Sonata of Secrets

Done...

2008-11-28T21:44:00.002-06:00

Done, done, DONE.

My sixth novel is now in the can, and I'll tell you, there were times I wasn't sure I was going to make it. But as with every November, somehow, it all comes together in the end...

It may not be ready to set the literary world in fire, but it's done, and it's MINE.

As always, I'm so proud of this accomplishment, more than people know.

Of course, I'd be remiss without a few thank yous...

Thanks for Jen, for her dares, her inspiring emails, for reading every word, and for cheering me along all the way. By my count, I hit all the dares (Hot Fuzz, TPD, Jack Harkness and I even killed David Tennant.)

Thanks to Nat, for loving every word, and telling me so.

Thanks to Dad, Michelle and Don, for always believing that I can write another novel, and for helping me celebrate when I do.

And thanks to all the nameless, faceless readers who enjoy what I put on the page. You are the reason I write.

And dedicated to the memory of Mum, who always supported me, believed in me, loved me, and knew that someday, I'd be a writer. I miss you every day.

Until next year...

Epilogue

2008-11-28T21:36:00.001-06:00

I sleep a lot better these days than I used to.

It took another six months, but after confessing everything about my secret life to Connor that day in the farmhouse and then still trying to live a ‘double life’ as an agent, I’d found that I couldn’t take it anymore.

So, one day, without really thinking about it, I walked into Shane’s office and announced my intention to resign from Leukos, effectively immediately, and I was completely floored by his reaction.

“Thank god,” he’d said with a wide smile, coming around his desk to gather me in a tight hug. “I’ve been hoping you’d resign for months.”

“Why? Am I suddenly a crummy agent or something?” I’d asked, pulling away from him and searching his face for evidence that I’d disappointed him. I’d thought I was keeping things pretty well together, in fact just the week before, I’d single handedly brought down a rogue agent I’d hunted down in Budapest…

“No, Em. You could never be a crummy agent,” Shane had reassured me. “I just knew your heart wasn’t in it anymore. It’s time for you to resign, take up art dealing for real, and start building a life with my little brother. A REAL life,” he had amended as I opened my mouth to protest.

And here I thought I’d made a pretty good start.

But after I resigned to the powers that be and turned in my weaponry, I walked out of Leukos with a lighter heart than I had had in… years, I guess.

And I know I can credit a lot of that to Connor.

From the boy I’d thought was cute in a Sainsbury’s aisle to the man I was planning to share my life with, he had influenced every corner of my existence. It took another three months, but I finally agreed to us moving in together, and from there, time just ran together in a haze of happiness.

And then, in the same farmhouse in Normandy that we’d hidden out in all those months ago (thanks to a few pulled strings from Shane), Connor proposed during a firelit picnic dinner on the floor.

I’d cried.

And then I’d accepted with a smile and a long kiss.

Just last week we finally bought our first home together – a rambling country cottage, just outside Eastbourne, on the Downs. Close enough that I can jog to the sea, but far enough away from the tourists, the seniors, and affording us the privacy I’d so often craved.

We’re getting married next week in a small ceremony.

Shane, of course, is best man.

Connor’s residency is almost done, and he’s been offered a permanent position in the hospital, which he has accepted. He’s happy in his work, and I’ve finally found LEGITIMATE work in an art gallery, and yes, I sometimes DO have to travel for business, but not as much as I did with Leukos.

And never with a sidearm.

Shane is still working for Leukos, but has mostly resigned from mission work. Though he won’t admit it, I think being shot and coming so close to death made him realize there is more to life than missions and profiles. I think he’ll stay in the spy game, just in the administrative side of it – which, frankly, is a comfort to me.

James Cross, now that he’s fully extricated himself from Vaclav Stepanek’s organization, has resigned from MI-6, and has reconciled with not one, but both of his sons. We recently had dinner together – the four of us – and it made my heart sing to see the men together, really talking, and even sharing laughter and telling jokes at each other’s expenses.

It’s what I’ve always wanted – for both Shane and Connor.

