by Anna Durand
"Am I?" Alex said as he rose from the chair. His gaze landed on me, and he smiled, exposing his perfect white teeth. He had the face of an angel, but something about the glint in his eyes clued me in to his roguish side. The beautiful Brit strode around the desk to offer me his hand. "You must be the woman who's finally tamed Logan."
"Guess I am." I slipped my hand into his, expecting a quick shake, but instead he clasped my hand in both of his. "I'm Serena Carpenter. And you must be the infamous Alex Thorne."
"Infamous?" He chuckled. "That's the MacTaggart family's opinion. I hope you'll reach your own conclusions about me." He raised my hand to kiss it. "I can see why Logan is enamored of you. I'm instantly enchanted by your beauty too."
Oh yeah, he was definitely a font of bullshit. But he did have charm, I had to admit. Gorgeous, sexy, endearing, and polite. No wonder Catriona had fallen for him. Alex's charms made me more curious about him, but I was not enchanted by the man.
Alex released my hand and returned to his chair, waving at the smaller ones on this side of the desk. "Make yourselves comfortable, please."
Logan and I settled into the fancy upholstered chairs.
"May I get you a drink?" Alex asked. He gestured toward a wet bar set into the wall between the bookshelves. "I have Talisker single malt if you'd like that, Logan."
"No," Logan replied curtly.
Alex leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arms, and steepled his fingers under his chin. "I assume you've decided to take the job."
"First, I want to hear the details." Logan crossed his ankle over the other knee and affected a relaxed, I-don't-give-a-shit pose. "All of the details, Alex. Not the abridged and heavily edited version. Everything. Now."
Despite his casual posture and unreadable expression, his voice had a slight but unmistakable edge.
I glanced at him as desire shimmered through me. Logan the dangerous spy got me so hot.
At the same time, he made me feel safe. That no longer seemed bizarre to me. Of course he made me feel both outrageously turned on and completely safe. That was Logan.
"No pleasantries first?" Alex asked. "Perhaps a finger or two of Scotch? I have several varieties."
Logan spread his hand over his bent knee, curling his long fingers around it. "No. The facts. Immediately."
That edge had sharpened, and his expression had taken on an impossible to describe aura of deadly intent. Nobody messed with Logan.
Except Alex Thorne.
The man smiled, his eyes glittering in the filtered sunlight. The color of his irises reminded me of melted brown sugar. "Always straight to the point, aren't you, Logan?"
"Yes." Logan turned that clipped syllable into a threat simply by squinting his eyes the tiniest bit. Faint lines fanned out from the corners. "I'm not accepting the job without knowing everything. If you lie to me, or hide anything from me, I will be very annoyed with you. And if your obfuscation puts Serena in any danger, I will murder you in the most painful way I can think of." He leaned forward a smidgen. "And I have a vivid, gruesome imagination."
Despite the hot shiver slithering up my spine, I decided it was time to defuse the machismo bomb ticking away inside this room. He had every right to be irritated with Alex, but death threats seemed like overkill.
I studied Logan's face, wondering if he was really as angry as he wanted Alex to think.
Logan glanced at me, moving only his eyes, and the corners of his lips ticked up ever so slightly, though only for a split second.
The truth hit me then. He wasn't angry at all. This was a ploy to convince Alex the consequences of lying or withholding the truth from us would be serious. I had no doubts Logan would be furious—darkly, calmly enraged—if Alex's games got us into hot water. But right now, he wasn't even annoyed.
I looked at our host. "Logan can be very intimidating, can't he? Better do what he says."
"Logan doesn't intimidate me," Alex said. "No one does. Besides, threats of murder are nothing new for me."
He said that like he was discussing the weather. Was Alex truly fearless? Or had he faked it for so long that even he couldn't tell the difference anymore? Fear was a good thing, in moderation, because it discouraged people from taking unnecessary risks. Logan understood this. Alex... He seemed to have uninstalled the fear program in his brain.
"The facts," Logan said. "Or we walk out the door."
Alex rifled through the papers on his desk, extracted a blue file folder, and set it down on the edge of the desk farthest from himself. With one finger, he spun the folder around. "Here's the dossier on Falk Mullane, a student of mine who pinched three priceless ancient tablets from the university museum."
"In your text, you implied you didn't know who the thief was."
"Did I?"
"You know you did." Logan stretched his arm out to take the folder. While he opened it and perused the papers it held, Alex continued talking.
"Falk wasn't a particularly bright student," Alex said, "but his family are important benefactors of the university, so I was required to take him on as my teaching assistant. A month ago, he broke into my office to download the final exam from my computer. I've been guilty of using 'password' as my computer password, so he didn't need hacking skills to get in. Luckily, I have cameras in my office. I knew it was him. If I'd reported Falk to the dean, he would have been expelled. I offered him a different way to do his penance, by doing me a favor."
"You blackmailed him," Logan said, glancing up from the file he held.
Alex waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "Blackmail is such an unsavory term. I...offered him an alternative."
"What, precisely, did you ask him to do?"
