She wanted to object-to remind him she wasn’t a pearl diver or mermaid, and couldn’t possibly inhale for sixteen beats of that stupid metronome-but he was already beginning to move and breathe, so she joined him reluctantly. It was tough to match even the eight-count beat, especially when paired with the movements. They were typical of any good martial arts form, but done so slowly and meticulously, impatience soon flared in her arm muscles as she tried to follow him. Meanwhile, she had to gulp for air every time she tried to make it through a sixteen-count breath. She probably would have just quit, but Ortega was handling it so effortlessly, her pride wouldn’t allow her to give up, so she persevered.
In the distance, a bird was chattering like crazy, and even though she tried to ignore it, her brain was cataloguing the sound, trying to identify the type. Not a crow. A hawk maybe?
Concentrate, Miranda. He said make your mind a blank. Forget about the stupid bird!
Her muscles were aching as they reached a part of the routine where he barely seemed to be moving at all. Their right arms were outstretched fully to the side, their left arms straight out in front of them at chest level. Their left legs were lifted off the ground, bent at the knees, with their right legs offering the only support. Then Ortega rocked forward, so that all of his weight was on the ball of his foot, and she decided he was right about one thing. These exercises were good for balance!
Would you clear your freaking mind for just one stupid minute! she chastised herself. Then she closed her eyes and listened to the metronome, ignoring Ortega completely. She continued to move, as slowly as possible, but switched to the form from her tae kwon do class. It was a little easier now, and now the eight-count breathing felt almost normal. In fact, in a strange way it felt better than normal.
She wasn’t quite sure when the ache left her arms, or the sounds left her ears, or her mind started to relax. She only knew that when it all came together, it was perfection. A moment outside of time, outside of space, outside of herself, yet intimate, at the very core of her being.
Then she lost it, and almost lost her balance in the process. Gulping for air, she opened her eyes and realized that Ortega was standing right in front of her, his face inches from hers, staring at her with open curiosity.
She knew her cheeks were reddening as she backed away from him. Then she admitted, “That was interesting.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d get there the first time.”
“I almost didn’t. Then I closed my eyes, and it all came together.”
“Closing your eyes is key,” he confirmed.
“Then why didn’t you tell me to do it?”
“I knew you’d figure it out on your own. That’s part of what makes it key,” he added with a wink.
“Whatever,” she drawled, intent on returning to their former nonrelationship. “Did Kell really teach it to you?”
“He taught me the breathing part. I added the movement. For me, that definitely enhances it. The more you practice, the sooner you’ll find the right combination that works for you. Learn to recognize the sensations-the flow-so you can get there without consciously trying. Then it’ll last as long as you want.”
Miranda bit her lip, wondering if he knew he was beginning to sound like every sex manual she had ever consulted.
“The trick is, don’t rush it,” he continued, his voice low and reassuring. “Sure, you want to get there, but the idea is to let it happen naturally. Relax. Enjoy the movement. The breathing. When it’s time for it, it’ll come. And it’ll definitely be worth waiting for.”
“Good to know,” she said, cutting him off before her cheeks got any hotter. “Now what about the Brigade? Are you going to help us or not?”
His chuckle acknowledged the abrupt change in mood. “I told you, SPIN can do it on their own. This is just Kristie’s scheme, and I’m not falling for it. You shouldn’t, either.” His smile warmed. “She’s a good friend and I care about her. But she needs to respect my wishes.”
Miranda wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but Ortega’s attitude actually did seem more centered. More balanced. Had the breathing routine really mellowed him that easily?
In any case, there was no doubt that she was feeling unusually calm. All of the anger and hurt that usually accompanied any thought of him had dissipated, and she was able to respect what he was trying to say. Trying to do. Yes he was flawed-more flawed than most, or at least, his flaws were more dangerous-but he was trying to minimize the danger, both to himself and to others.
“Maybe it would help if you gave Kristie a timeline for when you’ll be ready to talk to her again,” she suggested carefully. “She misses you, Ortega. She says you taught her everything she knows. You’re practically a hero to her.”
“Kristie doesn’t just want to talk. She wants to drag me back into the intelligence racket. But that environment is poison for me. I’ll never go back to it.”
“Which means there really isn’t any way I can convince you to come back with me and head up the anti-Brigade team?” Miranda squared her shoulders. “Can I ask a different favor then?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Can you at least talk to me about the time you spent with Kell?”
“I was thoroughly debriefed. Haven’t you seen the file?”
“I read every word, but I still have questions.”
Ortega seemed about to refuse, then he said, “I’ll get us a couple of bottles of water. Then you can ask me whatever you want. Then we’ll eat. Then we’ll go through the routine again.”
She tilted her head to the side, trying to fathom why he wanted her to stay for such a long time. Guilt? Loneliness?
More manipulation? No, that didn’t seem to be it.
Settling on loneliness as the most likely culprit, she murmured, “Do you really stay here alone all the time? You never go into Reno or one of the smaller towns?”
“I go down the hill about once a month. To stock up mostly. And to remind myself there are other people in the world. I’m trying to get centered, but not self-centered, so socializing with strangers fits right in. And I haven’t completely cut myself off from friends and family. We keep in touch by e-mail. The problem with Kristie is, she doesn’t just want to keep in touch. She wants me to return to my old life.”
Miranda smiled. “She thinks you’re lonely. If she knew you were socializing, especially with women, she might be less obsessed with rescuing you.” She grimaced then asked, “That’s what you meant by socializing, right? Women?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed with a laugh. “That’s what I meant. But you’re the first woman I’ve had here at the cabin. And the only woman I’d want here.”
Miranda eyed him coolly. “Did you say something about a bottle of water?”
“Yeah,” he said, dropping the flirtation without protest. “One bottle of water, coming right up.”
They sat under a pine tree, sipping water and munching on apple slices, while Ortega told her the story of his adventure in South America with Carerra and Kell. In some respects it tracked the information in the file almost word for word, but occasionally, she got a glimpse into the ordeal that no file could ever effectively convey.
“The most important thing to remember about Jonathan Kell is that life dealt him a bizarre hand. A brilliant scientist who wouldn’t hurt a fly and only wanted to do good. Yet so plagued with fear-fear of virtually everything- that it paralyzed him socially and professionally. That allowed the drug company to take enormous advantage of him. To use his brilliance, but when Kell needed them to pay the ransom, they just cut him loose. His greatest fear-abandonment-was confirmed that day. Abandoned by his employer and associates. And also abandoned by his country.”
“His country saved his life. You were CIA and you came through for him.”
“Kell knew I was there on a completely different mission. He was grateful to me personally, but not to the U.S. It infuriated him on my behalf that they didn’t send someone to rescue me. I tried to explain to him that they couldn’t do that, since my op didn’t exist officially. I also told him they figured if I was still alive, I’d find a way to escape on my own.”
“Small comfort when they’re torturing you daily.”
“I was trained for that. Kell wasn’t.”
“That’s one of my questions,” she admitted. “I get why they couldn’t break you. But why didn’t Kell-a civilian