And so, my life seems to have worked out for the best – though I can’t seem the break the habit of sleeping with a loaded .38 under my pillow.

Connor’s gotten used to it.

Mostly.

Beyond that, Leukos is completely out of my life, and I’m the happier for it.

My keys jingle in my hand as I lock our cottage door, heading for my car. I’m meeting Connor for lunch at the hospital and am running a few minutes late. I brush my hair from my eyes, smiling to myself for the thousandth time at the news I have to tell him, instinctively curling my hand across my belly, though I know there is no sign yet…

As I glance out of my rearview mirror to check for traffic, I spot a familiar face in a car across the street, hidden mostly out of sight.

I sigh, and then roll my eyes. And then I wave to Leukos surveillance agent Jack Harkness, who tries to duck down in the front seat, finally giving up with a roll of his own eyes. He waves in return, and I laugh as I wind my way down the lanes towards the hospital.

Okay, so maybe Luekos isn’t COMPLETELY out of my life…

50051/50000

Chapter Thirty-Six

2008-11-28T21:34:00.000-06:00

“Shane,” I say, my voice a little tremulous. “What if he’s not there? What if he’s gone?”

Shane shrugs from the driver’s seat of the car. “We’re spies, Em. We hunt him down and beat some sense into him.”

I roll my eyes, staring out the window. “I’m serious.”

“Then we find him when we get home. Duh,” Shane says, as though I’m the slow kid in class.

“No,” I shake my head. “I gave him a choice – if he’s here when we get get back, then he’s willing to hear me out, willing to give us a chance. If he’s not…”

“Oh,” Shane says, the penny dropping.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “And now I’m afraid that he won’t be here.”

“Well,” Shane says, taking a deep breath. “We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

The rest of the drive is passed in companionable silence, by my heart starts to race as we turn on the drive leading to the farmhouse, wondering what will greet us when we arrive – a house filled with light and warmth, or a house deserted and closed up tight?

We round the final corner, and I near cry in relief – I can see a light in the window, a car in the drive, and a tendril of smoke drifting out of the chimney and arcing away in the light breeze.

“Oh my god,” I say, gripping Shane’s arm tightly. “He’s here. He’s still here.”

“I knew he would be,” Shane says gruffly, and I punch him in the shoulder lightly.

“You did not!” I screech. “You didn’t know. You were just as nervous as I was. Admit it.”

Shane glances at me, a wry smile on his face. “Okay, so I was a little… tense. I don’t get nervous about my brother. I’m not in luuuuuuuve with him…”

I burst out laughing at Shane’s teasing tone, despite the blush creeping up into my cheeks at his mocking. “I’m just using him for sex,” I throw back, knowing this will shut Shane up on the subject, hopefully permanently.

“Oh. Ish.”

Mission accomplished, I grin to myself as Shane halts the car and turns off the engine. We both take a deep breath before emerging from the car, and then the front door opens, and I want to cry at the sight of the tall, lanky frame outlined from behind by the light from inside the cabin.

I imagine that my face mirror’s Connor’s – apprehension, confusion, and still, a bit of joy mixed in.

“Hi,” I say softly, as Shane and I approach the front door, our baggage forgotten in the trunk of the car. “How are you?”

Connor nods, and then swallows thickly. “I’m, you know, good. How are you? Both?” He asks, tugging his gaze from me and looking at his brother.

“We’re great,” Shane says with a smile, holding out his hand to shake Connor’s hand. “Glad to be back.”

“Things… went well?” Connor ventures and I give him a small smile and his question.

“Things went very well, thanks,” I say, and he seems to breathe a sigh of relief. “Everyone is safe that needs to be safe.”

“I’m glad,” Connor says, sounding genuine, and we share a small, shy smile.

“Something smells good,” I say as we enter the farmhouse, closing the door behind us. “Have you been cooking?”

Connor’s cheeks flush a little. “Uh, yeah. I needed something to occupy myself while you were…” he pauses, gives up trying to find the right words, and then continues. “So I’ve pretty much cooked everything in the house. Hardly ate it, but I cooked it. If you guys would have taken much longer, I think I would have had to go fell a wild boar or something to roast on a spit.”

