The Spy (King’s Security #3)

Chapter 11

11

FIONA

To my surprise, I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. I wasn’t sure if it was knowing that Zeke was on the sofa or just pure exhaustion, but I slept through until a little after seven a.m. the next morning. Once I woke, I lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. Everything that had happened in the past two days felt like a nightmare—as if I could roll over, go back to sleep, and the world would be back to normal again in a few hours. How I wished that were true. Instead, I was a suspect in a massive art theft and if I didn’t prove my innocence, there was a chance I’d get arrested even though I hadn’t done it.

I knew what the penalties were for convicted thieves. I was looking at jail time and a fine that would set me back to where I’d started when I’d had to dig myself out of the financial hole Bergen buried me in.

With a sigh, I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. Perhaps a hot shower would make me feel better. I opened the bedroom door quietly, hoping not to disturb Zeke, and stepped into the hall.

“Good morning.”

I squealed, my hands flying up to cover my chest. I was wearing a nightdress, but it didn’t conceal much of anything.

“Zeke!” I gasped, staring across the hall, where he was emerging from the bathroom. “I thought you were still asleep.” I hadn’t heard him moving around. Jesus, how sneaky was he? The back of my neck prickled. I got the feeling I really didn’t want to know how he’d learned to move so silently, or what other skills he might have picked up and from where. This was a case of ignorance being bliss.

His gaze raked over me, making me hyper-aware of my state of undress. His eyes were hot, leaving no doubt what he thought of seeing me this way, and shockingly, I felt an answering tingle between my legs. Apparently, I liked him looking at me like this.

“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he rasped, his hands twitching at his sides. Then he tore his eyes from me and strode briskly back to the living area. The breath eased out of me as I watched him go. For some reason, I felt disappointed that he hadn’t acted on his obvious attraction. If someone had asked me a week ago whether I thought Zeke would try to get me into bed if he saw me in my nightdress, I’d have said absolutely yes, and I’d have thought poorly of him for it. Now, he seemed to be trying to keep a respectful distance and I found myself resenting it.

“You’re acting crazy,” I muttered to myself.

I took my time in the shower, hoping it would help me regain my composure before I faced Zeke again. I counted the length of my inhales and exhales and tried to clear my mind, but it did no good. My head was filled with a strikingly attractive smirk and hot, dark eyes.

When I’d finally dressed, gone through my limited skincare routine, and sucked up my courage to join Zeke in the kitchen, he was once again in the process of making breakfast. This time, he clearly hadn’t ordered in. He’d cooked eggs and dished up two small bowls of yogurt with fruit. Coffee was brewing, the rich scent waking me more than the shower had.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast.” I took one of the bowls of yogurt and looked longingly at the coffee, which wasn’t ready yet.

He grinned slyly. “Did I say that was for you? Perhaps I made two bowls for myself.”

I laughed, and the pressure eased from my chest. Everything was fine between us. The moment we’d shared in the hall hadn’t caused any lingering tension.

“Well, now it’s mine.” I dunked a spoon into it and popped it into my mouth. “Seriously though. Thank you.”

I’d never imagined spending this much time with Zeke before, but if I had, I’d have expected him to drive me crazy. Instead, he’d been supportive and gone out of his way to put me at ease. I gazed down at the yogurt as my stomach tightened. I was ashamed of myself for making assumptions about him, and for letting his surface-level resemblance to Bergen color my opinion of him.

Zeke ate quickly, then set up his laptop. “I’ve been thinking that we should see if we can trace Bergen via any credit cards or vehicles registered in his name.”

I finished my yogurt and poured the coffee, passing him his and adding caramel syrup and cream to mine. “Is that something we can do?”

“It depends.” He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want to find him ASAP, or would you rather prioritize making sure the ‘i’s are dotted and the ‘t’s are crossed?”

I bit my lip, understanding what he was asking me. If he did find this information, it wouldn’t be in a way that we could share with the police. We’d have to hide how we came to have it.

“Do it,” I said after a moment of consideration. “If we find him, surely we can find the Monet, and at that point, it won’t matter how we did it.”

He pursed his lips and I got the sense he didn’t totally agree, but he nodded. “We can always manufacture a trail to him some other way.”

His fingers flew across the keys, and I shifted around beside him so I could see what he was doing. The interface wasn’t familiar to me, but I watched him enter Bergen’s name and do a search. He scanned through the results, and I followed his lead, immediately realizing that they were a list of properties registered to people named B. Cole in the Chicago area.

How had he accessed this information? I wanted to know, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure I should ask. His head remained bent over the laptop as he used a filter to narrow the search. Obviously, using this interface was intuitive enough. Even I could see how it worked. But surely it wasn’t something he should have had access to.

“Did you used to be CIA?” The words were out of my mouth before I could think to censor them.

His head snapped up and he stared at me for a long moment, but then his expression relaxed and he shrugged one shoulder. “I could tell you that, but then I’d have to kill you.”

