Tiger Mom (Killer Moms Book 4) Read online

  I can’t live in fear forever. And Ted was still rather cute.

  Portia smiled. “How do we sign up?”

  He pushed a clipboard in her direction. “Just fill this out.” As she printed in the blanks, the girls slipped off their shoes and wandered to a display case filled with trophies.

  He felt a need to make idle chit-chat. “So, whatcha doing these days? Working at the hospital?”

  “Not quite. I’m a researcher for a private clinic.”

  “And your husband?”

  She shot him a glance. “What makes you think I’m married? Just because I have children? Or because a woman shouldn’t be raising them alone?” She’d heard it all in the past decade. Misguided commentary on how she should live her life. She was perfectly fine on her own. She barely had time for herself with her daughters’ busy schedule, and her work.

  He chuckled, a deep baritone that almost brought a shiver. “Don’t get all twisted in a knot. I was just asking because of the name.” He pointed to the Stalone. He’d known her as Munroe.

  “I am a widow and kept my husband’s last name for the girls.” Which would explain part of her name change on the form. “And I’m going by my middle name these days. Never did like my old one.”

  “Fair enough. Portia.” He tested it out. “Will you be the only one coming with the girls?”

  “I just told you I was widowed.”

  “I caught that. I was only wondering if you’ll have someone else responsible for dropping them off and picking them up. A nanny, family member, friend.”

  “Actually, Mother will be taking lessons with us,” Mae declared, having wandered back in their direction.

  Lin jumped in. “Because a woman should know how to defend herself.”

  “Man or woman. Everyone should be able to stand up for themselves,” Ted remarked. “I think it’s great you’re doing this as a family.”

  This whole situation had gotten out of hand quickly, and Portia couldn’t see a way out of it. She’d told the girls she’d do it. But should she do this with Ted? He created an unnecessary link to her past. Posed a danger if he opened his mouth.

  She should walk out and try somewhere else.

  Instead, she managed a smile and said, “We’d like three memberships, please.”

  She kept that pleasant expression and dulcet tone even as she finished the registration process. Wore the smile the entire drive back to their house. They had time for a nutritious dinner, then homework. Not that her girls actually had any. They went to a private school that had an adaptive method of teaching and learning that let the students set their own pace. The twins happened to give themselves strict guidelines and were very disciplined. What could Portia say? The girls took after her and excelled academically.

  Around eight o’clock, Aunt Joanna arrived to mind the twins. A woman in her sixties, Joanna was round-cheeked with frizzy hair that ran the gamut of gray to white. Her figure appeared bulky, and she always smelled like lavender. What no one saw under the thick cardigan was the muscle she’d built over the decades, or the knives strapped to her thighs in case the gun at her back wasn’t enough.

  A decade of peace and quiet didn’t mean Portia ever grew too complacent. Ronin wasn’t the only thing she watched for.

  Portia worked for some very important people. Those who sometimes acted in ways that made other powerful groups angry. Given Portia often helped them achieve their goals, she could end up targeted one day.

  More than once, she’d thought of quitting. But quitting meant being on her own without the extended family she’d found with Marie—her handler and de facto mother—and the others—sisters by choice. All of them single mothers, bound together by tough pasts, forged into an agency that worked to make the world a better place—for the right price. Portia could thank Ronin for showing her that sometimes death was necessary. She’d come to realize that the removal of one key player could often save many.

  But who got to decide was the part of the equation that Portia still struggled with. The missions Portia enjoyed the most were those that didn’t involve killing but still got the job done. Abrupt confessions. Chemical castration. Head to toe, intense itching every time a certain rapist even had a sexual thought.

  “Off to work again?” Aunt Joanna asked.

  “Yes. I want to check the results on some tests I started earlier today.”

  “You work too hard.” A statement she heard all too often.

  “I never miss a thing with the girls.” But in between driving them around for their activities, and spending quality time conversing about their days, she crammed in every extra second of work that she could.

