To Kiss A Kringle (Southern Sanctuary Book 13)

by Jane Cousins

  “Yet she would remain in the loop. Everything Parron and Alton know, would come across her desk.”

  “Permanently basing herself in London and taking on the Internal Threat Lead role was a deliberate choice by Mara so she wouldn’t have to travel as often.”

  “You really don’t see it, do you? The marriage?”

  “I checked Reni Ausson out every which way. Respected neurosurgeon. Brilliant. Navy veteran.”

  “Widower. Father.”

  “Yes.” Cullen acknowledged.

  “I assume you didn’t take more than a cursory glance at the children?”

  “The children? They’re nine. Hardly covert masterminds.”

  “Look, you don’t think it’s incredibly suspicious that Mara, after twenty-five years of serial dating wealthy, rather brainless sportsmen, suddenly does an about face and begins dating men with baggage? First, according to your records, a divorcee with an eight year old son. Then Ausson, the widower, with twin daughters.”

  “Mara made it publically known that she had come to the realisation that life had been passing her by. That given her age, if she wanted a husband and family it was time to drastically change her ways.”

  “So this mad skills special ops agent. World traveller. Never staying in one country longer than three months. Who for years played the serial dating game, suddenly one day wakes up and decides she needs a ready made family to complete her?”

  “Why do I get the distinct impression if I say yes you are going to haul off and slap me?”

  “Ah, he finally gets a clue. Since her whirlwind marriage how much did Mara’s life really change?”

  “Well, she requested the Internal Threats management position. Which meant permanently residing in London.”

  “And personally? Did she cut back on her hours so she could immerse herself in this wonderful family life she had suddenly found for herself? Was she leaving early, insisting she be there to read the girls a bedtime story?”

  “Well, no. But you’ve seen Mara’s file, she’s very dedicated.”

  “Yes, but according to you, she’d been dropping deliberate hints that having a family, children, was suddenly vital. Yet two days after they got married she hired a second nanny, presumably so she could spend even less time with the children. The one thing she does seem to have an awful lot of time for in her social calendar though is the children’s school. Suddenly she is a very dedicated, very involved parent at the the Bailly Prive International School. Volunteering at all their fundraising events.” Patricia’s smile widened. “And I’m very much doubting it is a co-incidence that the divorcee she dated before Ausson, guess where his child went to school?”

  “Bailly Prive?”

  “Got it in one.” Patricia plucked the top document from the file in front of her, sliding it across the table. It was a list of the children who attended the exclusive International school.

  Cullen’s gaze swept down the list, these were the children of Royalty, Ministers, Diplomats and wealthy businessmen with worldwide connections. It took him a few moments to collate this new data in his head. Making connections. Following the threads, until… “No wonder I was getting nowhere with Alton or Parron, I was focusing on the wrong targets. You are a marvel.” He raised his glass in a toast. “A veritable Goddess.”

  Damn, it was hard to be smug when the man was being so complimentary. She couldn’t believe he was taking it so well. “You realise this means I won, right? The bet.”

  “The bet?”

  “Yes. I want access to everything from now on in.” She correctly read the reluctant look in Cullen’s eyes. “Hey, I’ve already proven what an asset I can be. Like you said, sometimes it takes fresh eyes, objectivity. Just like what you did for my Research Department. Besides, you wouldn’t really think about going back on your word, would you?”

  “No. Fine. I will keep you updated on everything I learn.”

  “Excellent.” Patricia finished off the last of her wine and got to her feet. “I’d better get going. It’s been a long day.”

  “Yes. And we have an early start tomorrow morning.” Cullen followed Patricia as she walked towards the glass double doors.

  “We do?” She frowned, trying to picture her schedule, and coming up blank.

  “Yes, the Occupational Health and Safety Inspection, remember? So I’ll see you back here bright and early, six am.”

  “Six?” Damn another early start. “I suppose you have issued a mandatory request for my presence?”

