The Spy (King’s Security #3)

Chapter 10

10

FIONA

I’d just sat down to run some internet searches about Bergen that would no doubt prove fruitless considering how many times I’d done the same thing in the past when I heard a crash outside the apartment. I stiffened and went to the door. Was Zeke back?

I looked through the peephole and gasped. A man stood on the other side of the door, his face crimson with blood. Only the dark hair and the eyebrow piercing let me know who it was. I unlocked the door and yanked it open. Zeke tripped toward me, reaching out blindly.

“What happened?” I asked, grabbing his shoulders to steady him. I searched his face frantically, knowing he must be injured, but I couldn’t find where the blood was coming from.

“I nearly had him,” Zeke growled. “But he attacked me.”

I touched a finger to his face and frowned. The red liquid felt tacky. I leaned closer and sniffed. He smelled of a combination of chemicals I’d recognize in my sleep .

“It’s spray paint,” I said. “He got you in the eyes with spray paint.”

He scowled, his eyes still shut. “It fucking hurts.”

I couldn’t help laughing. Zeke was supposed to be this tough former spy, yet he’d been defeated by a can of spray paint.

“Are you sure it was our guy and not just someone putting graffiti on the walls?” I asked.

“I’m sure.” He sounded dead serious, and since that was unusual, I believed him. “He was wearing a ski mask, and he didn’t move like a kid. I don’t have proof but, somehow, I just know he was our guy.”

“Okay.” Any lingering amusement dissipated. “I’ll help you clean up in a second. I have some eyewash we can use. I’m just going to make a call.”

I called Ronan and arranged for him to contact the police and to send around a laboratory technician who’d be able to check for any evidence the assailant might have left behind, then I took a quick photograph of his face before putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him into the bathroom. Using a cloth and soapy water, I wiped most of the paint off his face and gently cleaned his eyelids, which had become partially stuck together. Once he was able to open his eyes, I found the eyewash and rinsed his eyes while he swore and muttered.

“I can’t believe he caught me by surprise like that,” he said as he toweled himself dry. He looked at me with red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes.

I winced. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

He scoffed. “For a little paint in my eyes? No. They’ll be fine. I’m more worried about what our spray-painter might have intended to use the paint for.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it was a coincidence that you mistook it for blood.” He hesitated, then added, “I think whoever it was intended to leave you a warning message.”

A shiver rippled through me. If I’d found a warning spray-painted on the door in that shade of red, it absolutely would have freaked me out. It wouldn’t have taken long for me to realize it was paint, but it still would have shaken me. Honestly, even if the paint had been black, it would have still been upsetting.

There was a knock on the door and I went to answer. A Hispanic woman in a full-body hooded coverall stood on the other side.

“Hi, Amber.” I greeted her with a smile. “Ronan must have sent you.”

“He did.” She glanced over her shoulder. “There are a couple of cops just behind me, and I don’t think they’re typical patrol types.”

“Okay, thanks for the heads-up.” I felt Zeke’s presence behind me. “Zeke, can you run Amber through what happened outside? I’ll try to hold off on saying too much to the police until you’re back.”

“Sure, but Fi, if you get the slightest impression they’re looking at how they can spin this to make you seem more guilty, don’t say another word.”

“I won’t.”

He brushed past me and gestured down the corridor. “This way, Amber.”

In the other direction, the elevator opened and Detectives Harrison and Goodwin stepped out. They spotted me immediately and I forced myself not to give them the evil eye. In this case, they were here to help. Theoretically. As Zeke had said, there was always a chance they’d try to spin it to make me look more guilty.

“Hello, detectives,” I called. “Thank you for coming.”

Neither of them smiled .

“Come in,” I said as they reached my door. “Can I get you something to drink?” The longer I delayed, the better the chance of Zeke returning before we got into the nitty-gritty of why they were there.

“No, thank you,” Harrison said, at the same time as Goodwin said, “A coffee would be nice.”

Harrison squinted at Goodwin, who looked chastened.

