Dress 2 Impress: A Jennifer Cloud Novel (Jennifer Cloud Series) Page 5

  “Thanks,” I said, returning with a half smile. Better to go in with a smile than to let him see the fear that was brewing up from the bowels of my gut. I chose the seat to his left. The seat on his right was occupied by his secretary, a pretty brunette who winked at Jake and seemed to know his coffee order by heart. Jake and I had made peace since I first started working for the WTF. Our on-again, off-again relationship was interrupted by my intrigue with Caiyan and Jake’s inability to commit. Jake set a cup of coffee down in front of me, and I took a casual sip as General Potts returned to his seat. Jake stood to the back, as all good CIA agents do. Caiyan had apparently given his account of the Rogue adventure and left to get his boo-boos treated. The rat.

  “Miss Cloud, please explain your account of what happened in Scotland and why you failed to return with the brigand.” General Potts clicked his pen a few times and moved the pad of paper around in front of him. I never understood why General Potts had a pad of paper. He never wrote anything down. All accounts of the travel were meticulously entered into the laptop his secretary carried around like a small child. I explained my side of the story, making sure to point out that Caiyan was unconscious and I was going after Rogue myself. It was just a tiny little lie. I mean Caiyan didn’t know I wasn’t battling it out with Rogue. I was the only one who knew Rogue didn’t even see me until I went to help Caiyan. In my mind, SuperJen appeared and went after Rogue with her amazing judo chop.

  When I was little, my brother, Eli; my sister, Melody; and I would play superheroes. I would be SuperJen, the amazing hero, and spent the day running around in my bright-green leotard and blue bath-towel cape. Disguised with an old Zorro mask, I would stand on the back of the couch and holler, “I’m spunky and I’m fierce and I’m smarter than most men. Bad guys run and hide ’cuz here comes SuperJen.” The mantra is on permanent play cycle when I need a little courage. I could feel the ditty trying to make its way to the front of my mind and immediately squashed it with my subconscious thumb.

  There was a lot of huffing from Potts, and Jake chimed in a few times, defending my actions, which made the pretty brunette pound harder on her keyboard. In the end, it was determined I would be placed on a training schedule to make sure I was properly prepared to handle a brigand on my own. I thought it sounded like being grounded, but I realized I needed some training. SuperJen may be great with a judo chop, but normal Jen could only chop lettuce.

  After General Potts released me, I walked with Jake to the travel lab. “I need to check in with the monitoring agents, and I thought you might like to say hello,” Jake said as he walked to a panel on the wall and used his key fob. The panel slid open, revealing a keypad. Jake punched in a number and then placed his chin on a little stand. A retinal scan was completed, Jake stepped back, and the unit closed. I felt like any second a flying droid was going to come out and give me a full-body probe. A large door appeared to the left of the panel, and just like in Star Wars, it slid open without a sound.

  The room was set up similar to the Star Trek Enterprise, but instead of having windows for Captain Kirk to view the space-time continuum, the travel lab had large projection screens illuminating the walls in front of me. In the center of the room, a trio of leather chairs offered a comfortable resting place for General Potts or any of the other head gurus when they came to watch our shenanigans into the past.

  While we’re time traveling, we appear as tiny blinking dots on a map. It helps the WTF to know where we are and if there are any brigands close by. Sometimes they can send help back if it looks like we’re in trouble. I was watching the screens as we entered, and the dots began to disappear, indicating the time portal was closing, and all the travelers, good and bad, were returning to the present.

  To the right of the command station was a semicircular desk where several flat screens flickered. The two men who staffed the travel lab were in front of these screens. Old Albert, whom I often refer to as Father Time, had his head in a huddle with Pickles, one of the defenders from Jamaica. He had been injured in a travel and was now confined to a wheelchair. They were arguing about something on the screen in front of them.

  “Hi, guys,” I said as we approached them. There was a mumble, but neither man looked in our direction. Jake and I walked over to see what prompted the intense conversation.

