Two of a Kind. Сьюзен Мэллери

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СКАЧАТЬ but deadly and had often been sent on assignments that required covert contact and distraction.

      There had been times when Consuelo had seduced the enemy, gained the information she needed, then killed him before disappearing into the night. A different kind of assassin, Felicia thought. Snipers took lives, but what Consuelo had done was more personal and more dangerous.

      Felicia turned and caught sight of her friend crossing the street. Although Consuelo was only five foot two, she was strong. A sexually appealing combination of curves and muscle. Men couldn’t help turning to gape at her. But when they looked into her dark eyes, they usually backed off. Consuelo had perfected what she jokingly called the “don’t eff with me” stare.

      Felicia had worked to copy her friend’s deadly glare, but when she tried it people tended to ask if she wasn’t feeling well. It must have been an innate gift.

      Now she watched the petite fighter walk along the sidewalk. She wore jeans, a lime-green tank top and sandals. She should have looked like any other tourist, yet she didn’t. From the tip of her long, shiny ponytail to her controlled stride, she radiated confidence and danger.

      Consuelo saw her and smiled. They hurried toward each other and embraced.

      “Finally,” Felicia said with a smile. “I’ve been waiting what feels like forever for you to get here. Of course it’s only been three months, but missing you makes time seem to move more slowly in the context of our friendship.”

      Consuelo laughed. “You are such a freak.”

      “I know.”

      “It makes you special and me love you more.” Her friend smiled at her. “How are you? I’ve missed you, too.”

      They hugged again, then headed into the store and ordered iced coffees. After collecting their drinks, Felicia led the way outside, and they sat down at one of the tables shaded by an umbrella.

      “So, tell me everything,” Consuelo said before taking a sip of her drink. “What is this place?”

      “Fool’s Gold? It’s such an interesting town. Large enough to have an assortment of amenities, but still small enough for the residents to connect with each other.”

      Consuelo wrinkled her nose. “It’s not natural. Have you seen the house Angel and Ford picked? It was built in the ’60s or something.”

      “A ranch style. They used space efficiently, separating the living area of the house from the bedrooms. Very traditional.”

      “It’s weird and I don’t like it.”

      Felicia knew her resistance came from her unfamiliarity with the situation. Consuelo was used to being in the field or living in a city. Small-town America was bound to be unsettling.

      Her friend looked at her. “My complaints aside, you look happy.”

      “I am,” Felicia said, and realized it was true. “I’ve wanted to find a home, and I believe I have. I have a new job.”

      She explained about the festivals and how she would be in charge. “I’m a little concerned about meeting everyone’s expectations.”

      “You’ll do great.”

      “I’m less worried about the logistics than the undefinable ‘people’ factor.”

      “You do better with people than you give yourself credit for,” Consuelo told her. “Everyone has a different style. You have yours. It works. Go with it.”

      “I wish...” Felicia shook her head. “I understand the futility of wishing.”

      “That doesn’t make the need to do it go away. Look at the bright side. At the end of the day the worst anyone is going to find out about you is that you’re even smarter than they first thought. After that, it’s all easy.”

      Felicia understood the unspoken part of her friend’s statement. The worst someone could learn about Consuelo was what she’d done in her past. Those who didn’t live in the gray area of black ops and covert missions might judge her or be afraid. They might not see that behind the attitude and killer reflexes was a lonely woman who simply wanted to belong.

      Early in their friendship, Consuelo had told Felicia a little about her past. At first Felicia had thought they were practicing traditional female bonding, but over time she’d realized Consuelo was testing her. Trying to see if she was a real friend or someone who couldn’t take the truth. Eventually Felicia had convinced her she was unshockable. She frequently participated in mission debriefings. The soldiers she knew were killers. Consuelo was no different and had her own ghosts to deal with.

      “You need a man,” Felicia said.

      Consuelo stared at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. If I want to get laid, I’ll find somebody.”

      “I wasn’t thinking about sexual release, although that’s very pleasurable. You need a relationship, a place where you can allow a man to really know you and believe he cares about you.”

      Dark eyes turned dangerous. “We are not having this conversation.”

      “All evidence to the contrary?”

      Consuelo made a sound that was suspiciously like a growl. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

      “I’m unmoved by your threats. They’re meaningless. You’d never resort to physical force, and you’re only mentioning them because they work on the guys.” She allowed herself a small smile. “I’m smarter than them.”

      “You’re also a pain in my ass.”

      “Both cheeks?”

      Consuelo laughed. “Yes, both cheeks. Fine, I can’t threaten you into silence. I don’t want a man.”

      “I think you want what I want. A place to belong.”

      “It’s sure not here.”

      “Why not? You’re taking a job here. Logistically it makes sense to find a relationship close to your employment.”

      “It doesn’t work like that.”

      “I acknowledge the element of chance in pair bonding. I’m just saying while you’re here, it wouldn’t hurt to look.”

      “I’m not the PTA type.”

      “You don’t have children. Why would you join the PTA?”

      Consuelo raised her eyebrows.

      “Oh,” Felicia said slowly, once again slightly out of step with the conversation. The difference was with Consuelo, she didn’t have to feel self-conscious about it. “It’s like a picket fence. I get that. You’re not traditional. Neither am I, although I’m trying to move in that direction.” She thought about the women she saw around town. Young mothers with children. Teenagers talking together and laughing.

      “Anyone you’re interested in?” Consuelo asked.

      “Gideon.”

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