The curvy blond finally got a clue and stopped her assault.

Unless a woman was going for sex, Turner was uncomfortable with spontaneous displays of physical affection. Those should be reserved for close family members, and even then they should be limited to a quick embrace and nothing more.

Slobber was not welcome on his cheek. The only exception was when that mouth was on its way to slobber over another part of his body, which meant that as long as he was with Bridget, she was the only one allowed to kiss him.

“I’m glad that you’re okay,” he said, and meant it.

Without going into details, Kian had hinted that the woman had gone through a brutal ordeal. Her immortal body had obviously healed, but Turner wondered whether her mind had had enough time to heal too. Mental wounds were much harder to recuperate from.

Carol went back to her seat, her curly blond hair bouncing up and down as she plopped on the chair. “I’m tougher than I look.” She winked at him. “It’s not easy to break me.”

From the corner of his eye, Turner caught Brundar regarding Carol with what looked like a mixture of pride and respect. For a hard, stoic man whose expression softened only when gazing at his girlfriend, that look expressed better than words the Guardian’s high opinion of the blond.

There must’ve been much more to her than the cheerful yet empty-headed persona she showed the world. Could Carol be a spy?

The best in the field were the least obvious.

“What do you do, Carol?” Turner asked.

The smile she flashed him transformed her small face, which only moments ago had been twisted with fury at a dead guy, into that of a sweet cherub. “I make sandwiches and coffee.”

That was definitely not all she was doing. “What else?”

“Sometimes I train beginner self-defense classes, filling in for Brundar, my sensei.” She dipped her head in mock deference to her teacher.

In Turner’s opinion, Carol looked too soft and padded for a woman who engaged in rigorous training. His thoughts must have shown on his face because Brundar jumped in to defend her.

“Out of all the trainees, Carol is the best markswoman.”

Turner tilted his head. “Are you training to become a Guardian?”

She shook her head, those curls of hers bouncing around her angelic face. If he weren’t a taken man, there was no way he wouldn't have been affected by her. Carol was temptation personified. She knew it, and she used it. Definitely spy material.

“No way. Guardians have to obey the law, and I’m a rebel.”

“That she is,” Anandur said as he walked up to their table.

Grabbing a chair from the next one over, he put it between Carol and Callie but a little way back since there wasn’t enough room. “And her marksmanship skills are wasted. She refuses to go hunting with me.”

Carol crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to shoot at defenseless critters.”

Anandur leaned over her shoulders. “But eating steaks is fine?”

She tucked one side of her hair behind her ear. “We had this discussion before. It’s not the same.”

“Are we back to talking about steaks?” Bridget asked.

“How about we move to stakeouts?” Anandur offered. “As much as I love a juicy steak or two, I think those are much more interesting.” He glanced at Turner. “How are we going to storm those brothels you were talking about? Just show up and boom! Or first reconnaissance, and then raid?”

Startled by Anandur’s question, Turner instinctively looked behind his shoulder and then scanned the large area the café occupied.

Bridget patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Victor. Only clan members can come in here, and the glass is bulletproof and soundproof. We can talk freely here. You have nothing to worry about.”

Normally, he would have argued to the contrary. Only those on the need to know list should’ve been privy to the information. Except, Bridget was going to lay it all out for the entire clan, so there was no point in keeping it quiet.

“I already put things in motion. Operators are mapping the places and getting the layout and security measures of each one. The teams on the ground will have all this information before doing their own reconnaissance. The more prepared we are, the smoother the execution, and the fewer the casualties.”

Bridget frowned. “Aren’t you jumping the gun by starting before the funds are approved? What if the clan votes against it?”

“They won’t.”

“How can you be so sure? And in the meantime, you’re spending your own money.”

“I’m positive the vote will be in favor. And if not, I’ll find another backer for the operation. This needs to be done.”

Carol clapped her hands. “You’re my kind of guy, Victor. If you weren’t such a prudish oaf, I would’ve kissed you on both cheeks again.” She winked. “Maybe even twice on each, like the French do.”

“Please don’t,” he and Bridget said at the same time.

Carol’s laughter was as fresh and as sweet as the rest of her.

She was either an amazing actress or had a split personality. One was a carefree young woman who was interested only in having fun, and the other was that of a hardened warrior who could withstand the worst torture and emerge unscathed.

“Oh, you guys are so cute. I should’ve known Bridget would be a jealous and possessive girlfriend. With that red hair, there was no way she wouldn't.”

Bridget glared at Carol. “What’s that supposed to mean? Hair color has nothing to do with personality. That’s as much of an urban legend as the blood type diet or that blonds are dumb. You shouldn't believe everything you read.”

Carol shook her head. “Temper, temper, my dear doctor. According to that same urban legend, redheads are also quick to anger.” She put a finger to her lips and tilted her chin up. “I wonder where they get those strange ideas from?”