Previously…

Trixie listened as the cautious footsteps crossed the deck. She held her body perfectly still, although her stomach was once again a mess of unsettled nerves. Finally, as the footsteps came to a halt directly behind her, she pivoted slowly to see two good-sized bare feet just outside of the hot tub. In excruciatingly slow motion, her gaze slowly travelled higher, taking in the well-formed masculine legs covered with a smattering of hair.

She turned back to the hot tub, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

“Come on in. The water's fine.”

Trixie kept her eyes firmly on her hands as Jim lowered himself into the steaming water. His leg brushed hers as he settled himself close, but not too close to her. She felt a rush of anxiety, but it was quelled when she heard Jim's dramatic sigh of relief.

“Did you get a chill from walking all the way here?” she teased, hoping to ease the tension between them as she gestured to the ten-foot walk between the sliding glass doors and the hot tub.

“Very funny,” Jim retorted as he leaned back, closed his eyes, and laid his arm behind Trixie. “It so happens that I was cold before I came out.”

“You were?” she questioned, surprised by both his words and his friendly demeanour. “I thought Honey had the heat cranked up all the way.”

“She does.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I got cold standing in the doorway trying to decide what to do.”

Trixie felt a sudden jolt at the intensity in his smouldering green eyes. Jim’s earlier anger had been replaced with something perhaps even more primal. They stared at each other for a long moment, each mesmerized by the other.

Inching closer, Jim tugged a curl before tucking it behind her ear. “I made the right decision,” he whispered, lowering his gaze to her lips.

Her breath hitched. She caught herself reaching for him, and forced herself to stop. “Jim,” she said softly, her hand just touching his warm, bare chest. “Wait. Tell me about,” she bit her lip, “this evening.” Her frank blue eyes searched his. “You were mad.”

Jim regretfully sat back, but kept his arm around her, tracing distracting patterns on the back of her neck and her upper arm.

“You were mad,” Trixie said, when he remained silent.

Without acknowledging her statement, Jim asked, “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

Trixie's eyes fluttered shut as Jim whispered in her ear and placed a row of kisses down her neck. “Yes,” she managed. “We do.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “No more secrets. Not about our feelings.”

Jim sighed heavily. He wanted to tell her that his strong reaction to her actions at the bar meant nothing. Or that he had merely been concerned for her safety. But neither of those were the complete truth, and he knew he couldn't lie straight to her trusting, sweet face. And he didn't want to. Swallowing hard, he watched her, knowing she probably wouldn't react well to what he was about to say.

“Tonight brought back some bad memories. That's all.”

“Memories of...” Trixie paled. “Oh, Jim. I am so sorry. I never even considered that the man at the bar would remind you of Jonesy.”

Jim shifted uncomfortably.

She narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

For a brief moment, Jim wished that he could declare the subject closed, just as he would in a meeting if matters were getting out of hand. But that wasn't how a relationship with Trixie, the only person who had really seen his soul, worked.

“It wasn't him who reminded me of Jonesy.” He couldn't complete the inevitable conclusion, but Trixie did it for him.

“It was me,” she whispered. “I reminded you of Jonesy.” Her voice broke.

Jim's heart constricted. Causing Trixie this pain was infinitely worse than the momentary twinge he had experienced in the bar. How could he explain that his anger was directed at his past, and his own reaction to it, and not her? Was honesty really the best policy? Thinking of the pain Trixie’s dishonesty had caused him, he pressed forward reluctantly.

“When you walked that jerk out of the bar, you pinched his shoulder.”

With a sinking feeling, Trixie realized that Jim wasn’t asking; he was telling. The certainty in his voice told her that he knew exactly what she had done, and exactly what it felt like.

“He used to pinch your shoulder,” Trixie stated, picturing the scene with horror.

Jim nodded. “It’s highly effective and easily concealed. No bruises to explain. You can even do it in front of other people, and no one knows.”

Trixie nodded, sickened. Those were the exact reasons she employed that measure of coercion. The idea of Jonesy using it to manipulate a young Jim caused her stomach to roil.

Jim sighed. “I'm not saying I have a problem with what you did. It just made me remember.”

