Page 7

When Faith answered the door the following afternoon, she was greeted by the biggest bouquet of flowers she had ever seen. It boasted three dozen pink and purple tulips, interspersed with lilac carnations and a few other types of spring flowers she didn’t recognize. They were cradled in a sturdy ceramic vase with a floral pattern in soft pastel tones.

Jon held the vase out to her with a boyish grin. “Maybe if I had done this more often, we wouldn’t be divorced.”

They both knew it wasn’t that easy, of course, but Faith chose not to say it. “You know they’re not for me, don’t you?”

He instantly sobered. “I know.”

Faith bit her lip. She should have known her father had already clued him in—and that he would send him to deliver the flowers. Jon wasn’t only his director of finance; he was his right-hand man at Humans Against Shape-Shifters and the son he’d never had. So far, she had put off talking to him about the fake-dating-a-shifter scheme, unsure how he’d react, but now she could no longer avoid it. “Come on in.” She took the bouquet from him and walked into the kitchen to fill the vase with water so the flowers would stay fresh until she left for her first fake date in a few hours.

He followed her and leaned against the counter.

“Where’s Chloe?” Faith asked over her shoulder.

“With my cousin. She talked Allison into making Christmas cookies.”

Faith chuckled. “Christmas cookies in April?”

“What can I say? You know our daughter. If she wants something, good luck convincing her otherwise. She gets it from her mom.” He cleared his throat. “That probably means I shouldn’t even try to convince you not to do this, right?”

Faith put the vase down and turned toward him. “Trust me, I’m not eager to do it either, but Dad thinks it could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prove the shifters are up to something evil.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s the only reason I’m letting you do this.”

“Letting me?” Faith echoed. “Just in case there’s any confusion: I’m not six, like Chloe. I’m an adult, and we’re no longer married, which means I don’t have to ask you for your opinion, much less permission.”

They’d had variations of this conversation a couple of times at the beginning of their relationship. Jon had grown up in a conservative family with very traditional ideas of gender roles, but she had thought he had changed since then.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” Jon clutched the counter behind him with both hands and intently studied the kitchen floor.

“Don’t worry,” Faith said more softly. “I made sure they keep Chloe out of this. She won’t even meet any of the shifters.”

“I don’t just worry about Chloe. I worry about you too. That doesn’t stop because we got a divorce, you know? You’re still the mother of my child and”—he peeked up at her—“someone I care about.”

As always, she had a hard time staying angry with him. “You can care. But you can’t make my decisions for me.”

“Noted. Just be careful, please,” he said quietly. “These creatures are dangerous, and you’re not James Bond.”

Unexpected laughter bubbled up from her chest. “I know. If I were, I’d have dated a string of hot Bond girls after we split up instead of staying home to pick up Legos and scrub finger paint off the couch.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Jon blinked, looking as surprised as Faith felt.

She hadn’t planned on saying that. While she had told him she was bisexual before their divorce, she usually didn’t discuss her sexual orientation with him.

Faith stopped herself from apologizing. She was done feeling guilty for who she was. “You know that might happen, right? Not the Bond girls part, obviously, but me dating a woman. For real, I mean, not just a scheme to expose the shifters. I’m not expecting you to be thrilled about it, but—”

“Actually,” he said, “I am. Okay, maybe not thrilled, but I’m fine with it. At least then I’ll know your new partner won’t try to replace me as Chloe’s daddy.”

Had he been afraid of that happening all along? She regarded his familiar face. “That won’t happen, no matter who I end up with. Chloe already has a dad, and I happen to think he’s a fantastic one.”

He straightened, and a pleased grin lit up his face. “Fantastic, huh? Well, her mother isn’t bad either.”

They chuckled together.

How weird that they got along much better now, as divorced co-parents, than they ever had as a married couple.

“So…” he said after a while. “You haven’t dated at all?”

Faith rearranged a couple of the carnations. “A few dates here and there. But it never got to a point where I would even consider introducing them to Chloe, or I would have told you. You?”

