She picked up her phone and flipped it open. For the first time, she wasn’t as anxious to dive headlong into whatever they threw her way next. She looked toward the closed door between her and Finn and realized it was because she finally had something more exciting to dive headlong into.
Smiling, she looked back at the screen and punched in the descramble code. Her smile faded as she read the very sparse report. She’d responded to their last message with a number of what she considered to be pertinent questions. Namely, when they said it was time to bring John Home—meaning MI-8 headquarters in London—she could only take that to mean that it wasn’t just her home base, but possibly his. Only she couldn’t see how that could be. Because that would mean they’d put two agents on the same mission without telling them, and for what purpose? And what was John’s mission? He’d tried to sell the stone to Andreev, while she was supposed to bring it back with her.
And had they answered her vital questions? No. All she’d gotten was a list of places where it was anticipated he might show up. She’d asked them about Julia, if they had any intel on her, or hell, if she was working with them, too. She’d gotten no response back on that. Sometimes the “need-to-know” predicate was frustrating as all hell.
But there was nothing she could do for that now. Asking again wouldn’t net her any additional info. And given what she had to tell them about Finn at some point, annoying them now would not be a grand scheme.
She looked over the list. The next time there appeared to be a possible rendezvous point was over dinner this evening. It was almost impossible to believe that it was just twenty-four hours ago that she and Finn had crashed John’s dinner with Andreev. That felt almost a lifetime ago now. And given the lifetime she was now contemplating, perhaps, in some ways, it had been.
She pulled a comb through her hair and brushed her teeth, but gave up on the rest. Instead, she put on one of the hotel robes and headed back into their bedroom to find Finn. How odd it was, really, already so used to having him around, that she missed him when they were apart, even for a short time. She wanted to discuss the latest information with him, bounce ideas off of him, and, yes, just be in his personal space for as long as she could manage. She’d berate herself for being so silly and foolish, except she felt pretty damn good at the moment. So she went with that, and, smiling, went to find him.
But the bedroom was empty, so she walked into the main room. Also empty. She experienced a moment of panic, before reminding herself that Finn was hardly the love-’em-and-leave-’em sort, much less the kind of man who’d play her into submission, then take off on his own after their quarry. He might have been willing to do that before—they both would have—when they’d been professional adversaries, but no way would he do that to her now. She knew that, didn’t doubt that. Which left her to sort out where he would have gone without telling her.
She looked around for a note of some kind, even went back into the bedroom to look there. No note or message. But his towel was on the back of the bedroom chair, and a quick look inside the closet showed he’d dressed in fresh clothes. She went to the hallway door and looked out, thinking maybe he went for ice, or to get something off the maid’s cart, but no sign of him there, either. And when she walked back into the main room, the ice bucket was where he’d left it after filling it earlier. So, if he hadn’t left on his own…
Her heart picked up its pace again, but for entirely different reasons, when the sound of a sliding door behind her made her jump and spin around, wishing she’d dressed first so she could better handle the intruder.
Finn stopped just inside the balcony door and smiled at her assumed karate pose. “You’re probably a black belt, but, I must say, you look a lot cuter in the white terry cloth one, Grasshopper.”
She all but slumped to the floor in relief. “Where the hell were you? I mean, never mind, I didn’t know there was a balcony, but for the love of all that is holy, next time—”
He grabbed the loose ends of her robe and tugged her to him. “Miss me?”
“Worse.” She smacked his chest with her open palm. “I was worried. Don’t do that to me.”
“You didn’t think I’d taken off on you?”
“No. I knew you wouldn’t. Which left you leaving under duress.”
He covered her hand with his own, trapping it there. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, turning her hand over and pulling it to his mouth.
“If you say one word about my being cute or royal—”
“Actually,” he said, dropping the sweetest of kisses into the center of her palm—he was really disarming when he did that—“I was going to say that while I don’t ever want to worry you, because I’m learning I don’t like it a whole lot either, it’s kind of nice knowing you would.”
She opened her mouth, all prepared to argue, then closed it again as his words sank in. “Oh. Well.” She curled her fingers into her freshly kissed palm and slipped it into her robe pocket. “I do. Worry. And, you’re right, it’s not a lot of fun.”
He used the tail of her terry cloth belt to swat her across the butt. “But we have plenty of that, so it sort of balances out.” Then he slowly reeled her back to him. “And, to be honest, like it or not, I’m okay with having someone out there who worries about me. Puts things in a whole new perspective.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, it does.”
“So, what’s our next move?”
“Dinner, with John.”
He raised an eyebrow, but only said, “Same move, new coast.”
“Apparently.”
“When?” he asked.