Trixie nodded miserably. Her stomach was twisted in knots, and her head was throbbing. “You must hate me,” she said, her voice almost too low for Jim to hear.

“Hate you!” Jim's eyes widened, and he allowed himself to indulge in what he had been aching to do since he joined her in the hot tub. He gathered her in his arms and drew her so close to him that she was practically in his lap.

“Trixie, I have never hated you. I've been furious with you; I've been terrified for your safety; I've wondered if you were clinically insane, and I've been insanely jealous. But never, ever, have I hated you.”

She turned her tear-stained, disbelieving face to his.

“Trixie, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And, as for reminding me of Jonesy, heck, last month I was eating an orange and it brought back a memory. I didn't hold it against the orange, and I'm not going to hold it against you.”

Trixie felt strong fingers tilting her chin. Her heart began to hammer.

“Have we talked about this enough yet?” Jim asked, but didn't wait for an answer.

She gasped at the onslaught of sensation as he lowered his lips to hers. Without a second thought, she returned his kiss, drawing him as close as she could. He needed this. She needed this. Her head swam as Jim responded to her obvious reciprocation of his feelings. She marvelled at the change. In high school and college, Jim had certainly let her know he was attracted to her, but it had never been quite like this. It was the difference, she decided, between kissing a boy, and kissing a man. She trembled.

The subtle clearing of a throat eventually penetrated her consciousness. Trixie jumped at the sight of Dan standing in the doorway and jerked away from Jim, her cheeks flaming. His dark eyes unreadable, Dan raised the cell phone he held.

“It's Mike. Mike from Canmore.”

Trixie groaned and wiggled away from Jim's hold. “I knew I shouldn't have given him that number. I told him it was for emergencies only.”

“Who's Mike?” Jim asked, attempting to clear his mind of vengeful thoughts toward Dan for interrupting the kiss he had been anticipating for years.

Both Trixie and Dan ignored the question.

“No,” Dan corrected Trixie's earlier statement. “The code name was for emergencies only.”

“Oh, crap.” She scrambled from the hot tub, a reluctant Jim following in her wake. Dripping and shivering, Trixie took the phone.

“Are you okay?” she demanded of the caller, barely noticing when Jim draped a towel around her shoulders.

“Am I okay? I've been worried sick about you!” Bobby's voice was taut with tension. In her mind's eye, Trixie pictured her younger brother clutching his blond curls. Before she could question him, Bobby was speaking so rapidly she had trouble following him.

“A guy was asking about you. He seemed friendly at first, but he wasn't like the people you normally make friends with. I don't trust him. We didn't tell him anything, but-”

“Slow down,” Trixie commanded, keeping her voice calm with difficulty. “Start at the beginning,” she urged, her training gaining the upper hand over sisterly concern that warred with irritation. She heard Bobby draw breath noisily, and release it with gusto. Despite her impatience to learn what had prompted a panicked phone call, Trixie made a mental note to augment her brother's training at the first opportunity, by teaching him to control his breathing.

“Okay. We were at dinner-”

“Who's 'we'?” Dan questioned, bending his dark head close to Trixie to hear the conversation.

“All of us. Mandie, Jenny, Larry, Terry, Miss Trask, and Harrison. Well, it was just the twins and me at the table when this guy came over. He asked us what we do for fun around here, so we told him about the Purple Turnip and some of the other cool places in town. He looked a little old to be asking about the night life, but...”

Knowing her brother well enough to visualize the indolent shrug that accompanied his words, Trixie rolled her eyes. Though maturing rapidly, Bobby was still incapable of believing that anyone over the age of thirty could express an interest in having fun.

“Then it got weird. He started talking about how he has such a boring job, and how he's always looking for a good time.”

“How is that weird?” Trixie asked. “Lots of people don't like their jobs, and pretty much live for the weekends and vacations.”

“It was weird when the guy asked if I'd ever heard of Korecks.”

The word hung in the air.

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, his voice dropping to the dangerous level of deadly quiet.

“Of course, I'm sure!” Bobby insisted. His indignation was plain.

“Does he know that you know what Korecks is?” Trixie asked anxiously.

“I don't think so. Larry and Terry were goofing around, and he left right after that.”

“Think. What else did he ask you?” Trixie worried her bottom lip as she waited for a reply.

