Behind the Veil

by Kathryn Nolan

  That wasn’t a lie—they were one of my favorite exhibits in the city. Watching the sun filter through each unique pane of glass brought me a quiet joy; the hands that had crafted that glass in the tenth century, still present through their artistry. It was enough to leave me speechless.

  “Your penchant for rarity is to be admired, Henry.”

  I intertwined my fingers with Delilah’s. “I’ve always been drawn to the singularly beautiful.”

  “Is that why you became a rare book librarian?” Victoria asked.

  I’d been asked this question hundreds of times in my career—but I couldn’t answer it the way I used to.

  “For the same reason you collect antiques. The power.”

  Her eyes flashed steel. “Power?”

  “I feel powerful knowing I’m the only person allowed to care for a manuscript so old it has to be handled with extreme care. Sometimes I’m the first person to turn the pages of a book in hundreds of years. All that history, at my control, well, it makes me feel like a king.”

  “I know that feeling,” she said softly. “It’s like an addiction.”

  Bernard. I felt a mental tug, deep in my memory. But what?

  “It truly is,” I replied.

  Victoria adjusted the fur around her shoulders. “I see Bitzi, waving me down like a lunatic. I hate to leave you.”

  Our time with her was drawing to a close, and we’d secured nothing. Time seemed to stretch between us in the hushed cloisters. I wondered if taking this job was pure idiocy—Abe was convinced I had the skill set of a detective.

  But maybe this entire case was just me, proving him wrong; seducing my colleague and distracting us from our mission.

  “Perhaps you and Delilah would like to come to a little gathering I’m hosting tomorrow evening.”

  Delilah and I were too stunned to speak.

  “Uh…I mean, of course,” Delilah said brightly. “Is it a dinner?”

  “A party for 300 people,” she sniffed. “A small thing.”

  I have 300 people coming tomorrow. I can’t move it.

  “Black tie, of course. Everyone who’s important in this city will be there.” Victoria arched a brow. “I believe you two should be there too. I might even find time to show you my collection.”

  I wondered if Henry Thornhill was the kind of man who did cartwheels through a medieval cloister.

  “It would be a true honor,” Delilah said. Her arm slid around my waist, mine wrapped around her shoulder.

  “Yes, well, that’s very true.” Victoria smoothed a strand of hair back into her low bun. “Thank you again for the tissues, my dear.”

  “Any time,” Delilah whispered.

  Victoria tapped the stone with a manicured nail. “What kind of secrets do you think exist in these stones, Henry?”

  “Hundreds of years’ worth, I’m sure,” I replied. “But we all have them.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Secrets are what make life interesting.”

  30

  Henry

  “Yeah, okay,” Delilah was saying into her cell phone, as discreetly as possible. “Yes.” She was nodding, teeth snagging her bottom lip. “You heard correctly.” Her midnight-blue eyes shot to mine, and those lips curved into a beaming smile. “We’d love that. Okay, bye.”

  Delilah and I were standing outside of the Philadelphia Natural History Museum, having slipped out before either Victoria or the guards could notice our absence. She’d whipped out her phone immediately to call Abe and Freya, striding down the sidewalk and far from prying eyes.

  “Freya and Abe were already out, grabbing late takeout, so Abe is sending Dorran and the limo home. They’re coming by to get us instead. They’ll be here in five minutes.”

  “What did they say?” I asked.

  Her smile grew even brighter. “They were fucking thrilled.” Delilah stepped into my space, the tips of our shoes touching. “We did what we were supposed to, Henry. We’re going to Victoria Whitney’s mansion. She’s going to show us her collection.”

  Her joy was contagious. “There were definitely several points in the evening where I truly believed we’d fucked everything up.”

  “Me too.” She bounced on her toes, shoulders doing a happy shimmy. “Good job, partner. You really convinced her at the end.”

  I rubbed my jaw. “I’m not so sure. Your wife has a fierce heart,” I repeated. Delilah glowed like a lantern as I said it. “I think you won her over.”

