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“We’ve no way of knowing how long we’ll be undercover in Switzerland.”
“And?” he prompted.
“I wasn’t going to say anything more.”
“I’ll say it. If this goes south, like many things between you and me seem to, you don’t want it to be more awkward than it already is.”
“Precisely.”
“On the other hand, what if this is the start of things going north for us?”
“Is that an expression? Going north?” I asked.
Zeppelin shrugged. “It is now.”
“I’m not certain kissing, even good night, is a great idea.”
“I do.” He leaned forward, but rather than kissing my mouth, his lips landed on my forehead. “Good night, Elise.”
“Good night, Jack.”
When I wokethe following morning, Zeppelin was still asleep. Rather than risk waking him by heating water for tea, I grabbed my laptop and continued reading from where I’d left off. It was imperative I get my head back into this investigation straightaway. I’d chalk last night up to neither of us thinking clearly. Or thinking at all.
I looked out the window. It was just dawn, and the snow had stopped, but the view remained breathtaking.
Moments later, both our mobiles pinged. I grabbed mine and read the alert. Nemesis sent several updates, but none stating they’d located Z. What she did say was that Decker Ashford, Quint Alexander—Z’s son—and Quint’s wife, Darrow, had arrived.
She also reported that Poseidon and Oleander were on their way back from the States after learning the trafficking suspect they were to question, Manual Varilla, had been found dead in his cell the morning they were scheduled to arrive. It was an apparent suicide by hanging. Given the agents intended to ask him about AMPS, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been murdered instead.
While learning of Varilla’s death was disconcerting, her next bit of news had me stunned.
“What in the bloody fucking hell?” exclaimed Zep, jumping up from the bed. “Iris Beachum says she has information that would help locate Z, but she has demands that need to be met before she’ll share it?”
“Apparently,” I said, still disbelieving what I’d read, even after Zeppelin expressed similar anger over it.
“If I was there instead of here, the woman would be in a major world of hurt,” he added.
“Same.” I didn’t know much about Iris other than what I’d read in her background check and in briefs where she was mentioned. Comments I’d overheard were rarely positive. In fact, I knew very few people in all of SIS who liked the woman. “Puck!” I gasped.
Zeppelin, in all his shirtless glory, approached. “What about him?”
“He’s the only person I’ve ever heard say something nice about Iris. In fact, I’ve heard him defend her.”
He sat beside me on the sofa, leaned forward, and put his head in his hands. “Puck has Z.”
It was a logical theory. However, that Iris had said she had information that would help locate the former chief didn’t necessarily mean it was Puck who’d abducted him.
On the other hand, Zeppelin wasn’t typically quick to judge or hypothesize. He took in the information and processed it. Many times, I’d watched him from the corner of my eye, knowing the exact moment he pieced a clue together. He had the same look on his face now.
“What makes you so certain?” I asked.
“Puck’s off the rails.” He looked in the direction of the kitchen, then at me. “Want an espresso?”
“I was thinking tea.”
We stood at the same time, and I plugged the electric kettle in while Zeppelin fiddled with the coffee machine.
“Can I help?” I asked. “I have the same machine.”