Serena was pacing around her hotel room for the second time when her cell phone rang. She waited until the third ring to pick it up, after she’d taken a couple of deep breaths. It could only be one person. Let him wait until her racing heart recovered.
Dispassionately, she noticed her fingers shook when she picked the cell phone up and thumbed the call button.
“Miss Chirk?”
“Yes.” What a stupid question. Only Jones knew where to find her.
“Not good enough,” the male voice snapped. “Doctor, not Miss. Remember your persona. Newly qualified and proud of it. Get it right every time, you hear me?”
She sighed. “Sure.”
Jones continued to harass her, as he always did. “You can speak freely if you wish, but only on this phone. You understand?”
“Yes.” She was new to this game, not stupid. But she knew if she tried to tell him that, he’d only repeat what he’d told her a thousand times before and make her recite it back to him. And then she’d end up with another sleepless night worrying about the task ahead. He’d wound her up spring-tight over the last six months, until strain, tension and lack of sleep had turned her into someone she hardly knew.
After tomorrow, she’d become someone else, going undercover for the first time. And hopefully, the last. They wanted her, they’d asked her, she’d said no. So they’d made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. If she didn’t do this, she went to jail for something she hadn’t done. Some choice.
She was an academic, not a politician, although as things turned out politics wouldn’t have been a bad extracurricular course. Better than fifteenth century metal manufacturing techniques in the Low Countries, as matters had turned out.
The man she knew as John Jones—and there was a fake name if she ever heard one—had become her immediate boss. Until further notice although if she performed this one task well, she could get out that much faster. Or so Jones had promised her.
“You were seen today, out shopping. I told you to stay put. What the hell did you think you were doing?”
A spark of anger touched her, and like flame to a fuse, it began to fizz, burning away her despair and fear. “Like you said, shopping. I thought I’d go stir crazy in this place.”
Jones sighed. “Okay, we’re pushing you hard. But you know how important this is. Tonight, get some R&R. Just a little. Have a good meal, a drink or two. Kick back and get used to being Serena Chirk. I’ll put someone on to watch you.” It sounded like a good idea. All except the last part.
“I might.”
“I want you in bed early, thinking hard about the assignment, so don’t stay out late. This is your first, Serena. You might find you like it. We might want to keep you.”
That last sentence sounded like a threat rather than a promise. Jones had dragged her into the Bureau against her will, forced her to go through training she still sucked at and then shoved her into the field. Only the one fact—that she was one of the two experts in the USA in this particular field—stopped him from throwing her to her fate, or so he’d said repeatedly over the last six months. If she didn’t succeed, she could wave goodbye to Serena Forrester, or serve the jail sentence.
Anger and recklessness filled her, replacing the despair and nervousness that had consumed her up until now.
Her hand tightened on the receiver. “You know what, Jones, or whatever your name is? You’ve shoved national security at me and you’ve destroyed my life. I’m tired of it, do you hear me? After this, I want my life back. And tonight, I’m taking a bit of it back for myself. Before I start your fucking job, before I get the sword back, I’m having tonight. Don’t send anyone to watch me, don’t call me because I’m off duty.”
She didn’t wait to hear his answer. If he sent someone after her, she’d see just how good her self-defense lessons turned out to be. Kicking a man in the balls might alleviate some of the sheer fury she felt when she recalled how easily they’d used her. She had to admit her fury was aimed at herself, just as much as the Bureau. It had proved childishly easy for them to use her.
She cut the call and immediately switched off the phone.
Before now she’d had nothing but respect for the law enforcement agencies. Now…?
Well fuck them. Fuck them all. Tonight was hers, the last night before she went into servitude for God knew how long, posing as someone she wasn’t, lying and stealing in the name of justice. If she were to become someone else, she’d really get into character tonight. Have a few drinks, maybe find a man to flirt with. Something completely out of character for the dedicated academic from a prestigious university. Serena Forrester had never managed to walk into a bar on her own and flirt with strangers, so maybe Serena Chirk might. Who the hell cared, because she didn’t. Not any more.
Striding to the closet, she grabbed her jacket, the only thing left there, then went back to the table where she’d thrown her meager belongings. She’d already packed, having nothing else to do with her time, and her case stood by the door, ready to wheel out the next morning.
She found her hotel room card and her wallet, then paused and stared at herself in the mirror.
Shoving her long, dark hair back off her face she secured it with a clip, leaving the shorter strands at the front to swing free. A quick application of lipstick and she’d done She was nobody. Just for tonight, she was nobody. A symbol, caught between one life and the next, and her slate completely blank. She could write whatever she wanted on it, and nobody would know. Neither Serena Forrester nor Serena Chirk would be responsible for her actions tonight.

Now I’m going to sound whiney. I’m so tired of hearing that heroines ARE whiney. Can’t someone be in a crappy situation and be a bit annoying?

man, you put me in a bad situation, you can guarantee, I’m going to whine at least a little.

I’d probably try to keep ‘most’ of it tucked inside, where I’m the only one who knows I’m whining, but since we’re supposed to get inside the heroine’s head…eh, in all honesty, it’s unrealistic to think characters shouldn’t ever come off as whiny.

Most of us, at some point in our lives, have probably been a little whiny. more than likely, it’s happened at a bad time/stressful time/tumultuous time. But us writers just love to put our characters through the wringer, so those bad times are going to come. I don’t think I mind a little whining, if it’s justified, and not over the top.

Also, the “Miss/Ms.” thing is just too artificial, coming from a standing start like that: if her controller expects her to get snappy about one mistaken honorific, he’s an unrealistic micromanager.

Let the story unfold a little more slowly. The readers will catch up with you. It’s a great idea, and it’s going to work.

Now I’m going to sound whiney. I’m so tired of hearing that heroines ARE whiney. Can’t someone be in a crappy situation and be a bit annoying? MUST they be women of steel, able to leap past bad decisions, bad situations in a single bound. Give the character a chance.

I know you’ll do just fine with this book. Get the para clearer up front, and you’ll be golden.