  “We both did it.” Her eyes searched mine. “We were a great team tonight, Henry.”

  My hips, pinning Delilah to the door. My cock, grinding against her wet heat. Her pussy, clenching around my fingers as she climbed and climbed—

  “I agree,” I said, pushing the words past the growl in my throat. “What is this…this feeling I have right now? Feels like I could run a marathon. Or jump off that building over there and fly.” The caffeine of a hundred coffees hummed beneath my skin.

  “Adrenaline.” Her chin lifted knowingly. “And success. Now you know why we do it.”

  “This feeling right here,” I said softly. “It’s like being the most alive I’ve ever felt.”

  “Careful. It’s addictive,” she said, repeating my words to Victoria. “You’ll start to crave it.”

  “Is that so?” I asked. The question came out rougher than I’d wanted. Her full lips parted. “What did the two of you talk about in the cloisters?”

  “You go first,” she shot back. “What happened when you got in trouble?”

  “You mean when I took a bullet for you, basically?”

  She shrugged flirtatiously. I wanted to kiss her again—right here, out in the open.

  “The head of security read me the riot act. He wanted to know why on earth I’d attempt a nocturnal dalliance in an unauthorized area.”

  “He didn’t say nocturnal dalliance.”

  “Oh, he did. And I had to sit there and take it without my fake wife by my side.”

  Delilah was trying not to laugh. “What did you say?”

  Maybe this is our kink. We like to fuck in public.

  “I said getting caught was kind of the point.” I tried—and failed—to keep my words as jaunty as our body language.

  “Oh,” she said. The knowledge that Delilah and I were both thinking about what had transpired in the closet had my cock hardening—again.

  “What did the two of you talk about?” I asked again. She shivered as a cool breeze sifted through her hair. I removed my tuxedo jacket and reached around, tucking her inside of it.

  “Seeing our…love…made her sad. Made her regret that she’d never managed to find the kind of relationship that you and I so clearly have.”

  “She thinks it’s that obvious?” I asked. I tugged the jacket closed, moved my hands down her arms to warm her.

  “Can Victoria see us?” Delilah asked.

  I stopped. “No, she can’t. I thought you seemed cold. Real cold, not fake.”

  Her eyes softened, body relaxed. She leaned into my touch, so I kept rubbing her arms.

  “Victoria said that when you stare at me, it’s like I’m the only star in your sky.”

  My hands roamed down her back, drawing her into my chest. She tilted her cheek into my palm. How had I not noticed before how perfectly our bodies fit together? No wonder Victoria believed we were truly in love. If you showed me a picture of Delilah and me right now—the simple ardor between us—I would have said the same thing.

  “The only star in my sky?”

  She nodded.

  “I’d say Victoria would be right,” I said hoarsely.

  Delilah was completely mesmerized. “Abe and Freya are probably going to be here in a minute.”

  I blew out a frustrated breath, took a big step back. Shoved my hands into my pockets to resist further temptation to touch my partner.

  “Are we going to talk about what happened?” she asked. And didn’t have to clarify.

  And what was I going to say to my c
oworker? That it wasn’t adrenaline I was craving.

  It was her.

  But a car was squealing up to the curb, windows rolled down. Delilah pasted a big smile on her face then turned, casting a look back up to the museum one last time.

  We slid into Abe’s car and peeled away.

  31

  Delilah

  Abe and Freya had picked up something spicy and salty smelling that had me faint with hunger within seconds.

  “Gimme,” I said, tapping Freya on the shoulder. She passed me a white take-out container and her chopsticks with a silly smile.

  “For you, Mrs. Thornhill.”

  She handed a similar container to Henry. “And for you.”

  The scent of pad thai that wafted up was maybe the best thing I’d ever smelled in my fucking life.

  “Details,” Abe said. “All of them.” He looked up into the rearview mirror as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “And well done, you two,” he said softly.

  Henry and I shared a happy look. I was still draped in his coat, and when I turned my nose into the collar, I remembered the best smell was actually Henry Finch.

