Chapter One
Her eyes enchanted him. Crystal clear, blue with a hint of silver. Griffin Black studied the doll, set behind the protective glass, and hoped she wasn’t the one he’d have to carve into pieces to accomplish his mission. Pressing the two-inch digital reader to the glass, he waited to see if it registered integrated circuit activity. So far he’d struck out with most of the dolls on display. The D.R. read negative on the black-haired beauty, as well. He glanced at the remaining dolls left to scan in the Seattle suburban museum, trying to determine which was the perfect one in which to hide the microchip. The bastards had been clever to use such an innocent vehicle to transport their contraband. They were determined to wreak havoc on their enemy: Americans. “Can I help you?” a female voice said. Griff slipped the reader into his pocket and turned to the source of the question, a petite woman with shoulder-length, striking red hair and emerald green eyes. She looked like she belonged behind glass. “No.” He paused. “Thank you.” He’d been so absorbed by the dolls that he hadn’t sensed her approach. Lately he wondered if he was losing his edge. “Do you have any questions?” she asked. What she probably wanted to know was what a guy like Griff was doing in a doll museum. “Where did they all come from?” A fairly innocuous question, he hoped. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Then again, he couldn’t be more out of place surrounded by the delicate creatures on display. “Our dolls come from all over the world,” she said with excitement in her voice. “Some we purchase and some are donated. Collectors are passionate about their dolls and want to make sure their passion lives on after they’re gone.” She glanced at Griff with those beautiful emerald eyes, perfect enough to be a doll’s. He must have been staring because she blinked and glanced at a Native American doll in the next case. “My daughter collects dolls,” he offered as an excuse for being here. There was no daughter.
“I’m in town on business and thought I might pick her up something.” “How old is she?” “Ten,” he answered. Well, he might have had a ten-year-old daughter if he and Mary had stayed together. His engagement was one of the many casualties of the job. “Ten is a nice age.” She glanced at the blue-eyed doll in the case as if drifting back to her own childhood. The nostalgic look in her eyes made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t remember anything before his tour in Bosnia. “We have a gift shop downstairs,” she offered. “Stop in before you leave. I’m sure we can find the perfect gift for her.” “I’ll do that, thanks. Are you the curator?” he asked. “I’m the owner, actually.” A shame. He hoped he’d happened upon an innocent, maybe even someone who could help him identify the criminals involved in this conspiracy. Instead he was looking into the eyes of a deceitful, but beautiful, spy. Recent Intel indicated that the smuggling activities had continued after Ruth O’Malley’s death, which meant she must have passed down the responsibility to this woman. Her granddaughter? “I’m Ciara O’Malley.” She extended her hand and he shook it, aware of how delicate it felt in his. “Griffin Black.” “Nice to meet you.” He held on to her hand for a second longer than necessary. Her cheeks flushed, and with a nervous smile she snatched back her hand. “I heard about your place from my aunt,” he said. “She was friends with Ruth. Your grandmother, I’m assuming?” Her face brightened, and she nodded. “Who’s your aunt?” “Miriam Anderson.” “I remember Mrs. Anderson. Nice lady with the fourteen cats. How’s she doing in Phoenix?” This is where Griff hoped his people had done their jobs.
“Not well, I’m afraid. She’s had some health issues. She was sorry to hear about Ruth’s passing. Sudden, was it?” “Yes, sort of. She got pneumonia and everyone thought she’d make it, but she didn’t.” But she could have. Griff wondered if her death had anything to do with her extracurricular activities. Did she screw up one too many shipments? Or betray a buyer? “I’m sorry,” he said. She glanced at him. “Thanks. It’s been hard, but each day gets a little better. Well, I’ll be downstairs working and stuff.” She smiled and disappeared around the corner. Griff sensed her apprehension around him. Good, he would use that to keep her off balance. At that moment he knew that if she weren’t his enemy, she’d make the perfect mark. Either way he needed her in order to complete this mission, find the microchip and destroy it before the terrorists put it to use. He’d start by completing a more extensive background check on Ciara, find out where she lived, what kind of coffee she drank, what she did for fun. He had some thoughts of his own on that subject. “Not with this one,” he muttered. She was a mark and a spy, not a plaything, not a fellow agent who could use some meaningless sex to release the inner demons. No, Ciara was more important than that. Important, but in the end, disposable. They all were. Even Griff, he reminded himself. The minute he was no longer useful to AW-21, a covert branch of the National Security Administration, they’d red-tag him, or worse: ship him out to some isolated part of the world like they had done to Dalton Keen. AW-21 had sent Keen to a remote spot on the Olympic Peninsula to contemplate the error in judgment that nearly got him and a hostage killed. Good thing Griff had been able to rescue the kid from terrorist hell. Dalton Keen was a decent agent who’d made a bad call by trusting the wrong person. Since trust wasn’t in Griff’s vocabulary, he would never make that mistake. He wandered to the next display case to consider the remaining possibilities for smuggling the microchip. The plaque at the base of the glass read: Dolls are a reflection of our humanity. He eyed the bride and groom dolls, the man dressed in a black tuxedo and his bride in a white gown holding a bouquet of red roses. Their expressions were peaceful, blissful. Was that supposed to be a reflection of humanity? Nah, just a fantasy, Griff thought, remembering the day he realized his commitment to fighting terrorism and avenging his sister Beth’s death would prevent him from living a normal life.