I burst out laughing at the image of Connor tackling a pig in the woods, and even Shane chuckles at the thought.

“Are you hungry?” Connor asks solicitously.

I shake my head. “I’m more tired than hungry. I think I’m going to curl up for a catnap, if that’s okay. And then…” I can’t quite meet Connor’s gaze. “We can talk… if you’re ready…”

Connor nods curtly, and Shane adds that he could use a quick doze as well. We part ways, and I stumble into the master bedroom even as Shane is already snoring on the couch. I curl up on the bed, not even bothering to remove my shoes or tug down the blankets; I just curl up where I fall, my eyes closing of their own volition.

Just as I am on the edge of sleep, I feel a weight move the mattress behind me. I hold my breath as Connor slips into bed beside me, his arms curling around my waist as they have so many times before. He presses a kiss to the crown of my head, and I want to cry again. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he says softly. “Sleep, little one.”

And I do.

%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Mmm…” I say languidly, stretching and opening my eyes before remembering where I am – the farmhouse – and why – resting after a mission in Prague.

Neither seems terribly significant, though, as Connor’s arms are still wrapped tightly around me. He wakes moments after I do, and we smile shyly at each other, shifting on the bed to face one another.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi.”

“I think I owe you an explanation, about a lot of things,” I say, drawing in a deep breath, bracing to explain everything to Connor.

“Shane’s still asleep,” Connor says softly, nodding towards the family room. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Minutes later, we are walking along the same path that Connor fled down only a day before. He takes my hand in his, and then gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Okay, I’m ready. Spill.”

I smile slightly at his tone – as though he were going in front of a firing squad, instead of hearing the truth about his girlfriend – and his family.

“You understand that what I’m about to tell you… you can’t repeat. To anyone,” I caution, and Connor nods.

“I understand.”

I take a deep breath then dive in. “What you know about me, almost everything, is true. I’m Emmanuelle Sutton. I studied at the Sorbonne. I buy art for galleries. I live in Eastbourne. My family is dead. The part you don’t know is that for the last five years, I have worked for a secret organization called Leukos.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

I laugh slightly. “Well, that’s kind of the idea.”

Connor smiles, then nods for me to continue.

“I was recruited right out of school, and since I was kind of… rudderless at the time, I joined. I learned to fight, how to fire weapons, go on missions, and stay alive. Leukos takes down the criminals and terrorists that no one else can touch. We sometimes, but rarely, work with organizations like the CIA, or MI-6 or Mossad, but for the most part, we are completely outside of any organized government, any other agencies.”

I take a breath, and then continue.

“I won’t say I’ve always enjoyed the work, but I’ve found great satisfaction in saving lives, taking down terrorists and working undercover to keep the world safer than it was the day before. Sometimes I go on missions back to back to back; sometimes, I have weeks where I wait for another assignment. During those times, I buy art for galleries, as part of a front organization that Leukos has created.”

“How were you recruited?”

“I’m not sure how I came to Leukos’ attention, but Shane was the one who first approached me, who brought me into the organization, and has acted as my ‘first’ since I joined. In that time, Shane taught me how to become a ghost, which is what we all are – ghosts. We exist in the world, but also outside it.”

“Tell me about Shane,” Connor says, his voice a bit strangled. “It seems you know him a helluva lot better than I do.”

I shake my head. “I just know him… differently than you do.”

“Semantics,” Connor murmurs, and so I continue.

“Shane has been a part of Leukos for a decade. He’s one of the most talented agents in the force. He’s brilliant at strategy, at planning missions, and has a good record for getting agents out alive. There is no one on the planet I trust more than your brother, except maybe you.”

“You’ve known him for five years, and me for only…”

I cut him off. “Yes, but you know ME. You know how I like my tea and what my hair looks like when I wake up. You know what makes me laugh, and what makes me cringe. Shane doesn’t know me the way that you do. It’s different.”

