Kathleen Creighton
Lazlo’s Last Stand
A book in the Mission Impassioned series, 2007
This is for Marie,
and also for Nina, Caridad, Lyn and Karen,
some of the most fertile-yes, Marie,
and cluttered, too, but in
the BEST possible way-minds I’ve ever encountered.
Thanks for letting me share the ride.
Chapter 1
The attack came in low, but he was prepared for it. He easily evaded what might have been a lethal blow with a feint to the right, and then, in a move as precise and disciplined as a classical dancer’s, spun left and caught his opponent in midfollow-through, squarely behind the knees. The attacker, expecting a death-dealing blow to the throat or sternum, went down like a sack of rocks.
Down, but far from out.
Corbett Lazlo had little time to enjoy his moment of triumph. Before he could deal a follow-up blow, his assailant arched his body like a bow and was on his feet again, circling in a half crouch, his eyes hard as bullets, a slight smile playing over his lips. Corbett stood at ease, balanced on the balls of his feet, smiling back. It wasn’t a nice smile.
The next strike came like lightning, and, even though he’d been prepared for it, delivered a glancing blow to Corbett’s ribs. There would be a bruise tomorrow. He went down, exaggerating the effects of the injury, and when the follow-through came, he rolled and twisted his body like a fighting cat and came up on top, his opponent pinned with Corbett’s knee against his throat. He was now at his mercy; only a slight increase in pressure and the larynx would be crushed. The match was his.
After the briefest of pauses, Corbett removed his knee from the other man’s throat, rose and offered him a hand. When both men were on their feet, he bowed respectfully over his own clasped hands and uttered the traditional words of respect by the student for the master.
The other man returned the obeisance, then beamed upon Corbett a wide, delighted smile.
“Bested by my own move! Excellent. It is the moment every teacher cherishes, when the student surpasses the master.”
Corbett grinned back, an expression that transformed his austere features in a way that sent a jolt of desire through the woman watching from the screened-off doorway of the dojo.
To Lucia Cordez the jolt was a familiar sensation, as was the ache of longing that came with it. Corbett Lazlo had been the most important person in her life for nearly ten years, but in so many ways he was still a mystery to her-like smoke, she sometimes thought. Visible and real, but emotionally elusive, impossible to grasp.
Careful to keep her feelings well-hidden, she stepped around the carved wood screen and made her own obeisance to the master as he passed her on his way out.
“Ah-there you are.” Corbett’s features had settled once more into lines resembling those commonly found on ancient Roman coins. It was his customary expression when looking at her-imperious, impersonal…aloof. “You have news for me, I assume? Might I hope it’s good news for a change? Tell me you’ve traced the source of the e-mails that have been threatening me with so many ingeniously hideous deaths.” His tone was light, even a bit sardonic.
Lucia shuddered and said faintly, “Corbett, please.”
He paused in the act of mopping his face with a towel to look at her, eyebrows raised. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not the least bit amused by what’s been happening. To my organization, to my agents. These breaches of security must be stopped.
She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Corbett. Our safe house in Hong Kong was hit last night.”
Though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, his features hardened even more. His ice-blue eyes looked as if they could etch glass. “Anyone killed?”
She let out a breath. “No. Both our agents managed to escape. But-”
He moved suddenly, tossing the towel away with controlled violence. “Not now. I’ll read your report later. Come-” he motioned her out onto the mat with a hand gesture and a jerk of his head “-go a round with me. I want to see if you’re keeping up with your skills.”
“Now? But-” But it wasn’t a suggestion. Even if it had been voiced as one, Lucia knew that from Corbett Lazlo a suggestion was as good as an order.
“Master Liu tells me you haven’t been to your last two sessions.”
“I might have had one or two other things on my mind,” she said stiffly. “Tracing those e-mails-”
“-is high priority, but no excuse for letting yourself get soft.” His eyes traveled over her body in dispassionate appraisal.
She shook off the feeling, gathered her defenses. “Oh, all right. Although,” she added in a grumbling undertone as she turned to go to the locker room to change her clothes, “I don’t see why it matters, when you won’t let me work in the field anyway.”
Corbett’s voice, sharp as the sound of icicles breaking, stopped her in her tracks.
“I doubt an assailant is going to have the courtesy to wait while you don your workout clothes. Come-as you are. Now.”
She turned back slowly, chin cocked in futile defiance. “Not fair. You’ll have the advantage.” She nodded toward him. He stood relaxed and confident in the center of the mat, feet a little apart, baggy workout pants riding low on narrow hips, arms folded on his well-muscled chest. The way he looked at her, staring down the length of his aristocratic nose, he reminded her of Yul Brynner as the King of Siam, except for the thick silver-streaked mane of hair, the slick of sweat and the patches of red on his upper body where Master Liu’s blows had hit home.
His lips curved in a small, arrogant smile. “Then you’ll have to fight harder to overcome it, won’t you.” He made an autocratic cupped-hand gesture. “Come. I’m waiting.”
Oh, how she wished her heart wouldn’t race so. And
As she stepped onto the mat, she felt the thump of her pulse in her throat, heard the rush of it inside her head. And beyond that the quiet voice of Master Liu:
