by Kim Foster
At last, we reached the Piazza San Marco, a huge expanse of open space framed with restaurants and cafés with their rows of alfresco tables where people sipped cappuccino, nibbled pastries, or enjoyed a meal. String quartets on small stages filled the square with Vivaldi. In the center of the piazza, people strolled arm in arm, savoring gelato, while flocks of pigeons fluttered about them like confetti.
It was undeniably romantic. I glanced at Ethan. He was pointedly avoiding my gaze.
A lot of the previous night’s events were fuzzy in my mind—the head injury messing with my memory—but one thing stood out in sharp detail: kissing Ethan in the train car, undressing each other . . .
Heat flushed up my face. Nothing had been said about it between us, which left me feeling uncertain and vaguely uncomfortable. I struggled to focus on the task at hand.
“How are we to recognize the person we’re supposed to be meeting?” I asked Ethan. Templeton had not provided a pass phrase. No secret handshake. No photo or file. Just an instruction to meet our contact underneath the winged lion column, the Lion of Venice.
“Don’t know,” Ethan said. “I’m hoping it will be obvious.”
As we moved to the far end of the square, the winged lion column came into sight. My gaze slid down, and I instantly knew why we didn’t need a secret handshake.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jack had known who would be meeting him in Saint Mark’s Square. He’d also known Cat and Ethan were working on this assignment together. The knowledge didn’t stop his stomach from curling unpleasantly at the sight of them. Not that they had been walking hand in hand or anything. It was just that they looked . . . like a pair, somehow.
He wasn’t sure this had been the right decision. Although what choice did he have? Now that Jack knew about his half brother, he could hardly leave the kid at the mercy of Caliga.
During the flight over here, Jack had thought a lot about Templeton’s revelation. He’d demanded to know when Felix Tucker had been born and then tried to calculate where his father might have been at the time. But it was a futile exercise. John Robie had maintained a jet-set lifestyle when Jack had been young; he was constantly away from home. Jack would never know the whole story now, of course. His father had been dead for years.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s you,” Cat said in a low voice as she approached him. “What are you doing here? What do you know? Why—”
Ethan interrupted, speaking directly to Cat. “What if this is a trap? An FBI sting? How do we know we can trust Jack?”
Cat scoffed. “It’s not a trap.”
Ethan didn’t look convinced. Jack crossed his arms and waited; he didn’t owe the man any explanations.
He watched Ethan conduct a visual sweep of the area. Jack followed his gaze. Ethan looked to all the places Jack would have, for signs of surveillance or an ambush. The art thief was as sharp as ever, he’d grant him that much.
“Fine. Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Ethan said, marginally less suspicious.
A few minutes later, all three of them tucked inside a dimly lit café a block away from Saint Mark’s. As Cat took her seat, Jack noticed she stumbled a little before sitting down. “Are you okay?” he asked sharply. For her to be anything other than perfectly agile was unusual.
“I’m fine.”
Jack peered into her eyes carefully. Her gaze was slightly unfocused. Jack sat bolt upright and turned on Ethan. “What the hell happened?”
Ethan winced, then quickly schooled it. “She hit her head,” he confessed. “She seems to have a concussion.”
“A concussion! How?”
Both Cat and Ethan remained quiet. Jack gripped the arms of his chair. “Jesus Christ, somebody better tell me what happened—”
“We were on a train,” Cat began. Between them, Cat and Ethan told him the full story, although Jack got the distinct feeling Cat was downplaying it for his benefit. Typical.
Jack looked to Ethan. “I need to hear it from you, Jones. Is she okay? How bad was it? Do we need to take her to the hospital?”
Cat let out a strangled sound. “What the hell? Since when do you two team up against me?”
Ethan ignored her, and addressed Jack’s question. “It was a bad fall. But . . . I think she’s going to be okay. We’ll need to keep a close eye on her.”
Jack glanced at Cat, who was glaring at them both, and nodded. Fine. He could do that.
