Chapter 10 #2
Jezebel let her go, even as she sent Simone a cold smile. “On paper, you don’t exist. In computer databases, you don’t exist. There is no Simone Sailor from Asheville, North Carolina.”
“Oh, did I say that I was from Asheville? I don’t remember doing that.” She darted a glance at Ryan. “There must be some confusion.”
“There is some confusion.” Ryan seemed certain. “You caused it. You put Asheville down on your employment paperwork with Frederick. That’s where we got the idea that you were from Asheville.”
“Sorry. Can we back up?” A very polite inquiry, and then, “You accessed my paperwork?”
“Guilty,” Ryan murmured.
“Guessing you are not from Asheville?” A faint curl of Jezebel’s lips.
“I moved around a great deal while growing up.” That was completely true and wonderfully vague. “I did visit Asheville for a time, but I wasn’t born there.”
“Where were you born?” Jezebel asked. “While we’re at it, how about you give me your social security number? Your real date of birth? And a couple of people who can vouch for every single thing that you say to me? Because that would be great.”
“My, but you do request a lot.” Simone’s words were cool even as her heart raced.
She could play this scene in an assortment of ways.
Simone decided it was time to just roll with things.
“So I fibbed a bit on my resume. Who hasn’t committed that particular crime?
” Now her right hand waved casually toward Ryan.
“Case in point, our bored billionaire.” Time to direct attention his way.
Her body shifted as her stare pinned him.
“Do you really want to talk about causing confusion? You were the one who caused chaos and confusion in the gallery when you stole your precious egg. Then I got blamed for the theft and nearly died.” A ragged exhale.
“Honestly, I should probably get an apology for the entire chain of events.” She peeked at a watchful Jezebel.
“Will I get a full apology? Perhaps one from the CIA as a whole?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Unfortunate.”
“Yes, well, here’s a bit of even more unfortunate news. You’re currently on a hit list,” Jezebel informed her. Very casually. Very flatly. “As of an hour ago, you’ve got a bounty on you.”
Simone absorbed that tidbit without changing expression. “You’re right. That is even more unfortunate to know.”
But Ryan erupted off the couch. “Unfortunate? That’s all you both have to say?” He closed in on Simone. “Jez tells you that you’re got a bounty on your head. By the way, it’s fucking high from what I was told before you came into the room. And you act like it’s nothing?”
What did he expect her to do? Panic? Cry? Not going to happen. She was far too used to masking her emotions in order to do any of those things. “It’s certainly not nothing. It’s my life.”
He growled.
Simone’s heart raced frantically in her chest. “I’m assuming that Ryan has informed the CIA of Alexei’s death?”
“We are aware,” Jezebel replied. “But, FYI, his body seems to have vanished.”
“Oh, dear.” Her heart raced faster. “Vanishing bodies are never good.”
“No.” Jezebel was definite. “They are not.” Jez resumed her seat.
She picked up her tea. Eyed the liquid a moment and said, “I only drink this in London. When I’m in the US, I love sweet tea.
Ice cold, sweet tea on a warm summer day.
” She sipped delicately. “But when you are in foggy London, there is just something about warm tea, isn’t there? ”
Ryan’s arm brushed against Simone. He wore black dress pants. A crisp, light blue shirt. Shining black dress shoes. The man looked like money. He also looked dead sexy because that shirt had the top three buttons undone and his hair was tousled and faint stubble lined his hard jaw.
She should stop staring at his jaw and focus on other details. Like the fact that people wanted to kill her. “If you don’t mind, may I get a few more details on the hit that has been placed on me?” Excruciatingly polite.
“The hit was launched after you killed a Russian mercenary and escaped into the mist.” A shrug from Jezebel.
“I believe the order came from Frederick Bradwin, but the techs at MI6 would not tell me for certain.” Her gaze cut to Harry.
“Perhaps you should tell your associates that cooperation means you actually cooperate.” Another sip of her tea.
Simone smoothed her hands over the top of her thighs.
She wore brown pants that seemed to have been tailored just for her, a cashmere sweater that might have been the softest thing she’d ever touched, and high, pointed brown heels.
The outfit felt expensive, she knew it no doubt was, and her instincts said that the fancy clothes—along with all of the other high-end items in the suitcase—had been provided to her for a very specific reason.
“Get the hit called off,” Ryan ordered.
A sigh from Jezebel. “Even I can’t just snap my fingers and make something like that happen.” Her stare lingered on Simone. “But perhaps protection can be arranged.”
Oh, she knew where this was going. “Let me guess, if I cooperate?”
“Cooperation means you actually cooperate,” Jezebel murmured. “Oh, is there an echo in here? Those words feel familiar.”
“Ryan arrested me.” Something that was still a sore spot for Simone.
Jezebel blinked. “And here I thought he saved you.”
“Same thing,” Ryan said. “Just sounds different depending on who is saying the words.”
That made zero sense. Simone turned on him. “It is not the same. At all. And, for the record, I’m not the one who killed the Russian mercenary.” She shook her head. “But Frederick thinks I am? If that’s the case, then what does he think about you?”
“As Sherlock Holmes would say, the game is still afoot,” Ryan informed her.
“That is not funny. My life is no game.” It was also no answer. “Can we all just say what we mean? Please? Because that would help me enormously.” She might seem calm, but on the inside, Simone was fighting not to shatter apart.
“I would prefer that.” Jezebel pointed toward the couch Ryan had just vacated. “Let’s all sit and chat in a civilized fashion.”
Simone took a seat on the couch.
Ryan sat right next to her.
Harry just lingered awkwardly near the window. Not in front of the window. Near it.
Simone scooted over, attempting to put some distance between herself and Ryan. But the couch was too small or maybe he was too big because there was no distance, there was just him. His heat. His body. His crisp, tempting scent. Reaching out to her.
Then he was physically reaching out and curling his hand under her chin as he carefully tilted her head so that she stared into his eyes. “You will get twenty-four, seven protection.”
That sounded promising.
“There is a very, very large bounty on your head. Jez’s intel on that was quite specific.”
“Um,” Jez said. Agreement? Disagreement?
Ryan did not look away from Simone. “In order to stay alive, you need me.”
She leaned toward him. “You’re sort of the whole reason I got caught. Do you know that you screwed up a perfect, one hundred percent perfect success rate? If you hadn’t stolen the egg then—”
“Then no one would have been watching when you came back and committed your theft?” Ryan asked, voice silky.
Something like that.
“You have connections, don’t you, Simone?” Jezebel asked her. “Criminal connections.”
“I have connections to all sorts of interesting individuals. I believe in having a wide net of friends and acquaintances. Why limit yourself?”
Ryan’s head cocked. “Am I your friend?”
“No.” Very definite.
His eyelashes flickered. “That hurts.” His hand slid away from her.
“Know what else hurts? Being threatened with arrest. I am about ninety-five percent sure that friends don’t go around threatening to arrest friends.” A deliberate pause. “That’s something that enemies do.”
“Ahem.”
Their heads turned toward Jezebel.
She smiled at them. “I fear that we have gotten off topic.”
Potentially, they had, yes.
“I am aware that you did not kill Alexei Morozov,” Jezebel stated with no emotion in her voice. “Ryan told me exactly what happened in those stables.”
Goosebumps rose on Simone’s body. It took all of her self-control not to lift her hand and touch the small cut on her neck as she remembered just how close her own death had been.
“However, Frederick is not aware of Ryan’s true identity. Frederick has it in his head that you are responsible for Alexei’s murder.”
“Not murder.” Simone had to point out this important distinction. “Ryan was defending himself. Defending me. Alexei intended to torture and kill us both.”
Jezebel nodded. In silence, she studied Simone for one beat of time. Two. And… “You are a ghost, Simone,” Jezebel accused.
She’d been called worse.
“But I am very good at digging into the pasts of ghosts.”
“And here I thought the CIA was powered by spooks. That is the term for CIA operatives, isn’t it? Spooks?” Simone knew good and well that it was the term.
Jezebel sipped her tea. “I will uncover your past. I will find your sins. You do not want me as an enemy. You want me in that wide net of friends and acquaintances you mentioned before.”
“Ah.” A nod. She could read the writing on the wall. “You’re about to offer me a deal. I thought a deal might be coming, when I was given the fancy new clothes. I figured if I was going to prison, you wouldn’t bother with the designer labels.”
“Work with us,” Jezebel said. Not an offer. More of a statement. “We are after some very dangerous, very bad individuals.”
Okay, so…time to drop her act and dispense with the bullshit. “You mean men like the one who supplied Frederick with that amazingly gorgeous Fabergé egg?”
