let him live down blue hair. Still, he knew they didn’t have time to argue, and Tazer seemed to know what she was doing.
Montana sat.
“By the way, I’m Karen,” said the hairstylist. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Her scissors flashed and hair flew around him. She shaved his face with a wicked-looking straight razor, trimmed his eyebrows and plucked some of the wild hairs.
So far, he didn’t have a problem with what she’d done. He’d needed a haircut after being on vacation for two weeks, and his brows were a little on the bushy side. But when she brought out a bowl with powder and mixed in liquid from a bottle, he held up his hand. “What’s that?”
“Bleach.”
“For what?” he asked, leaning away from the bowl and what appeared to be a wide, flat paintbrush she was using to stir the contents.
“I’m going to lighten your hair.” She held up a photo of Rex Masters, Mica’s bodyguard. “I’m told you need to have this hair color.”
“Yeah, but will it be permanent?”
She shook her head. “It’ll grow out in a couple months.”
“Months!”
“Relax. It’s just hair. With your tan, the blond will look fabulous on you.”
Not liking the gleam in Karen’s eyes, Montana sat back and allowed the stylist to do her job. Tazer chose that hour to be absent.
Figures.
By the time the stylist finished and dried his hair, Montana was ready to bust through whatever doors stood in his way to getting outside.
Karen slapped a handheld mirror in his palm. “See? You look great.”
He glanced into the mirror, relieved he didn’t have blue hair, and was amazed at the resemblance between him and Mica Brantley’s bodyguard.
Karen had even lightened his eyebrows to a shade darker than his now sandy-blond hair.
“Good, you’re done.” Tazer appeared in the doorway with an armful of clothes. “Put these on.”
“Ever consider the word please?” Montana asked. The SOS agent might dress like a fashion model, but she was as lacking in manners as some of his SEAL buddies.
“No time.” Again, she clapped her hands. “Chop, chop!” Tazer disappeared again, leaving Montana with the stylist, who was gathering the tools of her trade.
“Thank you, Karen.” Montana pulled his wallet out of his pocket, prepared to tip the woman for a job well done.
She held up her hand. “No need to tip me. Miss Steele took care of everything. It was a pleasure.” She held out a card. “Look me up if you’re ever at a loose end.” With a wink, she left the office, closing the door behind her.
Montana shucked his clothes and slipped into the trousers and matching suit jacket, freshly altered. Though he preferred jeans and T-shirts, he had to admit the outfit, now that it had been adjusted, fit like a second skin. He drew the line at putting on the silk tie. Dressed, buttoned and wearing the new patent leather shoes Tazer had delivered with the suit, he stepped out of the office and went in search of Tazer and Kate.
The female attendant he’d met earlier found him wandering through the warehouse of dresses and clothes, and took his arm. “Miss Steele asked that you wait in the viewing area until the ladies are ready.” She ushered him into the lounge with the dressing room doors Kate had disappeared behind earlier.
Montana paced, his patience worn thin, his need to get outside an obsession.
Fifteen very long minutes later, Tazer walked out of the back warehouse area.
Kate followed, wearing a pale cream skirt suit that fit her long, athletic body like a kid glove. The matching high heels made her legs look even longer, the tight muscles of her calves bunching with each step.
Montana’s groin tightened and he fought to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor.
Her shoulder-length hair had been swept back into one of those French twist things women liked to wear. She looked amazing.
Kate’s gaze swept him from top to bottom. “I like you with dark hair better,” she said. “But you’ll do.”
“Not to worry.” Tazer nodded to the attendant. “Could you get the handbag I left in the back?”
She nodded and hurried through the door.
Once they were alone, Tazer handed Montana a bottle of dark liquid. “Before you go out tonight, put this in your hair and let it dry. You two are now Monty and Kayla Lindemann, good friends of the Brantleys. While you’re Monty, you’ll put the dye in your hair. When you have to switch to fill in for Rex, just wash it out.”
“What about me?” Kate asked. “I can’t just dye my hair black in a flash.”
“No, but you can wear this.” She handed Kate a bag.
Kate fished inside and pulled a wig halfway out. It was long, dark and straight, like Mica Brantley’s hair. Kate nodded. “Got it.”
“I’ve arranged for you and Mica to have matching outfits for the yacht club gala. You will arrive as the Lindemanns, but if anything happens that puts Mrs. Brantley in danger, we’re pulling her and Rex out and putting you two in as their replacements.”
“The event is tomorrow. What’s happening tonight?” Montana asked.
“You’re going to meet up with Mica at the Jefferson Hotel in downtown DC. She has the Martha Jefferson Penthouse Suite. The Lindemanns will be a floor below. You’re having dinner together. We’ll have the hotel covered with your SEAL team and SOS electronic surveillance.” She handed Montana a leather briefcase. “Everything you’ll need is in the case. Familiarize yourselves with the contents on the way over. Once inside the hotel, consider everything bugged. Act, live, breathe as if you really are the Lindemanns. We don’t know how deep the traitors are entrenched and in what government entities. Trust no one but the members of the team.”
Montana nodded, his free hand tightening into a fist. To think there were traitors within the organizations he would have thought he could trust made him all the more determined to take them down.
* * *
KATE AND MONTANA stepped through the front door of the dress shop and slid into the waiting limousine. Their new clothes had been packed into designer luggage and stored in the trunk of the car. They would take the long way around the city, be dropped off at the airport and later picked up by Mica Brantley’s car.
Montana opened the case Tazer had given him and extracted their orders and a dossier detailing who they were supposed to be, how they’d met Mica and her husband and why they were visiting her at the Jefferson.
“Mica and Trevor introduced us to each other in Paris.” Kate turned to Montana. “Have you been to Paris?”
His lips twisted. “I might prefer Montana to the big cities, but yes, I’ve been to Paris. How about you?”
She nodded. Her partner had taken her to Paris over a long weekend between assignments. Little had she known he had used their weekend away as an opportunity to pass information to his Russian contact. God, she’d been a fool, thinking he was in love with her and out getting little French pastries for their breakfasts. All along, he’d been working.
“Hey.” Montana touched a finger to her chin. “We’re supposed to be newlyweds. No long faces.”
“Sorry.” She read through the pages, committing the words to memory. “I’ve got this. Do you need to see it again?”
“No.”
“It says to shred the documents.” Kate glanced around the inside of the limousine. It didn’t surprise