Torn (Deep 8, #5)

16. Roger

SIXTEEN

Roger

The sun bursts through the window, casting a golden glow on the curves of Harlow's body. Exploring those curves throughout the night was a whirlwind of excitement and intrigue, accented by moments of serenity.

The closeness I feel with her has eluded me for years. She still clings to her secrets, fearing they might explode. Whatever lies beneath can't be worse than anything I've ever faced.

One eyelid cracks open. "Morning," she murmurs in a husky voice, stirring a primal reaction in me.

"Morning. How’s my baby feeling today?"

Her tousled hair frames her face like a wild halo as she props herself up on her elbows. "My husband knows how to satisfy my every need." She grins with mischief in her eye.

I kiss her shoulder and cheek. "Yes, he does. He also knows how to order breakfast. I don’t mean to burst our piece of heaven, but we have work to do before going to the duchess’s tonight."

She hums and lies back on the pillow. "Here I thought our honeymoon was just getting started."

"How many honeymoons have you had with your various husbands?"

"I don’t kiss and tell. It’s not ladylike." She laughs.

I tickle her ribs. "I’ll find out eventually. Take your time getting ready while I order food."

The thought of her past undercover assignments gnaws at me, but I push it aside. None of this is real anyway. Once the mission is complete, we’ll go our separate ways and I’ll be forced to deal with my father.

An array of breakfast food arrives at our door, and I set them up on the dining room table. Harlow struts in wearing an oversized sweatshirt off the shoulder and jean shorts. Her hair is in a ponytail and her face is clean. Looking at her makes me smile. The warmth in my chest is hard to ignore.

"Why are you wearing that goofy grin?" she asks.

"You."

"What about me?"

"You make me smile. I know our arrangement is fake, but make no mistake, last night was anything but fake." The words come out before I have a chance to think them through.

"Trust me, there was no faking it," she teases, wiggling her brows.

"I didn’t think for a minute you were faking it. Now, eat up. You burned a lot of calories last night."

"You are overconfident, Mr. Dujardin." She reminds me.

I stop before the doorway, turn around, and face my audience with my hand over my heart. "Bring it after me. I will not be afraid of death and bane."

"What?"

"Shakespeare’s Macbeth shows Macbeth’s overconfidence as the soldiers march against him."

"Well done." Her eyes sparkle with admiration.

After breakfast, we contact Pippa and Peter to run through the plan for the evening’s event. They managed to do the impossible by obtaining the schematics for the duchess’s house which go back to the 1700s. They didn’t get the location of the safe or any other place she might be keeping the key.

I make a couple of calls, including one to Henri to see if he knows anyone working for the duchess. We strike out and we’ll have to go in without someone on the inside.

Harlow holds her forehead. "This could take longer than we think. She won’t keep that key in plain sight. She may even have it on her, which would be easier to access."

"Even if we take the key, how are we going to convince the bank we need to get into that safe deposit box?" My irritation is evident.

Peter interjects. "I’ve got a guy in Antwerp. We’ll send him an image of the duchess. He’ll make a 3-D image and build a prosthetic face around it. Harlow will wear the mask with a wig and present her credentials to the bank to get to the safe deposit box. A fake passport has been sent to the hotel. I pulled every string to get this royal passport. They are not easy to come by."

"I’m going to need a bodysuit. Amalia is built differently than me," Harlow says without judgment.

"Done." Pippa taps on the keyboard. "I’ll make sure it arrives by tomorrow."

"You two are fantastic. We couldn’t do this without you. MBK has quite the team members." There’s relief in my words. Knowing Harlow and I aren’t out here alone makes a difference. I’m not convinced we could pull it off on our own.

"I’ve also left you with another little nugget." Pippa grins. "In the bundle with the fake IDs, there are two panic buttons. They look like two skin-colored small dots and work with the Wi-Fi wherever you are and have a connection. Pull the back off and stick them anywhere on you—double tap to activate. Press to send an emergency message. You have forty-eight hours to make contact. After that, they go dead. Security wands will not be able to detect them. You can thank Peter, the techie," Pippa adds.

"We’ll check in with you tomorrow to talk about the next steps for the bank. Until then, have fun and peace out." Peter smiles as the screen goes dark.

"Aren’t they going a little over the top with the panic buttons? We’re going to see the Duchess. I doubt she’s a threat or would threaten us in any way," Harlow scoffs.

"She’ll have top security. It’s better to err on the safe side. You never know when you may need them. I’ll call down and see if our package has arrived."

The elevator ride allows me time to think things through. As much as I want things to go smoothly, I have a sinking feeling I can’t put my finger on. We’re missing something right in front of us.

To complicate things further, I haven’t felt like this with a woman in a long time. I’ll keep my thoughts and feelings for Harlow stowed away so I don’t compromise the mission. My libido will have to take a backseat for now.

The doors open to the lobby and two men are reading the paper. I recognize them from the café. The front desk manager hands me my package. I decide to take the stairs back to the penthouse to see if they follow me. The only way into the penthouse is with a keycard, whether I take the elevator or the stairs.

As the door closes, I notice the stairwell remains eerily quiet. Maybe I’m overly paranoid. I step into the suite with the most beautiful sight. Harlow basks in the sun on the balcony, wearing a big hat, sunglasses, and a teeny tiny bikini. I open the slider.

"Baby, you look beautiful out here soaking in the sun." Our lips touch with the softest of kisses.

"This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in a while. I think my husband has something to do with that." Her smile lights up her face.

My next piece of news may turn that smile upside down. "Enjoy it now because our two guys are hanging out in the lobby downstairs." I collapse in the chair next to her.

"The guys from the café?" she asks.

"Yeah, but when I took the stairs back up here, they didn’t follow me. Weird, eh?"

"Maybe they weren’t following us at the café, and we overreacted."

"My instincts are usually on point. They’re watching us. I just don’t know their endgame. Tonight is going to be interesting."

"Call it women’s intuition but something feels off." Harlow bites her lower lip. "It’s been bugging me since we got off the call with Pippa and Peter."

"I had the same thought. If we don’t get in front of this, it could mean my father’s death."