In the Clear (Codex Book 3)

by Kathryn Nolan

  He tilted his head, assessing me with a steady expression. “I’ll put a stop to it immediately if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.”

  I set my coffee down. Let my blanket fall away, revealing my naked body, tangled hair, marked skin. On my hands and knees, I crawled toward him. Captured his mouth with mine. The kiss was instantly frantic. My tongue met his, our lips danced together, a tease that became a bruise that became a brutal, hungry, snarling clashing. Abe had my hair gripped in his hands, and I stroked the head of his cock.

  My cell phone ringing was the only thing that stopped our frenetic, sexual energy. Panting, I pulled back. Smiled at him with swollen lips. He was fucking insatiable, and I loved it.

  “Are you going to get that?” he asked, voice tight.

  “I am,” I whispered, kissing his cheek. “And I think we have to admit we definitely aren’t able to go back, Mr. Royal.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “Happy to oblige, as I said.”

  I reached past him for my phone and enjoyed the delicious drag of his hands through my hair. Unclear future or not, I planned to revel in these sexy moments, taste them fully, memorize this heady feeling. These memories would provide a warm spark on a lonely night.

  I huffed out a surprised breath when I saw who was calling. “Humphrey.” I showed Abe the screen. His brow arched.

  I answered with a cheerful, “Humphrey Hatcher, is that you?”

  Abe pulled me back down onto his lap while I set the phone to speaker.

  “A hearty good morning to the enchantress!” Humphrey boomed. His roaring laugh brought a smile to my face. And even Abe looked mildly delighted. “It’s been years since we’ve last seen each other. Perhaps, even, a millennium. We must rectify this situation immediately.”

  “I believe it’s been forty-eight hours,” I replied. Abe kissed the ball of my shoulder with a thoughtful expression. “But we would love to see you, of course.”

  “And who is we?”

  Abe pressed another kiss to my neck, and I giggled. My hand flew to my mouth. Abe’s expression was smug. The man barely knew me, and yet it was probably pretty obvious I wasn’t much of a giggler.

  “Daniel Fitzpatrick is we,” I said.

  “Valiant at last! Reggie and I are pleased to hear it. What do you say to accompanying my husband and me to a fancy little party? Our friend James whipped up a last-minute party at the auction house tonight to celebrate the arrival of Doyle’s private papers. They’ll be bid upon tomorrow evening, and all of London is clamoring to see them early. There will be alcohol!”

  I turned on Abe’s lap until we could make eye contact. “James… Patrick? The man who runs the auction house?”

  “The one and only,” Humphrey said. “It’s open to the public, and you know the Society will be out in full force, possibly dressed as the esteemed detective. Which reminds me, I shall bring you hats.”

  Yes, Abe was mouthing. I tapped my lip, nodding in agreement. This event was a fucking windfall. Not only would we see our favorite Sherlock Society suspects, but we’d be able to scope out the entire venue, investigate all of its entrances and exits, its security weaknesses.

  “We’re in,” I said. “What time should we meet you?”

  “Eight, and it’s a date,” Humphrey said. There was grumbling in the background, and it sounded like Reggie and Humphrey whisper-arguing. “Listen. I’m going to come clean and tell the two of you what’s been going on. I cannot abide secrets.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked, voice tight.

  “It’s Eudora again.”

  Eudora had the power now. She’d attempted to blow our cover last night. “What’s going on with our favorite president?”

  Abe glanced at the clock, muttered something. He stood and began gathering his clothes, a sexy body in sexy motion.

  “She’s focused all of her earthly ire on the pair of you,” he said. Abe was sliding a crisp white button-down over his shoulders. He paused, mid-motion, at Humphrey’s words.

  “Well, no shit,” I said. How far had our covers been blown?

  “No shit. You slay me. And, to be abundantly clear, any person that angers the head dragon is a friend of mine. Do you remember how you insulted her sensitive ego?”

  Abe shook his head at me while his fingers moved over buttons. “I met her for tea earlier this week. And Daniel and I bumped into her at this cocktail bar last night. Midnight Apothecary.”

