by Cat Johnson
She’d almost blinded me with that same shoe. It would have been nice if my friend were a little more concerned about me almost losing an eye than him losing his comm, but whatever. I had other things to worry about.
It seemed I was now answering to James Bond while partnering with my own Bond villain lover. Lovely.
I drew in a breath to steel myself and turned back to look toward the mismatched members of my new team. “I’m hanging up now. Um, over and out.”
Zane laughed before the call went dead. Glad he was amused.
Back by the elevators I noticed that not much had changed. Alex was now standing but she was still on the deadly end of Tristan’s weapon.
“You gonna keep that on her the whole time we’re together?” I asked.
“Does it bother you?” he asked, without answering my question.
“Not at all. Shoot her if you want to. I don’t care.”
Alex swiveled to frown at me. I was happy she was finally grasping how truly pissed I was now that I knew she’d piled yet another lie on top of the rest.
“You might want to wait though,” I continued. “Zane thinks we need her help to find Viktoria.”
Tristan’s lips twitched at my comment. “Noted.”
“Did Zane tell you Daddy didn’t hire her. She’s Blackwater?”
“I’ve been informed, yes.”
Alex had the nerve to take a step forward. “Brent—”
“Don’t. Just don’t . . .” I was too mad to even finish a complete sentence. I drew in a breath and started over, abandoning Alex and turning toward Tristan. “Let’s just get through this thing. Tristan, you’re in charge. Tell us what to do.”
He nodded and took a step toward the map posted on the wall next to the elevator. “No doubt there’s security cameras set up at the entrance where she was last seen. We’ll have to find the room where those cameras feed and get a look at the video for ourselves. I’m guessing that room is located on one of these two lower levels.”
“But won’t there be a guard in there? What do we do about him?” I truly hoped he didn’t say knock him out. I didn’t want to be party to doing bodily injury.
Tristan turned from the wall map to smile at me. “Luckily we have an attractive and obviously skilled woman with us to distract him while I’m checking the feed.” His gaze hit on Alex.
I was all for using her various skills for good instead of evil, but I didn’t think she’d agree.
Surprisingly, she didn’t say a word. Her only reply was one small tip of her head.
Maybe she could be a team player after all if it meant getting her to her goal—finding Viktoria.
Or she was just waiting for us to be distracted so she could hit us over the head and run.
I guess we’d know either way soon enough, but I still saw one problem with this plan. Being what I considered an enlightened man, I asked, “What if the guard is a woman?”
Tristan smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short, Hearst. I’m sure you’ll have no problem stepping in and being a distraction.”
My eyes widened as I realized I might have to be the honey pot now and the night turned even more surreal.
Honey Pot: Tales of an Accidental Operative. A Memoir by Brent Hearst.
That thought proved I was losing my mind. But still, the publisher in me couldn’t help but think it would make one hell of a best selling title. I batted that errant thought aside to consider later.
Tristan referred to the map one more time. “Judging by the layout, security should be down this hallway.” He turned to look at both of us. “Shall we?”
I wasn’t turning my back on Alex again anytime soon. I waited for her to follow Tristan and I brought up the rear as my heart pounded.
Enlightened man or not, I prayed the guard was a man as I followed Tristan and Alex down the dim hall into the unknown.
EIGHTEEN
Tristan was good. Even in my terror I could see that. He was well trained. Skilled. Everything I wasn’t.
Alex was too. Now that she’d dropped the false persona she’d used with me, she moved like Tristan—like a spy. Quick. Quiet. Cautious.
I could appreciate the skill in him. Seeing it now so clearly in her just made me angry and hurt all over again.
How had I missed all the signs?
I didn’t have time to review every place I’d fucked up as Tristan and Alex began to have an entire conversation silently and completely with hand signals.
Not having taken the hand signal class myself, I could only surmise what was happening by the signs they made and how each responded.
When Tristan held up his arm, bent at the elbow, his hand in a fist, Alex stopped immediately. Bringing up the rear, I did too, just in time before I ran into Alex.
He motioned her forward while he backed away. Tristan headed my direction, grabbed me none to gently, and pulled me into a darkened doorway.
“What’s—”
My whisper was cut off by his hand over my mouth. Then I heard it—the reason we had to be so quiet—Alex was in conversation with a man. The guard on duty if I had to guess.
Before I knew it, they were both walking this way, right past our hiding place, all the way back down the long hallway that led to the theater and to the elevator.
Once they were past, Tristan gave me a push in the direction of the room where Alex had met our unsuspecting guard.
Inside the security room he said, “Listen for the elevator or any footsteps. Watch the hallway but stay out of sight.”
Shit. I had a job and it sounded like an important one.
I was dying to ask questions but then I wouldn’t be able to hear the elevator. Not that I was certain I could even if I were silent since it was quite a distance away.
I stood just inside the doorway, alternating between popping my head out to look into the hall and glancing back at the bank of monitors where Tristan sat punching keys on a keyboard.
