Page 78 of Undercover Shadow

“Thirty minutes.”

She opened her eyes. “Help me up. Everything hurts.”

I did, supporting her weight as she stood. She moved like someone three times her age, each step carefully taken to minimize pain.

“Shower,” she said. “Then war paint.”

“War paint?”

“Makeup to cover these.” She gestured at her throat. “I’d hate for your sister to see me like this. She’d probably be horrified.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Con made the arrangements.”

I thought about how long it had been since the three of us were together. Years, it felt like.

“I can’t wait to meet them.” I saw something in Leila’s eyes then. Regret maybe? Or was it simply the sadness that came along with missing her brother?

“They’ll love you, just like Idris loved me.” I winked, but her expression turned even more serious.

“He did, you know. He trusted you and wanted me to know I could too. In fact, and this is very hard for me to admit…”

“Go on.”

“Initially, my brother wanted me to contact you. More, to hand off what he’d given me.”

In my gut, I’d wondered if that had been the case. However, Idris should’ve known better. Known that she would never do that. I rubbed the ache that settled in my chest, wishing he could see the woman his sister had become—strong, fierce, stubborn, independent, and most importantly, loving.

“Tag?”

My eyes met hers. “If you’d done as he asked, I’m not sure if I could’ve saved the world in the same spectacular way you did.”

“You’re teasing?—”

“Yes, but I also mean every word. You were meant to carry on your brother’s work.You.I’m glad that I was able to be at your side for some of it, as I’m sure many others on the team are,but as you said to me more than once, you could and did handle much of it on your own.”

“You’re not angry?”

I smiled. “How could I be anything other than proud? And I mean that sincerely. Idris would be too.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“They aren’t empty words, Leila.”

She nodded once. “I know they aren’t.”

While she showered,I stared at the breakfast tray Mrs. Murray had delivered—full Scottish breakfast, tea, toast, all of it growing cold. Morag Murray had been with my family for forty years, since before my mother left, taking care of three motherless children, one of whom grew up to be an assassin for the Crown. She’d seen us through every crisis, every injury, every loss. Now, she was seeing us through this.

Leila emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, dressed in dark trousers and a high-necked sweater that covered her throat. She’d applied concealer with the skill of someone who’d hidden injuries before, but I could still see the damage underneath if I looked closely. And I was looking very closely.

“Stop staring,” she said, pulling her still-damp hair into a severe bun. “We need to go.”

“You could stay here. Rest. I’ll handle the debrief.”

“Like hell.” She moved past me toward the door. “I need to hear everything. Understand everything. That’s how I’ll process this.”

The walk downstairs took longer than usual. She gripped my arm, pretending it was affection rather than necessity.