I was grateful that Boone had ordered a car to pick us up because I didn’t think my legs would carry me two more feet, much less the ten or so blocks to our hotel. And when I saw Xavier’s face pop out from around the corner of the building as our limousine drove by, with the protection of nicely tinted windows, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to evade him a second time.
“Who was that, Poe?” Adaire asked. I could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, but there was a new tightness in his voice.
I sighed and started to answer, but fortunately, Beattie had my back.
“That sorry excuse for a human being is Poe’s very, very, very ex-boyfriend Xavier Winstock,” she said with enough acid that it could have melted the limo down in seconds.
“Yeah, we worked together back in Virginia and dated for a while.” A while was really three years, but I didn’t figure that detail would be that comforting for Adaire, especially given how new our own relationship was. “He was a royal jerk, and a pathological liar.”
“A pathological liar?” Adaire asked.
“Yep, diagnosable, but of course, he’d lie about that if you asked him. On our first date, he told me that his grandmother had been a Polish princess who had called him to her deathbed and confessed how much she had missed having him be a part of her life because his father wouldn’t allow it.” I cringed just remembering the story. “It was a beautiful story, an epic one, actually, and not a word of it was true.”
Beattie laughed. “Remember how you found out it was all a lie at that picnic with his family when you learned his dad had worked at the post office for forty-something years and had never even been to Poland?”
I smiled. “I do remember, and I remember how Xavier told me later that he’d developed the story about his dying grandmother as a social experiment to see if people treated him differently after hearing a tragic story.”
“So he lied a second time to make an excuse for his first lie,” Aaran said. “Definitely sounds pathological.”
“Someday make sure Poe tells you about the student he dated after her and how he denied that, too, only admitting the truth when the student called Poe to ask her for dating advice.” Beattie was starting to fall into hysterical laughter, and while the story was more funny now than it used to be, it didn’t warrant that kind of hilarity.
Except, of course, for the fact that we had all just left a very high-stress situation, and I couldn’t really deny Beattie a good laugh after all the tension earlier.
My own thoughts weren’t on the humor, though. I was much more focused on why Xavier of all people was at this particular auction on the opposite side of the world. I knew he wasn’t teaching at our former university anymore because my letter to the administration about his relationship with a student had been part of what forced his resignation. That and the fact that he rarely actually graded a student paper. But last I’d heard, he had been hired at another nearby school to teach English and a course called “The History of Print,” and since we were mid-semester, I couldn’t quite figure how he’d finagled a trip to South Africa.
“Did he deal in rare books?” Aaran asked.
I shook my head. “Not that I know of... but he did love early American history and he knows a lot about old typefaces and things.” I had spent several boring dinners listening to the glories of serifs and the horrors of electronic interfaces. “Maybe he’s freelancing.”
“For a black-market book ring?” Beattie said, her laughter now completely gone. “He was always messed up, Poe, but was he illegally messed up?”
I raised one eyebrow.
“I mean besides the inappropriate and illegal relationship with a student thing.”
“Yeah, besides that,” Adaire said with a huge roll of his eyes. “How long did you guys date?”
I ignored his question because I didn’t really want to admit to him or to myself just how long I’d stayed with the man. “My guess is that he’s here to acquire a book for a client. He doesn’t have the means to be buying for himself. I’m sure of that.”
“How can you be certain?” Aaran said. “If his ethical compass is so off-base, maybe he’s come into some cash in some less-than-stellar ways.”
“Oh, I’m not saying he wouldn’t be involved in crime because of some ethical or moral code. I’m just saying he was terrible with money. When we dated, he lost his apartment—not for lack of income, but a lack of concern about making sure his essential expenses were covered before spending on things he didn’t need.” I cringed as the words left my mouth. Why had I stayed with this guy for so long?
Adaire stared at me for a long second and then shook his head. “Well, it looks like we need to brief Boone about a possible conflict of interest here.”
“I wouldn’t use the term ‘conflict of interest,’” I said, feeling my hackles start to rise. I was already feeling bad enough about my past dating choices without anyone implying that our work now was compromised by them.
“No, it’s not a conflict of interest at all,” Aaran said.
“Thank you,” I replied while I stared at Adaire.
“It’s an opportunity. You need to get in touch with Xavier,” Aaran said.
I whipped my head over to look at Aaran. “I what?”
