Altar Ego

By Carmi Cason

No one ever pulled a fast one on Jase Hamilton. For one, Jase had learned his lessons young, acquainted at an early age with the ways of a conman. Too, he decided that in a world of charlatans, he would make sure that he always beat them at their own game. For a decade, his plan works perfectly - until he meets someone who refuses to play at all. Despite his intelligence, good looks, and skills at intrigue, he finds himself on the other side of the globe on a fool's mission in Southeast Asia. Faced with an enemy bigger than he can handle, Jase realizes that his perfect persona has a flaw. Despite his intelligence, good looks, and skills at intrigue, he finds himself on the other side of the globe on a fool's mission in Southeast Asia. With no access to his usual resources, even all his advantages may not be enough to save himself - or the woman he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carmi Cason
• Release date: Jul 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005866785

Carmi Cason

Carmi Cason is a mother and grandmother with an undergraduate degree in music and a graduate degree in English. She dabbles in science and multiple foreign languages. From her earliest memories, she has loved stories.She sat in rapt attention at the feet of her maternal grandmother and grandfather, both of whom regaled her with tales of their families and the real-life histories that brought character to her home. Her father passed on his Hardy Boys collection, introducing her to the world of fiction. With a lot of direction from her mother, a gifted storyteller, Carmi has developed a deep passion for writing and conveying meaning through the stories she writes. She also believes that life has a purpose, that though we live in a broken world we are valuable and valued, and that no matter how dark life seems there is hope. She prays you will find that hope in her work.Her mascot is her cat, Oscar, a black tabby who fights against pestal incursions and loves to have his ears scratched.​{If you enjoy my work, please consider offering monthly support at Patreon or a one-time donation at either Patreon or PayPal. I am also available for biographical/autobiographical work or personalized children's books.)​

Book preview

Prologue

What’s the point? – Jase Hamilton

But practically I know men and recognize them by their behavior, by the totality of their deeds, by the consequences caused in life by their presence. – Albert Camus

April 28, 7:00 a.m.

As usual, Jase had awakened thirty seconds before his alarm clock sounded. He hated waking up alone in bed. Had he suddenly developed a conscience regarding women? Just because Felicity didn’t want him didn’t mean no one wanted him. His history told him better.

Why did it matter if she would have recoiled from Jase's promiscuous ways? Why did her opinion still effect his behavior? And when had Jase become such a mindless, romantic fool?

Felicity had made her choice and had left Jase to deal with the repercussions. He should have bedded every woman he met within a ten-mile radius for therapy. Still, the recurrent dream of Felicity soured his opinion of any other woman he now encountered.

Even his consort in crime, Amélie, had lost her allure, and Jase feared that he had offended the Frenchwoman forever by his recent indifference.

Finally opening his eyes, Jase slammed his hand onto the clock with lightning speed almost at the instant it sounded, depressing the snooze button and cursing the cacophony. Why had he moved again? Jase hated Texans: cowboys who all thought they could play at cops and robbers.

He especially hated the confusion of cultures in San Antonio where he had to remember not to offend the second and third generation Americans.

New York had more immigrants, but they either completely abandoned their heritage or held so tightly to their cultural identity that Jase just needed to remember their country of origin, and he could figure out the rules of etiquette for conducting business. In San Antonio, though the people had proven friendly, he couldn't quite grasp the ethnic complexity. He was an ethnic trainwreck, so why did he care?

In order to avoid a second ringing of the alarm, Jase swung his legs over the side of his low bed and quickly pressed the button to disarm the next sounding of the bell. He yawned and stretched, roughly running his fingers over his close-cropped, dark chestnut hair, and glanced around his cavernous – empty – apartment.

Can’t buy me love, he reflected sourly, standing to his feet and dragging himself to the bathroom sink. He hesitated flipping the switch, wishing to avoid the blinding effect of the overhead glare; he debated whether to just wait until he walked into the living room and utilize the softer shaded lamps that wouldn't render him quite so much discomfort.

Don't be a wuss, he upbraided himself and abruptly flipped the switch that sent the intrusive fluorescent brilliance into his head. Glancing in the mirror, Jase glared at the image, irritated at the dark circles under its eyes and the unshaven mat of hair on its chin. He needed to pull himself together.

The banging on the door sent him trudging through his simple white living room with its simple white sofa and its simple stainless-steel fixtures. Not quite Eastern Bloc, he reasoned, but no frills - no luxury needed or desired for his temporary residence.

He just wanted clean lines and cool colors. In such a heat-baked, miserable city, he had no plans for much entertaining. Moving from Phoenix to San Antonio was like moving from the heat of purgatory to the fires of hell. At least in Phoenix, he hadn't had to swim through the air.

