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She dug her nails into her palms, fighting for control, but her body hummed with a residual current.

She cleared her throat. “I need an engineering degree just to find the radio.”

“The radio is the least of our concerns right now,” Leo said, but he reached over and pressed a button and instantly the car was booming with the unmistakable opening guitar riff of AC/DC.

Kat’s eyebrows shot up. “I was expecting Mozart or something equally... restrained.”

Leo rolled his hands on the steering wheel.

“ACDC. Really?” Despite everything, she smiled.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It’s a rental.”

“Yeah, but—” The lead singer was losing it over shaking walls. She stifled a laugh with her hand.

Leo glanced over. His stony expression softened into a shy boyish smile, then morphed into something darker that made her belly tighten and heat arrow between her legs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Breathe Kat. Breathe.She tore her gaze off him and forced herself to look out the window.

Rain raced across the glass as the Jaguar slowed, entering a quiet residential street lined with modest terrace houses.

She took a slow, deep breath. She was going to fix things. Clear her name. Put Korolov behind bars if necessary.

“We’re here,” Leo craned over his shoulder as he parked between a dented delivery van and an aging Mini Cooper.

Kat peered through the rain-streaked window at an unremarkable brick terrace house, grateful for the diversion. The ordinary Hackney neighborhood looked like any other. “This is your contact’s place?”

“Brock’s been in deep cover operations so long he’s forgotten what normal looks like.” Leo’s voice held a hint of fondness. “But we won’t find a better source of information in the northern hemisphere. If Korolov is behind this, Brock will have threads we can pull.”

They hurried through the rain to the front door. Leo knocked in a distinctive pattern—three quick taps, a pause, two more.

The door opened a crack, revealing a single suspicious eye behind a heavy security chain.

“You look like shit, Bychkov.” The voice behind the battered door was gruff.

Leo shot Kat a look. “Brock’s always been a charmer.”

The door closed, chain rattled, then swung open fully to reveal a barrel-chested man with a boxer’s nose and a salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a faded Johnny Cash T-shirt.

“Inside. Quick.” He ushered them through the door then hooked a thumb. “Living room’s that way.”

Brock stuck his head outside for a moment before securing multiple deadbolts.

Kat followed Leo down the hall to the living room and froze on the threshold. Every available surface was covered.Hundreds of delicate Royal Doulton figurines lined multiple shelves. Shepherdesses, cherubs, and children with enormous eyes stared down at them from every angle.

“Welcome to Fort Brock,” Leo murmured close to her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

Brock hustled into the room. He gestured to a shepherdess figurine. “Field Marshal Montgomery is overseeing perimeter security today.”

Leo contemplated the room. “No one would believe a serious intelligence operative lives here.”

“That’s the bloody point, isn’t it?” Brock scowled.

Kat caught Leo’s eye, biting her lip to suppress a smile.

“Come.” Brock led them through a narrow door that looked like a closet entrance. On the other side was a startling transformation—a dining nook that resembled a military command center. Maps covered the walls, communications equipment hummed softly, and multiple screens displayed CCTV feeds of the surrounding streets. One monitor showed a news ticker with her name scrolling across the bottom. Kat rubbed her arms against a sudden chill.

Brock moved into a small kitchen off the dining room.