  “Gentlemen,” Jake said, “what seems to be the problem?”

  Al’s head bobbed up, and his eyes focused behind his thick spectacles as if noticing Jake for the very first time. “We have an ID on the mystery traveler, sir.”

  “What do you mean?” Jake asked.

  Pickles held up a printout of a map, and Jake moved forward to have a look. “Well, tis red dot is de one I’m concerned wit. De September moon cycle, it appeared, and den I track it back to de Everglades and bouncing around Florida.”

  I peeked over Jake’s shoulder at the map. “I thought the WTF was blue and the brigands were black. Who is red?” I asked.

  Al gave me a grandfatherly smile. “When we don’t know who they are, we make them red. It keeps the level of confusion down until we identify them.”

  “Where was the final landing?” Jake asked.

  “Das de thing,” Pickles explained. “When it first appeared on our screen, we tracked it to England, possibly London or very close. De next time it stopped in Louisiana, probably getting some boudin.” Pickles chuckled at his own joke.

  “It disappeared close to Orlando, Florida,” Al said. “It was always moving laterally during travel, but in the October moon cycle it went back in time, to California.”

  “After dat, de traveler returned to Orlando and blipped around the present world.” Pickle’s voice elevated with excitement. “Dis moon cycle it was in New York City, and it doesn’t look like it’s returning dis time, either.” He pointed his index finger to his head and made the crazy sign.

  “The problem is the brigand looks like he’s staying this time, too.” Al pointed to the black dot hopping around the screen close to the red dot.

  Everyone digested this last bit of information. The moon cycle was closing. If the traveler didn’t return soon, he or she would have to wait for the next cycle and endure the painful ramifications of travel lag.

  Jake snapped to attention at the mention of the traveler not returning. “Does General Potts know of these circumstances?”

  “Yes.” Al motioned to the door. “General Potts and Mr. McGregor came in earlier.”

  Yeah, like two hours earlier. Where was that snitch? My inner voice pulled out her magnifying glass to start looking for clues.

  Jake’s cell pinged, and I could hear the very sexy voice of my favorite beotch telling Jake he was needed in General Potts’s office.

  “I’m going to see Jen to her vessel and check with the general. Then I’ll be back to help you guys troubleshoot.”

  Al and Pickles eyed each other as if they were telepathically passing a secret message in the air over my head.

  Jake and I left as I gave the guys a wave and promised to come say hi the next time I was in town.

  During our walk back to my vessel, Jake reminded me about General Poopy Potts giving me the third degree and how I was too inexperienced and needed more training—blah, blah, blah. “I’m looking forward to spending more time with you in our training sessions.”

  I gave him a sideways glance, and his dark-brown eyes tugged on my heart. Jake and I had history. We had grown up together. We had thrown rocks at the bullies, played jokes on my siblings, and spent many afternoons floating around his swimming pool, trying to plan our grown-up lives. I always had that warm, safe, comfy feeling when he pulled me in tight for a hug.

  As I was trying to decide how to respond, we reached the atrium where the vessels were docked. Leaning against his phone booth was Caiyan. He was dressed head to toe in black. Diesel jeans, T-shirt, and black Doc Martens. His arms were crossed over his chest, legs crossed
at the ankles in an I’ve-got-better-things-to-do pose. I heard a deep rumble, almost a growl coming from Jake.

  “I thought you were dismissed,” Jake snarled at Caiyan.

  Caiyan pushed away from his vessel and walked toward us. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I had unfinished business, yeah?” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard on the mouth. I felt Jake tense beside me. As he released me, I looked from Jake to Caiyan. Jake was well aware of my affair with Caiyan. He didn’t have to like it, but it was my choice.

  “Take care, Jen. I’ll see you on Friday at eighteen hundred hours.” Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

  “What was that aboot?” Caiyan asked, casually running his hand across my back. His broken finger had been splinted, and he had a Band-Aid across a small gash on his forehead.

