The Spy (King’s Security #3)

Chapter 6

6

FIONA

I woke with a start as something clattered in the kitchen. I jolted upright, clasping the blanket to my chest. The light of dawn filtered through the curtains. I heard another muffled noise and eased out of bed, my pulse racing. Someone was in my apartment. No one other than the super had a key, so who the hell was it and how had they gotten in? I’d definitely locked the door after Zeke left last night. I was sure of that because I’d checked it several times before going to bed.

I tiptoed across the room, looking for something I could use to defend myself. A baseball bat would come in handy right now, but I didn’t have anything like that. I didn’t even have anything in approximately that shape. I scanned my dresser and shelves, my eyes settling on a pair of heavy stiletto pumps. I grabbed one of them and held it up like a hammer, ready to brain whoever had broken in.

My fingers curled around the edge of the door and eased it open. The bottom whispered over the carpet but I didn’t think it had made enough noise for anyone to notice. I padded out, my bare feet silent on the floor. As I edged into the living room, I heard a murmured voice. People talking? Or just one person? I peeked into the kitchen and my shoulders slumped.

“For fuck’s sake, Zeke. You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”

Zeke looked up from where he was setting up drip coffee on the kitchen counter. He tossed his shaggy hair out of his eyes and grinned. “I’m making breakfast. What does it look like I’m doing?” His gaze flew to the shoe. “Death by pump. Very Agatha Christie. Would you mind putting it down now that you know I’m not an intruder?”

“Still an intruder,” I muttered under my breath. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven.”

“Jesus.” I dragged my hand down my face. “And you’re here…why?”

He slid a paper bag I hadn’t noticed across the counter. “I knew you’d want to get an early start on our next steps.” He paused and looked me up and down. “Or was I wrong about that? Because if you’d rather spend the morning in bed…”

I groaned, the back of my neck heating as I realized that I was wearing a thin silk slip that barely brushed the tops of my thighs and made it perfectly clear I didn’t have a bra on underneath. I tucked my arms across my chest to hide my nipples, which were always perky in the morning. It had nothing to do with Zeke, no matter what the smug bastard might think.

I backed up, retreating toward the bedroom. “How did you get in here?”

He leaned one elbow on the counter and smiled lopsidedly. “King’s Security keeps spare keys for all of its staff members in case of emergency, or did you forget that?”

“This isn’t an emergency.”

He shrugged. “That’s your opinion. Why don’t you join me for breakfast? The coffee will be done soon and I have a berry Danish that’s calling your name.”

My lips parted in shock. “How did you know they’re my favorite?”

He touched the side of his nose. “A man has to keep his secrets.”

Nosy bastard. Yet something warm unfurled inside my chest at the thought that he’d paid attention to what I liked and gone out of his way to get it. While intrusive, there was something sweet about that.

“I’ll grab my robe and be out in a minute,” I said.

“Don’t feel like you have to,” he called after me.

I rolled my eyes as I unhooked my warmest robe from behind the door and slipped it on. No doubt he wouldn’t mind eating breakfast with me half-naked, but I didn’t intend to give him a show. I pulled on a pair of socks, drew in a steadying breath, and returned to the kitchen. He was now sitting on a stool by the breakfast bar, a coffee in front of him and a filled pastry of some variety on a plate in front of him. He’d dished up the berry Danish and another coffee for me.

“I added caramel syrup and a little milk,” he said as I pulled out the stool beside his. “I get the impression you aren’t a black coffee kind of girl.”

“I’m not, thanks.” I didn’t know what to make of his thoughtfulness. I’d always considered Zeke to be self-centered, but he’d been proving me wrong with every interaction over the past two days. That sense of shame bubbled up again. I had judged him more harshly than he deserved. I’d have to do better from now on .

I cut into my Danish and closed my eyes as I popped it into my mouth, the sweet tartness of the berries exploding on my tongue. When I opened my eyes, I found Zeke staring at me, his eyes fastened on my mouth.

I flushed, and my stomach flipped over. “Sorry, I really love these things.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He spoke in a rasp. “It’s sexy as fuck.”

My face flamed and I took another bite, trying really hard not to look like my taste buds were orgasming. “Are we starting with Bergen this morning?”

He nodded. “I thought we’d drop by the address listed on his DMV record. If we learn anything interesting from him, we can follow that up, or alternatively, we can move on to the artists with the criminal histories.”

“Sounds good.” Although my stomach churned at the thought of seeing Bergen again. I hadn’t seen him since the morning I’d woken in his arms, made us breakfast, and gone to work, clueless to the fact that he’d be gone by the time I returned and my life would be in tatters. “We should check in with Ronan too.”

He winked. “Already done.”

At another time, I might have been annoyed by his high-handedness about something that affected me more than him, but I didn’t have the energy for that. I was just glad he was helping.

“Great.” I sipped the coffee. It was surprisingly good. “I’ll finish this and then shower. We can go afterward.”

Zeke waggled his eyebrows. “Want any company?” Before I could reply, his face fell. “Sorry, I’m not supposed to be doing that.”

“Doing what? Joining me for a shower?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Go shower. I’ll be here when you get out.”