His insides twisted at the thought of her being hurt. Jumping from a train? It could have been so much worse.
And then, with a tinge of sadness, he reminded himself: she wasn’t his to worry about anymore.
The waiter brought out three espressos, dark and rich. “All right, let’s get down to business,” Jack said. If he was going to get involved in this job, he was going to do it his way. “I know you two are on assignment to retrieve the Lionheart Ring. I know the job went sour in England. And I know you’re now hunting Caliga’s headquarters, the Lionheart, and the hostage they took.”
“And how do you know all that?”
“Templeton. He gave me information that sent me over here to help.”
“And that’s all it took, to get you to come over here?” Cat said. Jack heard the surprise and gratitude in her voice, with possibly a tinge of admiration. Jack sipped his coffee and glanced at Ethan.
The man was looking at him with narrowed eyes. To gain his trust, Jack would need to prove himself in some way, and this idea truly pissed Jack off. The guy was a crook, and Jack was an FBI agent. At least I used to be.
His gaze flicked between Ethan and Cat. What was going on between them? There was obviously a lot of tension. They’d been working together for a few days, so maybe . . . ? The thought made Jack’s ears pound as blood rushed to them.
At that moment, Cat stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Instantly, both Jack and Ethan stood, too. “Are you okay? Do you need someone to go with you?” Jack said. Ethan watched her with concern and held her elbow protectively.
Cat flicked her eyes between the two of them. “Um . . . I’m just going to the restroom. I think I can handle it.”
She disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two men staring at each other as they sat back down.
“Okay, Jack, we get it. You’re a goddamn hero,” Ethan said. “It was a nice move, showing up here to help Cat with a job gone south. But some of us have been here right from the start.”
Jack opened his mouth, about to correct Ethan, and tell him the real reason he was there.
But then he reconsidered, and bolted down his coffee instead. Why not let Ethan think he’d come here for Cat? Ethan didn’t need to know that Felix was his half brother. Neither did Cat, for that matter. It didn’t change anything, in terms of their objective, and if it got under Ethan’s skin, that was just a bonus.
If it changed his status in Cat’s eyes? Well, Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to go there. He frowned, the feeling of being left on the chilly bank of the Seine too fresh in his mind. Even so, Jack decided to keep the truth about Felix to himself, for now.
When Cat returned, Jack started grilling them about what they knew about Caliga, who was in charge, and where they thought the ring might be. He was surprised they didn’t have a lot of information.
“What do you mean you don’t have surveillance records? What about background checks?”
Ethan scowled. “Jack, this isn’t some FBI operation. The rules are different.” Then he crossed his arms and added, “Not that you’d be welcome at an FBI op, from what I hear.”
“Whereas you’d be plenty welcome,” Jack shot back. “The guest of honor, no doubt. Should I make a call?”
“You’re not insulting me by calling me a criminal.” Ethan’s eyes flashed.
“Does it insult you if I call you an asshole?”
“Whoa, stand down, you two,” Cat said, holding her hands up.
“You know we all worked well together in Paris. We can do it again. Do I need t
o remind you what’s at stake? Smarten up, both of you.”
Both men glowered like sullen teenagers. There was silence for a few minutes, then Ethan said, “All right, Jack, since you’re here, you must have some information on the whereabouts of the Lionheart.” His tone was challenging. “Where’s Caliga’s headquarters?”
Jack looked between them with genuine surprise. “You two don’t know? Well, I don’t know where it is. I assumed you would.”
At that moment, a woman’s voice said, “They have no idea. But, fortunately, I do.”
All three turned. Approaching their table was a petite woman with a massive amount of dark curly hair, and a faint scar over her left cheek. Esmerelda.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I blinked, making sure it really was Esmerelda. She was French Secret Service, and she’d helped me during the Hope Diamond heist in the spring. More importantly, though, she was a member of the enigmatic DOA. The Department of Antiquities.
Ethan swiftly stood and retrieved a chair for her. Jack called a waiter over and she ordered a cappuccino.
