Page 71 of Lethal Game

“What do you have in mind?” Max asked.

“Bait and switch.”

Max’s eyebrows went up. “How do you propose to do that?”

“Sophia will need to get a makeover, dye her hair. We take another female soldier and bleach her hair, then send her off as if she were Sophia to Germany or back to the States. Then we wait to see what happens.”

“That might draw out whoever is supplying Akbar with intel on this base.”

“The fewer who know about this, the better,” Sophia said. “But I think it might work.”

“Who is going to play you?” Eugene asked.

“One of the techs, Jones, is about my height and weight,” Sophia said. “She’s got dark hair, so she’ll have to dye it. Mine too, I guess.” She turned to Eugene and added, “If you go with her when she’s playing me, it would make sense.”

“Excellent idea,” Max nodded. “You can pretend to be his replacement. We’ll have to make up a name for you.”

“I’d rather just pretend to be a lab tech or something.”

“We should do this soon. Tonight,” Con said. “In response to this fire.”

“Go find her, Eugene,” Max ordered. “And see if she knows where to get some hair dye for Sophia and herself.”

“Yes, sir,” Eugene saluted, then jogged away.

“The rest of you are in sorry shape,” Max said. “Clean up as best you can in the washrooms.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Sophia led the charge to the bathrooms, going into the ladies’ room with a sigh of relief. Con was behaving like he was the officer, ordering her around and getting all snarly in her face.

She washed her hands and face, then unbuttoned and removed her uniform shirt to reveal her bra and a multitude of bruises around her neck, arms, and sides. She gave herself a bit of wash all over her torso, then contemplated the bruises. None of them looked too bad. Though the only time she’d seen worse was before she went into remission.

“Holy fuck.”

Con stood behind her. He must have come in while she’d been examining herself, but she hadn’t even heard him.

She spun around and tried to pull her shirt back on, but he was there, taking it from her, putting his hands on her wrists to keep her arms from covering up what she could.

He looked at one bruise in particular on her upper arm, the shape of fingers very clearly marking her skin. He put his hand over the mark. A perfect fit.

“I did this to you?” Con’s horrified gaze met her own. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

“Because it didn’t hurt...much. Remember, I told you, I have funny platelets. I get bruises.”

“I didn’t think it would get this bad,” he said incredulously. “Is it like this a lot?”

“Well, no. It’s not usually this bad, but I’ve been manhandled quite a bit in the last few days.” Her sarcasm was lost on him. He was too busy staring at her black-and-blue body.

“This isn’t normal.” He traced a bruise circling her neck. “How did you get this one?”

“A guy grabbed me by the collar and tried to drag me off, but I pointed my gun in his face and he let go.”

Con’s gaze turned dangerous. “Where and when did this happen?”

“While I was still in the hotel, during the fire.”

“What did he look like?”

“Like any other local. He yelled at me in a language I didn’t understand.”

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