The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “You have a beautiful home,” she said to the elder Miller and beamed a smile.

  “You’ve hardly seen it.”

  She clamped her mouth shut when she might have mentioned that she was a professional. Instead Chauncey spoke up for her.

  “Ms. Alano is a renowned professional decorator back in the States, Father. You might appreciate her opinion.”

  Bradley Miller raised his brows as they walked through the hall toward the back of the house and into the kitchen. There Chauncey embraced a hefty older woman who blushed wildly and couldn’t seem to speak coherently. That could either have been caused by her euphoric surprise at seeing Chauncey or the heavy accent that Pixie had trouble deciphering.

  “I’m fixing your favorite, Master Chauncey,” she said clearly enough, and Pixie smiled at the picture of Chauncey in a domestic scene with a favorite food. It didn’t compute.

  “We need to discuss the matter of your pursuer,” the elder said while he stood by. He put it so delicately that Pixie wasn’t sure if he meant Azzam or some woman after a wedding ring.

  “We can talk in front of Pix—Sophia. She’s one of the ‘pursued,’ as you put it.”

  “The leak?”

  “Yes. All of it. I sent word to a short list and now I know who to target for investigation.”

  “I don’t want to believe anyone on this list would…” His father looked abashed and she sensed this was not in his repertoire. He handed Chauncey a piece of paper.

  “No. More likely someone’s been compromised through serious and real threats,” Chauncey said. She shuddered to think. Maybe she ought to go over to the stove and help out Mauve. If it weren’t for her abhorrance to playing domestic and buying into chauvinistic stereotypes, she would have fled the discussion.

  Instead, she straightened her spine. She felt taller. Mentally.

  Chauncey flicked her a glance that said his curiosity was piqued and he would love to be reading her mind right now. Or maybe that was all in her head.

  “What’s this?” Chauncey fingered the slip of paper his father had given him.

  “Names, addresses, family members, banks, etc. for those on the short list. I figured you would want to do the investigating yourself.”

  “Quite right. After all, who can I trust at this point? No need to endanger anyone else. The list of people Azzam now considers his enemies has grown long enough on my account.”

  “I’ll stay with the girl,” Mr. Elder Miller said.

  Chauncey barked a laugh. “Better not refer to Sophia as a ‘girl’ a second time, then, or we’ll be sending someone to protect you.”

  She was too busy feeling warm and fuzzy by the second defense of her honor by her man to notice his father’s reaction beyond his cleared throat.

  “I do apologize; I’m afraid I’m rather old school. Nothing personal, Ms. Alano.” He nodded at her.

  She smiled at him. This was all very difficult for him and she knew there was more underneath the obvious that made it so.

  “Never mind old school. You’re just plain dear old Dad.” Chauncey patted him on the back. The old man withstood the gesture of familiarity like a brick.

  Hmmm. What fun they’d all have together.

  “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to have you two staying here together,” Chauncey said. “You’ll be sitting ducks and you’re the two mostly likely targets—even more likely than me.”

  “Nonsense. We have police guards and a police car out front. Where else would you send us? This is a perfect location. It’s out in the open and obvious. Too high a profile for him to risk.”

  Sophia had an impulsive thought. “How about Oscar?”

  “Oscar?” Both Millers responded as one.

  She addressed Chauncey. He’d met Oscar and heard David’s recommendation so it shouldn’t be a surprise. “Yes. That’s what David brought him here for in the first place. He can stay with us—right?” Extra protection.

  “Brilliant as usual, my Pixie.” He reached out and she thought he was going to ruffle her hair, which would have made her mad enough to accidentally kick him in the shins, but he dropped his hand. “Perhaps we could have Oscar help move you two surreptitiously to an alternate location. As a precaution.”

  When his father began a protest he put up a hand and his father fell silent. She didn’t know the man, or their family dynamics, but her astonishment must have showed. They both looked at her. Chauncey said, “This is a very unusual situation indeed. But the golden rule in law enforcement is he whose butt is on the line gets to run the show.”

  “Never heard that one,” Pixie said.

  “I’m shocked. You being the expert that you are.” Chauncey gave her his sarcastic single-brow-lift.

  “May I be so bold as to ask a personal question?” the elder asked. He seemed to shrink before her eyes and she felt sorry for the man, for whatever inner turmoil he was going through, because he seemed unable to divest himself.

  “What is it, Father?” Chauncey used his kindest voice, the one he’d used on her to keep her calm. She felt like a stick of butter in the sun about to melt into a slick delicious pool.

  “What is the nature of the relationship between you two?” He addressed them both and shifted his gaze from her to Chauncey.

  For her part, she felt like the stick of butter had now been freeze dried. She shivered. No way she was fielding this question. She and the elder both looked up at Chauncey, who was taking his good time considering his answer.

  “I apologize if that was too blunt and too personal.”

  “No. I should have explained. Sophia and I are lovers. We’ve become very close in a short time.”

  “I see.”

  She saw too. She felt the burn of embarrassment mixed with tenderness and pictured herself now as a melting stick of butter in a sizzling hot frying pan.