ZEKE

Once I heard the shower start, I counted out three minutes and made my way as quietly as possible to Fiona’s bedroom. As I opened the door, a wave of her scent drifted out, deliciously floral. Tempting and sultry, just like the woman herself.

The room was depressingly similar to the rest of the apartment. White walls, bland furniture, and no photos or art. The only splash of color was the blue and purple bedspread. I withdrew a bug scanner from my pocket and walked around the room. I waved it over the furniture and paused at the nightstand, taking care to run it past each drawer. I’d checked the rest of the apartment last night, after she went to bed, but I hadn’t wanted to risk waking her up by sneaking into the bedroom.

When I was satisfied there were no listening devices present, I slipped out again, closing the door behind me, and returned to my seat at the breakfast bar. I wasn’t sure who was more likely to have bugged the apartment—the police or whoever had set her up—but I’d thought it reasonable to assume that both parties would want to keep a close eye on her. Fortunately, she seemed to be in the clear, although I wanted to run a check on her cell phone too. It was issued by King’s Security, with our anti-hacking software installed, so there was probably nothing to worry about, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

I drank more coffee, enjoying the pleasant zip of caffeine entering my body. The shower shut off and I cleaned away the breakfast dishes, trying to ignore the noises coming from the other room. I couldn’t afford to think of Fiona undressed and glistening wet. My body tightened and I cursed.

Get a hold of yourself.

Just because I’d wanted to see her, touch her, and taste her for years didn’t mean I couldn’t control myself around her.

“Hey,” she said as she emerged into the living area. I gulped. I was used to seeing her in office attire, which meant form-fitting dresses with respectably high necklines and long skirts. This morning, however, she’d opted to wear a pair of navy jeans that hugged her slender thighs and a floaty green blouse that made her look soft and touchable.

I forced myself to get it together. “Ready to go?”

She clutched a cream-colored leather purse in one hand and had a black jacket slung over her shoulder. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

The cab of my car felt smaller today than it had yesterday. Fiona’s floral scent was stronger—she must have used perfume or a scented lotion after getting out of the shower—and it wrapped around me and made my cock take notice.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye as I followed GPS directions to Bergen Cole’s last known address. I couldn’t help wondering what might be different between us if she hadn’t been burned by her asshole ex. She might have agreed to go out with me when we’d first met. If that had happened, we could have been living together by now, in which case I’d have been able to give her an alibi for the theft of the Monet.

But then, there was always the chance that if she’d gone out with me, we’d have slept together and nothing more would have come of it. I might not have appreciated her strength and wit the way I do now. It was crappy to admit, but the fact she’d shut me down had gone a long way toward hooking my attention. I hated to think what I could have missed out on if I’d had her and taken her for granted.

“You’re quiet,” she said as we stopped at a traffic light.

“Just thinking.”

I readied myself for her to make a smart-ass remark about how unlike me that was, but it never came. I snuck a look at her. Was she all right?

When we arrived, it wasn’t difficult to see that Bergen Cole’s apartment building was nicer than Fiona’s. It still wasn’t much to look at though. I stayed close to her as we took the stairs to his floor and strode along the corridor, counting the door numbers. When we reached the number listed by the DMV, I paused.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked.

She bit her lip, visibly hesitant, but then nodded. “Just do it.”

I knocked before she had a chance to second-guess herself. A distant grunt came from somewhere within, and then I could hear sounds as someone moved closer. I felt Fiona stiffen beside me as the door handle turned and swung inward.

“Hello?” An older gentleman with red-rimmed eyes and a New Jersey accent blinked sleepily out at us. He was definitely not Bergen Cole. “What kind of time do you call this?”

I glanced at my watch. “Eight forty-five.”

“Exactly.” His beady eyes narrowed. “On a Saturday.” He huffed. “What are you selling, anyway?”

“We’re not selling anything.” Fiona stepped forward and smiled at him. “We’re looking for Bergen Cole. He lives here. I’m an old friend of his and I thought I’d surprise him while we’re in town.”

“Bergen Cole?” The old guy looked confused. “Ain’t no one here by that name. I’m Merv. This has been my place for going on eighteen months now. ”

“Does anyone live with you?” I asked.

He scowled. “What? Gonna rub it in that I’m all on my lonesome? No, asshole. No one lives with me.”

Fiona’s friendly expression didn’t waver. “Do you know who had the apartment before you?”

Merv shrugged. “I heard it was some artist guy who moved to Seattle. Don’t know his name.”

Fiona and I exchanged a look.

“Thank you,” she said. “We’re sorry to have bothered you. Have a lovely day.”

Grumbling, Merv shut the door in our faces.

I ran a hand through my hair. “I guess he’s not here then.”

“Are you sure it was this apartment?” she asked. “You didn’t get the number wrong?”

“I’m certain.” I didn’t make mistakes like that. In my previous line of work, they could have been deadly. Unfortunately, Bergen’s absence raised an issue I’d rather not broach. “We may have to consider the fact that your ex isn’t the one behind the theft.”

Fiona gasped. Her mouth dropped open and she glared at me like she wanted to slap me. I inwardly sighed. I hadn’t missed that look.

“I’m not saying he isn’t,” I clarified. “But we need to keep an open mind.”