And, once again, she was struck with gratitude for how he was handling this. He didn’t argue or ask a million questions she couldn’t respond to; he just nodded and went from there. Perversely, it made her want to share everything with him all the more. He had a cool-headed way of sorting things out and coming up with viewpoints and possibilities she didn’t always see or think about. She was still very confused about John’s role in all this and would feel a hell of a lot better if she had a better handle on it before she went barging in again. Too many things weren’t adding up, and most of them had to do with her direct chain of command.
“Felicity?”
She jerked her gaze to his and realized he was still waiting on an answer. She was waiting on a ton of them. “Six, but we need to get there first.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m not exactly certain what’s going on. I’ll feel better if I see him come in, gauge his demeanor. See if he’s with someone, before he sees us.” Another thought occurred to her, making her pause.
“What?”
She looked at him, worried all over again. “It occurs to me that I shouldn’t take for granted that I’ll be the one breaking news of our liaison to my superiors.”
He started to ask, but then paused as the light of understanding dawned. “You mean Reese would inform them?”
“He knows I’m not merely Felicity Jane Trent, Foundation director and the Trent ancestral heiress. He knows. Other than you, he’s the only one who has ever put those two things together.”
“But how would he tell your superiors, unless—” Now he broke off. “Sorry, I’m venturing into territory—”
“Bollocks to that,” she said abruptly. “I need help.” She looked at him. “I need your help. Right now, you’re the only one I know I can trust. Things aren’t adding up. Important things. And it seems foolish for me to try and figure them out myself, when I have another clever mind sitting right next to me.” She held his gaze. “I think the bigger risk now is that I make the wrong move because I didn’t use my resources wisely. And, if my chain of command doesn’t like it, then they can find themselves another thrill-seeking, philanthropic heiress to do their dirty work.”
“I know I should be arguing, given our recently struck agreement, but you’re making very good sense.” He grinned. “Besides which, it’s killing me, you know.”
She smiled
then, despite the nerves currently twisting her insides into knots. “Is it now? Well then, there should be some way we both benefit from that.”
“The goal is to get the sapphire back. And not put you at risk. Beyond that, I’m game for what you think will work best. You know more about the playing field at the moment than I do.”
“I’m afraid I’m already at risk. In fact, I’m not at all certain I’m not being intentionally used as a pawn. And while I understand that that is generally my role on this particular chess board, I can’t say in this instance I like it overly much. Especially when I fear our Mr. Reese is something of a rook. Appearing to move to the side, when, in fact, he’s still making forward progress.”
“Where does that leave you?”
“Somewhat out in the cold, I believe.”
Finn took her hand and walked over to the settee, where they both sat and turned to face each other, knee to knee. “Okay. So tell me what you need to, so that I can help figure this out. I can put Rafe on it, Mac, too, if you’d like. They are family to me, and you can trust them the same as me. I won’t have to tell them anything that jeopardizes you. They don’t even know who you are. Just what to dig for, where to go, or who to look at.”
“I’d like to say no, and not drag anyone else into what might potentially be a…difficult situation. You, included.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled. “And difficult situations are what we excel in.”
“Which is exactly why I’m going to do the wisest thing and pool resources. I don’t know what the fallout will be, but it’s a risk I’d take regardless of our personal situation. You do believe that.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so spooked. So yes, I do believe you.”
“Okay, then.” She took his hands in hers. The steadying strength she found there made it easier to do what she’d never done before. “I work for M—”
“I’m still okay with need-to—”
She held his gaze intently. “This is my decision. What I think is best. And what I think is best is that you know. If it turns out I’m wrong, then I take the consequences. It’s not your choice to make.”
He nodded, and she squeezed his hands.
“Are you sure, though, that you’re willing to be privy to what I’m about to tell you? I know you want to help, but I honestly have no idea what I’ve gotten myself involved in here. It could be that my making this decision will put you at risk in some way I can’t foresee, and—”
“Felicity.”
Her lips quirked. “You’re quite patient with me, aren’t you?”
Finn barked a laugh at that. “I’m certainly glad you see it that way. I feel like I’ve pushed you about as hard as a person can, and rushed you the whole way.”
“So,” she said, quite serious now. “You’re certain? And you might be speaking for your friends as well, so—”
“I’m certain. They’d respond the same in this kind of situation. Have, actually. And I’d do the same for them.”
“Okay.” She took another steadying breath, and this time he squeezed her hands. She looked into his eyes and found exactly what she needed there. And then, it was suddenly quite easy. “I work for a division of our country’s national security department known as MI-8.”
Finn grinned. “So, you are Jane Bond.”
She knocked his knees with their joined hands. “Very amusing.”
“Quite, and I rather like it. Go on.”
“Your accent is truly atrocious, you know.” He nodded, and she fought a smile. “This is quite serious business.”
“I know. But it’s our business, and, as such, considering our past exploits together, not so shocking as all that. Would you rather I gasp and splutter?”
“Our business?” she asked. “You don’t mean to say that you also work for your government, do you?”