  “Bernie’s favorite bar,” Humphrey boomed. “Do not fret. Her temper exists on the world’s shortest hair trigger. As well as her grudges. They’ve been known to take a second to form and a lifetime to endure. I wouldn’t worry. However, I didn’t want you receiving any strange looks tonight and not understand why. Especially you, Ms. Atwood. The Society has been charmed to death by your visit to our fair shores.”

  “Always happy to hear it,” I said. “And thank you for both the invitation and the warning.”

  “I won’t have you stay home when you could be enjoying a night out on the town with an elite literary circle,” he said. “Reggie and I will see you at the auction. Make sure you put your Mr. Fitzpatrick in his most dapper evening attire.”

  When I hung up the phone, Abe was already tightening his cufflinks and slipping on pants.

  He nodded again at me while grabbing a suit jacket. I watched him smooth down his hair in the mirror. “I see you’re already heeding Humphrey’s request to look dapper.”

  He caught my eyes in the mirror. “Codex will be here shortly. They expect a certain debonair look from their leader.”

  I tossed my hair in an ineffectual attempt at hiding my nerves. “So. We’ve got a date tonight, and Eudora Green is starting shit.”

  I finally climbed out of bed and pulled Abe’s faded Quantico sweatshirt over my head, inhaling the scent of aged whiskey and mahogany. Came to sit on top of the very same dresser I’d recently been ravaged upon. Next to me, Abe was buttoning the final two buttons of his shirt.

  “Somehow, Eudora’s been tipped off that you and I are private detectives,” he said. “I’d love for that to be Bernard, but how or why they’ve connected those dots I have no idea. At the very least, it’s obvious she thinks we’re investigating something we shouldn’t.”

  “She didn’t tell Humphrey, or the Society, her full suspicions though,” I said, biting the tip of my thumb. “Telling people to avoid us but not that we’re liars.”

  He peered at me. “Perhaps she’s actually protecting the person who suspects us.”

  My stomach hollowed out with a burst of excitement. “Then we’re getting closer to Bernard. We have to be.”

  “That we are,” he said. His face changed when he lifted his hand from his suit pocket—and held a small note between his fingers. The note I’d stolen from Eudora. In the intense activity of the fire and moving rooms, its existence had slipped my mind.

  “Remember this?”

  I snatched it from his fingers. “JP is a yes. Irene says we are a go.” I tilted my head, a light bulb flicking on in my brain. “James Patrick?”

  “The man we’re going to see tonight?” Abe asked—elation curving around each word.

  “You’re goddamn right we are,” I replied. Slammed the note on the dresser and drummed my fingers on it. “It would be a curious thing indeed if the man responsible for auctioning off these papers was going to have a hand in getting them stolen.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said. “We’ve worked a few cases tying thefts back to auction houses. I can’t parse who ‘Irene’ is or what she’s giving a go. If we have a fancy party tonight, good thing our team arrives in twenty minutes. We need to get Codex up to speed on everything, plan for tonight, and pin down the best strategy for being Humphrey’s guests while avoiding Eudora, and any Dresden guards, as best we can.”

  He looped a tie around his neck with practiced motions. I hooked my finger into his belt loop and dragged him in front of me, joining my legs around his waist.

 
“Let me,” I said, starting to tie his tie. Abe Royal went still as a statue. When I finally allowed myself to peer up at him, the naked affection in his face stilled my fingers.

  “This is very domestic,” he said softly.

  “I’ll be nagging you to organize our basement in no time,” I said. He leaned in, kissed my forehead. I resumed my motions yet glued my eyes to his. A sense of peace infused my very being—one I’d never felt before.

  “I hope you like being grilled by a team of highly trained professionals,” he said.

  “I know a thing or two about withstanding pressure,” I smirked. “I’ll be okay.”

  “They’ll ask if we’re…” He paused. My fingers paused too.

  “What?” I knew what. I just couldn’t discern his feelings yet, or my own.