“But he’s an accountant!” Connor bursts out, and I bite back a smile.

“He is. It’s his day job, just like artwork is mine. But obviously, he’s had to hide his life from you, just like I have. But he loves you, and is just as protective of you, as any older brother could be.”

“No wonder I don’t see him much,” Connor muses. “He’s always off saving the world.”

I nod. “That, and as part of his protecting you, he’s kept his distance. He’s never wanted anyone to connect you two. He’s never wanted to put you at risk. Not like I am right now by telling you all of this. Because Shane is so valuable to Leukos, he’s under even more surveillance than I am. Every cup of coffee you’ve shared, every phone conversation… someone in Leukos is probably listening. We’re used to it, but for someone outside the organization…”

Connor swallows hard, and I stop talking, giving him time to absorb what I’ve told him so far.

“This is… a lot,” Connor says after several minutes of us walking hand in hand through the dense foliage.

“I know,” I agree, then sigh. “And there’s more.”

Connor sighs as well. “Okay, keep going. I’m ready.”

“The reason we had to go to Prague…”

Connor interrupts me. “You went to PRAGUE yesterday?!”

I smile slightly, but say nothing.

“I thought you’d gone to, I don’t know, Paris, or somewhere even closer,” Connor says, sounding a bit bewildered.

“Well, we DID go to Paris, just really briefly to catch our flight…” I say, my tone light. “I didn’t have time to get you a souvenir this time. Sorry.”

Connor smiles slightly, and then I continue. “The reason we went to Prague is a bit… convoluted. Vaclav Stepanek is a… bad man. He funds terrorist activities around the globe, and has a huge network. His inner circle is hard to penetrate, and he trusts few people. Many years ago, an MI-6 agent gained entry to his circle and slowly gained his trust, and worked as a double agent to funnel information back to MI-6 about potential threats while still remaining protected. Several weeks ago, this agent was able to be extracted from Stepanek’s organization when Stepanek began to suspect that he wasn’t on the up and up. The agent got out safely, but Stepanek doesn’t exactly forgive and forget.”

“I don’t understand,” Connor says. “What does this have to do with me?”

I take a deep breath, and then stop walking, turning to look into Connor’s warm, trusting eyes. “Connor, the agent was your father.”

He lets out a half laugh, backing away from me a few steps. “That’s impossible. My father works in the financial district in London.”

“No,” I say patiently. “That’s what he TOLD you he does. In reality, he’s been a MI-6 agent since you and Shane were little kids.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Connor, I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this. Your father is a double agent, and a damn good one. But when Stepanek’s organization uncovered his betrayal, he decided not to target James Cross, but to target someone whose death would hurt him even more: you.”

“Why not Shane?” Connor asks, sounding like a little boy wanting to blame his older brother for some disobedience.

“Shane is as well hidden as I am as far as the outside world is concerned,” I explain patiently. “Hell, until a few days ago, I thought Shane’s birth name was Shane Croft, not Shane Cross.”

Connor bites his lip, processing everything I’ve told him, and then we begin walking again, a slower pace this time. “So when you went to Prague…”

“It was to infiltrate Stepanek’s, uh, gang… and politely ask them to remove any execution orders regarding you OR your father.”

“Politely?” Connor asks, with an edge of disbelief to his voice.

“Well, it was polite at first,” I hedge, and he smiles slightly.

“My father is a spy too,” he says, his voice a little bit hurt. “My father and my brother… jeez, they must have been disappointed when I didn’t go into the family business.”

“Connor,” I say, stopping him in his tracks, and taking both his hands in mine. “They are both so proud of you, and are willing to do anything, even die for you, to keep you safe, to keep you outside of the world of ghosts and guns and missions. Believe me. They don’t want you in the family business.”

“I just…” Connor struggles for words. “I just can’t believe you are all spies. So the night we met, were you injured on a… mission?”

