Resurrection

Apprehension

"Well aren't you an obedient little bitch?" Gould sneered lowly as he watched the young woman exit her car, giving the valet a flash of her endlessly long legs, shown off by the flare of the gothic, corseted mini-dress. He swung slightly to the left in time to see a tall man, dressed from head to toe in black, enter the restaurant. Gould lowered the binoculars and turned to address his commanding officer. "Ma'am, our target is approaching the meeting point."

"Is he alone?"

"Affirmative."

Jones paced the confines of the small hotel room overlooking the restaurant, anxiously wringing her hands. She was more nervous on this mission than she'd been her first time in the field. She felt like she had no control over anything that was about to happen. Control belonged to the girl on the ground, the girl with no experience in field operations, a nineteen-year-old fresh out of training.

I'm in position, the voice, belonging to the very reason for her anxiety, crackled to life in her ear.

Jones started at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts. Honey, just be careful, okay. This guy is more than he seems.

And so am I. We've been over this a million times already, Mum. I'm ready for this.

I'm just worried about you, Shafira.

Well stop already. I've been trained by the best.

I'm allowed to worry, I'm your mother. Jones smiled with the memory of their last training session when Shafira had all but kicked her ass in hand-to-hand combat. Even with her enhancements, she had been unable to defeat her daughter. Leave the comms on so I can hear what's happening.

Shafira rolled her eyes but did as her mother asked and left the comms device active. Her eyes scanned the seated crowds in search of her target as she made her way to the Maître de's podium. Two possibilities stood out among the customers: the first sat with his back to her at a table along the back wall and the second directly in front of the main window, also with his back to her. She spotted Annabel through the window, casually leaning against a lamp post in apparent deep conversation with a similarly dressed prostitute.

If this guy is as smart as you give him credit for, he'll be close to an escape route with a good view of the main doors. She dismissed both men.

An impatient cough drew her attention back to her immediate surroundings. "May I help you, Mademoiselle?" the Maître de asked with a hint of disproval, his gaze roaming down her body.

Shafira gave him a petulant smile and ran her hands down the front of her bodice, fluffing up the tutu as she reached the bottom. "I have a meeting with Mr. Black."

He raised a single eyebrow before lowering his head to look at the appointment book. "Oh," he said with surprise, "right this way please." Again, he looked her up and down, pausing at her fluorescent pink Doc Martins that matched the stripes on her bodice, before spinning on his heel with a shake of his head.

Shafira followed him through the maze of tables and slid into the seat he pulled out for her. The table was empty.

A waiter arrived a moment later to set an envelope in front of her. "The gentleman sends his regrets and asked me to give you this."

What's happening Shafira? Jones asked quietly in her ear.

Shafira smiled flirtatiously at the young waiter. "Did you happen to see where he went?" she asked, clueing Jones in on the fact that her date had stood her up. "Did he say anything when he left the envelope?"

"Sorry, Miss, he just gave me twenty and told me to give it to you."

Damn. Read it.

Shafira ripped the envelope open and emptied the contents onto the table. "It's a pass card for a hotel room," she whispered under her breath. "Shit, get out of there!" she yelled as she jumped to her feet and ran for the restaurant door. "It's your room!"

An explosion from across the street blew the windows of the restaurant in just as Shafira exited the door. The force of the blast knocked her off her feet and sent her sailing through the air to crash against the building wall. She lay on the ground, barely conscious. A dark silhouette moved in front of her to block her view of what remained of the hotel.

"It's time for you to learn who you really are," a masculine voice murmured as he scooped her off the ground as if he were lifting a small child not a fully-grown woman.

Fighting against her failing consciousness seemed futile. Her mother was surely dead. Shafira let the darkness take her.