Jase knew who summoned him to the door and didn't even bother looking through the peephole before he threw it open. If he had acted rationally, he would have at least checked before exposing himself in such a way, but for the past few days Jase had thrown caution aside, not particularly concerned about the outcome of any decision. Perhaps he was suicidal, he mused indifferently.

Hey, Jase, came the voice of his host, Drew Pearson, from the semi-darkness outside. You ready?

Do I look ready? You're early.

Drew shook his head and glanced down at his watch. I would hardly call 7:28 early for a 7:30 appointment. You look like hell, by the way.

The last comment finally wrenched a laugh from Jase, and he waved Drew in, turning his back on his friend and recrossing the living room to the kitchen.

You want some coffee? Jase offered, pulling out his grinder and the expensive French brew he always drank.

That crap you make. No, thanks. Tastes like you forgot to add water.

Right, just because I don't drink coffee made for your grandma's knitting circle. You're a wimp, Drew.

Not taking the bait, Drew settled himself on the couch and flipped on the television. Take your time. We don't really have a schedule today; I just figured you might want to meet some people.

Fine. What kind of an idiot is going to be up this early on a Saturday morning anyway?

Drew laughed good-naturedly, Oh, you know the type. Up at dawn to sculpt his pecks. We have a few of those on the team.

And I'm supposed to care about meeting these people? You're not a very good salesman. I'm not sure these guys will compel me to sign up for your stupid do-gooders’ club.

Smirking sardonically, Drew assumed an amused expression. Don't worry, man. I know how to persuade you; I'm throwing my best sales pitch later tonight.

Women? Jase finally smiled, knowing what his reputation would lead Drew to expect.

Hot women, Drew acceded. You can't have the brunette, though. She's spoken for.

Jase shook his head and huffed a laugh. Am I supposed to shun all brunettes in San Antonio, or do you have a specific girl in mind? Besides, when has a girl's relationship status ever hindered me? Of course, that was before he saw in close proximity the devastation that attitude wrought on people.

Apparently fully aware of his notoriety, the tall, blond man glared at Jase in warning, a muscle twitching visibly in the visitor's jaw. That's normally fine, Drew pressed through clenched teeth, but this one's too soft for you. If you screw with her, you'll really mess her up. Don't do it, or you'll hate yourself.

Too late, Jase quipped back at Drew. Jase had hated himself since day one of the Banff mission, his most recent endeavor into the ambiguous world of intrigue for hire.

Jase had known when he engaged on the mission that he would regret it. Without his permission, as he had observed her, he had grown enslaved by the mark he was supposed to help catch; now every night, she haunted his dreams.

If Bill Henry had suspected Jase's weakness, the CEO would never have hired Jase for the job. Heck, if Jase had suspected his own weakness, he would never have signed up for the job. It had certainly screwed up his life.

ProtoComm was Bill Henry's small but powerful communications company. Unfortunately for its shareholders, Henry had decided to diversify, branch out into unrelated industries that set the company's future into dangerous waters.

Bill, it seemed, found many ways to make use of the plethora of international contacts he had developed over the years, specifically those from countries not as considerate of human rights as Western culture.

A clearinghouse for manifold illegal activities, ProtoComm's greatest portion of profit began to originate from Bill's clandestine activities, and those activities conveniently eradicated the bothersome issues of paying taxes or reporting to the corporate board. No, other than the pittance he paid to his henchmen, Bill pocketed the largest portion of ProtoComm's profits for himself.

Having dealt with some of the most unscrupulous characters in recent history, Jase had not particularly beat himself up over his dealings with Bill – at least, until Felicity Miller. Jase had worked for evil men before, accepted jobs that his ex-coworkers would have rejected. Or maybe even turned in to the authorities.

As long as Jase himself didn't participate in the activities that bothered his own conscience, he wouldn't ask questions. Evil existed and would transpire to its end by some means or another regardless of Jase's personal preference, so why limit himself to only perfect companies? They didn’t exist. Even the ethical ones swarmed with injustices and destruction, so why did he care? He would use the money better than the company anyway.

Rationalizations, he had suddenly realized the first time he had watched a video of the Miller family. For the most part, Jase had always dealt with criminals or people in more public places. In placing cameras in the Miller home, he was not only dealing with uninvolved parties – which he had done before as a matter of course – but he was dealing with innocents, something he hadn’t believed existed. A woman who showed both consideration and selflessness, not in the manner of a naïve martyr, but of someone who loved deeply. Rarely had Jase encountered someone like her – rarely had he let himself acknowledge that he had. So, of course, the first time he managed to notice the repercussions of his actions, he fell in love with the victim.

Even when he recognized the perfidy of his role in the Miller case, he did not correlate it to his usual work, at least not at first. Before ProtoComm, Jase had never entered into employment for one of the organizations directly.