  Chauncey called David on their secure throwaway phones. She scoffed at him about the lack of any Cone of Silence to prevent any old bad guy from listening in via the airwaves or however they did these things.

  “He’s sending Oscar over. Then I’ll check on the people on this list.” He addressed his father. “You didn’t even check their bank accounts?”

  “Nothing. HQ has been fearful of making the wrong move to incite who knows what kind of response. Very unusual.”

  Chauncey gruffed.

  “But isn’t that their job—to do something? To investigate?” Pixie said.

  “Quite right. They’ve been paralyzed by the notion of a traitor in their ranks. Never seen anything like it,” the elder said. And then he smiled at her.

  She felt the floor drop fifty feet in her imagination and her heart landed in her throat. He had that same smile his son had and she’d no idea she so badly wanted to win him over. But apparently she had.

  Chauncey cleared his throat and said, “I’m starved. Let’s eat.” Her man’s not too subtle way to change the subject.

  But when she turned and saw Mauve bringing a platter with something that might have been an actual half a cow, she saw Betsy’s eyes flash in her mind and looked around for a salad. Her stomach grumbled when all she saw were potatoes.

  “We’ll eat in the kitchen like the old days,” the woman said.

  Sophia instantly felt like an outsider until Chauncey pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. How could such a catch be the man who was going to be the death of her? Literally, if she didn’t watch out.

  The meal felt like the last supper, only quieter. Chauncey ate heartily. The elder drank what looked like scotch while Mauve kept refilling his glass as if it were water. Sophia drank lots of water and ate some potatoes and gravy, which she had to admit were delicious. Mauve smiled at her with every bite. She ate a few tiny pieces of Betsy the cow, only around the edges, but no one bothered her about it. Not even Mauve. This was a new and interesting experience for her, a raving departure from her Italian “mangia” meal heritage.

  When Chauncey lifted the napkin to his lips,
she stared at said lips. Then, as if he’d planned it, the doorbell rang. He winked and rose from the table with a nod.

  She jumped from her chair like the inelegant stepsister that she felt like and dashed after him as he strode from the kitchen and down the long hall.

  “That must be Oscar,” she said needlessly.

  He stopped before he got to the door and turned. She ran right into his chest and he closed around her like one of those venus fly trap plants she’d heard about. Only he felt nothing like a plant. He was definitely all animal.

  He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Or it could be the bad guys and it’s a trap.”

  She felt dizzy with desire. “Don’t answer it then,” she said into his shirt, smelling his sweat and antiseptic. That brought her back.

  He murmured a chuckle. “You go wait in the study in case.” He pointed to a room off to the left with the usual imposing carved wooden door. She gave him her best longing sex-kitten look and moved when the bell rang again more violently this time. She thought she heard him groan as he turned to open the door.

  He opened the door and Oscar walked past him into the foyer.

  “No one clubbed me in the head yet, so we’re doin’ okay, so far,” the big man said.

  Chauncey thought someone would have a hard time reaching Oscar’s head with a club.

  “Welcome to your babysitting assignment,” he said and stretched his arm in unneccessary welcome. “One stoically charming elderly man and one hot shot spitfire redhead—who you’d better keep your hands off or you’ll answer to me.”

  Oscar laughed a raucous belly laugh and then started coughing. “I got to cut back on those cigars.”

  Chauncey did a mental brow lift, but kept his amusement under control. He remained wary of “Uncle” Oscar in spite of David’s high recommendation. There were things about this man he didn’t know. Oscar had secrets in spite of his open-book personality. That was all on the surface He hoped whatever the man’s secret was, that it was not something relevant to their immediate situation—or to his Pixie.

  “Where’s Pixie?”

  “In here,” she whispered loudly.

  They turned and Pixie stood in the door with her head poked out like she’d been a child spying on the adult talk. Oscar laughed again and gave her another one of his bear hugs. Chauncey didn’t know if he might have to call an ambulance for Oscar’s coughing fits or for Pixie having the breath squeezed out of her. He cleared his throat and walked into the room, gesturing for them to sit.

  Chauncey remained standing. He checked his watch. It was getting late. He’d have to do the bank investigation in the morning, but there was other reconnaissance he needed to do this evening.

  Neither of them sat. They stood mute, waiting for him to speak as if he were going to lower the boom.

  “May I enter?” his father said as he entered the room.

  “Of course. Father, you met Oscar earlier,” Chauncey said. He turned to the newly designated bodyguard. “Sorry, I don’t know your last name?”

  “That’s right,” Oscar said. He wasn’t joking. The man’s usual affable smile disappeared. He’d been right to suspect this man had secrets. More right than he first thought.

  He turned to Pixie. “I’m leaving you for a few hours. Oscar is in charge. Do what he says.”

  “Where are you going?” Pixie croaked the words, then cleared her throat.

  “I’m going to hunt for a mole. I have a few leads.” He nodded at his father, then looked at Oscar. “With any luck, I’ll have her back here this evening.”

  “Her? It’s a woman? You know who it is?” She sounded skeptical. Of course.

  “I have a hunch.”

  He took a piece of paper from his pocket, crossed to a desk, pulled out a drawer, extracted a pen and wrote the number for his disposable phone. He knew he should never write down his number. It went against every rule. He shook his head and walked back over to the small group and gave Oscar the slip of paper. “In an emergency only.”

