Page 4

Even from a distance, Eldridge’s face was strained. She squinted as she stepped out in the first light of dawn. At her side, Pierce wore a small butterfly bandage above his right eyebrow, probably hedge-related.

Kat allowed herself a small smile. Served him right. That would teach him to go through women’s underwear drawers looking for top secret files.

The smile slipped. The portable SSD. Where the hell had it come from? Someone had set her up.

But who? And why?

Eldridge barked a final order, then swung into her car. Headlights flared as she executed a tight turn and vanished down the street. Pierce followed moments later.

Her knees were damp from the cool earth and a black beetle crawled over Kat’s hand. She remained motionless.

She counted ten minutes—then one more for good measure.

Her muscles screamed, hair veiling her face. She blew upward but couldn’t clear her vision. Through the damp strands of hair, the street appeared empty.

Now or never.

She burst from the bushes and hurried awkwardly across the road, her legs wobbly after too long crouching.

Running normally without her hands free was impossible.

Gage’s front door was useless—no way to knock with her hands secured behind her.

She veered toward the hedge that separated his front garden from the rear.

At the back, she’d be able to see into his kitchen.

She took a run up and dove, but instead of clearing the top, she crashed through, branches scratching her face and arms. She hit the grass on the far side with a dull thud that knocked the air from her lungs.

A dog in the neighboring garden erupted in sharp barks, claws skittering against timber, before a sleepy voice hissed it quiet.

She gasped. Pain speared her chest as she lay wheezing, blinking at the sky.

The hedge shook, and a face appeared—eyebrows raised, sharp eyes, mouth in a grim line. “Bloody hell, Kit-Kat.”

The childhood nickname loosened the knot in her chest. She managed a smile. “Gage.”

Her older brother stepped through the bush and crouched beside her. “What the hell is going on? MI6’s asking questions about you like you’ve got nuclear launch codes stuffed in your bra.”

“Gage. Seriously?” She tried to sit up and failed.

He ran his hands down her arms until he found the handcuffs. His fingers were gentle as they probed the metal restraints. “Nice bracelets. Limited edition too.”

She shrugged, then grimaced as her shoulder protested. “Been a long night.”

His gaze swept the street. “Let’s get you inside before the neighbors start posting on NextDoor about the handcuffed woman in my garden.”

He hauled her upright, one arm around her waist, half-carrying her to the back door. Inside, he settled her on a kitchen chair and disappeared down the hall. He returned with a small leather case, pulled out what looked like a dental pick, and kneeled behind her.

She raised an eyebrow. He grinned and slid the pick into the first lock.

Click.

Blood flooded back into Kat’s right hand, pins and needles shooting up her arm. She hissed through gritted teeth.

“Almost there.” Another click, and both cuffs clattered onto the table. “Souvenir?”

“I’ll pass.” Kat rotated her shoulders, wincing as the circulation returned. Angry red marks ringed her wrists and mud stained her knees.

Gage plucked a leaf from her hair. “You know where the bathroom is. Clean up—we’ll talk after.”

When she returned, hands and face washed, hair finger-combed, a cafetière steamed in the center of the table. Gage poured two cups and slid one toward her with a plate of cookies. “You look like you need sugar.”

She stared at the plate of round biscuits with jammy hearts in the middle.

“Jammie Dodgers.” She swallowed against the sudden thickness in her throat that welled at the sight of her favorite childhood treat.

Gage lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug she knew was anything but. His eyes never left the rim of his cup.

She nibbled a biscuit, waiting for her pulse to slow, the familiar sweet raspberry taste summoning memories of scraped knees and school uniforms. Some things didn’t change, even when everything else had.

“So. Why is Victoria Eldridge flashing your photo around?”

The sugar helped. Kat exhaled a shaky breath. “They rocked up at 3:00 a.m. with a warrant, searched my house, found an SSD in my dresser that I’ve never seen before. Then cuffed me with some bullshit about treason.”

“What the hell?” His expression darkened.

She sipped the coffee. It was hot and sweet. She normally drank it without sugar, but right now? It was perfect.

“Treason?” Gage’s eyes narrowed. “That’s more than regular office politics gone wrong.”

Kat stared into her coffee. “Since I got away from Eldridge, I’ve been wracking my brains. All my cases right now are run of the mill, except one.”

“The Hellisheidi operation? Korolov?” His chair creaked under the stress of his frame as he leaned back. “I thought that was wrapped up.”

She gave him a sharp look. “How do you know about—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Dismissal from cyber-ops hadn’t killed Gage’s network, only pushed it underground.

He flashed the cheeky grin that always disarmed her.

“The Hellisheidi op cost Korolov millions.”

Gage gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money. You think he’s retaliating?” He got up, lifted the edge of one blind, but the casual motion couldn’t hide the tension in his shoulders.

“Maybe.” Kat pressed fingertips into her temples, but her headache remained. “It’s the only logical link. But I need proof. And if this is him, I need to know how deep it goes.”

Gage turned back to her. “You can’t do this alone, Kat. Every intelligence agency in the UK will be looking for you by now.”

She sagged, suddenly exhausted. “I know. That’s why I need your help. And...” She hesitated. Leonid. Gage had always been over-protective. She really couldn’t deal with his reaction right now.

“And what?” Gage prompted.

“Nothing.” Kat rubbed the abraded skin on her wrists. “I just need a few hours of sleep before I figure out my next move.”

Gage studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Guest room’s made up. Same as always.”

She pushed herself to her feet, swaying as exhaustion swept through her.

“Kit-Kat.” His voice stopped her at the doorway. “Whatever you’re not telling me…”

Something in his tone made her turn back. Kitchen light carved half his face in shadow, a reminder of how her brother lived his life. Half in the light, half in the dark.

“I need to sleep, Gage. I can’t think straight.”

“Sure.” His clipped nod released her, and she made her way to the guest room. She lay down fully clothed, only pulling off her shoes, too tired to undress.

The pillow was soft beneath her cheek, the same guest room she’d slept in countless times before. Same pale blue walls, same watercolor of the Thames that Gage had found at some market. A sanctuary that had always felt safe.

Until now.

Early morning light sliced through a gap in the blind as her mind raced despite exhaustion. Eldridge leading the raid. Planted documents. Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to frame her and made it personal.

She closed her aching eyes as Gillian’s words looped in her head. Love or the job.

Her mentor had been right about so many things. But by contacting Leonid, she had just done the exact opposite.

She’d contacted him before thinking, reaching for him in crisis after years of distance.

The weight of that choice pressed down. Would he even respond?

Later would bring more questions than answers, but she had to start somewhere.

She just hoped involving Leonid wasn’t the most dangerous mistake of her life.