Yang arrived first. The moment he stepped into the shop, Hale started yelling at him. The short Asian snapped at the black man, threatening to deliver a paralyzing martial arts kick to Hale's balls. After a moment's thought, Hale shut up.
"Yang," Ross said, appearing away from the shadows, "I'm putting you to work."
"Wait! I thought you said you weren't giving him a raise!" Hale protested, standing up to his full height. Towering over the Asian, he stared down at his fellow teammate in mock anger.
They were interrupted by a high-pitched squeal from above.
"Another one?" Yale asked.
"Why bother asking?" Hale retorted, eliciting a glare from the Asian.
"Come here," Ross beckoned. "I want you to get it done before the others show up."
Yang and Ross settled down in the back of the shop at a computer screen. Yang brought up his database and his list of contacts while Ross played with Erin's knife. He turned the blade repeatedly in his hands, obsessed with the feel of it, with the color and the length. He swore he could feel the heat from Erin's hand still lingering on the handle, now thirty minutes after it had been thrown. As the database loaded, Yang eyed his leader out of the corner of his eye, nearly mesmerized by the dark blade. He dared to speak.
"Whose is that?"
"That's what you're going to tell me." Ross forced himself to put the blade down and focus on Yang. "I want you to look up a woman named Erin."
"A-A-R-O-N or E-R-I-N?"
"Probably the last one. That's a girl's name, right?"
"Sometimes." Yang glanced at the screen. "Last name?"
"Unknown. She's a pro, though. She uses SOG knives," Ross stated, gesturing to the blade. "I'd say she's partially Hispanic, maybe…brown hair, brown eyes, stand at about five-six, has light olive skin."
"How'd you know she is pro?"
"She beat Christmas's best."
Yang's eyes widened only marginally. Shaking his head, he swiveled to face the screen. He typed in the information, brought up the encrypted e-mail address of one of his contacts. Never a self-conscious man, the Asian was acutely aware of Ross's stare over his shoulder. As listings came up, he heard fingers sliding against steel. Ross fidgeted with the knife, staring at it with an unfocused gaze. Yang drew his attention to the screen, having half his hearing split between Hale messing around with heavy weapons and Ross twirling the knife incessantly. He nearly missed the beep that alerted him of results.
"Find anything?"
"Couple of hits," Yang answered, clicking on the list of results. "All are guys except…" He selected the last link. "Is this her?"
Ross glanced at the picture. Had it just been a snapshot of her eyes, he still would have been able to tell that it was Erin. He nodded his head, glanced away from the photograph.
"Yeah, that's her. What information have you got?"
"Very little." Yang scrolled to the bottom of the small page. "She works as an editor for a big publishing company. Single, so it says. No children. Nothing about a family. She lives a couple blocks over, and…" Yang trailed off, squinted at the screen, typed a few things.
"What's wrong?"
"There's nothing about her age." Yang clacked away on the keyboard quickly, scanned the lines of information that popped up. "Nothing at all."
"She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, at least." Ross shook his head.
"Looks can be deceiving." Yang turned away from the computer and asked, "Is there anything else?"
"Was that it? There has to be more." Ross relaxed his grip on the blade. "Somebody's got to know something."
"She's hardly in the system." Yang brought up a few more windows. "She's not advertised anywhere. She hasn't approached anybody or been approached. I'm surprised she's even in the system at all."
Ross frowned. "Did you check the FBI and CIA databases? Is she a fed?"
"She could be." Yang uploaded the federal agencies' databases, typed in the name and criteria. Nothing came up. "She's not a fed," Yang said, "unless she's in some secret sector I can't access." He paused, glanced at Ross. "Mr. Church might know."
"Mr. Church? The asshole who sent us to that fucking island in South America? I don't think so." Ross leapt from his chair, slammed the knife down onto the tabletop. "I want to know everything about this woman."
"Why?"
"Because she appeared out of fucking nowhere and knows everything."
"Gunner! Nice of you to show up. For once, you're ahead of Toll Road," Hale called out. There was the sound of hands clapping backs as the two teammates embraced in a man-hug.
"Ah, well, wouldn't want to miss his cauliflower ear story," Gunner replied, giving a deep-throated laugh. "Where's Ross?"
"He's in the back with Yang."
"And Christmas?"
"He took off. He's having a fucking hissy-fit."
Ross left Yang to his work and headed to the front of the shop, tuning out the obscene noises that were starting to creep through the ceiling. Gunner glanced up at him, gave him a lopsided smile.
"Hello, Ross," he said. "What's going on?"
"We've got to wait for Toll Road."
"What about Christmas?"
"Christmas isn't helpful right now," Ross stated. "We've got a serious issue."
The smile fell from Gunner's face. He turned to Hale, who shook his head and shrugged.
"Seems like a problem," the black man said, "but I don't care, and I don't think Tool cares."
"From what I can tell," Gunner muttered, "he doesn't have a lot to care about right now."