The enigmatic Brit rocked his chair slowly, his hands linked over his belly, and spoke in a tone that implied this was no big deal. "I'm working on a book about ancient writing systems. The museum has several Babylonian cuneiform tablets that would be of the utmost usefulness for my project, but they refuse to let me see them. I asked Falk to sort of...borrow them for me."
Logan closed the file and set it on his lap, keeping one hand on the folder. "You conspired to commit theft."
"Must you be so literal about it? I planned to return the tablets once I was done with them."
"Well, as long as you were going to return them." Logan squinted much harder this time, angling his head down just enough to project a touch of menace. "You are a thief."
Alex harrumphed. "It's no different than borrowing books from a library."
"Do you steal those too? Your definition of 'borrow' seems to be different from the dictionary version."
I put a hand on Logan's arm. "Maybe you should cut him some slack. He is fessing up to his crime."
"Yes," Alex said, "and I'm giving you plenty of ammunition to use against me. If you want to have me arrested"—he picked up the phone on his desk—"I'll dial the number for the police, and you can report me. I'm sure the word of a former MI6 agent will impress them."
Logan glared at Alex.
Our host maintained his genial demeanor, seeming more amused than irritated—and not the least bit cowed.
"All right," Logan said, relaxing into his chair. "What happened to this Falk Mullane? He ran off with your precious tablets, I presume."
"Yes." Alex steepled his fingers under his chin again. "I put a tracking device on his person so I would know where he was at all times. But it went dark ten days ago."
Words tumbled out of me before I had a chance to edit them. "You bugged your student? How? Isn't that against the law?"
"Buying the devices to do such things is not illegal, that's all I know." He scrunched up his face in disgust. "Falk always wears the same hideous baseball cap, can't stand to be without the bloody thing. I planted the tracking device inside the brim."
"Will you be tracking me and Logan too?"
"I doubt that will be necessary."
"And that's vague enough to give you wiggle room to
plant trackers on us and claim you never promised not to do it."
Our host stared at me for several seconds, his expression bland, then he broke into a wide grin. "I can see why Logan likes you. Beautiful and clever. It's no wonder you're the woman who finally got under his skin. How old are you?"
"Shouldn't a man as smooth as you know not to ask a woman that question?"
"But we're mates, aren't we? That means I can ask cheeky questions."
I'd never been sensitive about my age, unlike Keely, so I saw no problem with answering. "I'm forty-two. That makes me eight years older than Logan."
"Yes, it all makes sense now." Alex rolled his chair forward and folded his arms on the desktop. "You're mature enough to know your own mind, but still young enough to keep up with Logan."
"How old are you, Mr. Thorne?"
"Dr. Thorne." He smiled with wolfish delight. "But I'd rather you call me Alex."
"Fine." I looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not interested in you, Alex, so you can dial back the charm."
He tilted his head to the side, eying me like I was a strange specimen. "You're really not interested, are you? Beautiful, clever, strong, and loyal. I'm impressed, Logan. You've found a good one." He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day Logan MacTaggart fell in love."
Logan did not react to the statement, not in a way anyone else would notice. But I'd spent enough time naked with him, exploring every inch of his body and learning his every response, that I could tell he was startled.
He flipped open the folder and skimmed through the pages inside it. "What else aren't you telling me?"
"You haven't gotten to the last page in the dossier yet, have you?"
Logan tugged the last sheet of paper out of the folder and read it. He raised his brows at Alex. "Your student sent you an email to let you know he plans to sell the tablets on the black market?" Logan glanced at the paper again, this time lifting one brow at Alex. "Unless you pay him ten million dollars."
"That's right." Alex's affable facade slipped for a fraction of a second, exposing something darker, but it faded too quickly to be deciphered. "I don't give in to extortion."
"You blackmailed him, then he tried to blackmail you."
Alex picked at his shirt like he was removing lint. "I suppose you could say that. I know when I'm out of my depth, and that's why I've hired you to find Falk and retrieve the tablets."
"You haven't hired me yet," Logan said. "Not until I agree to take the job."
"Oh, you'll agree. We both know it."
"Are you sure there's nothing else you need to share?"
"I've told you everything I know."
Logan seemed satisfied with that response. He shut the folder and stood, offering his hand to Alex. "I'll find Falk Mullane for you and retrieve the artifacts. Do you want Mullane himself as well?"
Alex rose to shake Logan's hand. "I'll leave that up to you."
"One last thing." Logan speared Alex with a knife-sharp stare. "Why wouldn't the museum let you see the tablets? You're a professor of archaeology and ancient history at the university that owns the museum."
"Well..." Alex shrugged one shoulder in a negligent gesture. "I was a professor there. My tenure was denied, and my employment terminated."
"For what reason?"
"Misconduct. It was a false accusation."
"What sort of misconduct?" Logan asked, his gaze sharpening on Alex. "Did you seduce a female student?"
"I have never done anything inappropriate with a student."
"Catriona might disagree."
"You're implying I abused my position to seduce her. But I wasn't her teacher, and besides, the rules are different for graduate students. Things were less strict back then, at any rate."
I got up to stand beside Logan. "What did you do to get yourself fired?"