  “You’re an excellent mother. Pity you’re not so intense about your own needs.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m perfectly satisfied.”

  Joanna snorted. “The sad part is you don’t even realize what you’re missing out on. Don’t be me. Live your life before you’re too old to enjoy it.”

  “I’m living just fine. See you in a few hours.” Portia left and headed to her lab. Yes, hers. The pharmaceutical company had given her an entire floor with staff because she was a valuable asset. Which meant she got carte blanche to do whatever she liked. Little did they know she sometimes did work for the secret agency that’d rescued her.

  She had to slow when she reached the security gate. Only for a moment before she got waved through. The guards in the place had gotten used to her coming and going at all hours. A keycard got her into the building and set the elevator in motion. The high-tech structure had all kinds of electronic controls to keep out non-employees. It also believed in watching every move their employees made, which was why when Portia entered her space, she triggered a special code that would play doctored footage of her actions. In other words, play a deep fake to act as camouflage, masking what she was really doing.

  Only once she had on her white jacket and sat on her stool did she voice activate the KM virtual system. “Tiger Mom, authorization Alpha Niner Gamma Two.” Recognizing her vocal pattern and code, the screen playing a spinning version of the company logo faded and turned into that of KM Realty, which was the cover for Killer Moms.

  Most of the mothers, picked up from desperate situations like Portia, worked for KM in mundane positions that involved paint chips and fabric swatches. But a few had special skills better used elsewhere. Such as Portia, who could concoct just about any potion or serum needed.

  The screen pulsed with an incoming transmission.

  “Accept the call.”

  The screen filled with gray, a wall to be exact, plain with not a single feature to be seen. Marie wasn’t one to compromise her safety, even on secure channels. She stepped in front of the camera, still as beautiful as the day she’d rescued Portia.

  “Hello, Portia. It’s been a while.”

  “Has it? I thought we had dinner at Easter.”

  “Six months ago. But not entirely your fault. I’ve been meaning to visit, but things have been busy. How are you and the girls?” Marie asked.

  “Doing well, thanks. I signed them up for martial arts classes.”

  Marie’s lips rounded. “Does Lin know it involves hitting?”

  “Yes.” Portia’s lips curved. “And they were planning to talk their way out of it until they met the instructor.”

  “Handsome boy?”

  “Handsome man,” she corrected, recalling his broad physique. The face had lost its boyish softness to the chiseled planes of adulthood.

  “Must be good-looking if you noticed.”

  “Oh, I noticed, all right. He hasn’t changed a bit since high school.” Her lips turned down.

  “You know him from before?” Marie’s expression hardened. “Has your cover been compromised?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He remembers me, obviously as Macey, but he seemed to accept my explanation about why my name is different.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You know there’s a chance he could tell
someone from your old town that he ran into you,” Marie reminded.

  “Only if he’s in touch with anyone. Is it really a big deal if he tells his mom?”

  “I am not taking a chance. We’ll begin monitoring him immediately. What’s his name?”

  “Ted Grady. Works at the Flamingo Martial Arts place on Queen Street.”

  “Noted. Now, just in case he poses a problem, I’ll begin scouting possible locations for you.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Not a new place.” When she’d moved here two years ago, the girls had been quite vocal in their displeasure.

  “Better safe.” Because if for one moment Ronin realized that Portia wasn’t dead…

  “I should just kill him,” she sighed. Not an easy thing to say. Once upon a time, she’d loved the man. His children were the most precious things in her world, and he posed the biggest danger. Despite having the means at her disposal, she’d yet to take that final, fatal step to remove him forever.

  “Say the word,” Marie offered.

  “Only if he becomes a problem.” So long as Ronin thought them gone, they were safe. Everyone could just live their lives.

  “I think we should handle this Ted person before he becomes an issue.” Marie offered the simplest solution, just not the most palatable one.

