Shadow Soldier by Dana Marton Page B

him; he could afford to risk more than others. The work was its own reward—the rush of adrenaline, the test of his mind and body against others, the satisfaction of knowing that he made a difference. He didn’t need anything beyond that, didn’t miss a thankful public, and certainly didn’t want any medals. The anonymity suited him well.
    He hoped that in a week, two at most, he’d be back out there working on a new mission. It would have to be a good one to make him forget Nicola Barrington.

Chapter Four
    Nicola set the towel-covered cage on the counter and took a peek at the Tweedles. They were a little ruffled but otherwise fine. She felt better having them with her, even though the bomb squad cleared her house and Spike had assured her it didn’t look like the terrorist had been there.
    â€œWhen can I go home?”
    Spike lifted a large bag onto the table, similar to Alex’s. He was well built, not as tall as Alex, but still had a formidable look to him. Short sandy hair, a strong jaw, steel-blue eyes—he was probably handsome under normal circumstances. Hard to tell, with the large bump on the middle of his forehead and the redness spreading from it.
    â€œWhen we can be sure there’ll be no more attacks coming. In the meanwhile, you’ll be leaving for Washington sometime tomorrow. We have better facilities down there.”
    Translation: “Can’t give you specifics for your own good, and by the way, this safe house is not all that safe so we have to take you to another one.”
    She looked at Alex. He didn’t seem to be jumping for joy, either. Couldn’t blame him really. For the first time, she considered things from his point of view. He was stuck in a godforsaken farmhouse with a complete stranger. Probably not his idea of fun. And yet, he would protect her, risk his life for her if needed. She had never understood that kind of dedication.
    What made certain people hand their entire lives over to the government? What motivated her father to pack up his wife and daughter and drag them all the way to China? To sign away their freedom? Living within the embassy walls and guarded by Marines, being watched twenty-four hours a day was as bad as being in a prison.
    Her mother hadn’t liked it, either. Couldn’t handle the pressures coming from both the U.S. and Chinese governments. She had tired of the endless functions that stole her time from her daughter and any other interests she might have had in life. Nicola had been perceptive enough even at that age to notice the stress. Sometimes she wondered if under different circumstances her mother would have been able to put up a better fight against the cancer.
    â€œIs my father in a safe house? Does he know what happened here?”
    Spike pulled out a bag of finch food and handed it to her. “He knows, but he’s keeping his schedule. We added extra staff to his normal security detail.”
    â€œI see.” She resisted asking if he had a message for her, if Senator Barrington had expressed any concern over the assassination attempt on his daughter’s life. If he had, she was sure Spike would have passed it on.
    He pulled some clothes from the bag and it took her a second to realize they were hers. Underwear, too, the really skimpy ones from the “just in case” pile she never got to wear. Some still had tags on. “Thanks.” She blushed and grabbed them off the table when she caught Alex openly staring.
    Next came a dozen or so cans—ravioli, chili, soups—all organic. Excellent. She hadn’t remembered to ask for those, but was grateful that Spike had thought of it.
    He pulled out her laptop, the last item in the bag. Then he reached into his shirt pocket. She could have cried in joy when he handed over her electronic organizer. She hadn’t remembered to ask for that, either. She’d been on the frazzled side when she’d made up her wish list.
    She