“Got her.” His triumphant announcement had me blowing out a breath in relief.
I allowed myself to ask a question since he’d spoken first and his expression as he leaned forward and frowned at the monitor didn’t provide me with any answers. “Is it good news or bad?”
“I’m not quite sure as yet.” Tristan raised his gaze to meet mine. “But it certainly is interesting.”
Since Mister MI6 was being so cryptic, I abandoned my duty of watching the hall to move farther into the room and glance at the monitors.
I saw what looked like a storage room. Likely where the museum kept the pieces of their collection not currently on display.
On the grainy picture I could make out Viktoria. That she was in this area probably wasn’t anything to be alarmed about. Nor was the fact she was there with two men. They could be curators showing her a new acquisition for all we knew.
Then again, why were the lights off?
I realized the picture was so bad because we were seeing the image using the camera’s night vision. The area was as poorly lit as the theater level we were on was. It appeared only the security lights were illuminated while the overhead lights were off.
Surely if someone was going to show off their collection, they’d want to show it in the best light, literally.
“What do you think’s going on?” I asked Tristan, keeping my eye on the screen and the perplexing situation it showed. The three weren’t moving. They seemed to be discussing something. “Is it some sort of heist?”
When I heard Tristan chuckle I took my eyes off the monitor and turned to him.
“A heist?” He laughed again. “Perhaps. I mean Viktoria and her father have plenty of money to buy art. They don’t need to steal it or hire someone to steal it for them. However, money isn’t always the issue. Some of these collectors want specific works for their private collections. Famous pieces that aren’t for sale and never will be. They’ll go to great lengths to acquire them.”
“So you think that’s what’s happening here?” Just when I thought
I couldn’t sink any deeper into the intrigue, was I now neck deep in the international world of art smuggling?
Tristan shook his head. “No. The location doesn’t seem right for it. There is obviously security on site—both guards and cameras—yet they don’t seem concerned about it.” Glancing at me, he cocked one brow high. “Speaking of guards . . . Perhaps we should watch for our friend so we’re not the ones suspected of your heist.”
The we in that sentence was me since watching for the return of the guard was my assignment and I was shirking it.
I moved back to my post by the door and listened for a second. No sound of voices or footsteps or elevator movement caught my attention. I leaned out and looked both ways, then leaned back in.
“Still clear.” I announced, and then glanced at Tristan. “So we found her. What’s next? Are we going to keep watch from here and see where she goes next or can we get out of here now?”
Tristan hit a few more keys on the console. “We can’t stay here for long. I’ve got Alex and the guard still on the floor above us.” He frowned and laughed. “She has him crawling on the floor.”
“What? Why?” I asked.
“If I had to guess, she’s pretending she was here during business hours and lost something precious, jewelry most likely. She’s convinced him to help her look for it. That’s what I would do.” Tristan spoke as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “She’s good. I’ll give her that.”
He glanced up at me and chuckled.
I could only assume he noticed that his compliment of Alex’s powers of deception had brought the scowl back to my face.
“Don’t blame her, Hearst. We all have done regrettable things for the job.” He stood and moved away from the monitors.
“Not me,” I returned, feeling righteous.
“You’ve been working this assignment for how long?” he asked.
“About a week.” I shrugged.
He shook his head. “For her—and for me—it’s not a passing diversion. It’s our lives. That makes a difference.”
I considered his words but held onto my anger. “Then you both should choose a different life.”
To my surprise, Tristan laughed. “That’s very possibly true.” He moved to stand next to me in the doorway. “Time to go.”
“Where?”
“To find out what our lovely heiress is up to.”
“What about Alex?” I asked. Not that I cared but it seemed lax to leave a member of the team behind.
“We’ll catch up with her back at the party.”
“Did you tell her that?” I asked, keeping my voice low as we made our way down the hallway.
“No.” He stopped, leaned around the corner, then proceeded full steam ahead.
As I rushed to keep up, I asked, “Then how can you be sure she’ll know to meet us back there?”
“Because it’s what I would do.”
I was beginning to see a pattern here. Apparently all spies—both good guys and bad guys—drew from the same playbook. One that I, as a spectator, had never been privy to.
He was right. It was a different world. A different life.
Even if I could justify her actions and forgive Alex—even if it turned out she was working for the good side—we operated in completely different worlds with a different set of rules.
Back when I thought she was a struggling college student I’d assumed the challenge for us would arise from her not being able to relate to my life as a Hearst.
Little did I know the hurdle between us wouldn’t be my being rich, but instead her being a spy.
I was just considering how fucking insane that was when Tristan body slammed me into a dark doorway and pressed a finger to his lips to tell me to be silent.
The elevator shaft rumbled as the car neared our floor, then there was the distinct sound of the doors swooshing open.
My heart pounded, so hard and fast I actually feared the guard would hear it.