Instead, he hired himself out privately for corporate espionage. He usually entered the group under an assumed identity and for a purpose determined by his client.

Jase had recovered kidnapped individuals, valuable family heirlooms, rare and expensive goods, or stolen funds. Because he often took jobs no one else would accept, he got paid well – and no one complained when he took a cut from whatever he found.

Still, when Bill had tried to hire Jase as a private contractor, the job required tasks outside of his usual job description, and Jase had debated whether or not to accept. How the CEO had found out about Jase's services he did not know, but Jase had not worried overmuch about the needs of a telecom executive. At first, Bill had hired Jase for corporate investigation work within ProtoComm to find a man who had been stealing information. Hardly as glamorous or dangerous as Jase's usual line of work but promising a ridiculous payout.

How little Jase had known! Once he had entrenched himself in ProtoComm's community, Jase quickly became aware of its hidden money-making mechanism. If Bill had assigned anything but the Miller case, Jase would have extricated himself before he worked more than a few days. Fortunately for Felicity Miller, Jase had found her intriguing.

In that, at least, Jase could feel satisfaction. If anyone else had accepted the case from Bill, she would no doubt have landed in the inhuman world of human trafficking, and Brendon, her ex-husband, living it up with his mistress. Not that Jase looked back on his actions with ProtoComm with any delusions about his own nobility.

In saving her from ProtoComm, Jase had spent most of his time lying to Felicity. So much time. Because of his history with women, Jase expected Felicity to fall into his arms without much coaxing. Felicity was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and Brendon had thrown her in the garbage.

Even after the man’s betrayal, though, Felicity had managed to retain both her virtue and her value. Surely, she would appreciate someone who recognized that value. Surely, she would accept a man who saw her as desirable.

It should have worked, but it didn't. For the first time in his life, Jase's calculations had not accomplished his expected result. He had seduced women past their self-control more times than he could remember – had trained for the purpose – and Felicity had seemed primed for overcoming.

Felicity, though, had resisted him despite all of his best endeavors – at least, in the end. He had her completely at his mercy for weeks, yet she had not only refused him but had left him and not looked back. His conscience understood, but his ego didn’t.

Whenever he remembered the inscrutable expression she had worn before he kissed her, he couldn't believe her indifferent. Her words were not indifferent. Even her goodbye was not indifferent. They were all beautiful. A beautiful delusion that had changed him.

When Drew so casually appealed to women as a way to persuade Jase, Jase's ambivalence forced him to play yet another game. Now not only did he need to walk a fine line between his moral ambiguity and the ethical requirements of the team. He also had to maintain his reputation as a rake without really involving any flesh-and-blood women. He just couldn't stomach it yet.

Even Amélie Laurent, the only other woman who had meant anything to Jase, did not particularly appeal to him.

What a difference between Felicity and her! Amélie hailed from a very different culture than Felicity, and not just because she was from France. Amélie had fascinated Jase for years because of her brilliance and her ability to bend others to her own will. Truly, she was a genius.

Jase could not help but wonder at the difference between the two women, and what his different attractions said about him. When compared to each other, Amélie seemed entirely to exemplify his past; Felicity seemed to have forever altered his future. Perhaps a step up, but in reality, when he had left Amélie for Felicity, he had merely traded one charade for another.

Amélie's charade originated entirely with her – her personality, her manipulations, her facade - and all through her own meticulous crafting. No woman had more entirely remade herself than Amélie. Originally the daughter of a simple farmer in central France, Amélie had made a point to study successful women, noting with interest how women on the television radiated a type of power.

Though differing in personality, each actress possessed several similar qualities. Each presented herself in a beautiful and feminine light that most flattered her particular traits. Whether delicate or aggressive, each threw her sexuality around to her greatest advantage. Each played on the emotions or urges of her audience with her dramatic expressions – sadness, anger, elation, helplessness, intensity – whatever suited her purpose.

Masterfully, Amélie transferred each of these characteristics from the screen before her into her heart. No person alive knew the reality of Amélie's heart, not even Amélie herself. Instead, anyone who met Amélie came to know the power of sexual manipulation. From ingenue to dominant, Amélie could adopt the most effective mien for her purposes.

In contrast, Felicity exuded an organic sensuality, the undivided essence of her entire being. She knew nothing of her own charisma, and any control she wielded stemmed from her genuine persuasion. Felicity, though restrained, showed more compelling sentiment than any dramatic actor could manage – all under the control of a rational mind.

Where Amélie acted a role with Jase, Felicity presented unadulterated truth. In Felicity's case the charade had lain entirely within Jase's mind – she had roundly rejected his romantic delusion - after she left him, all the games lost their allure.

Seriously, Drew finally complained, flipping off the sports channel and spinning in his seat to face Jase. Are we ever leaving?