  “We are not killing Ted. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” There were some lines Portia wouldn’t cross, and Marie respected them. Mostly. However, Portia also knew that Marie wouldn’t hesitate to act if Ted posed a danger to one of her adopted daughters.

  “Hopefully, things stay that way. Now, on to the real reason for my call. We need more of that truth serum you whipped up last year.”

  “Easy enough.”

  “There’s a catch. It won’t be easy to apply. We’ll only have a narrow window of opportunity.”

  “How narrow?”

  “The length of time it takes to get from the elevator to a courtroom a hundred paces away.”

  Rather than exclaim about the impossibility, her mind went to work. Portia rolled her chair to her smart board to take notes. “Do we have access to food or drink?”

  “No.”

  She scribbled some more. “Skin-to-skin contact?”

  “Difficult.”

  “But not impossible. Meaning, you can get someone within a few feet of the target?”

  “Yes. I think so. But, at best, probably only for seconds.”

  A challenge for her skill set. “I’ll work on something and get back to you. How soon do you need it?”

  “The cartel trial happens in six weeks. We need a confession while they’re on the stand.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  Portia already had something that would probably work, but probably wasn’t a sure thing. She needed to test a delivery system, yet instead, she found herself online doing a search on Ted Grady.

  She didn’t find much. No social media. No newspaper articles. Nothing.

  Odd in this day and age. She couldn’t even discover if he’d married. Did he have kids? A significant other in his life?

  Given her level of distraction, she was back home just after midnight and fell asleep thinking of Ted. In her dream, she didn’t say no when he asked her to go to the dance. Instead, she wore a hideous pink lace dress that he said looked lovely. They slowly waltzed in circles inside the school gym. Then he took her to a spot under the bleachers for a kiss.

  She woke sweaty and aching between her legs for the first time in a long while. Interested in a man. And why not? She hadn’t hooked up with anyone since Ronin. If Ted were single—

  Oh, God. She’d become the worst kind of cliché. Falling for a handsome instructor who happened to be a boy she kind of crushed on in school. A man who posed a danger. She should cancel the contract to take his classes. Or just not show up.

  She had all kinds of reasons to not see him. But what did she tell her girls when they asked at breakfast?

  “We’ll try and hit their beginner class before dinner.”

  And their tandem reply, “Excellent.”

  It should have come with ominous music.

  Chapter Two

  After Macey—sorry, Portia—had left, Ted had to wonder at the weird circumstances that had brought them together. He’d thought her so hot in high school. She used to wear these tight jeans and had the sweetest ass in them. The serious girl, always studying and acing tests. So fucking smart. He really liked that about her.

  She was so smart she’d turned him down the one time he’d gotten up the nerve to ask her out. Then she went off to university, whereas he’d enlisted, along with the other jocks who didn’t get a scholarship and had no interest in acquiring a huge student loan.

  It boggled the mind the odds of her showing up in his studio, ten years later, looking just as serious as he recalled, and still very attractive. But to his surprise, she had kids. He’d have wagered that she was too driven to stop for motherhood. In any case, it didn’t appear to have softened her.

  Her aloofness only increased her attractiveness. Should he ask her out? She was, after all, single. At the same time, he had no real interest in anything long-term, whereas she had kids to think of. She probably would not be interested in anything casual.

  Or would she prefer someone who didn’t want any strings tying them down? Could be she might want something casual and carnal.

  Wishful thinking that would have to wait. A wave of students arrived, snapping him back to the present. He spent the next few hours running the different levels through the motions. Teaching them not only the soothing nature of the movements, but the confidence they needed to be able to stand up for themselves.

  Since he’d opened the dojo, he’d had a stream of people sign up for his classes. The ones he took the most pleasure in were the shy ones, the meek students who wanted to feel more confident but lacked the mindset to do so. He liked teaching them to control that fear. Showing them that they could be as strong as they chose.