“How do you take it?” I asked, leaping on the diversion.

“Black with sugar.”

“Perfect. Take a seat. I’ll just be a few moments.”

I bustled to the kitchen and started coffee brewing—enough for two cups because Zeke might need a pick-me-up after what he’d been through. If not, then I’d happily drink it. Once the coffee was ready, I poured, added sugar to Goodwin’s, and took it out. Zeke entered the apartment, looking uncharacteristically flustered, as I offered the drink to Goodwin.

“You want a coffee?” I asked him. “There’s one for you in the kitchen if you do.”

“No, thanks.” He pushed his fringe off his forehead and dropped onto an armchair.

“What happened to you?” Harrison demanded, staring at his swollen eyes and the traces of red on his face.

I took advantage of the opportunity to slink away and fix the remaining coffee to my own liking. When I returned and sat on the other armchair, Zeke was recounting how he’d managed to stumble to the elevator and get back up to the apartment while his eyes were spray-painted shut.

“You shouldn’t have cleaned up,” Harrison said once he’d finished. “It makes it more difficult for us to do our job.”

He smirked. “I care more about making sure I don’t go blind than I do about making your job easy.”

Her eyes narrowed .

“I took a photograph,” I said quickly, hoping to dispel any tension.

She grunted. “Let’s see.”

I opened the photograph on my phone and showed it to each of them. She reached for the phone but I didn’t hand it over. I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t go through my messages while she was there. I didn’t think there was anything incriminating, but there was no telling what they might consider “evidence.”

“So, you think the fact that this person squirted spray paint in your face proves that Miss Ryan didn’t steal the painting, and that the person with the paint did,” Harrison said, her tone skeptical. “Is that right?”

“That’s about the sum of it,” Zeke agreed.

Goodwin sipped his coffee and made a sound of approval. His partner side-eyed him.

“What makes you think the assailant wasn’t a run-of-the-mill tagger?” Goodwin asked.

“It’s too much of a coincidence.” Zeke sounded as certain as he had when I’d asked the same question earlier.

“Hm.” Goodwin was clearly dubious. “This could also be something the two of you staged to throw suspicion off yourselves.”

“Oh, come on!” I rolled my eyes. “You’re determined to make everything fit the story you’ve already come up with. That isn’t what happened.”

“How do we know that?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Zeke stood and gave me a look.

“Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?” he asked.

“Fine.” I went with him, hoping neither cop took the opportunity to look around lest they find the copy of the Degas in the spare room .

“Keep your temper in check,” he murmured once we were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to overhear. “We’ve reported the incident, they’ll have a record in their system now. They’re not going to change their minds just like that, but at least we’ve gone through official channels so we’re covered if we need to be.” He held me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Okay?”

I heaved a sigh. He had a point. I may have wanted a miracle, but that didn’t mean I’d get one. “Okay.”

ZEKE

With Fiona this close, her subtle floral scent washing over me and her dark eyes full of emotion, I wanted to wrap her in an embrace and tell her that everything would be okay. She looked so lost, and I hated seeing her like that when she was usually so fiery and put together.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and heat flashed through me. Fuck, she was a sexy woman, with her full pink lips, porcelain skin, and eyes that could be doe-like if they weren’t so shrewd. Her breath caught, and I wondered if she’d noticed the fact I was having trouble concentrating because of her.

“Zeke?”

“Mm?” I forced myself to raise my eyes from her mouth.

Her pupils had dilated, and the sight rocked me because it was so unexpected. I was used to being attracted to her, but she usually went out of her way to hide any answering attraction she might feel. Now, it was on full display, and I wanted to kiss her so badly.

“The police are still out there,” she murmured .

“Damn.” Cockblocking bastards.

I took her hand, threaded my fingers through hers, thrilled by the press of her slender hand against my larger, rougher one, and stayed at her side while we returned to finish our conversation with the police. They were still seated, and they didn’t look flustered—as though they’d been conducting an illegal search while we were away—so hopefully they hadn’t moved from the sofa.