Jase shook himself to dispel his thoughts. "Back off, he barked a bit defensively. Then controlling himself, My coffee just finished.  Grinning suddenly, Jase seated himself in his oversized leather chair. You really should try some of this, he encouraged. That chest of yours is a little feminine without any hair."

Keep your eyes off my chest! Drew commanded wryly. You should have enough women in memory to keep your mind better occupied.

Jase didn't particularly wish to discuss women anymore so, rather than cold-cock Drew, Jase decided to end the conversation and pressed forward with the day's plans. Chugging his coffee without tasting it, he nodded at Drew and set the coffee cup on the end table. You ready? Jase sneered. Let's go meet some mindless meatheads.

Rising, he led Drew to the door and almost shoved his friend outside.

That's a little harsh, Drew defended his coworkers. These guys are really pretty good.

We'll see, Jase contradicted as he crossed the driveway and jumped into his Aston Martin. I'm driving, he announced, not really giving Drew a choice. I can't wait to meet my new associates.

Reluctantly, Jase pointed his car down the flat, bare road toward the lackluster life that he had newly chosen for himself.

Chapter 1

I could tell pretty quickly – he had no idea what hit him. – Briel Cortes explaining her first date with Jase

I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them. – Louisa May Alcott

April 28, 8:00 a.m.

The clanking of weights and the smell of sweat permeated the space beneath the glaring canned lights which shone from two stories above. In a calculated fashion, Jase wandered casually, hands in pockets, through the grunting bodies as if he could not see them. He affixed a discreet smile on his lips, making sure to portray neither interest nor disdain.

As he and Drew strolled between the machines, Drew took a minute in advance to describe each person whom they would pass on the next aisle. Jase's main goal lay in ascertaining from each new face how carefully he would need to maintain his charade in its owner's presence, unsure as of yet just how far he would invest himself with Drew's company.

For the next few weeks, he had a clear directive if not a clear direction. He had no idea whether he were going to try to step out of his solitary line of work, but he wanted to make sure he could enter the group flawlessly once he made his decision. In truth, no one seemed particularly insightful nor attentive, and Jase began to relax. All he had to do was avoid notice.

Unlike Jase, the gregarious Drew seemed intent on drawing others' thoughts to himself, and he nodded and smiled in greeting at several coworkers from where he strolled down the pathways between weights.

As Jase had hoped, no one paid much attention to the unfamiliar visitor walking nonchalantly through the crashing machines. Their absorption with their workouts insured that Jase found himself able to survey the room, noting anyone who appeared capable of causing him potential trouble.

He found only a few men that concerned him; out of fifteen men in the gym, three gave Jase pause. Near the front, a man of average height lay pressing a ridiculous number of weights overhead, his overstressed, red face contrasting strangely with his white mat of hair. He somehow looked familiar, if incredibly cocky, and Jase noted the exchange of glances between him and Drew.

There seemed no love lost between the two, and Jase noticed both a tightening in the man's jaw and a glinting of ire in his eyes as he stared up at Drew. How anyone could use such an expression with the laid-back Drew, Jase did not know.

Friend of yours? Jase queried, curious as to the intense interchange between his usually casual friend and his oddly granite-faced coworker.

Just colleagues, Drew equivocated.

Jase scoffed at the weak explanation. He doesn't seem to like you, Jase pushed.

We've worked together for years, and Liam functions on a hair-trigger, a bit too impulsive for my liking. We've had disagreements.

Sounds like fun. Can't wait to meet him, Jase's eyes sparkled with the challenge; finally, a little spice in the rather vanilla recipe that had recently begun to stir in his life.

Near the foremost window sat a tall man with dark, curly reddish hair, who unconcernedly raised and lowered his arm in bicep curls. This man's features seemed a tad feminine, but he did not seem weak, and Jase knew that such a demeanor did not ensure his frailty.

Though the man appeared relaxed, something in the tension of his muscles convinced Jase that the man could spring into action in an instant.

Finally, Jase stared for a long second at a man Drew denominated as Adam.  Jase remembered Adam from Felicity’s mission. As if it were just a mission. Adam wore the look of an African prince, dark clear skin, nearly ebony, and noble, even features.

Adam's muscles rippled tautly without exaggerated bulk, and Jase noted that Adam likely harnessed a vast amount of power behind that controlled expression on his face. All in all, Jase's introduction to his potential coworkers neither excited nor repelled him. He would need more information before he could come to a decision.

Like the other occupants of the gym, Jase's host offered little reason for concern. Drew's entire countenance screamed simpleton and nice-guy for all to hear. If Jase had not sought a cover, he would never have rekindled the friendship with his shallow, unsophisticated attendant. Drew would do nicely, though, for the purpose of making an in-roads into the community.