“He did ask if Mandie and Jenny were my sisters, but Larry and Terry said the girls were their problem, and that was it. Was he fishing for information about you? I didn't tell him anything, I promise!”

Ignoring Bobby's question, Dan assured him, “You did fine, but now I need you to tell me exactly what this guy looked like.”

“Sure. But don't you want to know what happened when we got back to our rooms?”

Trixie's jaw clenched as she struggled to control her temper and even Dan's habitual complacency was put to the test. She took a deep breath. “What happened when you got back to your rooms?”

“They were trashed!” Bobby exclaimed, and Trixie could hear a mixture of excitement, outrage, and nerves in his voice.

“Let me guess. Was the girls' room worse than yours?” Dan's voice was grim.

“How did you know?” Bobby demanded.

Trixie and Dan exchanged a wry look, remembering the carnage at their apartment. “Just a guess.”

“Okay. Is there anything else we should know?” she asked.

“I think that's it,” Bobby said. “What's going on, guys?”

“We don't know,” Trixie admitted. “But I want you to be careful. No more talking to strangers. And I think you should switch hotel rooms. Maybe even hotels.”

“No way! We're not leaving Mead's Mountain, Trix,” Bobby stated emphatically.

Trixie bit her lip, torn by the need to protect her brother and the Lynch twins.

“We'll think about it,” she sighed. “Now, are you ready to describe the man who talked to you?”

At Bobby's affirmative answer, Trixie said goodbye and turned the phone over to Dan.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Jim asked, when Trixie turned to him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Or is Mike from Canmore just another guy I'm competing with?”

Trixie shivered and huddled under her towel as she opened the patio door. “You don't have any competition,” she assured him, but her face was stamped with worry. “By the time I get changed, Dan will be off the phone. We'll talk about it then.” She turned to leave, but Jim caught her by the elbow.

“Wait,” he pleaded, and moved closer so they wouldn't be overheard by their friends in the entertainment area. “Could we finish our conversation from the hot tub later?”

Despite the strain she felt, Trixie's lips twitched. “I thought you said we'd done enough talking for one night.”

With a wry grin, Jim admitted, “I did say something along those lines, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did.” Heedless of an audience, Trixie stood on her toes to kiss him squarely on the mouth. “And I'm happy to talk with you any time,” she whispered before sprinting up the staircase.

Only a few a minutes later, it was Dan who knocked on Trixie's door. “Are you ready?” he called, being careful not to betray his inner turmoil.

“I'll be right there,” Trixie replied, and he could hear the opening and slamming of drawers and closet doors as she changed out of her wet bathing suit. She flung open the door and nodded briskly to her partner. “Let's go figure this out.”

She started past him, but Dan stopped her. “I think it's time we told them everything.”

Trixie considered the ramifications and then nodded. “Now that Bobby's involved...” With the decision made, she was ready for action and moved down the hall toward the stairs a second time.

“Trixie.”

She turned back, surprised by Dan's hesitant tone.

“What is it?” she asked curiously.

“About you and Jim in the hot tub...”

Trixie flushed.

“I'm sorry if I interrupted anything. That's all.”

Distracted by her own embarrassment, Trixie failed to notice Dan’s stiff posture. She waved a hand. “Don't worry about it. I'm sure Jim and I will have plenty of time to finish our conversation,” she said with a wink.

“Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?” Dan teased.

Trixie elbowed him in the side, and they bantered down the staircase. In the entertainment area, they sobered. When Trixie turned off the television, everyone turned to her expectantly. In as logical a manner as they could, she and Dan presented the other Bob-Whites with everything they knew about the current situation, including their suspicions about the Director of the CIA, Bill, a traitor on their team, and the strange properties of the cross Trixie wore.

“And that's not the worst,” Dan continued. “Bobby called earlier tonight. It seems that someone has been poking around Mead's Mountain, looking for information on Trixie.”

Jim looked up sharply. “That was Bobby? You said it was someone named Mike.”

Trixie shook her head. “Long story.”

“Are Bobby and the twins safe?” Diana questioned.

“They should be fine. I think that whoever talked to them realized that Trixie wasn't there.”

“You think, or you know?” Brian demanded.