“Will you be collecting evidence before you leave?” I asked, knowing I’d better warn Amber to clear out if they were. The police didn’t generally like anyone interfering with a crime scene.

Harrison snorted. “Evidence of what? We could take a sample of the paint on your face, but it looks like paint and smells like paint, so I think we’ll just choose to assume that it is, in fact, paint. Other than that, what else is there to look at?”

Beside me, Fiona stared at them in disbelief. I squeezed her hand, hoping she’d heed the warning not to run her mouth at them. I loved her snarky side, but this wasn’t an appropriate time to let it loose.

“You could take a sample?” Fiona suggested.

“Perhaps,” Harrison allowed. “We’ll see if there’s enough out there for it to be worthwhile.”

“How about fingerprints from the fire escape?” I said. “Or he might have dropped something when he escaped?”

I hadn’t noticed anything when I took Amber out there, but that was only from a cursory glance.

“The stairs from the fire escape will be covered in fingerprints,” Goodwin pointed out. “The chance of us finding anything noteworthy is slim. Besides, didn’t you say the guy was wearing gloves?”

Frowning, I tried to recall. He’d definitely had his head covered, but I couldn’t remember whether or not I’d seen the bare skin of his hands. “I’m not sure. He had brown eyes though. You’ve made a note of that?”

“Of course.”

Harrison stood and wiped her hands on her pants. “We have to get moving. Miss Ryan, we’ll need you to be available for questioning early next week.”

“You can make an appointment with my attorney,” she replied.

The police left, closing the door behind themselves.

Fiona sighed. “Well, that was a waste of time.”

“No, it wasn’t. Reporting an incident like this is never a waste,” I reminded her. “We’ve created a paper trail, and at some point, we might be grateful for that.”

“I guess so.” She looked deflated, and once again, I was struck by the urge to comfort her. Strange, when I’d never cared much about anyone else’s comfort before. She glanced at me. “You still have some flecks of paint on your face. Want me to get them off?”

“Sure.” I could easily do it myself, but I got the impression she needed something to distract herself, and besides, it was nice to have her fuss over me. I sat on the sofa and closed my eyes while she got a damp cloth and scrubbed at spots on my cheeks and forehead. I’d never had someone baby me. My dad had been old-school military, and my mom had decided early on that she wasn’t really interested in being a parent, so tenderness wasn’t something I’d experienced much. Usually, the only time anyone touched me was during sex, and while I loved that, it was different than this was. Less intimate.

I cleared my throat, concerned I might be getting a little too emotional. “We’ll make them see that you’re innocent.”

A soft pressure landed on my cheek. Her lips. My eyes shot open just as she pulled away.

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks a rosy hue .

My stomach flipped over, and my heart ka-thunked. That kiss felt like more than a thank you. It meant something. Honestly, the past few minutes might have been the most raw connection I’d ever experienced with someone. It should have frightened me. I preferred to keep people at a distance. But for some reason, it didn’t. I’d always been attracted to Fiona, but I was beginning to admire her more deeply than I’d like to admit.

I wanted her. That wasn’t a surprise. But the depths of my desire for her was. I longed to kiss her again, and for this one to be completely unchaste. Was this what infatuation felt like? It wasn’t as if I suddenly believed she was a perfect angel, but even her prickliness and sharp tongue called to me.

Shit.

I slid off the sofa and picked myself up from the floor. “I should go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

It was already dark out, and if I was here too late, I’d be tempted to do something I shouldn’t. Fiona was vulnerable right now. This wasn’t the time to put the moves on her. Besides, I had no reason to think she’d be any more receptive to them now than she ever had been. She’d made her feelings toward me clear in the past. Although… I couldn’t help but think something might have changed.

“Please stay,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone here, in case he comes back.”

I sighed and rubbed my sore eyes. I couldn’t deny her anything when she asked so sweetly. “Okay.”

It was going to be a long and torturous night.