  “I have to come here for training every weekend. I’m not allowed to travel until I have more training.” At this, I turned to stare at him. “I have you to thank for that. Why did you tell them about the problem at the river?” I put my hands on my hips for emphasis and cocked an eyebrow up at the intense green eyes that stared back at me.

  “Jen, ye were almost killed. I cannae have that on my conscience. I should have never requested ye to go with me.” He straightened up, but his eyes were softening, and my temper simmered down a few degrees. He reached down and took my hand in his. “Jen, I have to go out of town fer business next week, and I may be difficult to reach.”

  I felt a few warning bells go off inside my head, but I quickly dismissed them as he ran a thumb over the back of my hand.

  “I’ll probably be pretty busy, too. Jake gave me orders to report to Gitmo every Friday at six p.m. I’m training every weekend until the WTF feels like I’m ready to be out in the field.” I scuffed the toe of my shoe against his, and he pulled me into his arms.

  “I hope Jake is not training ye personally.” He leaned back and cocked a brow at me. “We have several highly qualified military personnel to handle that job. If I didnae have to go overseas for my ‘real’ job, I would train ye myself.”

  “As a matter of fact, he’s the one who’s training me.” I took a step back, breaking his embrace.

  “I didnae think they would let Jake train ye. I thought a more experienced agent would be brought in to do the job.”

  “I’m sure Jake knows what he’s doing. He has always been very thorough.” I didn’t mean to put so much emphasis on the word thorough, but I was still a few degrees north of mad. “Is that a problem?”

  Caiyan grimaced, and his grip tightened on my fingers. His face hardened a little, making me feel like it was a problem. I wasn’t sure if he was concerned I would be spending too much time with Jake or that my training would not be sufficient to meet his standards. But when I looked up into his eyes, the hard emerald green turned soft again. He bent down, pulled me in tight, and kissed me long.

  “I’ll call ye if I get the chance, yeah?”

  Why do Scotsmen always end everything with a question? I thought to myself as I watched Caiyan enter his vessel, and crack, boom, he was gone.

  Two men in black stood at the entrance to the “cave,” as I call it, pretending not to notice my über friendliness with Caiyan. I gave them a finger wave and boarded my vessel for home.

  The funny thing about time travel is I can stop at Gitmo, then return to my place, and I have only been gone a couple of hours. The time warp took a little getting used to. After being gone for three days, I would have to remind myself I was really gone for only three hours. I stepped out of my vessel into the cold, dreary November. I thought for a second it wasn’t much different from the rain I had left behind in Scotland. Texas really only has two seasons—hot and not so hot. If we’re lucky, we may have two weeks of spring before the ninety-degree temperatures of summer begin, ending with triple digits through September. October brings about two weeks when the leaves change colors and fall to the ground as quickly as they can get there.

  And I realize my family is here, and it’s where I feel grounded. I grew up in a small, tight-knit community outside of Dallas called Sunnyside. My parents recently moved to a retirement community to party and left me with their narrow, two-story townhouse, my cousin Gertie, and a rent payment. My vessel sits in the backyard like a large garden ornament. Since I inherited the outhouse, my backyard has turned into an oasis of beautiful green plants and flowers. My dad scratches his head every time he comes over for a visit because the only thing that grew in the backyard of my childhood was crabgrass.

  As I exited the outhouse, bushes of blue moon roses bowed like servants, giving me a path to the house. Behind me, they encircled the base of the outhouse, forming a ring of defense against any trespassers. They are truly the most beautiful roses I have ever seen, and they have the sharpest thorns.

  I opened the sliding glass door and hung up my coat on the peg next to the door. I was wearing my favorite Burberry rain boots, and I sat down on a chair in the kitchen to pull them off. I was tugging at my boot when I felt something soft rub the back of my neck. I turned in time to see attack cat balancing on the back of the chair and swatting a clawless paw at me. “Not this time, buddy,” I said, standing up and jumping up and down on one leg to pull off the remaining boot. The big gray tabby licked his paw with indifference, possibly plotting his next move. For a cat that doesn’t have any front claws, he sure can draw blood.