“I’ve been tailing you since this morning,” she explained, taking the seat.
My eyebrows lifted. She was good. I was normally proficient at detecting a tail. It made me uncomfortable knowing this had happened without me being aware. I could see the same thoughts on Ethan’s and Jack’s faces. And then it occurred to me—was this a symptom of my concussion? Were my senses that dulled?
My next thought was even more uncomfortable—if she had been following us, undetected, might someone else have been, also?
As if reading my mind, she said, “I’ve been watching your backs. Nobody else is following you.”
“So what are you doing here?” Jack asked. “Is the Fabergé egg here somewhere in Venice?” The last time we had seen Esmerelda, in Paris, we knew Caliga had the Fabergé, which contained two of the Gifts of the Magi—the Frankincense and Myrrh. The third, the Gold, was still missing.
“No, not that we can tell,” Esmerelda said. “Caliga has it somewhere, but that somewhere could be anywhere. We don’t think it’s here in Venice.”
“So why are you here?” Ethan asked.
“I’ve been reassigned. I’m in charge of protecting the Lionheart now.”
Jack’s eyes flicked around the café. “Where’s your team?”
Esmerelda sipped her cappuccino. “I’m it. The DOA wants the Lionheart protected, but most of their manpower is being funneled into finding the Fabergé.”
“Just you on the Lionheart?” I asked. “That sounds like an impossible assignment.” I winced as my head gave a painful throb. I attempted to cover it by lifting my espresso cup to my lips, and wished I’d ordered a drink that came in something larger than a thimble.
She shrugged. “Remember, the DOA isn’t necessarily concerned with ownership. We make sure precious objects are protected.” She pushed her hair back, away from her face, revealing fine-boned features. “Anyway, now that I’m here, you are my team.” She smiled.
Ethan, Jack, and I exchanged looks. As far as I was concerned, one more person assisting was fine with me. The more people, the better. Both men appeared to feel the same, and possibly for the first time that day, there was silent agreement. I wondered how long it would last.
I glanced sidelong at Jack. I understood now why Templeton hadn’t told us who we were meeting in Saint Mark’s Square—I might have avoided the rendezvous altogether had I known. The messiness of this current situation was almost too much to bear. Jack was, simultaneously, the single best addition to our team, and the single worst. He was sharp and strong and skilled . . . but whose side was he on, exactly? Did he still have loyalty to the FBI? And then there was the reopening of the old wound. The three of us working together again, with me feeling the familiar pull between them, confused as ever.
“I should mention,” Esmerelda continued, “although there’s nobody on your immediate trail, you should know that Hendrickx is coming after you, fast,” she said. “We have monitors on Interpol’s activity.” She looked at Ethan and me. “And you two are lighting up all over the place.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “That means we need to speed up even more,” I said. “Find their headquarters fast, get Felix, get the Lionheart, and get out.”
Jack leaned forward. “You said you know where Caliga’s headquarters is?”
Esmerelda nodded. “I do,” she said.
Ethan grinned. “Perfect. Let’s get to work then.”
Before leaving the café, I sent Gladys a quick message with the name of the building supplied by Esmerelda. By the time we got back to the hotel, she had sent through all the schematics, blueprints, and security details.
At the check-in desk in the hotel lobby, Jack and Esmerelda booked their own rooms. “Let’s all meet in one of your rooms in ten minutes,” Jack suggested, looking at me, and then Ethan. “Who has the larger suite?”
“Oh, we’re . . . in the same room,” I said, trying to make it sound as innocent as possible. Jack’s eyebrows raised, just a flicker, before he applied a neutral mask. I stared at the checkerboard marble floor and pointedly avoided looking at Ethan.
“I insisted,” Ethan added. “So I could monitor her concussion.”
“Concussion?” Esmerelda asked.
“A minor one. I’ll be better soon,” I added quickly. I hoped it was true. My stomach tightened with worry—we needed to get moving with this job. Every minute of delay left Felix in further danger. How long could he hang on? But . . . how useful would I be to him, in my current state? I could barely walk a straight line. I wondered if the others had recognized just how off I was.