  “Here’s what we got,” I said, twirling a noodle around my chopstick. “Henry and I gave her the book, and she didn’t bat an eye at how high-profile it was. Sven is her shadow and carries that portable transport case with him everywhere they go. And we trailed Victoria into an authorized area at the gala and overheard her yelling at someone on the phone.”

  “She was instructing them to move something after her party. She sounded furious,” Henry added.

  “The exhibit is a little over a week away,” Freya said. “Which means that book is officially hot. If she was smart, she would have already moved it.”

  I stared out the window at the red brick row homes of Old City, flickering with gas lanterns. “I think Victoria is smart. She just has a big ego.”

  “I’ll give Francisco an update,” Abe said. “Not that he’ll be happy. He told me the FBI has brought in their second and third suspects.”

  My blood ran cold. “So they’re working on three?”

  “Yes.”

  The car was silent as we made a series of turns. Henry leaned his shoulder against mine.

  “But no book,” Abe said.

  I exhaled.

  “Francisco said the FBI wants to run the story in the papers the day after the party. They don’t want to keep it under wraps any longer. They think the public could help, like maybe some unwitting buyer has it and didn’t realize it’d been stolen.”

  “Fuck,” I said. “That’s not good for us either. It’ll spook whoever has it.”

  “Sounds like our deadline is tomorrow night regardless,” Freya said. “And there has been absolutely nothing online about this that I can find. Whoever has the Copernicus isn’t talking about it, at least not in the communities we have access to.”

  She turned around in the front seat. “She definitely said she’d show you her collection?”

  “Her exact words were ‘if I have the time,’” Henry replied.

  Freya chewed her lip, raked a hand through her hair. “Okay.”

  Abe was driving so intently I thought the steering wheel was going to snap beneath his fingers. “We’ll chat plans tomorrow after we’ve all had a good night’s rest.”

  We pulled to a stop in front of Henry’s historic, three-story row home. I noticed it had the perfect stoop. “I really like your house, Henry.”

  He winked at me in the darkness. “It’s literally filled with books. Wall to wall novels.”

  I could picture him there, cozy in front of some fireplace, reading a book with that same look of awe I’d seen on his face countless times. I went to slip out of his jacket, but he shook his head. “I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said awkwardly.

  His deep voice reverberated through every nerve ending in my body. “Thank you for the ride. And the dinner. I’ll see you all tomorrow for our big day.” He was speaking to everyone but staring at me. We hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk about what had happened—and now it felt like he was sending me some kind of message.

  “Good night,” I said. I watched him stride into his elegant home. Pictured him tugging loose his bowtie; slowly working open each button on his white shirt, pulling back the covers on a bed that would be perfectly warm and smell like books.

  “How’s Henry doing with this case?” Abe asked.

  “Good,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “Actually, to be honest, he’s doing even better than I’d anticipated. He’s natural with a target like Victoria. A little awkward in the beginning, but he’s learning how to pivot quickly, think on his feet.”

  “I suspected as much,” Abe said. “I think he’s going to make a really great detective.”

  “I do miss you,” I said, reaching up to touch Freya’s shoulder.

  “I miss you too,” she said. “And I’ve had to be stuck in the office with this grumpy asshole the whole time.”

  “And yet I’ve brought you donuts every single day this week,” Abe mused. “Depending on how this case goes, we’ll have to talk logistics of all three of you in the field. It’ll be a new thing for us. Delilah, at this point, would you be opposed to partnering with Henry on future cases?”

  I’d just experienced the most passionate moments of my life with Henry in a utility closet. My mind was either hyper-focused on Victoria—or attempting to rationalize my intense attraction to my coworker. I hadn’t once allowed myself to think past the recovery. When I’d have to spend every day at Codex, partnering closely with a man who’d brought me to orgasm and then tenderly kissed my hair.

  This isn’t the first time a young female detective has latched herself to a superior officer. Mark had been so fucking smug when he said it. And I’d felt like a love-sick idiot, even though our one-month fling had been very, very real.