“No. I’ve already done my time with them. My partners and I operate entirely privately, getting things done that our system, wonderful though it is, sometimes can’t. But you know the history of that. How did you get started? Did they recruit you?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she said. “I was at a royal function in Copenhagen, doing Foundation work, and a man pulled me aside and asked if I’d be willing to help him out in the name of the Queen and national security.”
Finn grinned. “And you believed him?”
“I certainly believed the ID. And the gun he was carrying was quite persuasive as well.” She took some pleasure in the way his face blanched a little at that. “You know, you’re right. It’s not fun, but it’s quite nice knowing that someone cares enough to worry.”
“Is lethal force often required in the types of jobs you do for them?”
“Rare to never. I’m employed more for my…diplomatic skills.”
“So, you helped, and I’m guessing someone was impressed and asked if you’d be willing to continue on a more routine basis?”
“I was invited to help them from time to time first, and then, yes, we made it a more formal agreement.”
“How often—” He stopped, lifted his hand. “Never mind.”
“Not, too,” she answered anyway. “In fact, it’s been very occasional of late.”
“How do you square your time spent helping your country with your other duties?”
“I manage. It’s not so frequent that anyone gets suspicious when I take a little trip. They usually think I’m shopping, or vetting potential future Foundation beneficiaries. It’s really not as hard as all that. Outside of Britain, I’m not well known, except in certain circles. But I do have contacts, and experience that allows me to move pretty freely in those circles.”
“What’s different this time? Have you ever been this confused by your directives?”
“I haven’t always understood why I was being asked to accomplish certain goals, and, seeing as I was never asked to do anything I had a personal or moral issue with, I don’t know that I cared, as long as it helped them get the job done. As you said, the thrill of it can be quite intoxicating, and a bit addictive. Which, given how staid and proper my regular life is, has been quite something for me. But it’s also been a personal thing with me, something I can do that has nothing to do with commitments that were preordained by a fluke of birth.”
Finn smiled. “I understand that better than you could possibly know.”
“I’d like to hear more about that, you know. Fair being fair and all.”
“I promise to bore you with my family history at great length if you really want to know, but right now, you need to tell me what’s gone wrong with this mission.”
“I’ll hold you to that, don’t think I won’t. But yes, things are getting rather critical, it seems, and I can’t figure out what’s really going on here.”
“Your job was to get the sapphire, bring it back, right?”
“Correct.”
“And now you think Reese works for them, too. Except he was trying to sell the piece to Chesnokov’s agent.”
“Right. Here’s the rest. The reason they want the sapphire is because they believe one of their own agents—” She stopped, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, my Lord. It’s John! John is the one they suspect of treason.”
‘Treason?” Finn said, looking truly shocked. “How does a sapphire necklace, even one as old as this, have anything to do with jeopardizing your country’s security?”
“I don’t know. In fact, it’s amazing to me that I know anything beyond just retrieving the piece. But I got information from a different handler this time, and he told me that it was a matter of utmost security, that they’re trying to nail down evidence against one of their own, for using secure information for personal gain. Apparently the sapphire plays a dual role, in that it would be evidence against the agent, as well as whatever it is that makes it a matter of national concern in the first place.”
Finn was silent for a moment. “So, Reese selling the stone would play along with that supposition, that he’s an
agent, and that he’s on the take. I just can’t figure out what the stone would have to do with national security. Why would your country have been researching it, or tracking it, in the first place?”
“I don’t know. I know prior to going on the market, it was owned by a Greek man—”
“Capellas,” Finn supplied. “Alexander Capellas.”
“He’s not your client, is he?” Felicity asked.
“No. No, my client is a second generation American, Theodore Roussos. The stone rightfully belongs to his family and can be traced back to the Ottoman occupation. He’s the final descendant. It’s been the center of a feud between his family and the Capellas that dates back well over a century and was, at one point, used to destroy Theo’s family’s honor and, because of that, their financial security.”
“So, he wants it back to sell it to pay off family debt?”
Finn shook his head. “No, he just wants to clear his family’s name. He plans to donate it to the Met. Where it will be on display forever, secure, and proving the provenance was his line, not the Capellas.”
“Sounds like it had quite the tempestuous history.”
“It did. Still does, apparently. If it’s okay with you, I’ll put Rafe on looking at a connection between Capellas and your government, see what we can make pop.”
“I don’t know that it’s important at this point. He doesn’t have it any longer.”
“But your country wants it back. If they can claim treason for stealing it, then we should know exactly what it is we’re dealing with. And it matters to my client, as well. He’s been fighting Capellas in court most of his adult life, trying to get the stone back. I don’t think he’d have much luck against your entire government if they think it’s a matter of national security.”
“How did your client know the stone was surfacing on the market?”
The Black Sheep and the English Rose Page 27