Because of his history, Jase could never have entered any formal employment with a regular security company, but the team asked few questions beyond the odd recommendation. Drew provided that, and Jase would prove himself so quickly that no one would question him. Competent, but not overly impressive. Jase knew what to portray to promote himself to such a group of people.

Nearby, a sound drew Jase's eyes back to the weights. A group of several women shared the gym with their male coworkers, and they had begun a drivelfest near where Jase stood, babbling about nothing, except one woman who apparently liked to keep to herself. Jase smiled toward her, and she nodded, but there was no connection between her and anyone.

Maybe they could be polite colleagues, which was more than he considered for most of the gym occupants. The other women engaged in social exercise, but none noticed Jase. After taking in their appearance, he discounted them as quickly as he had the men. Neither as a threat nor as a potential relationship did any of them interest him.

Why am I considering this job? Jase asked himself after his perusal of the room. Nothing he saw enticed him to accept Drew's proposition for work. Still, the dearth of other options stymied him. At all costs, he must avoid any kind of hierarchical organization - either criminal or legitimate - with checks and balances. No managers, no presidents; no real structure.

Bosses would mean quality control, and Jase had no desire for anyone to search too deeply into his motivations - not when he himself hadn't figured them out. Couldn’t he find a nice group of mercenaries where he knew no one and they didn’t care what happened to him? He wasn’t sure how far he would go to get himself back into Bill Henry’s organization, but he was not through investigating their exact amalgamation of business ventures. If he couldn’t have Felicity, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she stayed off the company radar. What better way than from inside?

After a few introductions, the two men exited the gym and returned toward Jase's car. Is that really it? Jase wondered aloud, a bit disgusted. I didn't find much to entice.

Give them some time, Drew reassured. First of all, you don't know them at all. Most of them are incredibly talented and just basic good guys.

Exactly, Jase agreed silently.

Besides, you have a date tonight. Just wait until that's over to decide, Drew pleaded.

Do you really think that I'm so shallow that I'll let a hot chick determine my future employment? Surely you give me more credit than that.

Drew huffed a disbelieving laugh as he lowered himself into the passenger side of the sports car, Not even a little more. You are as easy to read as anyone I've ever met.

Not likely, Jase asserted to himself.

If the women are interesting, then you're in, Drew codified his theory.

You're right, Drew, Jase spouted sarcastically, though Drew no doubt missed the tone. I've got a one-track mind.

Comfortable with the stereotype his reputation had garnered, Jase allowed Drew to think as he would, a belief made even more credible because Jase really had loved women to a fault. Still, he had always known better than to let them affect his choices.

I used to know better, he corrected himself. Felicity's image again rose in his mind, and the vision twisted his gut.

After a pleasant lunch and drive around town, Jase began to grow more comfortable with the area and less confused by its inhabitants. He found that though everyone looked him in the eye, an annoying habit if he needed to avoid recognition, most of them did not appear overly solicitous.

Some strange cultural rule had trained them to say hello to anyone they met, but they lacked that usual Southern gentility that would have forced them into each other’s business. In San Antonio, people seemed to present their true selves to a large extent, and they stayed to themselves. Not as bad as he had thought.

Still, Jase had to ask Drew about the few men they encountered who averted their gaze and mumbled strangely to themselves. In New York or Chicago, Jase would have assumed some mental illness, but he found just enough of a sampling in San Antonio that the numbers didn't work; no city had a mental illness percentage that high.

Conspiracy theorist types, Drew explained. Most of the western states have a larger-than-average population of people who believe in all sorts of strange theories.

Though some of them are probably right, Jase laughed, thinking of the government representatives who had allowed and even utilized Bill Henry's business with full knowledge of its true nature.

So, basically, you don't have too much to worry about here. People are nice and honest for the most part, though if you're looking for debauchery, you can always find it.

Doubtful, Jase contradicted Drew, but merely asked aloud, Speaking of debauchery, when are we picking up these ladies? I'm getting bored.

You are without a doubt the most immature, impatient person I've ever met.

But I'm also the best op you've ever tried to hire, so you'll put up with me, Jase smirked at the view out the windshield.

In response, Drew assumed a wider smile than was his custom and chuckled in some sort of disbelief. We'll see about that. You'll meet someone tonight who will give you a run for your money.

Right, Jase countered. Not likely.

Just wait till you meet our dates, and then you can tell me how great you are.

Laughing out loud, Jase stared at Drew after parking the car back in front of his apartment. Seriously, Drew? A woman who can handle me? How much basuco did you inhale before we went out today? It's a little early in the day for drug abuse.

Laugh all you want, but I'll present my evidence to you in an hour. I've got to run home and shower, but I'll pick you up in thirty minutes.