He didn’t of course. He moved past, en route to the post he’d abandoned prior to Alex stumbling into his life. He’d gotten away easy as far as I was concerned. She’s caused a lot more damage when she’d stumbled into mine.
Finally, Tristan motioned for me to follow him.
I glanced down the hall before rushing after Tristan.
We stopped in front of the elevator. As the doors opened once again a realization hit me.
I somehow managed to control my outburst until they’d slid shut. Then I spun to Tristan. “The guard’s going to see us on the monitors. And Victoria too.”
Tristan shook his head. “No, he won’t.”
“But—”
“I put the cameras on a loop showing this elevator, the storage room and the hallway leading to it as empty.”
I sagged against the wall of the elevator and let out a breath. “Okay.”
Tristan punched a button and glanced back at me. “You all right, mate?”
The answer to that was a resounding no, but I wasn’t going to admit that to James Bond here, so instead I said, “Yeah. All good.”
He smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I doubt that.” And after today, I seriously hoped I wasn’t in this life long enough to get accustomed to it because what I’d experienced of it so far was completely fucked up.
NINETEEN
The elevator rumbled into motion and I glanced at Tristan.
He looked cool and collected. Bored almost. Meanwhile, I was sweating in spite of the air conditioning.
Of the two of us, I had to think mine was the more rational reaction.
We were about to step out into the middle of God only knew what. We could possibly be interrupting a majorly illegal art deal.
I realized that didn’t sound quite as ominous as interrupting a major drug deal but I figured it could be dangerous nonetheless. We were talking high dollar stolen goods here. Some pieces went for millions of dollars at auction. I could only imagine a thief wouldn’t be happy to be interrupted.
I missed having Zane in my ear to calm me down. Even him calling me Rosebud would have helped at the moment.
Instead, the only person I had to lean on was mister cool here and he didn’t look like the coddling type.
All too soon the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.
I reached my hand into my pocket where I’d stashed Alex’s gun. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to whip it out and threaten the possible art thieves with it, but it made me feel better knowing it was an option should it become necessary.
I struggled to get the gun out of my pocket, which was cut way too small for this. I wondered if Tristan had his suits custom made specifically to accommodate his weapons. I probably should have been paying more attention to not shooting myself in the foot instead as I struggled to get the weapon free.
Next to me Tristan stiffened and my focus whipped to him.
“What?” I asked, as softly as I could in spite of my panic.
He mouthed for me to shush and then I saw his weapon was out.
Jesus. What was happening? I didn’t know but I needed to be prepared for it. If I could only get the damn gun out—
“About time you two got here.” Alex’s voice drew my attention away from the struggle in my pocket.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Tristan visibly relaxed and took a step out of the elevator car.
“Viktoria is in the storage room at the end of the hall,” Alex informed Tristan with barely a glance in my direction.
Yup, the honeymoon was over. She wasn’t even pretending to care what I thought anymore.
No more honey pot for me. I sucked it up and focused on the situation. There’d be time for wallowing and anger later.
“How did you know she was here?” I asked Alex.
“The guard got a call on his radio while I was with him. One of the other guys telling him a major donor and her guest were getting a private tour from the curator of the collection not on view.”
“We believe
that?” I asked Tristan. I’d love for him to say everything was fine and we could go back to the party and get a drink.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he said.
My eyes widened at the implications of that. “What are we going to do? Confront her?”
“I am. You’re not.” Tristan shot me a look.
“What do you mean?” I sure as hell didn’t want to go into that storeroom but I didn’t want to be left behind either.
“You’re staying here,” Tristan informed me.
“I think I should go in. Alone,” Alex said.
“Thanks, love, but I don’t think so.”
I was happy to see Tristan didn’t trust her either. At least we were on the same page as far as that went.
Alex scowled. “Fine. We go in together.”
Tristan hesitated, looking as if he was considering Alex’s suggestion. He finally nodded. “All right. We go in pretending to be a drunk couple who snuck away from the party looking for a place to get amorous.”
She nodded as I frowned, not sure I liked that plan. But it was too late. With barely a backward glance, they were gone, leaving me behind as they moved down the hall toward the storage room.
If I were honest with myself, I’d admit I was pouting not only about being left behind, but also about the fact the smooth Brit was about to get handsy with the woman I’d considered my girl for a couple of glorious, delusional days.
Even if it was a lie on her part, it hadn’t been on mine and I really didn’t like the idea of him touching her. Kissing her. Even pretending to be with her.
I jumped as the sound of the elevator moving broke into my self pity.
I tried to calm myself by reviewing the many reasons why that elevator was in use. There was still a party happening on the fifth floor. Guests arriving late, other guests leaving early. Any number of them could have called for the elevator rather than take the escalator up and down all those flights.
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation . . . until I watched the numbers above the elevator change, creeping closer and closer to the floor I was standing on, and then stop.
Holy shit.