Trixie sighed. “Of course, we can't know for certain, but if the guy is any good, he figured it out after searching their rooms.”

“He searched their rooms?” Mart asked, his round blue eyes bulging. “Geez, Trixie!”

“What was he hoping to find?” Honey pondered, her matter-of-fact question in direct contrast to the general attitude of worry that pervaded the room.

Trixie turned with relief to her partner of old. “We don't know. We know someone tracked us to Sleepyside. I think we confused them, though, when everyone went on vacation. Think about it. Seven people went to Mead's Mountain, seven people went to Pine Point, and six people went on a cruise. Because the reservations were all made under either Matthew Wheeler or Ed Lynch's name, unless they watched us go, whoever is trying to track us would have no idea who went where.”

“Which means someone has probably been sent here, as well,” Jim concluded.

Thinking of the man from a past case they had seen at the restaurant and ignoring the sinking in the pit of her stomach, Trixie nodded. “Yes.”

“But who are they looking for?” Honey repeated. “You? Why not Dan, too?”

Trixie touched the chain around her neck. “Because I wear the cross.”

Brian moved to sit beside Trixie on the arm rest of the couch. “I wish you would take it off. If it's really responsible for the brain activity you showed me, then I'm sure it's not safe.” He shook his head. “Let me rephrase that. I’m sure it’s not safe.”

Trixie clutched the cross possessively. Feeling the full force of her friends' concern, she bit back the clipped retort on the tip of her tongue. “This will all come to a head soon. Until then, I'm wearing it.” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Okay. The only thing we haven't discussed is the description of the man who talked to Bobby.” Dan pulled out a notebook. “Medium height, sandy hair, green eyes.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Honestly. You would think Bobby would notice a little more than that.”

Dan stared at the piece of paper. “As unlikely as it sounds, the description does sound familiar.”

Trixie chewed her lip. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “It'll come to us in the middle of the night, probably.”

“But, Trixie, if they've established that you're not at Mead's Mountain, then we have to assume that they know that you're here.” Honey perched on the edge of the love seat, her face animated with purpose. “Are you safe here?”

“That's assuming that they've ruled out the cruise ship. Which I'm sure they have. A ship is too isolated for any degree of safety.”

“Then we should leave. Immediately.” Jim placed a protective arm around Trixie, oblivious to Mart's and Brian's raised eyebrows.

Trixie shook her head. “That would just play into their hand. It's time to go on the offensive.”

Dan studied her thoughtfully. “How do you want to play it? Should we go with our former roles, or our real ones?”

“What are you talking about?” Diana asked, a frown puckering her brow.

“The other day, at the restaurant, we ran into a former, um...” She looked to her partner for help.

“Scum of the earth that Trixie put away,” Dan supplied, earning a glare from his partner. He shrugged. “It's true.”

“We all put him away,” she said, referring to the rest of their CIA team.

“No one else sacrificed as much as you did. But that's beside the point. He's here, in Pine Point.”

Diana's eyes grew wide. “Not the idiot from the bar!”

“No.” Trixie was quick to assure her. “You haven't met this particular idiot.”

“Where did you run into him?” Mart frowned. “I don't remember you saying anything.”

“The place we had lunch the day we went skiing. He was at a table in the restaurant. Dan and I found it, um, convenient to leave after we saw him.” Trixie looked down at her hands, realizing for the first time that they were shaking.

“The day you made jambalaya,” Honey supplied.

“That's right. We also used our time to do a little research. Juan Velásquez doesn't have a record of recent criminal behaviour, so we weren't sure what to think.” Dan paused. “Maybe we should look into whoever was keeping an eye on him.”

Trixie nodded. “It can't be a coincidence that Juan is here, but I have no idea how he got mixed up in this mess.”

“Wait a minute.” Jim had clearly been doing some thinking. “You say Trixie is responsible for putting this guy away.” He held up a hand to forestall Trixie's protest. “If he's here to watch her, then he has a strong motive for revenge. Are you sure it's safe to be here?”

Dan watched Jim pull Trixie even closer to him. “If he found us here, he can find us anywhere. Running won't help. It would take the rest of you out of danger, though.” He paused. “It's something to consider. If Trixie and I take off, we can make it obvious. Whoever is watching Bobby and the Lynch twins will be called off, and Juan will be sure to follow us.”