  Gertie walked into the kitchen, stirring a cup of hot chocolate.

  “Hey, have you been somewhere exciting?” she asked, wide-eyed and giving attack cat a scratch behind the ears. “Dubai? Paris? Antarctica, maybe?”

  “Antarctica is not on my list of exciting places.” I moved into the kitchen, avoiding attack cat, and reached up to get a mug to join Gertie in some hot chocolate. “Besides, you know I can’t tell you.”

  “You were with Caiyan, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, you can just skip to the dirty details. I have to live vicariously through you since my love life is on the blink.”

  “What happened to the new library aide?” Gertie was finishing her bachelor’s degree in history at Southern Methodist University, and she worked in the library on campus. She loved to sneak up on college students making out in the stacks and scare the bejeezus out of them.

  Gertie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Girlfriend.”

  “Pretty?”

  “Cheerleader.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  On my last adventure back in time, Gertie jumped into my outhouse just as the door slammed shut, and I was rocketed back to 1915. We had a run-in with the notorious Pancho Villa, and Gertie fell madly in love with Caiyan’s buddy Brodie, who is also a defender. Brodie, however, lives in Australia and isn’t as sweet on Gertie. She has been pining away ever since.

  I stirred the marshmallows in my hot chocolate and told Gertie about my crazy training schedule.

  “Wow, sounds like Jake wants to keep you busy.”

  In Jake’s defense, I said, “I have a lot to learn.” But in reality, I felt the same. “Do you think the training is a ploy by Jake to keep me away from Caiyan?”

  “I think he wants to keep you close.”

  Gertie was on a study binge. She was wearing her pink terry cloth robe, gray Ugg slippers, and her mane of bright-red hair was in pigtails twisted into buns on her head. The Patsy Cline song “Crazy” started to play from Gertie’s robe pocket. She set her mug down on the table and dug out her cell phone. She tapped on the screen. “What do you think of him?” she asked, showing me a picture of a guy standing in a bathtub wearing nothing but his tighty-whities.

  “Why is he in his underwear?”

  “I think he’s about to take the Ice Bucket Challenge.”

  Gertie and I had done the same challenge a month earlier to support ALS. We stood in the backyard
as her twin brothers poured a garbage can full of ice water over us from the upstairs balcony. We had worn swimsuits, and her brothers posted it on Facebook. They got over a thousand likes. It was for a good cause, but I would not have posted a picture on social media in my underwear. My inner voice agreed it was fashion suicide, not to mention it repelled women like bug spray.

  “Is he a friend of yours?” I asked, trying to focus on the face, not the Fruit of the Looms.

  “Not yet. He swiped me on Sweetie Swipe.”

  I knew Gertie was trying out a few Internet dating sites. She wasn’t having much luck finding a nice guy.

  “What is that?”

  Gertie eyed the picture and pursed her lips together. “It’s an app. If you see someone you like, you can swipe right for yes, you would like to meet, or swipe left, for not interested. If both people swipe yes, the phone numbers are exchanged, you can send a text message, and eventually meet for a date.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it yet.” She scowled at me as if I was stomping out her last chance to find the man of her dreams.

  “I think if you decide to go out with one of these guys you should at least give me his name and the place you’re meeting.”

  “You know this superspy stuff you have going on is getting annoying.” She rolled her eyes but finally agreed better safe than sorry. At least if she was abducted, I could interview the bartender at the last sighting. A brigand had captured and held Gertie hostage during my last time travel. She wasn’t hurt, but I don’t think she wants to be a hostage ever again. Gertie picked up her mug and rinsed it in the sink as she mulled over the picture on her phone.

  “Are you considering Captain Underpants?” I asked as I sat down at the table and sipped my drink.

  “If I swipe left, he goes away forever.” She began chewing on the outside of her thumbnail.