Page 22

CHAPTER 22

SCARLET

I opted to hole up in the upstairs library, as the billiard room downstairs opens onto the lawn, and every time the security personnel pass by the window, I startle. The dusty smell in the library bothered me initially, but I’ve warmed to it. The leatherbound volumes on the shelves probably haven’t been opened in generations, and many of the titles aren’t at all to my taste, but I love sitting amongst the volumes. The gas fireplace flickers orange with hints of blue, creating a warm ambiance that’s particularly desirable against the clouds shrouding the skyline.

I should find a book to read, but instead, I’ve wasted hours scrolling through TikTok on a random mobile Nick said I could use. I keep replaying a video of a Spanish guy saying, “Hello, gorgeous” over and over. It’s not what he’s saying as much as it is his tone, and comments are cracking me up. I wish I had someone to share the video with, but I’ve got no one. Orlando, possibly, but I’m on Nick’s random device so no one can track me. Reaching out to Orlando would defeat the purpose.

Footsteps sound in the hall and Nick appears. Relief flashes across his face.

“I see you found the library.”

“It’s a lovely room.”

The cushion on the sofa sinks as he takes his place next to me, looking over my shoulder at the screen in my hand.

“Who is that?”

“Listen to his voice,” I say. “I’d love to have his voice on my Siri. Some are saying he needs to be installed on the car nav.”

“Where’s he live?”

“I don’t know.” I toss the mobile on the sofa. “How’s Lina?”

“Hand me that phone.”

“Why?”

“Need to find that bloke. See who I’ve got in his area who can take him out.”

My mouth gapes, and I flail my hands about, somewhat certain he’s joking—hoping he’s joking.

He cracks up, laughing at his own joke, and I slap his chest.

“Seriously.” I roll my eyes, waving my hands about in exasperation. “For a second there, I truly thought you might be mad enough to assassinate a TikToker, Mr. Jealous,” I say, shaking my head.

“Not normally,” he says, growing quite serious. “It’s you.”

He’s playing, but I’ve been over here worried about his sister.

“How’s Lina?”

“She’s good, I think. I mean, what do I know?” He rubs a hand through his hair. “I’ve thought she was in a good place before. But she isn’t in denial. Accepts she has a problem. For the moment. She was worried about you.”

“Me?”

He brushes his fingers across my face, circumspect.

“And me. It’s good to see she’s thinking about someone other than herself, if I’m being honest. This place she’s at now, it’s got good reviews.”

“They’ll allow the additional security presence?”

“Aye. They’re working with me.”

My mobile screen lights, and we both read the text.

Unknown number

My flight’s on schedule. I’ll call when I get in.

“Who’s that?”

He’s right to ask. In theory, no one should have this number. The country code isn’t Italy. Will he recognize it? Of course, he will. This is Nick.

The coded message is meant to avert suspicions, but it couldn’t look more suspect to Nick.

“Wrong number,” I say, looking across the room instead of at Nick.

I’m lying. Why? What am I doing?

I sense Nick stiffen. He picks up my mobile and pecks away at it. I’ve no idea what he’s doing but…oh, Christ. He’s going to track the number.

I glance down in time to read his message.

This is Nick. Get me everything you can on this number and a log of all calls made from the number I’m messaging you from.

If I weren’t guilty, I’d be furious. Should I act furious? For survival, yes. I should be affronted and storm out. Only, I can’t quite force myself because I am guilty and he’s right to investigate.

“I lied,” I say, head bowed.

“You don’t say.” A chill crisscrosses his tone, but it hasn’t dropped to deadly.

“I had a plan. Before you.” I lift my gaze from my hands. “A member of British intelligence approached me. They wanted information on Titan’s shipping clients—I presumed to curtail the drug trafficking going on through the EU—but it became clear they also have an interest in tracking shipments to and from Russia.”

“Go on.”

“I haven’t given them much. I haven’t told my contact what I provided to Interpol. Honestly, my contact seemed more interested in information than in actually bringing them down. And I hadn’t yet decided if I could trust him.”

“Why is he reaching out now?”

“He keeps up with me.”

“Via mobile?” There’s disgust in his tone.

“He tracked me to the Savoy. That night you approached me in the bar, he was there.”

“And?”

“After you approached, he disappeared. The agreement was he wouldn’t approach me when I was with anyone.”

“Right.” He waves the mobile back and forth.

“I reached out today. Figured he’d be worried. I didn’t want him sending anyone to rescue me.”

“You think they’d do that?” His eyebrows lift, and I can’t tell if he’s amused or dismayed.

“I’m an asset.”

“A gold coin is an asset.”

“You don’t think?—”

“There’s nothing to think. I’ll verify you’re talking to who you think you’re talking to, and then we’ll go from there.”

“Are you mad?”

He tugs at his chin, considering, and huffs. “Annoyed. Why would you keep that from me?”

“Wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“How about, ‘Hey, Nick, by the way, before you came along, this chub asked me to give him the nitty-gritty on the drug smuggling business, and now he’s sniffing my tracks, hoping he doesn’t lose his source. Think I should tell him I’ve gone and shot the load with Interpol and I’m no longer nearly as valuable of an asset?’”

“I should’ve trusted you.”

“What was your plan? Using the chub as a backup should things go awry?”

“Wouldn’t you have a backup?”

He narrows his eyes. “Aye, I would. But let’s circle back to the trust bit.”

“You’re right. I should’ve told you.”

“Can’t blame you, I suppose. I don’t trust anyone.”

“Not even me?” Why would he?

“Did you not just see me send off the request to my team?” My gaze falls. “Truthfully, I had an idea what was going on.”

“You did?”

“You were the perfect target. The intelligence folks spend their days searching for people just like you. Folks who’ve been slighted but maintain a presence in whatever—a government, a business, anything that might have information of value. Was that the only one who approached you?”

“No. Someone from Italy did, too.”

“You’re an asset for?—”

“No. I didn’t trust him. Seemed too likely it was a setup. My uncle feeling me out to see if he could trust me.”

“Likely it was.” He yawns. “But you trusted me. Why’s that?”

“I trusted we had a common goal.”

“A common goal,” he repeats.

“Aye, we do,” I say, using his words.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Never.”

“Good. That would require a punishment.”

That gives me pause.

He holds one hand up, flat like a paddle. “Of the delightful variety.”

A surge of energy connects the two of us.

“I must say, you’ve handled this remarkably well.”

“Might not if there’s a second time.” His eyes are heated, but there’s a threatening undertone. But he doesn’t need to worry.

I straddle him on the sofa, sitting back on his thighs, and reach between his legs, cupping him through his trousers.

“Perhaps I can make it up to you.”

He groans as I stroke his erection.

Oh, he likes this idea.