  “I’ll commit it to memory and destroy it of course.”

  “You do that.”

  Oscar lifted his brow. Pixie snorted. He looked at her to find her covering her mouth with her hand. He wanted to cover that luscious mouth himself. And he swore to himself he would do that one more time before he left. Then he turned back to Oscar and said, “There’d better be no emergencies.”

  His father nodded. He shook the man’s hand. The tight squeeze was the only indication in the stone-faced man that his leaving had any import whatever. He returned the stony stare, but it cost him. He felt his heart race and his tension ratcheted two notches. He didn’t know how many more notches he had to go before he hit stroke level. Good thing he was leaving now. Then he turned to Pixie. “And you…”

  “I feel like the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz and you’re Dorothy saying good-bye, ready to hop in the balloon and leave Emerald City.” She spoke the words in that staccato squeak she had when she was nervous. Then she hiccupped. His heart clenched at her distress.

  “Come here,” he whispered and pulled her in and out the door with him to the hall. He gave one backward warning glance over his shoulder to the pair of men to stay put. But they knew better.

  “Did you say something about Dorothy and Oz?” he said, holding her tight as they walked toward the door, farther from the men.

  “Never mind.” She looked up at him. Her unshed tears made her eyes sparkle like emeralds.

  He caressed her face and smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be back before the night is out. Keep the bed warm for me.”

  She shook her head and he managed to capture her nervous lips. The calming effect on her was instant. The shock to his system caused a jolt and he knew if he didn’t have a stroke now he never would. She wrapped her arms around him as he pressed her close. He couldn’t help wishing it was her legs wrapped around him in bed.

  He dragged in a breath and lifted his head, kissing her hair. He felt the tears on her face, but steeled himself. He couldn’t let himself be brought to his knees by a Pixie, could he? The second ragged breath caught her attention.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. Must be the thought of spending the evening with the lord and the mobster. Are you sure I can’t come with you?”

  He smiled at her brave flippancy.

  “I’ll be back before you know it. Wear something that will warm me when I climb in bed next to you.”

  “How about nothing at all?”

  “That’ll do it.” He pulled himself away from her so that the only thing touching her was his hand on her cheek. She clasped it. He would have pulled away completely in the next second, he promised himself, when he heard the throat clearing from down the hall. She jumped. He didn’t bother to look up. He winked at her and reached for the door handle.

  She stood and watched the door thud closed, then whirled around. She felt rage at the world and someone was going to pay heck. Her Chauncey was out there in danger and she should be with him.

  Chapter 12

  “I’m famished. Got anything to eat?” Oscar always knew what to say. He looked from her to the elder Miller.

  She was about to open her mouth when Mauve appeared in the door. Sophia was beginning to treasure this family servant, who was more like a stealthy mind-reading domestic expert. Maybe she was undercover like her Chauncey.

  “Another guest! Welcome…”

  “Oscar. Call me Oscar.”

  “Yes, welcome, Mr. Oscar. I’m Mauve. I look after Sir Miller and Master Miller. If you’d like some refreshments, please follow me this way.” Mauve turned and walked with decorum and full confidence that Oscar would follow her.

  Oscar looked over his shoulder at Pixie and did an eyebrow raise. She snuck a look at Elder and of course he caught it. His lips compressed even more than before, but he said nothing.

  Sophia followed Oscar and Mauve back into the kitchen. She wondered if Elder would follow too and craned her head ar
ound before the kitchen door closed behind her. He was nowhere in sight. Some of the excitement fizzled from her blood and she kicked out a chair from the table to sit across from good old Oscar to look into his familiar burly face. They smiled at each other. She sat back and breathed a big sigh like she’d just snuggled under the covers after a long cold day.

  “What kind of trouble have you got yourself into, Pix? I thought my work in bailing my Boston people out of trouble was limited to David and Dan—and maybe a little bit with Grace. But you? I never imagined.”

  “Think how I feel.” She blew her bangs. “You can blame this on David and Grace.”

  “I figured. David feels terrible about your fix, if that’s any consolation. Grace of course, feels that it’s all fate or destiny or some such nonsense.”

  “That’s all well and good as long as my destiny isn’t to live a very short life.”

  “I’ll see to it that you live to get back to the States safely. That’s my mission. I was actually hired to do the job this time.”

  “What?”

  “Not that I wouldn’t do it for free anyway.”

  “Who’s paying? Not the Boston Police…”

  “No. I probably shouldn’t tell you since it’s client privilege or some such nonsense and I was sworn to secrecy. But you know me. I’m not one to play by the rules and my friends’ well-being trumps any business arrangement in a heartbeat.”

  “Tell me.” She knew. Her heart pounded like a drummer on speed.

  “Chauncey. You knew without me telling you. I told him you would. He’s an odd fellow.”

  “Hey. I don’t care if he is an odd fellow, but he’s my odd fellow so I’m the only one who gets to say so. At least in my earshot.” She knew Oscar would get the irrational need. He lived by the irrational code of friendship, family and loyalty above all else. Maybe it wasn’t so irrational.