“You need to get in touch with him, feel him out, see why he was there. He might be another way into this ring.” Aaran sounded so sure and so confident.
I hated to burst his little spy bubble, but I was not doing that. “Nope. I have not talked to that man in five years, and I’m not about to do it now. Nope.” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked out the window at the passing buildings.
“I expect Boone is going to have a different take on that,” Aaran said with a small smile.
“Boone can go—”
The limo pulled up the hotel, and Beattie yanked me out of the car before I could let loose the full barrage of words I wanted to share about Boone and Xavier and all the men I knew who exploited the women around them simply because they could. “Let’s go get another drink,” she said. “Just us.” She looked back over at the men behind us. “You guys take care of the books.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order, and I was here for it.
We found seats at the bar, and Beattie immediately ordered me another dirty martini and herself an Old Fashioned. Bourbon had never been my drink, but Beattie was a connoisseur. I hoped the barkeep here had excellent bourbon because while my best friend didn’t complain about much, substandard bourbon at an upscale bar would definitely warrant a note to the manager in her mind.
As we waited for our drinks, Beattie said, “Xavier was at the auction, Poe.”
I nodded and stared at the bar. “Yeah, and he recognized me.”
“Yeah,” she said as the bartender put our drinks in front of us. “You know we have to get ahead of that, right?”
I sighed. “Really? You don’t think he’ll just disappear back into the swamp from which he rose?”
“Do you?” She said as she sipped her drink and smiled at the bartender. He had done her proud.
I sighed. Xavier had never let any slight he felt had ever been directed at him go. Once, the janitor in our building had forgotten to empty the trashcan in Xavier’s office, and Xavier had left him a scathing note the next night saying he would have the man fired if he didn’t shape up. His office was spotless from then on, and every time I saw the janitor after my evening classes, he looked absolutely terrified as he unlocked Xavier’s office. I had felt so bad I’d started bringing the man Combos each night when I went for my snack run at the bookstore.
“No,” I sighed. “If I know him, and unfortunately I do, he’ll be tracking me down as we speak.” I put my head down on the bar. “We’ll be lucky to have our cover stories intact by the time the night’s over.”
“And that is why,” a man at my right elbow said, “I have already located your former lover and asked him to meet us here.” Boone had walked up silently, as usual, and was making himself comfortable on the stool next to me.
“You what? No, I’m not doing this.” I started to stand up, but Beattie put a hand on my arm.
“You aren’t alone, Poe, and I’m not going to let him hurt you again.” She squeezed my forearm. “You can do this.”
I took a deep breath and felt the panic shove down into my toes. “Is it necessary, though?” I looked at Boone and was surprised to see a little tenderness in his expression.
“I’m afraid so, Poe. We cannot risk breaking your cover now, not with our first purchase just completed. If anyone in the operation finds out that agents were at that auction, everyone and all their merchandise will go underground. We’ll lose the stupendous advantage you gained us tonight.”
I stared at him a moment. “We did well tonight, didn’t we?”
Boone smiled. “You did. Very well. You not only acquired the book set we wanted you to acquire, but you did so with just the right amount of finesse to draw a bit of attention, but not too much.”
“And Xavier could ruin all that.” I sighed.
“He could, but fortunately, my men were able to corral him before that happened.” A small crease formed between his eyebrows. “But from what Frank had said about what your ex was spouting on the car ride over, the only person who has a chance of convincing him to keep your cover intact is you, Poe.”
I frowned. “What was he saying?”
Boone sighed. “Something about how you always had thought you were better than him and that you lorded your snobbery over him, even when you were dating. But now he has connections, so he could show you a thing or two.” Boone waved a hand in front of his face. “Something like that.”
I had a feeling it was almost exactly like that because Boone’s words sounded remarkably like the kind of thing Xavier would say. I groaned. “Fine. Do I have time to go change?”
“Of course,” Boone said. “He does not deserve to see you looking that good for a second time tonight.” He smiled at me, and I felt a little tug at the back of my belly button. “Ivan will escort you.”
The large, bearded man stepped from behind a potted tree nearby and extended his arm. “May I?” he said in his wonderful Icelandic accent.
“I’d be honored,” I said with a smile. As we walked out of the bar, I looked back over my shoulder and saw Boone watching me and Beattie watching Boone.