Wrong, Jase corrected. You'll meet me here, and I'll drive.  Why would anyone want to ride in anything but my Aston Martin? Jase reasoned.

Fine. I'll be back in a few.

Jase foresaw little to interest him in the evening. For some reason, Jase gravitated towards an enigma, preferring a woman who surprised him over predictable, hormone-driven females. He had passed by the stage where he would take anything he could get, and even more so now than a few months ago.

After showering, he threw on his jeans and a t-shirt and wandered into his living room to await Drew. The clock struggled forward, shackled by Jase's glare, and it seemed far too long before the bell rang signaling Drew's arrival.

You're late, Jase accused upon throwing open the front door.

Again, Drew glanced at his watch. You are the strangest person I've ever met. First, you say I'm early because I show up two minutes before our agreed time. Now you say I'm late, and it's not even five after seven. Do you sit around and stare at the clock coming up with complex chronological systems? Or is it just whim?

Unwilling to wait any longer, Jase led Drew to the car and paused long enough for him to sit before continuing their conversation. Neither, actually, Jase explained. Before noon, anything is early; after noon, I'm flexible; but after five, it's time to move. Life happens after five.

Right, Drew seemed a bit skeptical but didn't confront Jase. So, this place is only a few minutes away, near where we ate lunch.

Drew didn't need to recap the directions, as Jase had pretty well committed their earlier drive to memory. Before five minutes passed, Drew directed Jase down a slightly winding road littered with the brushy mesquite trees that somehow passed for a forest in Central Texas.

Now, before we go in here, I want to know what I'm up against. What am I getting myself into? Jase insisted that Drew explain before they entered the fray. Start with your date.

You mean my girlfriend! Drew protested. Keep your mind on your own date.

Jase smirked, amused with Drew's discomfort, especially since it didn't seem to effect Drew's willingness to continue the evening. For some reason, Drew must really want Jase to sign on to work. Drew, I'm going to see her anyway in about five minutes. Just get it over with.

Okay, then. She's tall with brown hair and brown eyes. Entirely too nice for you; you couldn't possibly find her interesting, Drew sounded more hopeful than assured in his last statement.

And my date?

Now Drew assumed a more excited expression, almost so much so that Jase wondered at Drew's disinterestedness. The woman must have rejected Drew at some point.

Well, your date is shorter, blondish-brown hair, and amazing green eyes.

Okay... Jase waited for the rest.

And she's got a rock-hard body, of course, though she's all woman, Drew allowed dismissively.

Are you sure you’re dating the right girl? Jase mocked, and Drew just shot him a glare. Fine, let's get on with this, then, and he rose from his seat. Closing the door behind him, he strode with confidence to the large edifice before him, a small complex covered in white stucco and with strange angular girders of steel. He only stepped back to allow Drew to pass once they had mounted the steps and stood on the raised platform that fronted the door.

In reality, the night's date factored little into Jase's decision whether or not to stay and join Drew's team. Jase would make his decision based on a mixture of whim and self-interest.

Finally, the front door swung open, and Jase stood facing one of the last people on earth that he ever expected to see again.

Chapter 2

The past is still too close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again…  – Daphne du Maurier

He doesn’t remember me. – Nessa Santiago after her double date with Jase and Briel.

April 28, 6:00 p.m.

Tonight is going to be…interesting.

Before Jase stood Briel Cortes, five feet and three inches of intensity and talent.

She looked as thrilled as he felt about the date, but he imagined she held different reasons for her lack of enthusiasm.

A woman who can handle me. He actually laughed at the thought. Of all the women he knew, Briel was probably one of the two women who could. Of course, he had known eight years before when they had dated that it could never work - a two-headed snake was an impractical creation, always pulling in opposite directions.

As Drew had promised, Briel was beautiful. Jase hadn’t seen her dressed in anything but mission gear since the academy, and so seeing her now reminded him of why he had first pegged her as interesting.

When she had proved as brilliant and talented as he, Jase had realized she was not really right for him. It hadn’t been an ego thing, though he knew she would think so. Jase knew himself. He fought for dominance, above all else. Briel did the same.

The only people who worked with Jase were those who just refused the fight. Felicity had been like that. She held firm where she needed to, but not by fighting – just by being herself.

The idea of Briel had brought with it images of dramatic, dangerous battles, and Jase had known it would not be good for either of them. Conveniently, the higher ups had frown at his latching on such a promising new recruit – they feared Jase would hold her back.

Maybe he would have, and he was glad he had not. A censure from on high would normally have cemented Jase’s determination to do a thing, but he had wanted to get away from Briel without causing too much damage.

Jase’s best friend, Terrence, had complained and criticized Jase’s decision, but like the amazing friend he had been, Terrence gave him the benefit of the doubt. The thought reminded Jase how much he missed his friend.