  “They will tease us endlessly about our romantic situation. And our obvious gap in ages.”

  “Obvious?” I grinned.

  “What’s a decade, after all?” he said softly.

  “Ah,” I said. “How would you describe this situation, Mr. Royal?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “You go first.”

  I gave his tie a well-timed yank and his smile grew devilish. “We are enjoying each other’s company right now.”

  “I agree,” he said, palms smoothing along my thighs. We proceeded to both wait each other out—see who might break and crack open the well of deeper emotions. But Abe was silent, which silenced me.

  If he left me—or when he left me?

  “Sounds like we’re on the same page,” I said. More of a suggestion than a statement. He responded by taking my hand and holding it to the center of his body.

  “It won’t be only the two of us anymore, working this case,” Abe said. “So I wanted to talk to you before Codex arrived, while its just you and me.”

  I swallowed hard, noted the twisting sensation in my belly. “Go for it.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me last night. You are not your parents, Sloane.” He stared at our hands, joined together. “And you were only a child.”

  My throat was unbearably dry as I exhaled, raggedly. Surprised. “I didn’t… I didn’t escape from them until I was seventeen. Teenagers can make decisions about what’s right and wrong.”

  His grip on my wrist tightened. “Sloane.”

  I felt the urge to hunch, to curl inward, to hide. “What?”

  He dipped his head until he captured my gaze. “Teenagers are children still. Especially if your parents indoctrinate you, force you, demand you help them in order for you to receive… what? What did they give you in return for helping them do jobs?”

  “Certainly not love,” I said quickly. Regretted it. He didn’t press. “They fed me. Most times. We had places we stayed. Apartments, motels, that kind of thing. They let me go to school.”

  “Usually children receive those things because they are children.”

  I looked away. Fiddled with the tie I’d just straightened. “I worry.”

  Those two words were like shoving a boulder out of the way using only my pinkie fingers.

  “About what?” he asked.

  “I want to live on the right side of the law. I want to punish people like my parents. Protect other people from criminals, thieves, bad guys. People that manipulate. Like Bernard.” I chewed on my lip, shifted on the dresser. “I still worry. Because the reason I’m good at being a detective is because I was raised to lie. I was raised to be charming. I was raised to seek out weaknesses and exploit them. I can slip into any undercover identity in seconds, without hesitation. It feels wrong to use evil skills for good. It makes me feel like I’m stepping too close to the edge. One toe over the line…”

  Abe studied me. “How often are you tempted to toe over that line?”

  I searched my memories for the last time I’d defied the law. Came up… empty.

  “Ah,” he said. “Maybe you’re good. Maybe you’ve always been good.”

  “You think so?” I was trying to be funny, but the words came out eager, needy. I went to look away, and he trapped my chin, tilted me back.

  “I know so,” he said. “Honesty, remember?”

  I nodded, conceding his point, feeling flushed with a newfound feeling. Conversation done, at least in his mind, he started to walk away. I snagged his tie. Tugged him back between my legs.

  “May I help you?” he asked, tone playful.

  I replied with a kiss more sweet than smoldering. “You are not your father.”

  His face hardened. “Excuse me?”

  I matched his hard expression, unafraid. “Lone wolf or not, you are not him. It’s okay to still be angry with him. It’s also okay to let it go. It’s okay to find that hope your mother felt, to want someone in your life. It doesn’t make you weak. The opposite, in fact.”

  He softened—he kissed my forehead again, breathing me in. When he stepped back, the expression on his face was one of a man seeing the golden hues of a sunset for the very first time. “You are not at all what I expected.”

  My voice was shaky when I finally answered. “And that heart of yours is bigger than you think.”

  A line appeared between his brows. “It’s hard for me to crack open this fortress. There’s not a lot of room in there for others.”

  There wasn’t time for us to continue this conversation—wasn’t time for us to pin down the unruly chaos of this instant attraction. Abe’s phone chimed with an incoming message that he read immediately. Whatever he saw put a genuine smile on his face, which stole the breath from my lungs.

