The Mercedes SUV hummed outside the castle’s grand entrance, its polished frame gleaming in the midday sun. Tessa would never get used to such extravagance, but it did come in handy right now.

Clarence held open the rear passenger door, his crisp uniform immaculate as always.

“I should drive,”

Tommy said, flicking his gaze from the butler to her. “We can’t afford to lose whoever’s in the Land Rover.”

Tessa slipped into the backseat. “You don’t know the streets like Clarence does. Get in.”

Tommy stood immobile and unconvinced. Clarence gave him a patient smile—one he’d used on Tessa since her inaugural visit after discovering her grandparents had left the estate to her.

“Sir, I assure you, I’m more than capable. I’ve been trained in both offensive and defensive driving. You’re in good hands.”

“No offense,”

Tommy said, “but this may turn into more than a simple trip to the airport.”

Her emotions tumbled around inside her. Impatience took the reins. “Fine. Leave him, Clarence.”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

Surprise, surprise, Tommy slid in beside her. “Nice try.”

Clarence caught her eye and winked before shutting the door and hurrying to his seat. They wheeled out of the circular drive and were off, the sharp acceleration pressing her and Tommy into the leather cushions.

“Better put on your seatbelt,”

Tessa advised Tommy.

When they bounced onto the road, he did.

As the castle disappeared behind them, Tommy opened the laptop and checked the map. “It’s still there. Must be waiting for someone.”

Tessa watched the countryside blur past, her mind conjuring too many foreboding ideas. Viktor Renard. Kaltrain.

Her stepfather’s voice echoed in her mind, uninvited. “My little fox,”

he’d called her. When her mother had married him, she’d replaced Vulpe with his last name at his request. And yet, Harris Brewer had taught Tessa the word ‘fox’ in a dozen languages: French, Russian, Romanian. The last of which was identical to the Latin form. It had been a game, the way he’d used the various versions as nicknames for her. Only when she’d gotten older and was living with her aunt had she realized he’d used it as a way of taunting her mother—reminding her that Tessa wasn’t his child.

When she’d turned eighteen, Tessa had returned her surname to Vulpe.

“Hey,”

Tommy said, sliding a finger down her arm. “You okay?”

“Just thinking.”

She couldn’t admit the truth—she was freaking the hell out. Thinking sounded better. Professional. In control.

All of which she wasn’t.

“Thinking about this Viktor fellow?”

She opened a search engine on her phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “And other things.”

It was a stupid idea, but she had to know. She typed in Harris J. Brewer, her stepfather’s full name. Everything that came up was old news, culminating with his death in prison ten years prior.

Next, she entered the name Cal Tovik on a whim. Then, she added the inmate status and death date, covering all her bases before she hit search.

The results were immediate.

Status: Inmate. Facility: High Security with the name of the prison her dad had been in. Date of death: N/A.

Tovik was still alive. Still locked away.

She exhaled her relief. It couldn’t be her stepfather’s old prison mate impersonating him under the name Viktor Renard, either.

The crease between Tommy’s brows deepened. “Care to share?”

“Just checking a couple of theories. Neither is viable.”

She locked her screen and returned to staring out the window at the growing traffic.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

She patted his arm. “I know. It’s my brain finding a conspiracy at every turn.”

“Hard not to right now. Seems to me some of our impossible ideas are valid, so don’t hold back. I’ve got a few of my own.”

“Let’s hear them.”

He wasn’t fooled by her turning the focus on him. He humored her anyway. “If Dr. Wyn is working with Renard, she’s our link to the Russian investors. I hate to say it, but I think we need to notify the swans and get the Agency to pick her up for questioning.”

That he would suggest such a thing surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to play it safe. To willingly turn over their investigation to Meg and the CIA. “They’ll go after Renard, too, and Kaltrain. I’d like to get a look at the place and see if we can identify who’s inside the Rover before we do that. If Renard or his friends get a whiff that the Agency is on their trail, they’ll disappear, and we’ll be no closer to bringing them to justice.”

He nodded. “Wyn might clam up, too. We need the Justice Department to offer her a deal in exchange for naming Renard and the others in the plan.”

Which would take a full confession on Tessa and Tommy’s parts, followed by days, perhaps weeks, of red tape with the CIA, FBI, DOD, and others. It gave her a headache just thinking about it. “Balancing the safety of innocent people against bringing those responsible to justice is never an easy call. Our first goal should be averting disaster.”

“Since the Agency already knows about the impending attacks, and Flynn has alerted the appropriate authorities, I’m not worried about that.”

His face was a mix of determination and the previous day’s emotional turmoil. “I want to find Jessie and unravel what the hell is behind her faked death.”