Alex scratched his chin. "I slept with the ex-wife of one of the university's most important donors. He didn't acknowledge the distinction between wife and ex-wife. She's his forever, or so the blighter thinks."
"If you're unemployed, why do you still need the tablets?"
Logan gave me an appreciative look, one infused with sensuality.
"My publishing contract was rescinded," Alex said, "but I plan to release the book myself. I'm sure I'll find another position soon enough."
I had to ask one more question, even at the risk of sounding like a dunce. "What is cuneiform, anyway?"
"The written language of the Babylonians, and the oldest known writing system. It looks rather like chicken scratches." He gave me a different kind of appreciative look than Logan had, one that seemed more intellectual than seductive. "I love a woman with a strong sense of curiosity. I'm sure Logan values that quality in you too."
Logan said nothing and gave nothing away on his face.
"Why don't you stay here tonight?" Alex asked, fulfilling Logan's prediction about where we would sleep tonight. "I have fifteen bedrooms for you to choose from, and I guarantee they're more comfortable than any hotel in this area. The food and the company will be better too."
He winked at me.
I swore Logan growled faintly, but decided I'd probably imagined it.
Probably.
Logan managed a polite smile. "We'll stay here. Thank you, Alex."
"Brilliant," Alex said with a broad smile. "I took the liberty of asking the chef to prepare a meal for three. It should be ready any moment, so follow me to the dining room."
"You assumed we'd be staying here before we even arrived."
"I knew I could persuade you, but honestly, I thought it would take more effort." He shot me a high-wattage smile. "Apparently, Serena has made you less grumpy."
Logan growled, more audibly this time. "I was never grumpy."
"No," I agreed. "He was hard as nails, not grouchy."
"Was?" Logan said, his lips twitching in a teasing smile. "I'm still hard as nails, leannan."
I kissed his cheek and murmured into his ear, "After dinner, I'm going to feast on you for dessert."
He coughed into his fist but choked on it, and winced while he discreetly adjusted his dick through his pants.
I grinned.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Logan
The dining room turned out to be a room as large as half of my apartment back in Carrefour—and that was no tiny space. Evan had insisted on providing me with an apartment as big as a house. What one man needed with so much space, I had no idea. Here in Alex's dining room, I realized my apartment was minuscule. This mansion could've housed my entire family, including all my cousins, their wives, and their children, not to mention their parents and grandparents.
Serena and I sat on one side of the very long table that was made of a reddish-brown wood. Alex had taken a seat on the other side, directly across from Serena.
"What a beautiful table," she said. "What kind of wood is this?"
"Dalbergia from India," he said, running his hands over the polished surface. "It's commonly known as East Indian rosewood, and it's one of the most expensive woods on earth. It's hard to work with too, which makes it even more expensive to have furniture made from it."
I tapped my fingernails on the table. "That explains why you had to have a table cut from this wood. Still obsessed with having the most expensive everything, aren't you? I've never understood the need to show off your wealth."
"To impress the ladies, of course."
No, I didn't believe that. He had some other reason for flaunting his money, but the answer didn't matter to me. I was here to do a job, not plumb the depths of Alex Thorne's soul.
Reginald, Alex's butler or housekeeper or whatever title the lord of the manor had given to the man, poked his head through the open doorway to announce dinner would be served in two minutes. Alex thanked him and looked away. He didn't see the dark sneer Reginald gave him, right before the butler disappeared into the hall.
That man had no love for the lord of the manor, but Alex seemed oblivious of Reginald's disdain for him. Maybe Alex had annoyed Reginald earlier today, or maybe he had other reasons for his display of hostility, reasons that had nothing to do with ill intentions. I decided to keep it to myself, for the moment, but keep an eye on Reginald.
Alex's mobile phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his features tightening for a heartbeat, then he excused himself to take the call in the hallway.
Serena toyed with the silverware laid out in front of her. "Reginald's British accent sounds different from Alex's."
"Reginald is faking his accent." I leaned back in my chair, which was probably made of the same high-end wood as the table. "He's Australian, not British."
"How do you know that?"
"I was a spy, leannan. Recognizing when someone is lying, whether with their words or their accent, can mean the difference between life and death."
"That's an impressive skill to have. Can you speak in different accents too?"
"Aye."
The lord of the manor walked back into the room, reclaiming his seat at the table. "What did I miss?"
"Serena was wondering why your man Reginald speaks with a British accent when he's from Australia."
Though surprise flashed on Alex's face, he tamped it down quickly. "You have hidden talents, don't you, Logan? Yes, Reginald is originally from Australia, born and raised in Sydney."
"Why does he pretend to be British?"
"That was his choice. He thinks Americans are more comfortable with a butler who's British." Alex smiled with genuine affection. "When I met Reggie, he was a struggling actor. After twenty years of bit parts and narrating local TV ads, he gave up and started looking for a new life path. We happened to meet, and I happened to need a right-hand man I could count on. Reggie fit the bill."
"Because he's a liar, just like you." Which made me wonder again about the look he'd given Alex earlier.
Alex laughed softly. "Ah, Logan, you have the strangest sense of humor."
"Yes, he does," Serena said. "But you get used to it."