Once Briel had left training, she and Jase had not run into each other for almost five years, and when they did, Jase had solidified all of her dislike. He could still smell the cold, damp air that blew in off the water across the tile and stucco in the Italian villa. During his entire career, that had been his most dangerous mission, and he had felt the least confidence in his cover. Those mafioso would have shot him in the back and thrown the body in the Grand Canal without batting an eye.

When they had dragged Briel into the main room to receive sentencing from the boss, Jase had thought he would collapse or be sick. Tiny little, tough as nails Briel. They had punched her several times, kicked her, and then dragged her to a cellar where Signor Rotolo had intended to let her die of thirst.

Jase had been forced to wait almost three days before he could get to her, and when he had found her, she was rabid and half drunk. Apparently, she had been sipping on wine to stay alive, and when she flew at him out of the darkness, he had known she would be okay.

Jase had even given up a really nice sports car for her so she could escape, not that she would appreciate that fact.

All she knew was that he had stood there and watched them beat her and done nothing. They would have killed us both, he insisted as he stared down at her tawny hair and green eyes.

In Banff, Jase had honestly been as addled as he had been in twenty years, since he was a young kid, and while trying desperately to keep Felicity Miller alive, Jase had not possessed the faculties to seek out Briel. He had been lucky she trusted him enough to deal with Brendon Miller, though no doubt her trust came from her clear recognition that he would do anything for Felicity. Hardly a recognition of his character.

Briel sucked in a breath and offered Jase a terse, unconvincing smile, and he forced his shoulders not to slump. There were very few people in the world whose opinion of him he cared about, but Briel was one. There were few people as talented as Jase who managed to hold on to moral fiber, and Briel was also one of those.

Just beyond the entry way into Briel's apartment, Jase could make out another figure, longer and lankier, seated in a relaxed posture on the couch. Apparently, she must be Drew's date. The rich earthen color of the woman's tresses hinted at a ruddy undertone when the flame from the fireplace licked along their subtle waves.

Though Jase could not see her face, he could appreciate the length of her soft, statuesque legs which she had crossed languidly before her. All in all, neither woman would have seemed at home in the hot, smelly gym Jase had visited earlier in the day.

Briel, guarding her doorway like a Rottweiler, barely hid her ire under a generic expression which seemed neither pleased nor disgusted. When Drew pushed past her without greeting, Briel's stoic demeanor finally slipped, and her irritation lashed out like a whip.

Come on in, she mumbled under her breath to Drew, and Jase couldn't resist a smirk. There’s my girl, he laughed.

Hi, Briel, Jase greeted her, and she seemed to read his amusement.

Jase, she offered, not suppressing her annoyance.

So, what have you been doing since leaving Banff behind? Briel begged unmercifully.

Was that really necessary? Briel could’ve guessed how he was doing, what with the loss of the first person he had cared about in twenty years. He guessed that was payback for the snow comment in Phoenix. The pain apex was comparable.

Not much, he hedged. Just lamenting lost opportunities.

Somehow, she was misreading him, if her gritting teeth meant anything. So, Nessa says you're thinking about joining us. Not gonna get rich in my line of work.

He deserved that, too. There’s more to life than money, he tried – not that she would believe him.

Briel scoffed. More than money? For everyone but you, I imagine.

Maybe he should resent her barbs, but he had forgotten what it was like to have someone around who wasn’t fooled by the façade, and he almost appreciated it. Not since Terrence died, he realized. I see I taught you well, so, I pretty much deserve that.

And in typical Briel fashion, she let her shock relax her hardline stubbornness, stepping back to let him in. That’s gonna cost you someday, Jase worried affectionately – the little spitfire. Thanks, he offered, noticing that she avoided his eyes.

She nodded stiffly, and Jase felt his shoulders relax. Still, he knew he couldn’t quit watching out for her – she knew entirely too much about him, and he didn’t intend to have his history spewed out in his new venue.

Interrupting Jase’s thoughts, Drew and his date made their way to the door.

Drew’s date. The woman Jase had admired from afar now stood before him, much prettier than her seated figure would have suggested. Somehow, he knew her, but he had no memory of how. She seemed shrouded by Felicity, and he couldn’t quite figure that out. For someone who had known as many women as Jase had, the superficial similarities signified nothing. The eyes, though. The expressions.

If he were honest, Felicity’s eyes had spoken tolerance and compassion. Strangely, when Drew’s date glanced up at Jase, her eyes offered forgiveness. He couldn’t explain it to himself. What could she know about him that required forgiveness? Likely, he was imagining things – he was new at trying to understand people beyond how they fit into whatever agenda he intended to accomplish. It was why he never let anyone grow too attached to him.