  “Of course.” Cullen held open the door for her. The warm night air rushed in, laden with the scent of jasmine, eucalyptus and violets. “Oh, Trix, one more thing.”

  Patricia turned, surprised as Cullen’s lips met hers, his mouth warm, yet gentle. The pressure gone and he was stepping away before she had registered the fact that he was kissing… had kissed her. “What…?”

  “Thank you. For the lead. For sharing dinner with me. See you in the morning.”

  She blinked as the glass door was abruptly swung shut in her face. On auto pilot Patricia turned, walking away down the brightly lit pathway. Absently her fingers lifted to press against her lips, they were tingling. Heavens, Cullen had just kissed her. Of course it didn’t mean anything, he was just thanking her, after all, she’d been the one to break the case wide open.

  Yes, that’s all it was, just sheer gratitude on his part.

  Totally inappropriate of course, they were colleagues. It wouldn’t be happening again, she’d make sure of that. She’d be prepared next time. Hmm, and why was that tingly feeling rushing through her veins at the thought of a next time? Nope, not going to happen.

  Although, when she came to think about it, she wasn’t sure how Cullen had managed to kiss her at all. She was wearing three inch wedge sandals… given their disparity in height… she frowned trying to work out how Cullen had so effortlessly managed such a feat. Damn, she was forgetting he was a logistics genius. And tricky to boot.

  She would have to be on her guard from now on in his presence. Crap, and she, the idiot that she was, had just demanded they spend even more time together.

  * * *

  “Here, you look like you could use this.”

  Patricia gratefully snatched the mug of coffee from Marta and took a large swig. Ah, that was wonderful. Though not as good as the one Cullen had waiting for her when she arrived at the Annexe this morning, just after dawn. Grrr, despite a very thorough inspection by Cousin Wally, The Council’s Occupational Health and Safety Officer, the Annexe had passed with flying colours.

  “Disappearing all yesterday and looking hellaciously rough this morning? If I didn’t know better I’d say you’d been burning the candle at both ends with a certain delish bare chested warrior. Except he kept turning up hourly yesterday, bringing gifts and demanding to know where you were.”

  “Is that where all that came from? Zartel?” Patricia had noted the stack of items piled in one corner when she had first stumbled into her office an hour ago. But she’d been too busy tackling the back log of emails to really care enough to investigate.

  “Yes.” Marta waited for a reaction, any reaction, but all she got was the sight of Patricia’s bent head as she tapped out a quick reply to another email and sent it off. “Um. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

  “Curious?”

  “The gifts. Aren’t you going to open them?”

  Patricia glanced at the screen, noting the number of emails she had yet to tackle, everything was marked urgent. Which was typical of her family. But nothing was marked with the secret code signifying that it was, in reality, a dire emergency. She could probably afford to take a break. And by the look of avid interest fixed on Marta’s face, she wasn’t going to get any peace until she had opened the pile of waiting presents.

  Taking another fortifying sip of coffee, Patricia stood up, absently smoothing down the smoky blue blouse and grey pencil skirt she’d chosen to wear today. She couldn’t help but recall Cullen’s admirin
g gaze settling on her when he’d seen her walk into the Annexe this morning. The edges of his lips quirking upwards as he noted her four inch spiked heels. The man had looked distinctly pleased, as if she had laid down some sort of personal challenge that he was fully prepared to meet and master.

  “Patricia?”

  “Oh, right, sorry.” She put the coffee cup down and approached the pile. So this was Zartel’s way of getting back in her good graces after that debacle of a meeting with Cara? Okay, he at least won points for realising he was in the dog house. That was a major step in most bodice rippers. When the he-man warrior realised that he had done wrong.

  “Start with that one.” Marta pointed to a small flat box that glowed with shimmering golden lights.

  Patricia picked it up, surprised that she only felt a kind of detached clinical interest in the contents. Of the two of them Marta was certainly acting more invested. What was wrong with her? Hopefully just sleep deprivation. Shaking herself mentally she forced a smile and opened the box.

