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very hard not to get pissed at his men. Didn’t they see the potential in her that he did?
    “Different set of circumstances. When I’m done with her, she won’t have to use her body in a sexual way to gain the upper hand. Her brain will do all the work. It’s why I recruited her.”
    Stone swiped his hand across his face in frustration. Godfather knew what bugged Gage. He didn’t attempt to quell his concerns. It would go down as it always did. When the team had reservations, they hashed it out, then came to an agreeable, mutual resolution. The last thing he wanted was for there to be dissension among his operatives. Each one of their lives depended on complete trust in the other.
    “Did any of you notice how she practically jumped out of her skin when she thought I was going to touch her?” Stone asked, then directed his next question atGodfather. “And when you chest-butted her, she about caved on the spot.”
    Godfather nodded. “Normal behavior in a perceived hostile environment. She’ ll be desensitized soon enough. She’ ll go through the same assimilation you all went through, but the accelerated version.”
    “I don’t think—” Stone started.
    Godfather flashed. “You don’t think what? Or do you suddenly have a problem with my authority, Stone? Or is it something personal?”
    Stone met the stares of his teammates. Leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, he looked squarely at Godfather and said, “Nothing personal, sir. She’s just damned distracting.”
    Godfather smiled. “I know. Another reason she was handpicked. I’m counting on every man we set her up against to be blindsided.”
    “How much time do we have before she needs to be up to speed?” Cruz asked.
    Godfather stood, thoughtful, then said, “As much time as she needs.”
    Every man in the room stood, slack-jawed. Godfather shook his head in bewilderment. “Do I have to explain the differences between the sexes again?”
    “How long is as long as it takes?” Cruz demanded. “And why?”
    “Because, Cruz, she’s a female! And a traumatized one at that. She needs to heal.” He glared at each man in the room. “Do you want her discharged before she’s emotionally stable? Do you want her as your cover and take the chance she’s going to nut up, or do you want to give her the time she needs to work things out?”
    “What if she doesn’ t?” Stone said.
    “She will,” Godfather flatly answered, then exited the room.
    Godfather stalked from the war room and down the hall to the office area. He nodded at the petite blonde who turned from one of her four computer screens in her chair. Her dark brown eyes shone bright with intelligence and, he could see, concern.
    He frowned and put his hand up in the stop position. “Not you too, Naomi.”
    He watched her set her jaw. Always a prelude to an argument. “I might be just your paper pusher, sir, but I have a stake here too. That woman is half cocked, loaded and about to go on a killing spree.”
    There was not much that got past Godfather’s right arm. Naomi Sullivan was the one who facilitated the details. While he was lord and master of the team and ops, she was mistress of the internal working of L.O.S.T.—reports, dossiers, procurement of official dummy docs, fact finder, travel agent, realtor, shopper of all things necessary for survival, and, ultimately, backup. She even hired the housekeeper.
And
the cleaners who took care of messes they left behind. She was the glue that held them all together. Rarely did she work in the field. They were all better served by her doing what she did best—keeping them alive and making them disappear, all from a stroke on the keyboard. She was to Godfather what Miss Moneypenny and M combined were to 007.
    “Did something happen between here and the assimilation chamber?”
    She shook her head, her short blonde bob brushing her cheeks. “To the naked eye, no. But she’s as jumpy as a rabbit and has serious people issues.