Ten minutes later, we gathered in the suite Ethan and I shared. “Okay, so let’s see where Caliga is hiding out,” Ethan said eagerly as I pulled up the files with all our intel. His eagerness matched mine—we needed to come up with a solid plan, and fast.
“Looks like an old palazzo in Venice, in the San Polo neighborhood, off the Grand Canal,” I said.
“But that’s right in the heart of Venice,” Jack said, frowning. “It’s not very discreet.”
It was true. But in a way, it made sense. Caliga was nothing if not arrogant. Why would they bother to disguise themselves? They were powerful and they knew it.
“Here’s what I still don’t understand,” Ethan said. “Why are they keeping Felix hostage? Why didn’t they just kill him?”
Bile rose to my throat again at the thought of Felix being killed. But Ethan was right. We needed an answer to that.
“There are only a couple of reasons to keep someone prisoner,” Jack said. “Either they’re using him as leverage, to get someone to do something or pay ransom, or they’re trying to get information out of him. And since they don’t seem to be demanding ransom from anyone, I’d say it’s the second one.”
“But what information does Felix have? He’s just a trainee,” I said.
“They might not know that,” Esmerelda pointed out. “They saw him working with you two. Maybe they’re seeing this as their chance to find out about the inner workings of their most irritating enemy, AB&T.”
That made sense. It didn’t make me feel better, however. Every minute that Felix remained a captive worried me more.
“Let’s go,” I blurted out. “We know where they are now. We know where they’re keeping Felix. Let’s get in there and get him out.” It was everything I could do to keep from jumping out of my chair. Then a wave of nausea hit me and I closed my eyes tight, waiting for it to pass.
When I opened them, everyone was staring at me.
“Montgomery, slow down,” Ethan said gently. “I know you want to get Felix out . . . we all do. But if we go in there unprepared, we could all be killed. Felix included. We have to be ready.”
I knew he was right. I also knew that by “ready” he wasn’t only talking about a plan. He was also talking about me, and my current state of impairment. I dug my nails into my palms, and we got back to business
.
This had to work. We had to get Felix out, and we had to get the Lionheart away from Caliga. I looked across the table at Ethan and Jack, who were both poring over security blueprints on a tablet. I pressed my lips together at the sight of them like that, and wondered how long it would last. The last time I had worked together with both Ethan and Jack was in Paris, planning to break into the Louvre.
That operation had ultimately been a success. Hard-won, sure, but a success nonetheless. I hoped we would work as well together this time.
I stood and paced over to the window. A wave of dizziness washed through me, and I had to grip the back of a chair for support. I glanced at the others to see if they’d noticed, and caught Jack watching me with concern.
“Cat, are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need to rest or something?”
The others turned sharply in my direction.
“I’m fine. I don’t need to rest,” I said, letting go of the chair back and hoping I didn’t need it again. “What I need is a couple of aspirin and for us to keep going.”
“You sure?” Ethan said. “You could lie down for a minute—”
“I said I’m fine.”
Ethan held up his hands in mock surrender and everyone turned back to the work in front of us.
Over the next hour we drank many cups of coffee and ordered food from the café downstairs. As we devoured a platter of olives, cheese, and bread, Esmerelda sketched out an attack plan. Thank goodness she was there. Why Esmerelda was helping us, I understood. It was her job, her life’s work.
What I couldn’t figure out was why Jack was helping us. My gaze slid to him as he sat on a dining chair, frowning at a blueprint. The last time I’d seen him, he was enjoying himself thoroughly at home in Seattle. What had possessed him to fly across the globe to help us, to help me, with an assignment that was falling apart?
He shifted in the chair and I noticed the flex of his forearm muscles, the ease with which he moved. My heart sped up a little, remembering the feeling of his body near mine. Remembering all the intimate moments we’d shared together. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
