32. Smoke #3
When they were finally full and comfortable, they gathered in the living room for a final joint meeting.
Jean-Claude made tea, warding off the last chill from the night before, and he and Lindsey had claimed the couch while Philippe took up his customary station at the computer screens.
Louna had forced Tennyson onto a chair so she could redo his stitches, and he sat with his arms folded across the back while she worked.
Ilya leaned against the wall between two windows and nodded at them. “So? When are you squatters getting out of my safe house?”
“Manners,” Louna chastised.
“Blake’s plane is due this afternoon,” Tennyson said, glancing at Philippe, who’d checked the information at his request. “When she arrives, we’ll be there to meet her.”
“I will,” Lindsey corrected. Tennyson frowned at him, and Lindsey shot him a rueful look. “You and Louna are going after Harlow, right?”
“Yes,” Louna said. “But we can wait until Blake arrives. I’d like to meet her.”
“And I’d love to witness that meeting,” Lindsey said, smiling. “But tactically, it’s not a good idea. If Harlow decides to target Blake, you two should be as far away as you can get. It divides his attention.”
“You want me to let Harlow attack my sister while I run off in the other direction?” Tennyson asked incredulously.
Lindsey’s expression was somber. “I want you to trust that I will protect her with my life while you and Louna attack from a different direction.”
Tennyson swallowed. He did trust Lindsey—with his life, with Blake’s, with everything—but walking away when he knew they might be in danger didn’t feel right.
Louna pulled her thread, making him wince. “You told me that Hartmann was the only one of Harlow’s men who posed a serious threat to me,” she said. “Does that go for Lindsey, too?”
“Yes,” Tennyson said, “but—”
“And Hartmann is dead,” Louna said. “Who else would Harlow send?”
Tennyson considered that. “When he fails to contact Hartmann, he’ll send another team. I don’t think any of them are close enough to get here by this afternoon.”
“Perfect,” Lindsey said. “Then by the time he does, Blake will be safe with the embassy. Right?”
“Right,” Tennyson said grudgingly.
“Then there’s no problem.”
“Other than the fact that you’re a wanted fugitive?” Tennyson said.
Lindsey shrugged. “That’s not a problem.”
“Oh?” Louna asked, her eyes bright with interest. “You’re going to go in disguise? Avoid the police?”
“Yes,” Lindsey said. “And then I’m going to turn myself in.”
The room erupted. Everyone spoke at once, asking questions, demanding an explanation, wondering if he’d hit his head when he’d been shot.
He waited, reclined against the back of the couch as if he’d suggested a relaxing picnic instead of voluntary arrest. “They just went through the trouble of breaking you out,” Ilya said when the initial chaos quieted.
“And you’re going to walk right back in? ”
“I never wanted to be broken out,” Lindsey said. “Not out of actual custody. I’m innocent, and I intend to prove it. If I turn myself in to Blake when she arrives, the embassy will know that I’m cooperating.”
“And if they don’t believe you?” Louna asked.
“Why would I turn myself in after I got away?” he said. “Why wouldn’t I just run?”
“There’s your injuries, too,” Jean-Claude said thoughtfully. “That supports the narrative that you were taken against your will.”
“But will it be enough?” Philippe asked.
Lindsey shrugged again. “I’m willing to risk it. It’s the only way to clear my name.”
Tennyson wanted to argue. He wanted to say that Lindsey should come with them, that there was no use in fighting the law, that they would need his help. But Blake needed him more, and if anyone could prove Lindsey’s innocence, it was her.
So he nodded once, and Lindsey nodded back.
“I think maybe we should go with you,” Jean-Claude said, glancing at Philippe.
Philippe snorted. “You just want to meet Tennyson’s sister.”
“Don’t you?” Jean-Claude countered.
“Of course,” Philippe said. “I was going to suggest it.”
Lindsey frowned from one to the other. “You were just saying that you were glad to be done.”
“Ah.” Philippe waved his hand dismissively.
“We agreed to see this through,” Jean-Claude added. “And it isn’t done yet.”
“Then... that’s decided,” Louna said, tying off her final stitch. “Ilya?”
He nodded. “I’ve been talking to some of the family about the ring, and we have an idea of where to start. I’ll text you the details.” He pushed away from the wall, checking his watch. “I have a few stops to make on the way, so I’ll meet you there. You’ve got the rest of this?”
Louna smiled sweetly. “If you’re not going to be here, you won’t mind Jean-Claude and Philippe staying, right?”
Ilya rolled his eyes and turned toward the door. “Fine. As long as Stone leaves, the rest of you can stay as long as you want.”
“Always good seeing you, Ilya,” Tennyson called, without turning around.
Ilya grunted and opened the door without a word.
Tennyson allowed himself a smile, but it faded as he listened to Ilya’s footsteps retreating down the stairs.
Blake would be arriving in a few hours, and if Tennyson and Louna were going to draw Harlow’s attention from her, they needed to leave as soon as possible.
His gaze strayed to Lindsey, and he found the same realization on his face.
It was time to say goodbye.