  I placed a palm on my stomach, attempting to sort out my damaged gut instinct. When I remembered seeing Mark, there was a churning feeling; anxiety, nerves, regret.

  I unfolded the memory of Henry brushing his lips sweetly against mine and felt only a tremulous excitement.

  “Delilah?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Of course. He and I are developing a decent working relationship. Although my number one is always Freya.”

  “You deserve more noodles for that,” she said, handing me another box.

  “Who knows,” Abe said, “maybe the whole marriage undercover act will work for something in the future. We should keep those rings, Freya. Just in case.”

  “Right-o.” She mock-saluted. “Don’t retire the lovely Mrs. Thornhill yet, Del. You might need her for the future.”

  “Sounds good,” I said automatically. Thinking about Henry, as handsome as I’d ever seen him, telling me I was the most beautiful woman in the room. How could I spend the next few cases being fake married to a man that made me feel something so real?

  “What do you think is going to happen tomorrow?” I asked, more for myself than anyone else.

  Abe was silent. And when he didn’t answer, Freya reached back and squeezed my hand. “We get the damn book back.”

  32

  Henry

  That night I dreamed of the heavens.

  In my dream, I held the Copernicus. The ancient manuscript had intricate gold flowers woven through the pages. Their leaves grew around a universe sparkling with planets, orbiting a fiery sun. I had the strangest sensation that the pages were speaking to me, calling to me through the gilded edges.

  Bernard appeared—briefly, muttering something about passageways. And when I woke—startled at 6:00 am, alarm blaring—my first thought was revenge.

  My second—and more captivating thought—was about Delilah.

  And by the time I made it to Codex, an incessant pulse was the only sound in my ears. Nerves, anxiety, adrenaline—the metronome was the same. A driving charge that compelled me up the spiral staircase, shoving the office
door open with more force than was necessary.

  The bang had everyone swiveling toward me. But I only had eyes for the blue-eyed woman with tape-wrapped hands, holding a punching bag mid-swing.

  “Now that Henry’s here, we need to talk final plan.” Abe beckoned us into his office with one single finger. Freya scooped up her laptop, seven notebooks, scrap paper, and a handful of pens—looking more serious than usual.

  Delilah picked up her notebook and pulled on her faded Temple University sweatshirt, biting her lip as we stared at each other.

  “Hey,” she said, almost shy.

  We hadn’t spoken about the closet, and I needed her to know that it hadn’t been only a sexy game to me.

  I peered into Abe’s office, made sure they were thoroughly distracted. I reached for a pen in my suit jacket and grabbed the notebook from Delilah’s hands. I missed you last night, I scribbled. Turned it around so she could read it.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear like I’d asked her to the school dance. Her answering smile was a revelation. My fake wife took the pen—brushing our fingers together as she did so—and wrote, I missed you too.

  “Are my field agents coming or am I having a meeting with myself?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Delilah called back. “We’re coming.”

  I followed her into the office. The screen behind Abe’s head displayed a gigantic photo of Sven, of all people. Freya was perched on the edge of Abe’s desk, knee jiggling.

  “Are we making a plan for tonight?” Delilah said, immediately composed.

  Freya and Abe exchanged a look before he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Freya dug into Dresden, the company Victoria has hired to provide her private security. I’m assuming they’ll be there at the party tonight.”

  “Absolutely.” Delilah nodded. “She’s completely exposed. It’s the smart thing for her to do.”

  Freya clicked through a few images on her laptop—they popped up on the screen. Headlines about Dresden, a mug shot of Sven.

  “I’ve been going over this case in my head all night.” Abe scowled. Cracked his knuckles. Glared out the window. “I believe I have backed us into a corner that none of you are going to like. Getting into her house is good. Having her show you her collection is even better. You’ll have your hidden cameras and can take pictures of anything you see out in the open. But I think we all need to admit that the likelihood Victoria Whitney shows you this book is very, very slim.”