Tessa feared it wasn’t something forgivable. And what would Tommy do, then?

Her mind trailed back to her stepfather. To the pieces of the names that kept intersecting with each other: Kaltrain—Cal Tovik. Tovik—a rearrangement of Viktor with an added R. Renard—meaning fox.

What in the covert world of intelligence was going on here?

She combed through her memories, dissecting all of those that surfaced. Her mother. Jessie. Her stepfather and his connections to the Agency.

The next few minutes passed in a haze. She barely noticed Tommy continuing to search and scan, putting more puzzle pieces together.

Thorough. She liked that about him.

Conscientious. She liked that, too.

What had passed between them the previous night and again this morning only added to her unease, though. She’d let him get under her skin.

The thought of him being hurt by all of this…

What game are you playing, Jessie?

A ferocious desire to protect Tommy filled her chest and wormed its way into her heart. She nearly laughed at herself—when had she switched allegiances from Jessie to Tommy?

Traffic was a nightmare, slowing them to a crawl. “We’re getting close,”

he said. “But at this pace, we’ll lose them for sure.”

Clarence’s calm assurance came from the front. “Not to worry, sir. Lady Vulpe has a VIP registration at Heathrow with all the perks. We’ll bypass the public areas, and I’ll get you and m’Lady right to the dignitary and diplomat private access lanes.”

Tommy shot her a grin. “M’Lady.”

She punched his thigh. His hard, muscular thigh that only hours ago she’d run her hands, lips, and tongue over.

“Hey,”

he said, mock-angry. “Be careful, or I’ll call you that all the time.”

“Do so at your own peril.”

He leaned over and put his lips against her ear. “Next time I get you naked, I’m at your service, m’Lady. Your wish is my command.”

Well, when he said it like that… “I can be very demanding,”

she countered.

He nuzzled her neck, right below her ear. Goose flesh ran down her spine. “I look forward to it.”

As they drew closer to Heathrow, the chaos of the airport intensified. Cars crawled slowly in every direction, taxis blared their horns, and travelers rushed with suitcases in tow. Clarence steered them smoothly into a less hectic lane, leading to the diplomatic drop-off.

Tommy sat forward sharply, pointing ahead. “There it is. The Rover.”

The black Land Rover pulled away from the curb, merging into the stream of traffic.

“Follow it,”

Tessa ordered. “But keep a safe distance. We don’t want them to suspect they have a tail.”

Clarence maneuvered the SUV with practiced ease. The chase began, the Rover weaving through lanes and him matching its speed and shifts without drawing attention. Tessa gripped her door handle, her pulse racing. She wanted answers. Needed them. But, when the Land Rover gained enough distance to slip through a yellow light right before it turned red, they were stuck in traffic.

“Dammit!”

Tommy slammed a fist against the seat. “We lost them.”

“Not yet,”

Clarence said calmly, taking a sharp turn and bouncing over a sidewalk, sending several people screaming before he accelerated down a side street. “We’ll catch them.”

“What about your software?”

Tessa asked. “Can’t it show you where they are?”

Tommy shook his head. “Only when they stop. We would need a GPS tracker on the vehicle to watch it moving in real time.”

His head snapped up. “Wait a minute.”

His fingers flew over the keyboard, whatever inspiration he’d had sending them into motion. Less than a minute later, he cackled, clapping his hands. “I hacked into the Rover’s GPS.”

Clarence gave him a smile in the rearview mirror. “Very good, sir. I’ll let you direct me.”

Tommy did, the two men acting like partners as he guided Clarence’s driving from the rear seat. The streets grew quieter as they left the city’s bustling heart behind. Soon, they entered Ilford, and it was no surprise when they cruised past skyscrapers of various heights and ended up in front of a modern one with a prominent sign announcing the headquarters of Kaltrain.

The Rover idled in a fire lane across the street from the main entrance. Several people walked past, paying no attention. The traffic light turned red, stopping them, and Tessa was thankful for the tinted security windows.

Both she and Tommy swiveled in the seat to watch as the Rover’s passenger side door opened.

Her breath caught sharply in her chest like a fire—Jessie, pale but unmistakable, seemed to look right at her. The left side of Jessie’s face was…not right. The cheekbone drooped, as did that corner of her lips.

But the second figure made Tessa’s chest fill with a different fire—one of absolute fear.

“It’s him,”

she whispered.

Tommy, mouth open as his gaze fixed on his sister, turned to her, alarmed. “Renard?”

She stared at the man. He took Jessie by the elbow and led her across the street, dodging cars, as he guided her to the Kaltrain entrance.

Tessa’s past crashed into the present like a meteor, scorching the entire foundation of her world. “His name is Harris Brewer. That’s my stepfather.”