“I don't think so.” Brian spoke for the group. “You're not going anywhere without us. I don't care if you're highly trained operatives. There's safety in numbers, and we all want to help.” He hesitated, looking at Honey and Di. “Unless the girls would like to go home?”

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,” Honey informed her boyfriend. “We do this together, or not at all.”

Diana nodded, though her violet eyes were troubled.

“Bob-Whites United?” Jim muttered under his breath, causing Dan to chuckle.

“So what's our plan of action?” Mart asked, excitement building in his eyes.

“If we're going to take the offensive position, the first thing to do would be to arrange an 'accidental' meeting with Juan tomorrow.” Dan looked to Trixie. “Like I asked before, do you want to play this as our former roles, or our current ones?”

“We'll get more out of him if he thinks we don't know that he knows we're CIA,” Trixie said thoughtfully, causing Brian to wince and Honey to nod.

“You don't have to do this.” Dan took Trixie's hand, not caring that Jim's eyes narrowed, and his grip on Trixie tightened. “We can play it the other way, too.”

Trixie shook her head, but didn't let go of his hand. “This way will be more of an ego trip for Juan. You know it's true. Always play to their weakness.”

Dan nodded and reluctantly released her hand. “If you're sure...”

Mart frowned. “What's the big deal?”

With a grimace, Trixie explained, “It's not my favourite role. And I really don't want to talk any more about it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.” She turned a speculative gaze to Honey and Di. “I'm going to need some help getting ready for tomorrow. Are you interested in helping me pick out my outfit, ladies?”

Mart made a queer choking sound.

Diana smothered a smirk. “Oh, don't feel left out, Mart. I'm sure if you asked Trixie nicely, she'd let you help, too.”

“No!” the almost-twins protested in unison.

Amid the laughter, the girls headed for their room, but not before Dan and Trixie conducted a silent conversation. Dan held up one finger and pointed to his watch. Trixie nodded and closed the bedroom door firmly behind her.

“Now,” she told her friends,” I need the perfect outfit for a semi-retired call girl.”

At noon the next day, Trixie stood outside the door of the ski lodge restaurant, fretting.

“It's not too late,” Dan said quietly. “We can go in there and play it straight...er... with Juan.”

“Not dressed like this, I can't,” she muttered, and pulled at her short skirt. “This is the best chance we've got.”

“Are you ready? Juan went in five minutes ago.”

Nodding, Trixie tossed back her wild mane of curls, teased to new heights. “Is my make-up okay?”

Dan inspected the heavy layers of eye shadow, mascara, blush, and foundation. “Perfect. I've never seen you look...”

“Skankier,” she finished with a flash of good humour. “You may as well say it.”

“Hey. No one talks about my wife that way,” Dan growled, but his dark eyes twinkled. “I don't put up with that sort of thing.”

Trixie laughed and smacked his arm before holding his elbow. “Ready, Danno?”

“We're on, Friday.”

One hand firmly placed on the small of her back, Dan guided Trixie to a seat at the bar. In low voices, they traded intelligence.

“Honey, Di, and Mart are at a table by the fireplace,” she said softly, twirling the pink umbrella in her drink and swinging her bare legs.

Dan glanced casually around the room. “Brian and Jim are talking to twins in the far corner.”

Unable to resist, she pivoted on the bar stool and peered over the top of her drink. Her face a mask of flippancy, she took the measure of the leggy brunette identical twins. “Nice,” she muttered.

Dan surprised her by leaning close to her and whispering roughly in her ear, “Focus, Friday.”

A surprised blink was Trixie's only outward reaction.

His eyes darkening, Dan placed a hand on her thigh and turned her back to the bar and away from their friends. “I'm your husband today, and I don't share.” His hand remained on her upper leg in defence of his claim.

Trixie smiled in relief. Dan was right. She couldn't afford to be distracted by anyone at this point. Slipping easily into the roles they had discussed late the previous evening, she ran a coy finger across Dan's chest. “My looking days are over, hon.”