I chuckled, but it sounded weak to my own ears. I couldn’t help thinking that despite his teasing tone, his response sounded a little too close to the truth for comfort.

ZEK E

This wasn’t getting me anywhere.

I huffed in frustration and tried another variation on Bergen’s name. The problem was, he could have used an alias. There was no way to know what name he was using, or even where he was. The only reason I was coming around to Fiona’s point of view about him was because of those dark eyes that had looked back at me through the ski mask, the man’s build, and the fact that whoever it was had staked out Fiona’s apartment. It seemed unlikely that anyone else—other than the police—would bother to do so.

My phone rang. I checked the screen and accepted the call.

“Hey, Jonah.”

“Boss, I think I found something.” Jonah sounded excited. To be fair, excited was his default mode, but at this point, anything was better than continuing a search I feared wouldn’t lead anywhere.

“What is it?” I asked.

“There’s a rumor on the dark net about an auction for stolen art happening tonight. The chatter I’m seeing says that everyone who’s anyone in the local black market art world will be there.”

I sat up straight. “Really? Where?”

“On a super yacht moored off Sears Bay Marina owned by a guy called Rene Laurent.”

“And Rene Laurent is…?”

“The owner of a French line of beauty products. He’s a multimillionaire and he’s rumored to enjoy the finer things in life, including those that don’t belong to him.”

“Fascinating. What’s Laurent doing in Chicago?”

“He’s been meeting with a local perfume manufacturer. Of course, rumor has it that’s just a cover for hosting the auction.”

“Interesting. Thanks, Jonah. Let me know if you find anything else about the event. Guest list. Name and description of the yacht. Whatever you can get, email it to me.”

“I will.”

We ended the call and I turned to Fiona. “There’s chatter on the dark net about an auction of stolen art on board a super yacht owned by a French multimillionaire. Does that sound like the sort of place where someone like Bergen might try to offload a Monet?”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “Yes, I’d say that’s exactly the sort of place Bergen would try to sell a Monet. Not only will the people there have been vetted, but it sounds pretentious enough to appeal to him. He’s always wanted to have rich connections and attend highbrow events. The only question is whether he could get in.”

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “I’d guess anyone with a painting by an artist that famous could get an invitation if they wanted.”

“Good point.”

I exited the tab on the laptop, closed it, and tucked it under my arm. “We should touch base with Ronan and Kade. This could be exactly the kind of breakthrough we need.”

Her smile was heartbreakingly hopeful. “You think so?”

“I do.” I resisted the urge to smooth a lock of beautiful red hair behind her ear, knowing she probably wouldn’t welcome my touch. “Let’s go.”

While we drove to the office, Fiona called Ronan to organize a meeting. When we arrived, he and Kade were already in his office. Ronan had a notepad in front of him and was twirling a pen between his fingers. Kade slouched in a chair, taking up more room than necessary. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.

We sat, and I ran them through everything Jonah had told me, which now included a description of Rene Laurent’s yacht, Claudette , which could accommodate over a hundred people.

“We should see if we can get one of our undercover guys into the event,” Kade said when I’d finished. “Someone will be catering it. If we can find out who, we can pay off one of their employees to pretend to be sick and send someone in their place.”

“Not a bad idea,” Ronan said.

Fiona rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward them. “Would one of your undercover men be able to identify a Monet?”

Kade shrugged. “I can show them a picture of it so they know what to look out for.”

She wet her lips, her expression nervous. “But would they be able to tell if they’re looking at the real deal or a forgery?”

Kade grimaced. “Possibly not.”

“I could.” Her words seemed unnaturally loud even in the spacious office.

“Whoa.” Kade’s eyebrows lowered. “You’re not trained. You can’t just waltz into danger like that.”

I studied the determined tilt of her chin, intrigued by the idea.

“Besides,” Kade added. “One of our undercover staff could slip in unnoticed. If you turned up, there’s a good chance that someone would recognize you.”

“So?” She arched her brow and held his gaze. I was silently impressed. The woman had a backbone of steel. “I doubt that Bergen has announced to the world that he stole it. Laurent probably knows, but as far as anyone else is aware, I’m the police’s top suspect. I wouldn’t be out of place among them.”

“She has a point.” Ronan jotted something on his paper. “Nobody would be surprised to see her.”

“But…” Kade shook his head. “She has no idea how to handle herself. She’d be on a yacht in the middle of the lake. If anything went wrong, she’d be stuck.”

Ronan leveled him with a look. “I’m sure you could come up with an escape plan.”

“It’s a bad idea,” he groused.

“It’s actually not.” I held his gaze and then Fiona’s, letting them both see that I meant it. “Especially if I go with her. I look similar to Bergen. He and Fiona have been involved in the past. What better cover?”

Kade’s jaw dropped. Even Ronan looked startled. Fiona beamed at me like I’d made her day. My stomach churned. When I’d left the agency, I’d sworn never to go undercover again. Apparently, all it took was a pretty redhead to make me go back on my word.

I was screwed.