  About half an hour after the last student had left, the sensor for his door beeped, letting him know someone had entered. Could be a late-night signup. Or a druggie looking to score a few quick bucks.

  Ted turned from his cleaning of the mats to see three men walk in. Two of them Asian in features, the third Caucasian, his skin pockmarked, head shaved on the sides.

  They belonged to the Evening Swords, a gang that owned this section of town, promising protection if properly paid. Terrorizing those that didn’t.

  It appeared they were collecting early this month.

  Ted rose, barefoot and weaponless, unlike the trio. Their leader, who went by the name Taotie, wore a loose tracksuit that could hide any number of weapons. He was rather partial to knives. Ralph, whose Asian features contrasted sharply with his dirty blond, curly hair, had a bulge by his ribs—a gun, most likely. The third was new and wide-eyed eager. The worst kind.

  “Hello, gentlemen. How can I help you this evening?” Ted asked politely, well aware of how things worked with the Evening Swords. Lots of bluster interspersed with threats, followed by extortion.

  Taotie spread his hands. “It’s collection time.”

  “It’s only the eleventh of the month. You usually come on the fifteenth.”

  “I’m busy the fifteenth.” Taotie snapped his fingers. “Pay up.”

  “I don’t have it.” The wrong answer.

  A smirk tugged Taotie’s lips. “You’re the third person to tell me that tonight. Would you like to know what I told them?”

  Judging by the bruised knuckles on Ralph and the new kid? Don’t expect any leniency.

  Much as it stuck in his craw, Ted remained meek. He’d long ago learned that cutting off the head of the local snake only spawned a meaner one. “I can have it for you tomorrow. I never keep that kind of cash around.”

  “I think he just implied we don’t give him proper protection,” the kid stated.

  “Why, I do believe you’re right,” Taotie’s lips twisted into a sneer. “
Perhaps karate man needs a lesson in how well we do our job.”

  Sigh. So much for avoiding it. Ted didn’t tense at the first blow, he let it land, fully aware they had to feel as if they’d gotten their piece. They punched, and he just defended, absorbing the worst, and faking pain before falling to a knee when a blow to his lip split it. Barely a flesh wound, but all the blood tended to impress people. He spat a red wad on the mat by Taotie’s feet.

  “Not so cocky now, are you?” Taotie taunted. “We’ll be back tomorrow. Have the money, or else.”

  Ted would have it. Mostly because he considered it a cost of doing business.

  Less than ten minutes later, after the gang had left, he locked the door and went upstairs to where he had converted a second-floor storage space into an actual apartment. He’d even installed a bathroom and a small kitchenette area.

  Not the height of luxury, but he didn’t have many needs. The big, comfy chair that creaked when he sat was one of his few splurges. The cold beer going down his throat another. The third and most expensive thing he owned, was the computer on the table in front of him. As the machine booted, he held a pack of frozen fries to his cheekbone, minimizing the hematoma he felt forming. Luckily, he didn’t bruise like a peach. He had some friends who used to turn purple at even a hint of violence.

  The computer login screen appeared, and he typed, the setup much more elaborate than anything else he owned. Because for him, having a powerful machine he could play on at home was worth the cost.

  Ted wasn’t much on going out. He’d seen the world. It was ugly. Every day, he could see signs of it online. The killing. The hate. The lies. He kept as far away from it as he could. It made it easier to hold his temper in check. Easier to fight the temptation of the vices that flooded the streets.

  Once Ted logged in, he activated a private VPN that routed his signal via too many channels for anyone to follow. He protected himself before doing anything that might be considered shady.

  Being a bit of a shut-in meant that he learned how to dig, deep enough to unearth secrets. He set off some searches, using some macros he’d programmed. They all went crawling, looking for Macey Munroe on the big, wide web. It didn’t take long to realize that the Macey he once knew didn’t exist. Not a single peep about the girl he’d known in high school, who’d gone off to do incredible medical things.