  Marta crowded in closer for a better look. “Ohh, ribbons.”

  “No.” Patricia lifted the gossamer tangle of silken golden strips of material. Merciful Lady. Seriously? “This is underwear.”

  “Really?” Marta frowned down at the gauzy pile that barely filled Patricia’s hand. “How do you…?”

  “With little regard for support or gravity and a bucket load of confidence.”

  “Wow.” Marta eyed the pile of wide gossamer wispy strips of material and then Patricia, and then back to the pile of what were effectively ribbons. “You could totally pull it off.”

  “I don’t want to pull it off.” She dumped the fluttery material back in the box. Quickly grabbing another one, she ripped open the lid, anything to get Marta to stop smiling at her like that, with smirking speculation. Phew, this was more like it. She picked up the beautiful purple glass bottle that was nestled in the second box.

  “Is that perfume?”

  Patricia pulled open the stopper and sniffed. Um, okay, not really her scent. Cedar, sandalwood and dark spices. “I guess.” She handed the bottle over, watching Marta take a sniff, her nose wrinkling.

  “You know…” Marta tapped her finger over the bottle opening, rubbing the liquid between her fingers. “… this isn’t perfume, its massage oil.”

  Patricia might not like the smell but at least the bottle was pretty. The next box contained a dish of perfectly ripe figs and succulent, fat, dark green grapes. And the box after that contained a bottle of what looked like wine, or maybe, given the golden gleam of liquid, ambrosia. “Decadent seems to be the theme.” Patricia eyed the last gift. A long heavy scroll. No, as she began to unwind it she realised it was a painting. “Oh, good Goddess.”

  “Wow.” Marta breathed out before bursting into a fit of laughter.

  “That… that chauvinistic, thick-headed, dolt. He…” Patricia couldn’t put into words how flabbergasted she was by the painting that depicted her, wearing nothing but the see-through gossamer golden ribbons, massaging a ripped, naked Zartel, while also feeding him figs and grapes.

  “Do you think…” Marta was laughing and wheezing now, her eyes fixed fast to the painting. “Do you think that’s an accurate depiction?” She snorted and sucked in a loud breath. “Sure, he’s tall and built, but unless he’s part satyr, that can’t be accurate, can it?”

  Patricia was only human, she had to look, and before she knew it she was laughing also. It took a while for the two of them to catch their breath and calm down.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Patricia eyed the painting and then the gifts. “Everything is going back where it came from. Don’t eat anything.” She had clearly been failing in her duty to teach Zartel that women did not exist purely to massage his manly frame and feed him peeled grapes.

  She needed to better compartmentalise her time. Less focus on ousting Cullen, more on bringing her future warrior meld mate up to scratch. Or not, maybe she would buck the match making trend and be Great-Aunt Alma’s first recorded failure.

  Maybe it was time to find out.

  Okay, she would throw down a challenge, and considering who she was dealing with, she wouldn’t be subtle about it. She got the feeling that the small minutiae of everyday life kind of passed Zartel by.

  Not like Cullen, who had noted her four inch spiked heels this morning and made a point of mentioning to Cousin Wally that he was a skilled mountain climber. The higher the peak, the greater the need he felt to conquer it. His intense jade green gaze resting on her tall frame when he made the announcement.

  And it was perfectly natural for her blood to pop and zing in her veins when she met his gaze. That was nothing but irritation she was experiencing.

  Although, as Patricia’s gaze returned to the scandalous painting, she couldn’t help but think if she only had two options, then she’d rather be a mountain than a glorified, scantily clad masseuse.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ignore him.” Oh, if only Patricia had a dollar for every time she’d said those two words today.

  “But-”

  “Carry on with your report.”

  “But he looks so angry. And he has that really big sword.”

  “As do many of the family members who wander in here. And we don’t let them disrupt our schedule, do we?”

