Medusa’s Master

She asked, “Have you got three or four handheld, signaling mirrors?”

“Coming up.” He went over to an equipment locker and pulled them out.

She held out her hand without even looking over at him. The mirrors disappeared into one of her waist pouches. She walked over to the “outside” of the window.

“Does noise matter?”

“Not for today’s purposes.”

“Time limit?”

“Not this time.”

She leaped up onto the window ledge as lightly as her feline namesake and balanced there easily. He watched with interest as she threaded a spare radio antenna through the sighting hole in the middle of one of the mirrors. She broke off the end of the antenna and poked its now sharp end into the drywall above her head. A slight adjustment, and the mirror caught one of the laser signals and reflected it away from the space above the window. She repeated the process until she’d created a gap in the net of lasers. Clever.

She ran a stud finder across the wall above the window until it flashed green and beeped. Quickly, she reached up and hammered in a crampon. She slapped on a carabiner and ran the end of her nylon webbing rope through it. With surprising upper-body strength for a woman, she pulled herself up a couple of feet and tied off her harness.

She repeated the whole process until she’d reached the ceiling. The laser beams stopped about four feet shy of the ceiling. Bemused, he watched her pull out some sort of climbing cleats that hadn’t come from his pile of gear and buckle them to her feet and hands.

His jaw dropped as she struck the ceiling hard to sink her cleats into it, and commenced crawling, spiderlike, across the surface. How she clung upside down like that and didn’t fall, he had no idea. He’d never seen anything like it. In three minutes or so, she’d reached the far wall. She planted a crampon, tied off a rope and shimmied down it quickly, using her mirrors to deflect the lasers.

“You want me to take the picture, or just draw a mustache and horns on it?” she asked casually, spinning gently in her harness next to the poster.

Damn. She didn’t even sound out of breath!

“Whatever you do, don’t defile Bambi. She’s an icon around here.”

“Do you need me to retrace my route, or have you seen enough?”

“That’s enough.” He tried to sound unaffected, but he’d never seen anything like what she’d just done. The strength it took to cling to a ceiling like that boggled his mind. She must have a crazy strength-to-weight ratio.

Well, why not? He’d predicted that the Ghost had a similar strength-to-weight ratio. It was the only way to explain some of the climbing the guy had to have done to successfully steal the paintings he had. Jeff just hadn’t expected to encounter the same sort of strength in a woman.

Kat efficiently retrieved her climbing gear and lowered herself to the floor. She walked toward him, winding her climbing rope around her left arm as she came. “Any more hoops you want me to jump through before you believe who I am?” she asked, looking him dead in the eye.

Without ever taking his eyes off hers, he reached for the holster at his right hip lightning fast and quick drew his pistol, whipping it out to point it at her.

Chapter 2

Kat had a split second to react to the weapon. She had two choices: aggression or evasion. He was a Special Forces operator-the gun would be loaded and the safety off. She opted for both responses. She dodged low and across his body from the gun, and then launched herself upward. Like most shooters, he’d turned his gun shoulder forward slightly, which threw him slightly off balance. She slammed her body into him to accentuate his balance problem. A quick hook with her ankle, a karate thrust with the heel of her hand to his shoulder, and he spun to the ground, his gun arm trapped underneath him.

He made a credible grab for her in the jiujitsu style, but she ducked and slipped the grappling hold. This time she rolled him swiftly to his back and straddled his chest. She wanted to look him in the eye when she told him to cut out the martial arts crap. To that end, she maintained a simple thumb hold on him. It was enough to control him if he got any crazy ideas, but it wasn’t as psychologically overwhelming as the armlock she’d put on him earlier.

He relaxed beneath her legs. She glared down at him and…and her thoughts derailed completely. Wow. Now those were blue eyes. A bright cobalt color lifted straight from the Caribbean Sea.

His mouth curved up into a disarming smile. “I can’t believe it took pulling a gun to get you to show your true feelings for me, darlin’.”

She leaned back on her heels, which put most of her weight on his stomach. His abdominal muscles contracted into a hard washboard beneath her rear end, supporting her body weight easily. Yowza. It was a struggle to maintain her usual even expression.

“Are you done pulling stupid stunts on me, Captain Steiger, or am I out of here?”

His grinned widened. “Depends on how you define stupid.”

She arched an eyebrow and replied dryly, “Are you sure you want me to respond to that remark? I’m not sure your ego could take it.”

“Ouch. No wonder they call you Cobra. The lady has fangs.”

She shrugged. “I thought it was because I spit so well.”

Startled laughter escaped him. “How ’bout I put down the cap gun and you let me up off the playground before the other kids start calling me a sissy? As a show of good faith, I’ll go first.”

She watched impassively as he laid the pistol down by her left knee and slowly lifted his hand away from it. She released his other thumb, her senses on high alert.

She leaned forward, preparatory to climbing off him, when he murmured, “Where are you going? I kinda like you like this.”

It wasn’t his words that froze her in place. It was the low purr of his voice, sliding roughly over her skin, no longer boyish but suddenly all man. Or perhaps it was the explosion of…something…low in her belly in response to that black velvet tone of voice.

Her gaze lifted to his in shock. Blue met brown. And to his credit, he didn’t smirk at her. In fact, he looked nearly as stunned as she did. They stared deeply at one another for an eternity. Instinctive recognition flared between them. If she didn’t know better, she’d say they’d met before. Been passionate lovers in some previous place and time.

“Little Kitty Kat,” he crooned.

Shock exploded in her. How did he know that was what Hidoshi called her in his rare affectionate moments? He couldn’t possibly…It was just coincidence…but a superstitious chill shivered through her, nonetheless.

His big hands moved slowly-smart man-and came to rest on the tops of her thighs, by her hips. Through the thin fabric of her bodysuit, his palms scalded her.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, half order, half plea.

“What’s happening?” she breathed.

“Don’t you know?”

She shook her head, wide-eyed.

“Grandmere called it Cupid’s Bolt.”

She frowned. Sometimes she felt at a real disadvantage with American slang. Having spent her childhood abroad, she often missed pop-culture references. “I’m sorry-what?”

The last thing she expected entered his brilliant gaze. Unmistakable tenderness. He replied softly, “Cupid’s Bolt. It’s when you meet someone and it feels like you’ve been gob-smacked by a big ol’ bolt of lighting. Grandmere says it doesn’t happen to many folks. But to a lucky few…”

“What happens?” Kat prompted when he didn’t continue.

He shrugged. “Game over. True love. Soul mates. Till death do us part.”

She was so stunned her jaw actually sagged open.