson said, dropping a bombshell.

Kayla nearly choked on her iced tea. She set her glass down on the floor and gawped incredulously at her brother. Had she heard what she thought she heard? "What did you say? Nigel and Louisa? They're the shakiest members of the gang! Carson? Have you lost your mind? They're not ready to do a job yet. Yesterday, you were preaching about me losing my focus. I'm beginning to think it's you losing yours."

He focused his decidedly dirty colored eyes on her face. Oh he was very pissed about her running off on her date tonight. Oh yes he was. "Yeah, they're shaky, but they need to do a job. I've had them with Tom on two weeks in the van on monitoring. They've seen the operation, they've watched the better of the crew, and I think they're ready. While you were out on your date, the gang was over tonight, and we discussed the possibility of throwing them in. Everybody thinks they're ready, Kay, even Tom. And you know that outside you, I trust Tom more than any other person in the gang." He ended it right there. He would accept no more arguments about anything. He glanced back at the television, and for a moment, she thought he was going to drop the whole thing. But that wouldn't be like Carson. No siree. "This guy you went out with tonight, Kay. What do you know about him? I'm sure you talked. A four-hour date must have yielded some damn fine conversation."

Kayla picked up her tea glass and took several careful sips from it. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to tell him. She wanted to let him know it wasn't any of his damn business. Yet, Carson was paranoid. It was something he had always been, especially since they had begun dabbling in their extracurricular activities. Every person he met was a cop. Every person was out to get him. He was probably certain that Frank had already figured them out and knew what they were doing. He probably thought Frank had been sent to follow them around. "We didn't talk about our jobs or our career goals, if that's what you're getting at, Carson," she began. "For once, I had a nice evening out with someone and we talked about everything…and nothing. That's all. He took my cell number and left. I sincerely doubt he'll call me again, if that makes you feel better." She hadn't really understood where the last part of that sentence had come from. It was what she felt, though. He had said he wanted to see her again, and he seemed sincere, but men like him rarely were. She had met dozens like him, and they were all shits. You're just saying that so you can ease the pain when you cut the strings on this blooming thing. You're going to let Carson win just like you always do. You might as well start dating Tom again and have done with it. "I think I'm going to bed now."

She was about to get up, but his voice stopped her. "Before you go, let me say something to you. I can tell by the way you came in that you had a nice time. And I'm glad you did. I know it's been a long time. I know it's been difficult for you, for us both. We just need to be careful about our associations, that's all. We're close to having what we need, and we can't stop or get caught now. That's all I wanted to say."

She nodded. "Fine, Carson. Good night."

--

Donovan pulled his ebony black truck into the covered carport. He lived about forty-five minutes from the city and had had quite a drive. His house was well shaded by several large trees and further enhanced by a long sloping driveway. It was the perfect getaway from the crazy shuffle and bustle of the city. Before leaving the house tonight, he had turned on the porch light and it illuminated the carport brightly, welcoming him home. He heard a deep sigh leaving the depths of his chest. What was this? The first stirrings of depression? Regret? It wasn't regret over the date. He hadn't had a date like that in months, but it was regret over ending it so soon. What in the world was he thinking? He didn't know this woman. Not really. Regardless of their four-hour date, there were still so many questions left unanswered. A suspicious man was Frank Donovan. Shaking his head, he closed the truck door and approached his back door. He was still shaking his head as he unlocked the door and let himself inside. As he stepped into the kitchen, he flicked on the overhead fluorescents, and noticed that the light was blinking on the phone hanging by the refrigerator. He had one voice mail message awaiting him. There weren't many people who had his personal phone number. Even the Central Office didn't have it. There was no way in hell he allowed his workplace entrance into his private sanctuary. It was one reason why he carried a cell phone. He hit 'play' and listened to the message.

It was Emily, his ex-wife. They had known each other their entire lives and married during their sophomore year at college. The marriage lasted eight years before ending in divorce. There weren't any extramarital affairs, no bitter fighting, no nipping and biting at each other's heels. They had simply drifted apart. Each wanted different things out of life. It was as simple as that. It ended amicably and they still spoke to each other on the phone at least once a week. Ironically enough, Donovan still considered Emily one of his best friends and didn't hesitate to call her if he needed an ear or a sympathetic shoulder. She often did the same thing. Hadn't she called upon him when she was trying to decide whether or not to accept her current husband's marriage proposal? Wasn't he the first person she told when she found out she was expecting her first child? They each had respect for the others' opinion. They each first thought of the other when they had wonderful, exciting, or devastating news to share. And as other old friends living in different corners of the United States, they remembered each other's birthdays and never forgot to send a card at Christmas. Neither of them had trouble realizing that they shouldn't have gotten married. It was something that was expected of them. It was done more for their families than anyone else. He was simply glad they had had the good sense to end it when they did before they had gotten children involved. Emily was remarried now, painfully happy, and the mother of twin boys. It was as it should be, and he was very happy for her. He listened to the message, her telling him that she was coming to Chicago for business, and she wanted to make plans to have lunch. He saved it, making a mental note to call her in the morning. For now, he wanted to go upstairs and hit the bed. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

He climbed the stairs two at a time and entered his bedroom. He had begun to undress, but stopped after his shirt was unbuttoned. For a moment, he eyed the computer screen sitting off into the corner. He liked Kayla, he wanted to see her again [and again and again and again], but in his line of business, he had to be careful. His home office computer was wired into the mainframe at Central and it would be fairly easy to check Kayla's background. He hated being so suspicious, but again, he couldn't risk the chance that she had a shady past. All it took to convince him was to think back to a year ago and Petra.

Petra was an ambitious young police officer at the Chicago Police Department. He had met her during a routine job. She and a crew of her fellow police officers had been called to a scene of a murder and the UC team had also been asked to appear. After their grisly task was accomplished, he and Petra had struck up a nice conversation and hit it off. When he asked her out for a drink, she had agreed readily enough. He had little issue with Petra. After all, she knew who he was, knew what he did, and for once, he felt free and comfortable. Of course, that wound up being his downfall. Their relationship didn't quite progress to a serious point, because Petra wouldn't allow it. She absolutely drove him to the point of insanity, but she wouldn't cross the line between dating and intimacy. Donovan couldn't quite understand her reluctance, but it immediately caused seeds of suspicion to grow and flourish within his mind. Whenever he pressed the issue with her, she made pitiful excuses, and would flee the scene without a thought. He used every connection he possessed to find more information about Petra. Eventually, the truth unfurled. She was working undercover with the police department for the CIA. Apparently, one of the officers was from a terrorist nation with a vendetta to settle against the President. The President was scheduled to visit Chicago some time in the near future, and Petra was stationed in the area to stop the dirty cop. She had no true interest in Donovan. He was simply a shortcut between her and her terrorist, because the individual was one of Donovan's old enemies. Petra knew this. She had known it all along. She knew he could identify the young man if he ever saw him. It was her way to CIA glory. After that, Donovan had had severe trust issues with women, and he was always worried that they had some type of bottom line. Although Kayla didn't strike him this way, he wasn't taking any chances.

He took a seat at his computer and hit a key to interrupt the 'flying through space' screensaver. After tapping a few keys, he had the program he wanted and carefully typed in Kayla's name. The program was relatively fast and would provide him the information he wanted within moments. Kayla Armstrong, he read silently to himself. It had to be the right person. The phone number matched the one she had scribbled on the palm of his hand. The rest of her information was displayed like the vital statistics of a personals ad: Age: 27. DOB: 07/15/1977. Address: 715 Irby Lane, Apartment 34C. Employer: Miss Ruth's Day School. Sounded harmless enough. She worked at a day care center. The files she was carrying probably pertained to the children at the day care. After reading through the information a second time, he felt like a distrustful fool. Not every woman was like Petra and her forked tongue. He didn't know when he was going to stop dodging that particular bullet and move on with his life. He backed away from his computer and stood up. He finished undressing, stripping down to his briefs, and he glanced down at his hand with an amused grin on his face. Her number was still there, not the least bit smudged. He sat down on the side of the bed and continued to stare down at his hand. The bedside clock had already ticked off the hour of midnight. It's already tomorrow.

Kayla hadn't been in bed very long when she heard the unmistakable sound of her cell phone twittering. What the hell? She rolled over and grabbed it before her grizzly bear brother heard it. All she needed was for him to wake up and start bitching. Bleary eyed, she glanced at the screen. She didn't recognize the number, but she hit the 'send' key anyway and brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello," she said sleepily.

"Kayla, it's Frank. I know it's late, but it's tomorrow, and I said I would call you tomorrow."

She came wide-awake at the sound of his dreamy voice. Oh dear Lord. She couldn't describe what she was feeling at that moment. But giddy and light-headed would come close. Very close. Damn you Frank Donovan. Kayla would think that very same thing many, many times in the near future. "A man who would get a woman out of bed this late is a jerk," she teased. "I'm glad you remembered to call, though. I thought you'd stand me up or something."

"Not quite," he said. "I can't believe you're flip even after you've been awakened from your nightly slumber," he said through an amused chuckle. "I wanted to wish you a good night before I go to bed myself. I meant what I said. I really do want to see you again. Why don't we try having dinner at my favorite restaurant tonight?"

Kayla bit her lip. Bit it hard. Something inside told her to refuse him, to end this while she could. Yet, another voice pushed her forward. What harm was this? He evidentially saw something in her that he liked. She saw something in him that she liked. Shit. She liked everything she saw. There wasn't anything she didn't like. Even his arrogance turned her on. Dear God. Why did this feel so right, but oh so wrong at the same time? She couldn't let her overbearing big brother ruin everything for her. "I would like that very much, Frank," she said, finally answering his question. "One question, though. I don't have to put on a sequined dress or anything, do I?"

He laughed. "No. Only if you want to. I can pick you up at…"

Before he finished his sentence, she interrupted him. She once again thought of Carson. After what happened tonight, she knew he wasn't ready to meet her brother. There's still more digging I must do in your background, Frank. God, I'm sorry. "Uh, no. That won't be a good idea. I have to work until about seven'ish. You can pick me up at work, if you want. I work at a day care. It's Miss Ruth's Day School on the corner of Madison and Seventh."

In the back of Donovan's mind, he wondered what her aversion was to his picking her up at home. He shook it off. "I know where it is." Of course you know where it is, you bastard. You just checked her background. You should go ahead and have Cody to do a full scope tomorrow at the nest and have done with it. "I'll be there at 7:30."

"That'll be great." At 7:30, Carson, Tom, Nigel, and Louisa would be long finished with the job. It was something that she didn't want to think about. "I can't wait."

"Me either. Once again, Kayla, good night."

She closed her eyes tightly while his words sank in. "Good night." She hit the 'end' key, longing to feel his full lips on hers again.

Kayla laid her phone on the nightstand and settled back in bed. She was sure Carson was going to be thrilled to find out she had another date with Frank. She wasn't inclined to care what Carson thought, but eventually it would be her turn again to participate in one of the jobs. They had enough people in the gang where she didn't have to join in but about every eight or so weeks. However, it was all her responsibility. She had no trouble seeing that. When it was born, it was her baby at the beginning, and it would be her baby until the end.

To be continued…