The Operator

“Hey!” Jack hopped back, cuffed hands trying to block it with some success. “Will you just listen?”

Eyes wide, he back-pedaled, but there was nowhere to go, and her roundhouse hit his arms, which he’d brought up to save his face. He was too slow to react, and her back kick slammed into his middle, flinging him into the wall.

Eyes watering, he slid to the floor, clutching his chest and trying to breathe.

“Are you okay?”

Bleary, he looked up, seeing Harmony leaning close over him.

“I said, are you okay?” she repeated, touching his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

He managed a breath, trying to smile. “Yes. Damn woman. What is wrong—”

He gasped, ducking as she hauled off and hit him right in the jaw. “Ow!” he shouted, cowering as she smacked him again. “What the fuck?”

“How about now?” Again she leaned over him, her anger easier to see now that he could breathe. “You still okay?”

“No!” Pissed, he pushed her away and she shoved him back, thumping his head into the wall.

“You sure?” she asked. “You look okay to me.”

“Knock it off!” he shouted, swinging his legs to cut her feet out from under her. She fell with a little shriek, and he decided to stay where he was on the floor. “Shit, woman. I was trying to save your life!”

Still on the floor, she kicked at him. “You never had any intention of helping me get Michael.”

Feeling like a school-yard bully, he kicked back, but it was more threat than action. “I never promised I’d help you get Michael. I told you I was after Peri. If I’d taken a shot at Bill or Michael, Michael would have drafted. Fixed it.” She’d gotten to her feet, and he looked up at her. She was still mad, but at least she wasn’t kicking him. “And that’s exactly what happened when you shot Michael in the chest. He drafted. Me pretending to be there to give you up was the only way I could think of to stay at large.” His eyes fell. “And even that didn’t work.”

“Always thinking about yourself.” Harmony felt her side where she’d fallen. “I didn’t shoot Michael. If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”

“You did.” Shit, she loosened a tooth. Disgusted, he spit out a wad of blood. “In the first draft. Next time aim for his head or he’ll just jump to fix it. The only other way to kill a drafter is to do it in a rewrite. I was trying to save your life. Both our lives.”

Harmony paced, arms over her chest. “My first husband was good at lying,” she said, motion slowing. “My anger at him was what got me through the crap the CIA makes their women recruits swim through.”

Jack stiffened as she dropped to crouch before him, grabbing him by the shirtfront. But he’d lived his life with volatile women, and he knew if she wanted to hurt him, she’d still be kicking him.

“I can smell a lie before it comes out of your mouth, white-bread boy,” she said, squinting evilly at him.

“Yeah?” he panted, uncomfortable in the angle at which she was holding him. If she had cracked a rib, they’d take him to the infirmary, wouldn’t they?

Harmony dropped him with a huff, drawing back to stand over him. “But I can’t tell with you.” Her head tilted, and she eyed him again. “You need some help with those cuffs?” she asked, her voice softening.

Jack looked at them, then back at her. “Sure?” he said hesitantly, and held them out.

Sighing heavily, Harmony slid down the wall to sit beside him. Drawing her knees to her chest, she hid her face.

Jack let his hands fall. Wincing, he felt his ribs. Maybe he deserved it.

“I don’t like feeling stupid,” Harmony said, voice muffled.

“I didn’t lie to you. I came here to kill Bill. It’s the only way Peri will believe I love her.”

Harmony snorted and pulled her head up. “You don’t love her.”

He took in her fatigue and weary uncertainty, seeing in her that she’d given up almost everything. “You want to hear what happened?” he asked, and she dropped her head back to her knees. “When they came in the door the first time, they were surprised to find me. If I had shot Bill, Michael would have drafted, and it would have been for nothing, so I said the only thing that would keep them guessing.”

“Yeah, and here you are. In a cell.”

“I lied to them,” he said, trying to make her believe it. “I still had my gun, and you took it from me. Shot Michael in the chest.” He took a slow breath. “I told you to shoot him in the head.”

“I wanted him alive,” she complained.

Jack wiped the blood from his nose, then smeared it off onto the hem of his pants. “If you had shot him in the head, we wouldn’t be here. You can’t take a resisting drafter alive without drugs.” He sighed heavily, satisfied she was listening now. “But you shot him in the chest and ran out the door thinking I had betrayed you. And then you died in the parking lot with Sean’s five bullets in your chest.”

Her eyes were high in disbelief. “Five? You can call me superwoman.”

“But all you remember is me giving you up.”

“Yep.” Harmony arranged the laces of her boots to make them lie perfectly.

Bringing his feet forward, Jack awkwardly worked the plastic pin out of the hem of his slacks. “I was hoping that if you shot Michael in the first draft that you’d do it again in the second. I hadn’t counted on him downing you so fast.” He gently bit his lip as he got the pin in the cuff lock. “And you’re mad at me?”