EIGHTEEN

Tristan was good. Even in my terror I could see that. He was well trained. Skilled. Everything I wasn’t.

Alex was too. Now that she’d dropped the false persona she’d used with me, she moved like Tristan—like a spy. Quick. Quiet. Cautious.

I could appreciate the skill in him. Seeing it now so clearly in her just made me angry and hurt all over again.

How had I missed all the signs?

I didn’t have time to review every place I’d fucked up as Tristan and Alex began to have an entire conversation silently and completely with hand signals.

Not having taken the hand signal class myself, I could only surmise what was happening by the signs they made and how each responded.

When Tristan held up his arm, bent at the elbow, his hand in a fist, Alex stopped immediately. Bringing up the rear, I did too, just in time before I ran into Alex.

He motioned her forward while he backed away. Tristan headed my direction, grabbed me none to gently, and pulled me into a darkened doorway.

“What’s—”

My whisper was cut off by his hand over my mouth. Then I heard it—the reason we had to be so quiet—Alex was in conversation with a man. The guard on duty if I had to guess.

Before I knew it, they were both walking this way, right past our hiding place, all the way back down the long hallway that led to the theater and to the elevator.

Once they were past, Tristan gave me a push in the direction of the room where Alex had met our unsuspecting guard.

Inside the security room he said, “Listen for the elevator or any footsteps. Watch the hallway but stay out of sight.”

Shit. I had a job and it sounded like an important one.

I was dying to ask questions but then I wouldn’t be able to hear the elevator. Not that I was certain I could even if I were silent since it was quite a distance away.

I stood just inside the doorway, alternating between popping my head out to look into the hall and glancing back at the bank of monitors where Tristan sat punching keys on a keyboard.

“Got her.” His triumphant announcement had me blowing out a breath in relief.

I allowed myself to ask a question since he’d spoken first and his expression as he leaned forward and frowned at the monitor didn’t provide me with any answers. “Is it good news or bad?”

 “I’m not quite sure as yet.” Tristan raised his gaze to meet mine. “But it certainly is interesting.”

Since Mister MI6 was being so cryptic, I abandoned my duty of watching the hall to move farther into the room and glance at the monitors.

I saw what looked like a storage room. Likely where the museum kept the pieces of their collection not currently on display.

On the grainy picture I could make out Viktoria. That she was in this area probably wasn’t anything to be alarmed about. Nor was the fact she was there with two men. They  could be curators showing her a new acquisition for all we knew.

Then again, why were the lights off?

I realized the picture was so bad because we were seeing the image using the camera’s night vision. The area was as poorly lit as the theater level we were on was. It appeared only the security lights were illuminated while the overhead lights were off.

Surely if someone was going to show off their collection, they’d want to show it in the best light, literally.

“What do you think’s going on?” I asked Tristan, keeping my eye on the screen and the perplexing situation it showed. The three weren’t moving. They seemed to be discussing something. “Is it some sort of heist?”

When I heard Tristan chuckle I took my eyes off the monitor and turned to him.

“A heist?” He laughed again. “Perhaps. I mean Viktoria and her father have plenty of money to buy art. They don’t need to steal it or hire someone to steal it for them. However, money isn’t always the issue. Some of these collectors want specific works for their private collections. Famous pieces that aren’t for sale and never will be. They’ll go to great lengths to acquire them.”

“So you think that’s what’s happening here?” Just when I thought I couldn’t sink any deeper into the intrigue, was I now neck deep in the international world of art smuggling?

Tristan shook his head. “No. The location doesn’t seem right for it. There is obviously security on site—both guards and cameras—yet they don’t seem concerned about it.” Glancing at me, he cocked one brow high. “Speaking of guards . . . Perhaps we should watch for our friend so we’re not the ones suspected of your heist.”

The we in that sentence was me since watching for the return of the guard was my assignment and I was shirking it.

I moved back to my post by the door and listened for a second. No sound of voices or footsteps or elevator movement caught my attention. I leaned out and looked both ways, then leaned back in.

“Still clear.” I announced, and then glanced at Tristan. “So we found her. What’s next? Are we going to keep watch from here and see where she goes next or can we get out of here now?”

Tristan hit a few more keys on the console. “We can’t stay here for long. I’ve got Alex and the guard still on the floor above us.” He frowned and laughed. “She has him crawling on the floor.”

“What? Why?” I asked.

“If I had to guess, she’s pretending she was here during business hours and lost something precious, jewelry most likely. She’s convinced him to help her look for it. That’s what I would do.” Tristan spoke as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “She’s good. I’ll give her that.”

He glanced up at me and chuckled.

I could only assume he noticed that his compliment of Alex’s powers of deception had brought the scowl back to my face.

 “Don’t blame her, Hearst. We all have done regrettable things for the job.” He stood and moved away from the monitors.

“Not me,” I returned, feeling righteous.

“You’ve been working this assignment for how long?” he asked.

“About a week.” I shrugged.

He shook his head. “For her—and for me—it’s not a passing diversion. It’s our lives. That makes a difference.”

I considered his words but held onto my anger. “Then you both should choose a different life.”

To my surprise, Tristan laughed. “That’s very possibly true.” He moved to stand next to me in the doorway. “Time to go.”

“Where?”

“To find out what our lovely heiress is up to.”

“What about Alex?” I asked. Not that I cared but it seemed lax to leave a member of the team behind.

“We’ll catch up with her back at the party.”

“Did you tell her that?” I asked, keeping my voice low as we made our way down the hallway.

“No.” He stopped, leaned around the corner, then proceeded full steam ahead.

As I rushed to keep up, I asked, “Then how can you be sure she’ll know to meet us back there?”

“Because it’s what I would do.”

I was beginning to see a pattern here. Apparently all spies—both good guys and bad guys—drew from the same playbook. One that I, as a spectator, had never been privy to.

He was right. It was a different world. A different life.

Even if I could justify her actions and forgive Alex—even if it turned out she was working for the good side—we operated in completely different worlds with a different set of rules.

Back when I thought she was a struggling college student I’d assumed the challenge for us would arise from her not being able to relate to my life as a Hearst.

Little did I know the hurdle between us wouldn’t be my being rich, but instead her being a spy.

I was just considering how fucking insane that was when Tristan body slammed me into a dark doorway and pressed a finger to his lips to tell me to be silent.

The elevator shaft rumbled as the car neared our floor, then there was the distinct sound of the doors swooshing open.

My heart pounded, so hard and fast I actually feared the guard would hear it.

He didn’t of course. He moved past, en route to the post he’d abandoned prior to Alex stumbling into his life. He’d gotten away easy as far as I was concerned. She’s caused a lot more damage when she’d stumbled into mine.

Finally, Tristan motioned for me to follow him.

I glanced down the hall before rushing after Tristan.

We stopped in front of the elevator. As the doors opened once again a realization hit me.

I somehow managed to control my outburst until they’d slid shut. Then I spun to Tristan. “The guard’s going to see us on the monitors. And Victoria too.”

Tristan shook his head. “No, he won’t.”

“But—”

“I put the cameras on a loop showing this elevator, the storage room and the hallway leading to it as empty.”

I sagged against the wall of the elevator and let out a breath. “Okay.”

Tristan punched a button and glanced back at me. “You all right, mate?”

The answer to that was a resounding no, but I wasn’t going to admit that to James Bond here, so instead I said, “Yeah. All good.”

He smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt that.” And after today, I seriously hoped I wasn’t in this life long enough to get accustomed to it because what I’d experienced of it so far was completely fucked up.