  “No.” Temperance, one of the junior staff members, dragged her gaze away from the glass doorway where Zartel could be seen pacing back and forth out in the corridor. Everyone re-focused their attention on the cage sitting in the middle of the table. “My attention was drawn to the anomaly at approximately nine forty-two. I was re-shelving books in section four, subsection two point six.”

  Carol, sitting next to Patricia, was taking notes. “What drew your attention? A sound? Smell?”

  Temperance shook her head. “I tried to shift the books in question… and well, all hell broke loose.” She grimaced, shifting slightly in her chair. Her left arm bandaged from elbow to wrist. Her right eye almost swollen shut.

  “You just tried to nudge them to the side, pick them up, or separate them? It’s important you remember the exact sequence of events.” While Temperance frowned and tried to recall specifics, Patricia reached over and pulled the cage slightly closer to get a better look at the two books locked within. They were quiet now. Either exhausted from their earlier attack on Temperance or the subsequent tussle with the Enforcers on Library duty who had wrestled them into the cage.

  Alternatively, they were quiet because they were just happy they were being left alone. It was hard to tell. Currently they just looked like two harmless books that were inexplicably wedged together.

  “Oh, I tried to separate them in order to re-shelve an item.”

  “Okay, good. Do you think you are up to finding that book? It could be important.”

  “Yes. Of course.” Temperance’s back straightened, smiling, then wincing, as the skin around her eye tightened.

  “And get some ice on that eye. Next.” Patricia looked down at the agenda in front of her. The twice weekly incident meeting could sometimes go for hours but today there was only two items on the list. “Jeremiah, it says here you were bitten by a French translation of the Feminine Mystic. Please tell us what happened in your own words.”

  * * *

  Cullen was surprised to find himself enjoying Vault duty. Oh, sure, he could understand why many of the staff were not fond of the place. It had an air of peculiar, muffled silence, as if just before you entered there had been a flurry of activity and now, shadowy predators were watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But if you could ignore that feeling, well, the Vault was fascinating.

  First off, the place just shouldn’t exist. Not given the dimensions inside and floor space it was assigned. They did not match up. Very Tardis, bigger on the inside than on the outside.

  And then there were the contents. Not just books, but scrolls, tablets, friezes, pamphlets, parchments, papyrus, and more than a f
ew hefty tomes that looked like they would need four strong men to lift them.

  Many of the items in here were ancient. More than a few weren’t just rare, they bordered on the legendary, sure to send any bibliophile into orgasmic spasms. The fact that they still existed in this world was only thanks to the anti-entropy spell blanketing the Vault that prevented not just the deterioration of the contents but nullified dust and humidity.

  If one didn’t mind the solitude and the impossible to shake feeling that several of the items in here were plotting your demise, it was a very pleasant, quiet place to get some work done. Of course it didn’t pay to let your guard down. Especially in section six, where most of the caged items were kept. It was also where all the scanning and repair equipment was kept.

  As Vault Duty Officer for the next two days, it was Cullen’s job to tackle all the items detailed in the work log. Some items were easy. Glue a damaged spine. Repair a torn cover. Some took more time and ingenuity. Like discovering why a book on Physics refused to open between the hours of noon and two. Or why the chapters in a signed John Le Carre novel kept re-arranging themselves.

  Fascinating work. And it also gave Cullen plenty of time to think. Mostly about how his own arrogance had been his stumbling block for the past two years. He’d never considered himself a chauvinist. And while he was a student of human nature, given his magic and his job, women were still somewhat of a mystery. But obviously he had to question whether he had some deep seated sexism that had steered him away from identifying Mara Botbain as the mole.

  No, if he were to be honest, it wasn’t because of her gender that he’d failed to look closer at Mara, it was because of her life choices. Sure, he remembered when it had been announced that she was getting married to a widower with two small children he’d been surprised. He’d always assumed that Mara lived and breathed the agency, her job. Certainly the case files he’d been asked to assess and contribute any intel to over the years had supported that hypothesis.