Ten minutes later in our room, I had caught Aaran and Adaire up on what was happening, changed into jeans and a Bookworm t-shirt, and let Ivan escort me back downstairs after he told the Anderson brothers that it would probably be better if they stayed in our suite.
“We don’t need to call more attention to ourselves,” was what Ivan said. But I wondered if this was more about not having too many men I had been romantic with in the same room. I also wondered if this had been Ivan’s idea or Boone’s. Somehow, that seemed to matter.
When I walked back into the bar, Xavier, Boone, and Beattie were already seated at a booth by the window overlooking the water. Ivan dropped me off at the table and then went to join Frank at the bar, where they kept their backs to us but their ears on us, I expected.
Since Xavier was sitting at one end of the curved booth, I slid in next to Boone at the other end, leaving Beattie between the two men. I would have been more comfortable next to her, but I wasn’t about to require a round of musical chairs so I could sit next to my best friend. I wasn’t 12.
As I sat down, Boone slid his arm across the back of the bench behind me, and I resisted the urge to sit forward. If the man was acting possessive of me, it was for a reason. Or at least I wanted to hope so. I settled myself just a bit closer to my boss.
Xavier was not happy. In fact, his face turned a sort of mottling red color that reminded me of an underripe watermelon. “Poe, it’s good to see you,” he said with as little enthusiasm as possible without appearing outright rude.
“Hello, Xavier,” I said, unable to return the lie. “How was the auction for you?” I figured we might as well go out with transparency, and given the way Boone smiled next to me, I knew I’d made the right move.
“Not great,” Xavier said. “But I got a couple of items for my client. She’ll be pleased.”
I knew my ex well enough to know that he only shared his client’s pronoun because he wanted us to ask about them. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, however, and apparently, Boone agreed.
Beattie shot me a wink and said, “We had a good night as well. Picked up just what we were looking for.”
Boone nodded. “Poe and Beattie are some of our best buyers.” He paused. “But we’re always looking for more.” The statement was clear and direct, but Xavier missed the invitation entirely.
“You’re a book collector now?” he said as he stared at me.
“A book acquirer might be the more accurate term,” I said. “It sounds like you and I have once again found ourselves in the same line of work.”
Xavier studied my face for a minute, and I felt Boone shift a tiny bit closer to me. I wasn’t going off script, I knew, but I just couldn’t bring myself to actually ally with Xavier. I needed to have some secrets from him, like the ones he’d kept with me.
“That’s right,” Boone said with a sly grin. “Our employers prefer a level of discretion that requires the best in the business.” He squeezed my shoulder briefly. “Thus, why we work with Poe and Beattie.”
The mottling on Xavier’s face got a tinge more purple, and I had to work hard to suppress a smile. Boone irritated me to no end most of the time, but it was fun to see him working someone else up for a change.
“I see,” Xavier said through clenched teeth. “Well, then, how may I help?”
I could almost feel the pain that it had given Xavier to say those words, but he had said them and we had our in. “Well,” I said with a glance at Boone, who nodded, “we are looking to acquire a very specific book, one that it would be helpful to have, shall we say, a certain amount of distance from.”
Beattie carried on with my lead. “We have attempted to obtain this volume before, with rather public results. We need to avoid any connection of us to that book.”
“We of course would pay you handsomely and provide you with a certain level of support,” Boone said as he tilted his head toward Ivan. “Might you be interested?”
I took a long sip from the glass of water in front of me to hide my smile. That little invitation had felt like a carefully choreographed maneuver between Beattie, Boone, and me and I liked the effortlessness. I didn’t really like that I liked it, though.
Xavier studied something over my left shoulder and then nodded. “I might be persuaded, if the price was right.”
Boone quickly pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and jotted a number down on a napkin before sliding it across the table to Xavier, whose eyes flashed wide for just a second before he nodded.
“Very well,” Xavier said. “Tell me more about this book.”
Boone started to speak, but I interrupted him and said, “It’s a first edition Nadine Gordimer.”
I saw Boone look at me out of the corner of his eye and smile. “Yes, very rare. Not old, of course, but our client is a collector of the author’s work.”
Xavier shook his head. “That should be fairly easy to obtain for the right price.”
“It should, but it isn’t because our client wants the copy that her father gave her as a child. It’s inscribed to her by the author.” Beattie had picked up our thread seamlessly.
“That’s near impossible,” Xavier said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice as he leaned forward over the table. Then, he sat back. “You know where it is.”