Shaking himself, he stepped aside to let the others lead out of the house.

So, what you're saying is that the Impressionist movement was a backlash against the pseudo-religious authorities by a bunch of young rebels... A few minutes later, Drew's date, Nessa, had struck into a vein of intense yet casual conversation with Jase.

The unusually lively eyes had lost their compassion, only to replace the expression with energy and enthusiasm. Her warm voice melded nicely with the clinking of glasses and hum of the chatter around them.

Nessa Santiago, despite her too shrewd eyes, had provided entertaining conversation. Watching her talk, Jase had the opportunity to notice how warm and soft her full lips seemed, though the girl's genuine personality drew him away from perusing her looks too intensely.

Her figure curved nicely, a certain softness rounding the curve of her hips underneath the fluid clinging fabric of her long shirt, but she hid the ample length of her legs in a none-too-tight pair of slacks.

With her modest clothing she wore a self-deprecating carriage that concealed the full effect of her femininity. If she had pressed her shoulders back a little, elongated her neck a tad, maybe lifted her chest in invitation, Nessa could possibly have rivaled Amélie for elegance and beauty.

Warm, warm, warm. Everything about her spoke, not fire or ice, but warmth and comfort and ease. Boring, his instincts accused, but Jase’s mind could not quite agree. Warm like poison, it told him. Insidious and alluring and perhaps irresistible.

Not yet, he reprimanded. Not so soon after Felicity.

Still, he could not escape the general sense of gratitude he felt toward the woman as he sat among an otherwise less-than-gregarious group of acquaintances. If Briel had provided Jase's only source of discourse, he would have sought escape from the night's plans within an hour. Briel, always guarded, restrained herself from engaging anyone in the group too intensely. Instead - to Jase's chagrin - she seemed intent on surreptitiously assessing him.

The contrast between Nessa and her friend struck Jase ironically, and not just their personalities. Briel spent little effort on her exterior, but unlike Nessa, Briel seemed to do so in defiance against Jase and anyone else who would impose his expectations of superficial beauty on her.

Still, few men could miss the allure of her taught figure and her strikingly lovely face. Nessa, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of herself, entirely too engaged in making everyone comfortable to waste effort on her facade. Sure, she looked amazing, but she seemed to have spent minimal time in making herself up; instead, her dark hair waved freely and the barest hint of color glossed her lips.

The rosy hue of her cheeks seemed completely unassisted by cosmetics. She drew him in casually, comfortably, and he kept finding himself lulled to pleasure almost against his will.

Not exactly a backlash, he continued the conversation, I mean, the artists began painting that way before they considered their oppression. They just liked the style. The actual movement, though, was a group of like-minded people who wanted to feel legitimate about the works they painted. To them, no self-ordained authority held the key to 'true art.'  Until Napoleon III got hold of the Impressionists, they wouldn't have been called a movement.

The waitress returned to refill the drinks at the table, and she smiled a shy, coy smile in Jase's direction. When Jase smiled back, though without enthusiasm, the waitress splashed a small amount of water on Jase's jeans in her embarrassed pleasure.

Oh my gosh! she exclaimed, and her flirtation transformed into exclamations of apology. I'm so sorry, sir! The poor woman pulled out the clean towel at her waist and began a mad dabbing at his pants leg.

Pulling his mind together, he stood up nonchalantly.

It's nothing, he assured her. Just a spot. Do you have hand dryers in the bathroom?

Oh, yes, sir. Right over there, sir.

I'll be right back, he informed his party, as he strode around the edge of the bar on a quest to dry his jeans. As Jase walked, he reached down to assess the damage - it seemed minimal. Just as he glanced back up from his perusal, a massive form collided with him, and he looked up with surprise into a familiar face: the white-haired man from the gym.

Excuse me, the man began without looking up. When he beheld Jase, he halted immediately. Jase Hamilton, he exclaimed.

For a moment, Jase said nothing, unwilling to validate the man's assertion.

You helped Briel on the last mission, the near-stranger sneered for some reason, overemphasizing the word helped.

Now Jase knew why he had recognized the man when he had encountered him at the gym. You were her partner, Liam, Jase speculated aloud. Why did this man bring a prickling sensation to the back of Jase's neck?"

Yes. I'm also her boyfriend.

The assertion floored Jase. Wouldn't Nessa and Drew have informed Jase if his date had a boyfriend? Both seemed entirely above-board. Unlike them, however, Jase got a distinctly subversive feeling from the man before him.

So, you're currently dating Briel?

Without hesitation, the man stated icily, We're taking a little break, but we'll get back together. Briel can be impulsive.

Not the Briel I know. I see, Jase replied skeptically. "Well, you can come back to the table with me if you want. Some team members were showing me around, and Briel is with