2

Ow.”

Nina squirmed painfully across her pillow, desperately searching for a cooler patch that might ease her headache. She didn’t find one.

The music thumping from the next room, seventies and eighties rock, wasn’t helping matters. Nor was the “singing” that accompanied it.

She reluctantly shuffled across the bed, the long T-shirt she was wearing creased and sweaty. One glance in the mirror as she rolled out from under the covers told her that her hair would require some serious restorative work before her meeting.

The meeting…

Suddenly filled with panic, she rushed into the apartment’s living room, squinting at the bright morning light through the balcony windows. “What time is it?” she demanded.

Chase, in shorts and a gray T-shirt, was lifting weights. He broke off from his tuneless rendition of “Free Bird” to say, “Morning, sunshine,” in a decidedly sarcastic tone.

“No, Eddie, really, what time is it? I need to get ready, I’m meeting-”

“It’s only seven o’clock, relax. Even you don’t take that long to sort yourself out.” He resumed his bicep curls.

“Seven o’clock? Wait, you got me up that early-can you turn that down?” She jabbed a finger at the stereo, into which Chase had plugged his iPod.

He grudgingly stopped lifting long enough to lower the volume by a tiny amount, then picked up the weights again. “It’s Wednesday morning. Training day.”

Nina winced. “Oh, God, do we have to? I really don’t feel up to it today.”

“It was your idea in the first place,” Chase snorted. He put on a nasal and shrill impersonation of her accent. “Eddie, can you keep me fit? Eddie, can you teach me self-defense? You were the one who nagged me into doing it.”

“I didn’t nag,” Nina complained. “Look, can’t we just skip it this week?”

“You should be doing it at least twice a week if you want it to be any use.” He changed stance. “I’m going to work out anyway. I might be stuck at a desk all day, but at least I’m not going to turn into some blob.”

Nina didn’t like his emphasis, but wasn’t sure whether he’d meant it deliberately or not. She decided to let it pass. This time. “Okay, okay. But keep it short, twenty minutes. I really need to get ready for this meeting. And let me freshen up first.”

When Nina emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, Chase had shoved the glass coffee table and black leather Le Corbusier couch aside to make room for a thick blue foam mat in the center of the room. She had donned a pair of sweatpants, padding barefoot across the floor. “Damn, I’m cold.”

“That’s bare wood floors for you,” Chase said dismissively. “Your old place was much nicer. You know, cozy and warm, carpets… None of this poncy stuff.” He made a sour face at the elongated carved statue of an African warrior that was the room’s showpiece.

“You live here too,” Nina reminded him, with an equally disapproving look at the Cuban pottery cigar-box holder in the shape of a beaming Fidel Castro, now used to keep loose change, that Chase had insisted on displaying on the kitchen counter. Exactly what Chase had been doing in Cuba during his time in the Special Air Service was yet another thing about his past she’d never been able to pry out of him. She understood the figurine’s sentimental value-it had been a joking gift from his friend Hugo Castille, who had died on the Atlantis expedition-but God, it was ugly!

“You wouldn’t think so,” he muttered, taking a martial stance. “All right! Let’s get started.”

The training session began with a warm-up, then moved on to judo, each of them in turn trying to throw the other. It didn’t take long for Nina to realize that Chase was offering considerably more resistance than usual when she tried to throw him. And as for his treatment of her…

She let out an angry gasp as she was smacked down-hard-onto the mat for the third time, Chase’s knee digging into her chest as he pinned her. “Eddie, that hurt!”

“That’s why it’s called fighting. Otherwise it’d be called fannying about.” He held her down for a moment longer, then stood. “Okay, let’s try something else.”

Nina waited for him to help her up. When he didn’t extend a hand, she glared at him and got to her feet. “What’s your problem? You’ve got a bug up your ass about something. You have for a while, actually. And I don’t just mean last night.”

He gave her a smile devoid of any humor. “Wow, I’m impressed. You mean you can actually remember anything about last night?”

“With the way you behaved, I’d rather forget it.” She knew he was about to make some scathing comment, and cut him off before he had the chance. “Come on, then. We were going to do something else.”

Chase grunted, then reached into his sports bag and took out a gun-not a real one, but a garish orange plastic toy. “Fair enough. You want me to be the bad guy, I’m the bad guy. Let’s see if you actually remember anything I’ve taught you.” He took a step back, then raised the gun and aimed it at Nina. “Disarm me.”

Nina shook her head. “For God’s sake.”

“What? You wanted self-defense training. This is self-defense training.”

“Yeah, but that was when I still thought there was a chance we might run into trouble, like if someone wanted revenge for Atlantis. Now? To be honest, all I want is a bit of a cardiovascular workout.”

“And you’ll get a cardiovascular workout if someone sticks a gun in your face. Come on.” He thrust the gun at her. “Give me your purse.”

“What? Eddie, come on-”

He pulled the trigger. The toy gun clicked. “Bang! You’re dead. Try again. You killed my boss. Now I’m going to kill you.”

“Eddie-”

“Bang! Dead again. Useless.” Nina frowned at him, growing annoyed. “Try again! I’m Giovanni Qobras’s brother, and you’re the bitch who got him killed-”

Nina lunged, twisting her body away from the gun and grabbing Chase’s forearm with one hand as the other tried to pry the weapon from his grip-

Whump!

The room spun around her, and she found herself flat on her back, the breath whooshing from her lungs. The muzzle of the gun hung over her.

It clicked. “Bang,” said Chase, smirking.

Nina stared up at him angrily. Then she shoved herself upright and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Forty minutes later, Nina’s headache still hadn’t gone away despite coffee and some painkillers.

But that wasn’t the main reason she was in a rush to get out into the open air.

“So this bloke you’re meeting today, what’s it all about?” Chase asked. He was still in his T-shirt and shorts, slouched on the couch with his feet up on the glass coffee table and showing no sign that he intended to go with her.

“Put your feet down,” Nina told him. He ignored her. “It’s classified, IHA business.” It wasn’t, but she had neither the time nor the inclination to go into details with him.

Chase rolled his eyes. “Oh, is that right?”

“And what’re you doing? You’re not even ready.”

He waved a casual hand at the window. “Thought I’d take the morning off.”

“You did, huh? And did you bother checking if that was all right?”

“Well, since it’s pretty obvious you don’t need me for anything, I thought, why the fuck not?”

Nina took a long, slow breath in a fruitless attempt to suppress her frustration. “The IHA’s a professional organization, Eddie. You’re supposed to get permission.”

Chase put both hands behind his head and stretched out even farther. “Okay then, boss, can I have your permission to take the morning off? Seeing as I need to go to the dry cleaner because somebody got red wine all over my jacket.”

“God!” Nina snapped, finally losing her patience. “Whatever! Take the morning off, take the week off! I don’t care.” She grabbed her bag and walked out, closing the door with a bang.