They paused to listen to the ruckus above them. Toll Road lumbered inside and broke the silence.
"I was having a perfectly fine nap," he began, voice raised, "and then you fucking called me, Hale! What the fuck is going on?"
"Yang!" Ross called. "Get over here!"
The Asian hurried from the back and joined them. Ross paced for a moment, wondering about the best way to approach the topic…and the decision he had already made.
"Half an hour ago," he began, "a woman came here. Her name is Erin, and all we know is that she lives a few blocks away, she has no family, and nobody knows anything about her."
"So?" Toll Road asked.
"She knows all our names, and who knows what else." Ross answered, removing Erin's blade from his pocket. "She wants to join the team."
"How'd she find out we're mercs?" Gunner stared at Ross, the lines in his face deepening. "Is she working for someone?"
"I haven't been able to pull anything," Yang said. "Nobody even knows her age. I do have a last name, though. It's Frey. Erin Frey."
"Sounds like an alias to me." Toll Road fidgeted with his cauliflower ear. "That's all you got?"
Yang nodded his head, solemn. Ross flipped the knife over once in his hand, searching again for a name on the handle. Yang gestured to the blade.
"I even looked for purchases of SOG throwing knives in the past year," he said, passing a hand over his face. "Erin Frey is nowhere in the files."
"And she's not part of the FBI or CIA?" Gunner stood to his feet, started pacing as Yang shook his head. "Did Christmas meet her?"
"Yes," Ross answered. He handed the knife to Toll Road, who spent a few moments looking the weapon over.
"And?"
"He wasn't impressed." Ross shook his head, sighed. "She beat his best, but that didn't piss him off."
"Then what did?"
"She told him that she knew he and Lacy were having problems." Hale took the knife from Toll Road and turned to Gunner. "That's what pissed him off."
"How could she know that?"
"That's what I want to know." Ross perched himself on the edge of a motorcycle seat, stared down at his rough and calloused hands, his scar-ridden left hand.
The team lapsed into silence around him, the quiet interrupted only by the occasional sound from upstairs. Hale gave the knife to Ross, having skipped Gunner merely because the man was dangerous when he was as angry and perturbed as he was then. Yang paid close attention to Ross, unsettled by Barney's peculiar actions and attitude. Their leader gripped the knife tightly in his hand, hardly wincing as the hard edges of the handle gouged into his skin. He recalled Christmas's strong reaction to the woman before she had even mentioned Lacy; the memory of the British former-SAS agent's ease before the woman arrived burned in Ross's mind. He thought about it for a moment, focusing on what he immediately remembered.
"Christmas might know something about where she could've gotten the knife," Yang stated tentatively.
"Christmas may know more than that," Ross mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else.
"Why, exactly, did you wake me up? Just to talk about a fucking broad we don't know anything about?" Toll Road growled, throwing his hands up in the air. "I haven't slept in days, man. I am not happy."
"She wants to join the team," Ross repeated. "We need to make a decision."
"I haven't met her, so I can't make a decision," Toll Road said.
"Same here," Gunner added. "I won't make a decision until I meet her."
"We have no way of contacting her," Yang pointed out. "We'd have to wait for her to show up again. That could be weeks from now."
"Yeah, and maybe we'll have another job, so we won't need to fucking worry about it," Toll Road snapped.
"She's a nice piece of ass." Hale smirked. "That's what Tool thought. She called him a man-whore."
Toll Road turned to face the heavy weapons specialist. "She called him a man-whore?" When Hale nodded, Toll Road spluttered into laughter. "She can join the team for all I care."
"That's what Tool said," Hale laughed. He faced Ross, found a glare on his leader's face, and cleared his throat, wiping the silly grin from his face. "I think we should let her join the team. If she's a problem, then we'll just deal with it. No fucking problem."
"I didn't meet her," Yang said, "but she sounds legitimate. Suspicious, but legitimate."
"I don't like it." Gunner rubbed his temples with one hand. "This doesn't seem right."
"I know," Ross said, slipping the knife back into his pocket. "It doesn't."
"What do you think?"
Ross fell silent. He thought about Christmas, about the woman, about how she had talked with an unnatural confidence. He considered the possibility of a setup, recalled the words she had said. He heard himself mutter them aloud.
"She said, 'No one ever suspects the woman until it's too late…' It could be a setup," he told his men.
"If she joins the team," Yang suggested, "we'd have surveillance on her that we don't have now. If something's suspicious, we'll be the first to know. It's better that way."
"'Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,'" Toll Road muttered. "If she already knows a whole bunch of shit about us, we should get to know her. If it's a setup, we can easily nip it in the fucking bud."
"A woman's no match against the five of us." Hale grinned. "We're the fucking Expendables, damnit."
"But women are sneaky bitches."
The team turned to face Tool as he stepped out of the elevator. A shirt thrown sloppily over his shoulders, the man appeared both content and disheveled, as though he had enjoyed his fuck but had suffered from it. Running a hand through his greasy hair, he shook hands with Gunner and Toll Road, gave them a lopsided smile. Clapping Yang on the shoulder, he addressed the group as a whole.