The silence in the sitting room was suddenly very, very thick. Actually, the only sound she heard was Harry’s loud swallow. The click cut through the room.
Simone tucked a still wet lock of hair behind her ear.
“I’d say the Fabergé was worth at least thirty million.
That’s a very conservative estimate. And seeing as how it was created for the Russian Imperial family, it really only makes sense that it was passed down through Russian hands.
” She pursed her lips. “Frederick has such an impressive distribution network left over from the textile business that his family once operated. It would be incredibly easy for the right—or, sorry, in this case the wrong—person to use that network. But you have to pay in order to play in this world. Everyone understands that rule.”
Surprise and what might have been satisfaction flashed on Jezebel’s face. “You’ve met the man pulling the strings.”
The man currently keeping Frederick’s business empire up and running? “Our paths might have crossed once or twice.”
“Fuck,” Ryan breathed. She’d managed to surprise him.
“Frederick liked for me to be in his business meetings. I speak Russian, and he wanted to make sure that no one was trying to trick him.”
“You speak Russian?” Harry asked. His first question since she’d come in the room.
She’d literally just said that she did, but Simone replied, “It’s on my resume, so, yes, I speak it.
I also speak French, German, Italian, Spanish, and a wee bit of Mandarin Chinese.
Just so you know, I think the Mandarin is by far the hardest. Tones have so many meanings there, but I’m working on it. Pitch can just be tricky.”
“You met the man who is controlling Frederick?” Ryan seemed to force the question through clenched teeth.
Why did she keep having to re-answer questions? “Yes. I met Konstantin.”
Silence.
“We are all talking about Konstantin Volkov, aren’t we?” Simone decided that she should add more, in order to really seal the deal. “He’s Ryan’s height. Has brown hair. Green eyes. A scar under his chin. Another over his right eyebrow.”
Ryan’s gaze cut to Jezebel, then back to Simone.
It took all of her self-control not to nervously tap her foot.
Or to jump off the sofa and make a run for it.
But, instead, she opted to put a few more cards on the table.
“When I looked at the egg before, I saw the little computer chip inside. I believe Konstantin wanted Frederick to transfer that chip for him, and once the transfer was complete, Frederick could keep the egg. A services-rendered type of situation. Or maybe it was a down payment for future business deals. I’m not entirely sure of the specifics. ”
“You saw the chip?” Real emotion in Jezebel’s voice. “You knew it was in the egg all along?”
Why were they having so much trouble with her responses? “I was there for the handoff. I was in the room. I heard Konstantin talk about the chip.” Yes, she’d known.
“Damn.” A wide and what appeared to be a true smile on Jezebel’s face. “You’re a witness.”
“Yes. That’s what I am.” A vigorous nod. “And what do we do with witnesses?” Not arrest them, certainly, they did not—
“We’re going to use you to draw out Konstantin. We’re going to set a trap and you’re going to help us,” Jezebel told Simone. “And in return for your cooperation, you’ll get twenty-four, seven protection. Protection that comes in the form of my very best operative.”
“That would be me,” Ryan’s deep, rumbling voice told her.
A shiver skated down her spine.
“But first tell me, Simone,” Jezebel continued, her gaze assessing, “just how good are you at undercover work?”
She thought of all the years that she’d lied to everyone she met. “Oh, I can get by.”
“Then welcome to the team.”
Her gaze swept the team. Jezebel. Ryan. A nervously sweating Harry.
“You work with us, and we’ll keep you alive.” Intensity sharpened Jezebel’s features. “When the mission is successfully completed, the CIA will give you a new life. You can walk away.”
“With…no arrest?” Though had they even really talked about her supposed crime?
“With no arrest. Work with us, and I can make all of your sins disappear,” Jezebel promised.
That was cute, but no one held that much power. Some of her sins would haunt her until she died. But now was not the time for that reveal. Now she just needed to pretend that she was playing along. Later, she could stage her escape. After all, as Jezebel had said before, Simone was a ghost.
And ghosts knew how to vanish.
For the moment, Simone summoned a big, bright smile and said, “There is nothing more that I love than teamwork. And, you know, being bait to lure in homicidal Russian crime lords. Love, love those two things. So this will be a total dream job for me. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Ryan growled once more.
Simone’s smile stretched a little more. “When do we start?”