“Ah, whom do we have here?” The jovial question was marred by the oily undertone Trixie would recognize anywhere. “If it isn't my good friend, Rick.” Juan Velásquez shook Dan's hand smoothly, but his eyes never left Trixie. “And I'd know those...” he paused, and adjusted his gaze, “...eyes, anywhere. What was your name? Bambi? Candy?”

“Trixie,” she supplied, her voice low and sultry. “I certainly haven't forgotten you, Mr. Velásquez.”

His eyes gleamed. “Call me Juan.”

Trixie smiled up at him through lowered lashes.

“Long time, no see, Juan,” Dan commented. Keeping in character, he drew Trixie closer to himself and fixed Juan with a challenging look.

Juan groaned dramatically. “Not since that horrible fiasco, what was it... three years ago?”

“Something like that,” Dan agreed. “I'm sure you understand why I didn't stick around.”

Juan waved a hand, a picture of affability. “How could you do otherwise? Damn CIA agents swarming the place like cockroaches...”

“I was lucky to get out,” Dan said, remembering with satisfaction that he and Trixie, as the inside plants, had been the ones to ensure the success of the raid.

“Yes. But you, lovely Trixie, you have no excuse.”

Trixie ran a coy hand over her “husband's” arm and received a private, intense look from him in return. “Juan, you can't blame a girl for allowing a handsome man to rescue her.”

“So that's how it is! You were whisked out of my villa in the midst of chaos by my chief rival.” He shook his head in mock self-pity. “A fine thank-you, indeed, for the way I treated you.”

“All's fair in love and war,” Dan said mildly.

They were interrupted by the arrival of one of the beautiful women Trixie had noticed draped over Juan the first time they had seen him at the restaurant.

“You forgot about me,” a blonde girl pouted.

Trixie cringed at the whiny tone. Presumably, the girl made up for her less-than-pleasant voice in other ways. Juan certainly wasn't in the habit of maintaining women who weren't...talented.

“Be a good girl, Randi, and find a table,” Juan ordered. He turned back to Dan and Trixie, effectively dismissing Randi. “You will join me, won't you?”

“We couldn't possibly disturb your lunch,” Trixie simpered.

“Nonsense, I insist. You see, the restaurant has awarded my guests and me a complimentary meal. The more the merrier, no?” The spendthrift drug dealer waved a personalized coupon.

“In that case, we'd be delighted, wouldn't we, honey?” Trixie graced her companions with a dazzling smile. I knew he'd go for the free lunch! And Dan thought he would be too proud to accept it.

Taking their drinks with them, Trixie, Dan, and Juan joined Randi in a secluded booth on the periphery of the restaurant. Summoning the waiter, Juan ordered a variety of appetizers. Trixie declined the offer of wine with a wave of her hand.

“Ah,” Juan breathed, taking Trixie's left hand in his. “I see that marriage agrees with you.”

She looked with undisguised pride at the ring Diana had loaned her, then turned adoring eyes on her 'husband'. “It certainly does,” she said, ignoring the scowl Randi quickly redirected to the shrimp cocktail set before her.

“And are you the lucky husband of your beautiful friend?” Trixie inquired, earning a sigh from the lady and a snort from the man.

“No. Randi is my special companion. A position I believe you have also served for me.”

Trixie hid a smile and paused only momentarily to wonder why she was finding this exchange so amusing. “But I'm retired now,” she reminded Juan.

“A shame,” he replied, his eyes no longer on her face. With a side-long glance at his companion, Juan admitted, “I've had many companions since you left, but none of them have had quite your style.”

So drugging someone, giving him a lap dance, and then knocking him out cold so you can blow up his compound counts as style? Trixie kept her eyes lowered, knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist exchanging a knowing glance with Dan if she looked up.

“Yes, Trixie's style is one of the things I love about her,” Dan said blithely.

Juan turned abruptly to Randi. “Run along now, Randi. I need a few minutes to discuss some business.”

“But our meal hasn't arrived yet!” Randi protested.

Juan's eyes hardened. “I'll bring something back to the hotel room. Now go!”

Snatching the last shrimp from the appetizer plate, Randi left in a huff.

“Should I go, too?” Trixie asked, playing the part of a paid companion. “If you want to discuss business...”

“Ah, but you are the business that I wish to discuss.” Juan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and fixing Trixie with a penetrating stare.