"She's feisty," he told them. "This Erin girl, I'd say, is something of a rarity. If she is working for the feds, we'll know right off the bat. The safest option is to add her to the team, find out where she lives, and keep somebody with her at all times."
"At all times?" Hale's eyebrow rose. "What about when she sleeps? We're not fucking bodyguards, Tool!"
"No, and I understand that." Tool extended his hand to Ross. "The knife."
Ross handed the blade over to Tool, somewhat reluctant to let it go. Tool spun the knife between his fingertips. After examining it for a moment, he pivoted sharply on his heel, threw the knife at the knife-board. Gouging into the skull just above he eye socket, Tool let out a low whistle, shook his head. With a slow deliberativeness that set all the men on edge, he pulled the knife from the board, tossed it back to Ross. He let out another low whistle, passed a hand over his face.
"Pro," he said, nodding his head. "She has to be. The knife is perfectly balanced, but the shape of it – you'd have to practice for months to throw it where you want it. She was spot-on target tonight. She's got to have years of practice."
"Christmas could own her ass so fast it wouldn't even matter," Toll Road pointed out. "Like Hale said, she's no match against us."
"But women are sneaky bitches," Tool repeated. "They weasel themselves into your life to prove their innocence, and then they claw your heart out with their fucking teeth. Women can have you eating out of the palm of their hand and begging for mercy, even though you won't have a fucking clue why you're acting the way you are."
"What are you saying?" Gunner, frustrated as he was, nearly let his voice rise to an exasperated yell.
"Don't underestimate her." Tool gestured to the knife-board. "If she can beat Christmas's best, then we've got to be fucking careful."
Hale laughed. "Yeah, 'cause she'll knife us in our sleep. Good thing Ross never sleeps, 'cause he'll be able to watch over us."
"Is it a decision then?" Yang asked, glancing at Ross.
Ross stared down at the floor, weighing his options. He heard a motorcycle roar in the distance, wondered if it was Christmas. Toll Road shifted restlessly beside him, casting a glance at Gunner. Yang fidgeted with his hands, the hair on his neck rising as the silence stretched. Tool exhaled heavily, fixed Ross with an unwavering stare that deplored the man to accept things as they came. Ross nodded his head, unaware of Tool's gaze, and pushed himself away from the motorcycle seat. Glancing at his fellow teammates, he focused on Gunner, frowned.
"We'll let her join the team," Ross finally said. "Yang, create a schedule so that one of us is with her at all times. We start surveillance the moment she shows up."
"On it." Yang hurried to the back of the shop.
"Crash here, Toll Road," Ross told the ex-wrestler. "I want everybody here when she comes back. You too, Gunner. Get some rest."
Gunner, lips pressed into a thin line, nodded his head, slowly turned away to find someplace to lie down. Toll Road followed close behind, grateful to catch a few winks of sleep. Tool eyed Ross as the man pocketed Erin's knife for the umpteenth time. He met Ross's gaze, tried to read the man's expression. Beckoning to Ross, he stepped outside, drew the leader aside. Ross forced himself to look at Tool and met his steady gaze. For a moment, nothing but silence stretched between them, punctuated by the occasional car that roared by. Tool was the first to speak.
"Do you remember Columbia?" he asked.
"One fucking hellhole."
"We almost died there," Tool stated. "And you got this look on your face the last night we were there. You were conflicted, right? And you were shitting your pants over whether or not taking the mission had been a good idea."
Ross said nothing.
"What are you thinking now?" Tool leaned against the wall of the shop, shook his head. "You've got that look on your face. You've had it since that woman showed up."
Ross sighed. "I don't know, Tool. It's just…I don't feel right. She walked in, and everything seemed wrong."
"About her?"
"No. Everything else." Ross ran a hand through his hair. "There's something about her…"
Tool nodded his head, the smirk that marred his face slipping. "I know what you mean, Barney. I know what you mean." He pursed his lips. "Something's not right about her, though. She's hiding something."
"Aren't we all?" Ross stepped away from the wall, stepped back into the shop.
Tool lingered outside, enjoying the cool air. He watched the broad he had fucked slip out of the shop and hurry away, hailing for a ride from a nearby taxi. Tool shook his head, closed his eyes. The sound of a motorcycle engine broke him from his peace. Ross rolled his motorcycle out from the garage, wheeled to a stop in front of Tool.
"Where're you off to?" Tool asked.
"Christmas." Ross changed gears on the 'cycle, jerked a thumb towards the shop. "Stay with the others. If Erin shows up, call me right away and keep her in the shop."
"Oh, don't worry. I've got that covered." A slow grin stretched across Tool's face.
Ross revved the engine and took off down the street, hoping that Christmas had stopped at home or at Lacy's house. That was Christmas's only downfall – his predictability when he was angry. Ross prayed he hadn't done anything stupid.