“Same. Nothing like good old Mr.Bond’s love life, that’s for sure,” Jon said with a wry smile. “Your father keeps me in the office until late whenever I don’t have Chloe. Sometimes, I think he’s doing it on purpose to keep me from going out with other women. He’s still hoping we’ll reconcile.”

“We won’t,” she answered in a soft but firm tone.

“I know.”

They had tried to reconcile for Chloe’s sake, but it hadn’t worked. Over the years, they had grown in different directions until they were no longer a good match.

Jon cleared his throat. “So yeah, clearly, 007’s dating escapades are out of reach for both of us, but I think I make a decent Q.”

“Q?” Faith repeated. “From Star Trek ?”

“No. You’ve never actually seen a Bond movie, have you?”

“I’ve seen enough to know how sexist they are.”

Jon looked as if she had insulted his beloved Washington Commanders. “Sexist? They’re not—” He raised both hands, forestalling any objections. “Anyway, Q is the guy who supplies Bond with his spy gadgets. Check out the vase.”

Faith picked up the vase and studied it from all sides. At first glance, it appeared entirely normal. The light reflected in the glaze, casting additional patterns onto the ceramic. She set it back down and traced the shape of its curve.

When she reached the base, her fingertips encountered the tiniest unevenness. She took a closer look. A faint, almost imperceptible seam ran along the base, like a hairline fracture in the ceramic.

“The base twists off,” Jon said with obvious pride. “There’s a hidden compartment. It holds a tiny radio transmitter and a microphone.” He held his thumb and index finger half an inch apart, indicating the size of the bug.

Faith let her hand drop away from the vase as her palms grew damp. Her spy mission had become a lot more real. “What do I need to do when I plant it?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “It’s sound-activated and runs on batteries. Just make sure the shifter puts the vase somewhere central in her apartment, where she’ll spend most of her time. It’ll transmit any conversation to your father’s computer for about a week, until the battery runs out.”

She regarded him with a shake of her head. “How do you know all of this?”

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Maybe I have a bit of James Bond in me after all. I’ve picked up a few things from other members of HASS over the past few months.”

That sounded as if HASS members were regularly using listening devices. What else had Jon done for the group? And how far had her father gone in his attempts to expose the shifters?

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not sure how to ask…or if she wanted to hear the answer.

“What?” Jon asked.

“This”—she gestured at the vase and the tiny listening device hidden inside—“isn’t exactly legal, is it?” She hadn’t questioned it when her father had first suggested it, but now doubts were starting to creep in.

“It might not be legal, but it’s the right thing to do.” His voice resonated with passionate conviction, and his intense gaze never wavered. “We’re not dealing with ordinary people, Faith, so ordinary methods won’t work. These shifters are vicious and manipulative. We have to use every means at our disposal to protect ourselves and our fellow humans. If we shy away from making the hard choices, we’re doomed.”

Maybe he was right. Her father had said the same thing when he had first suggested bugging Tala’s home. But the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away. Her mind still raced with questions.

“Do you think you can do this?” Jon leaned forward as if to touch her, then seemed to think better of it.

Faith glanced at the vase. Could she do this? Should she?

In the face of Jon’s conviction, she swallowed down her own doubts. She would make sure the vase wasn’t placed in the bathroom or bedroom, where the bug could record more…intimate moments. If the shifters were the upstanding citizens they pretended to be, they wouldn’t have anything to hide. Her father would listen in on whatever phone calls Tala made or conversations she might have with visitors for a few days, then the battery would run out and they could all go back to their normal, non-James Bond lives.

But if the shifters were indeed hiding something, the world needed to know before it was too late.

Faith nodded stiffly. “Of course I can.”

“Good,” Jon said. “And remember you’re not in this alone. At the tiniest hint of danger or even if you just think something is off, call us immediately. Your father and I will be on standby for every second of that date.”

Her throat was too tight to answer, so she nodded again and clutched the vase with both hands. What on earth had she signed up for?