  “They’re here and waiting in the café,” he said.

  I jumped down from the dresser, did a mini twirl. “And this look is okay, right?”

  His hungry perusal of my bare legs only intensified the butterflies in my stomach. “The image of you in my sweatshirt will feature in many fantasies to come.”

  I gripped the bathroom doorframe to keep from swooning. “Give me… um, give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

  Those five minutes became ten when I realized my shirt was on backwards and I applied mascara to my right eye—twice. The butterflies in my stomach roared, my fingers shook, my breath was unsteady.

  Codex was here.

  We had less than two days to pull everything off.

  Every opportunity I had ever craved relied upon tomorrow night’s success.

  And all I truly wanted in that moment was for Abe to make room in his heart.

  For me.

  35

  Abe

  There were several moments in my life I would always remember.

  The day my mother was able to say Abraham again.

  The feel of the keys in my hand when I opened the Codex offices for the first time.

  The second I first locked eyes with Sloane.

  And the sight of Henry, Delilah, Freya, and Sam—looking jet-lagged and slightly bedraggled—standing in a café in London. Those slightly bedraggled expressions transformed into brilliant smiles as Sloane and I stepped inside the bustling space.

  I immediately slipped my hands inside my pockets to hide their traitorous shaking. Gave my team a short nod. “Lovely to see all of you.”

  With an exasperated eye roll, Freya launched herself at me, arms wrapped around my own stiff ones. Delilah was next, joining Freya—although her hug was softer and a little more understanding.

  “Well, cheerio, guv’na,” Freya said. “We’re here to save the day. Don’t worry, no thanks necessary.”

  “I’d never even consider it,” I said—although I worked my arms free and finally hugged them back quickly. Sam clapped me on the shoulder, and Henry shook my hand—warmly and with a real smile as he adjusted his glasses.

  “It’s good to be back here,” Henry said. “I’ve missed London.”

  “Enjoying the raves, sir?” Sam smirked.

  “Oh, every night,” I said.

  “We see you’re not dressed in your vacation attire.” Delilah frowned, tapping
her chin. “Would have thought those Hawaiian shirts would have done wonders here in rainy London for your much-needed time away.”

  “Oh, are we calling Abe on his bullshit already?” Freya clapped her hands together. “I’ve got some good ones locked and loaded, trust and believe.”

  With my own smirk, I turned to the woman standing next to me, who I was sure appeared as her usual calm and confident self to this group of detectives. Only I sensed her hesitant nervousness. Only I understood her feeling of being a social misfit who never quite fit in—that was a struggle I knew intimately. A struggle I knew and respected.

  “Before I am skewered, please introduce yourselves to the sixth member of our team here in London. Sloane Argento, a PI from Brooklyn currently working to find Bernard with the McMaster’s Library.”

  I was positive that Henry had already informed them of this on the plane. But, still, the very real looks of surprise, then intrigue, then mutual admiration that flowed across their faces reminded me of just how emotional—just how vital—this case was for us all.

  They took turns shaking Sloane’s hand.

  “Dr. Henry Finch, former special collections librarian.”

  “Delilah Barrett, former police detective.”

  “Freya Evandale, proud Quantico drop-out.”

  “Sam Byrne, former special agent.”

  Sloane shook their hands, maintained strong eye contact. And unleashed the wide, charming smile that was her trademark. Every member of my team melted toward her like flowers to the sun.

  “It’s nice to finally meet all of you,” she said. “I own my own investigative firm in Brooklyn, and I’m being paid by Henry’s old boss to catch Bernard. And I’m truly looking forward to calling Abe on his epic bullshit with the rest of you.” She cast her eyes at me. “Skewer, if you will.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Freya drawled, propping her hands on her hips. “Now how did you meet our Office Dad again?”

  “It is a mathematical impossibility for me to be your dad,” I interrupted.

  Sloane’s smile only grew, her shoulders relaxing. “I picked his pockets, tailed him across the city, and accidentally booked a hotel room right next door to his.”