I nodded, and I did know where an inscribed copy of Six Feet Of Country was. I had looked at it on the dark web earlier today. Someone was trying to sell it but was having trouble finding a buyer because the inscription made the book easily traceable. “Are you interested?”
Xavier nodded. “Give me the details. I’ll have the book for you in two days.”
I had talked to Beattie about the book earlier when I expressed my disappointment that the book was on the black market since I loved Gordimer and would have liked to have the book as the first in my collection of rare books. So she wrote down the title, publication year, and the first name of the person to whom it was inscribed and handed the slip of paper to Xavier.
“Shall we say we meet here in two days at 7 p.m.?” Boone asked.
Xavier nodded and then slid out of the booth. “Poe, can you walk me out?”
I really didn’t want to be alone with Xavier, but I also knew we couldn’t risk him telling us something important about why he’d been at the auction. So I stood and walked with him, happy to see Ivan trailing a few feet behind us.
“Poe, what are you doing?” he asked as soon as we were out of earshot of the table. “This isn’t you.”
“Excuse me,” I said as I stopped and looked at him. “Who are you to tell me what is and isn’t me? You wouldn’t know fact from fable if someone taught it to you in class.” This was a pointed dig, and I knew it.
He scowled at me. “I just mean that you’ve always been so, so, so honest.” He studied my face. “What happened?”
I turned and walked toward the door as he caught up to me. “Nothing happened, Xavier. We all do what we need to do.” I could feel myself being tugged back into the strange dynamic of vulnerability and deception we’d had when we dated, and I tugged myself back. “It’s good you’ll help.”
He nodded once as we reached the door. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and started to reach for my hand.
I stepped back out of his range. “See you,” I said and turned on my heel to walk back to the table.
But before I got there, Adaire intercepted me. “You okay?” he said.
I thought for a second and then said, “I am. Thanks.” Then I looked at his face more closely. “Are you okay? I thought you and Aaran were going to stay in the suite.”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure, of course,” he said and took my hand as he led me back to the table where Beattie, Aaran, Boone, and Frank now sat.
I slid in next to Boone again, careful to stay a bit further away this time, and Ivan and Adaire pulled up chairs at the outside of the table. “He’s in,” I said, just for something to say.
Aaran grinned. “Excellent. You gave him some really hard object to obtain, right?” he said to Boone.
“Actually, Poe took the lead here, and she did it remarkably well, I might add,” Boone said. “So, tell me more about what we’ve sent Xavier Winstock after?”
I gave everyone the low-down on the book, with Beattie adding in more details as we talked. Everyone looked pleased except Adaire. He looked less than happy, far less.
I didn’t have much time to ponder Adaire’s expression, though, because Gregory, the hotel’s head of hospitality, came over to greet us and to ask if we needed anything.
“As you’re one of our most important guests,” Gregory said to Boone, “we want to be sure you have everything you need.” His tone was friendly and just short of obsequious, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had bowed slightly to Boone. It was a little embarrassing.
Boone smiled and tapped my shoulder to let me know he wanted to get out of the booth. “You have been wonderful,” he said as he stood. “We will be requiring the Rooftop for breakfast, if that’s a possibility.”
For a split second, Gregory paused, but then he smiled and said, “Of course. As you know, we don’t typically open the Rooftop before noon, but for you, we will make arrangements. Tomorrow morning?” He swallowed hard.
“If that’s feasible for you, yes,” Boone said, a study in politeness and confidence. It was a look I was beginning to appreciate more and more, much to my own discomfort.
Gregory smiled and then stepped away, probably to scramble and find staff for a surprise breakfast in a closed restaurant.
Boone didn’t sit back down but leaned, instead, on the back of Ivan’s chair. “You did great work tonight,” he said to Beattie and me. “Now, I’m going to retire to my room, watch some football, and drink.”
Apparently Frank and Ivan thought that plan sounded lovely, and they stood to follow him. “Man United is playing tonight,” Frank said.
“Should be a good match,” Ivan added as they walked away.
“Oh, that will be a good match,” Aaran said as he watched them. “Maybe we could put it on in our room?”
I glanced at Beattie who nodded. “As long as it’s soccer, not American football, that sounds good.”
“So do more drinks,” Adaire added. He was smiling, but happiness wasn’t reaching his eyes. Something was definitely going on.