I smile at his tentative use of the word ‘mission’. “Actually, that’s a weird twist. Earlier that day, Shane and some of our colleagues intercepted a buy of a deadly virus between some very bad men. The buy was intercepted, the virus taken by Leukos, and everyone went home. Turns out, MI-6 had been working undercover on that same deal, and thought we were rogue agents out to score the virus for ourselves. The agent tailed me home, and then beat me to a pulp before sticking a gun in my face to execute me. Before he could… he saw my tattoo.”

Connor says nothing, and I raise an eyebrow.

“The tattoo you’ve never mentioned, actually,” I say with a grin. “Not since the hospital examination, anyway.”

“I just assumed you got it because it was pretty, though you don’t strike me as the tattoo type.”

I grin. “I’m not, but I am now that it saved my life. The agent recognized the symbol of Leukos – that’s what it is, by the way, and all agents have it – and then dumped me at the hospital. Turns out, when all the players in the game don’t know each other, it can get messy at times, but it’s just a part of the game.”

“He could have killed you,” Connor says, his voice tight with anger, and I feel warm inside at the thought that he is still protective of me, after all I’ve told him about myself, and about my… exaggerated job skills.

“You’ve had a lot to process,” I say as we begin to walk again, this time in the direction of the farmhouse. “But believe me, Connor… I haven’t felt alive, really alive, since I met you. I was contemplating the state of my soul even before I met you, but after I did…”

“I’m not responsible for your soul,” he says softly. “Only you can be responsible for that.”

“Well, you are a major contributing factor, then,” I whisper. “And no matter what you do with this information, or how you decide to proceed with me, or Shane… I will thank you forever that you gave me a piece of it back.”

“Emmanuelle Sutton,” Connor says, his voice husky now as we stop again. “I’m in love with you. I’m sure of it. And yes, this is a lot to process, but I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my life. So however we have to act to make that happen, I want to. If I have to give you a blood oath not to tell a soul, I’ll do it. If I have to pretend to hate my father, I will. If I have to not have dinner with Shane anymore, I will. Because I’d rather have pieces of all of you, than to have no part of any of you at all. And that’s the truth.”

I smile, my eyes tearing, though I blink them back. “I’m glad to hear you say that, because I’m crazy about you, Dr. Sugar Daddy Cross. Just crazy about you. And we’ll make it work. I promise.”

“I love you, little one.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

Connor smiles, and then pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips to mine. We stand in the cooling air, kissing and murmuring and smiling, until darkness falls completely.

And I realize my soul is intact after all. As long as this man is in my life, I’ll be whole.

And I’ll be thankful every day for it.

49215/50000

Chapter Thirty-Five

2008-11-26T11:24:00.001-06:00

“I can’t believe you told him,” Shane says, his voice quiet in my ear as we sit next to each other in first class, our flight winging its way to Prague.

“What was I supposed to do, Shane?” I ask, glancing over at him. “I had to tell him something. I didn’t give up Leukos, I just told him that…”

“We were spies,” Shane finishes for me.

“He has to know the truth,” I say firmly. “It’s only fair, after everything that’s happened in the last few days.”

“The reason I haven’t told him in the last, you know, DECADE was to keep him safe,” Shane argues.

“Well, now this is the only way he’s safe,” I say, gesturing around the plane. “What we’re getting ready to do.”

“Are you going to tell him everything?” Shane asks and I shake my head.

“No,” I say evenly. “We’re BOTH going to tell him everything. When all of this is over and we get home.”

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Shane says, settling back in his seat.

“Look, he’s not stupid. He’s known something has been going on, he’s just been too much of a gentleman to ask me what it is,” I say, adjusting my seat back. “When you showed up at the farmhouse, he was probably so turned around, he didn’t know what to think. He probably thought that you and I were having an affair or something.”

This causes us both to have a small body shudder at the thought.

“It’s better this way,” I say, convinced.

“I hope you’re right,” Shane acquiesces, and we’re silent for several long minutes.

“You last name isn’t Cross,” I say after a long pause. “It’s Croft.”

Shane doesn’t say anything for a moment, but a ghost of a smile plays across his lips. “Okay, so I changed a few letters. I’m a spy – what do you expect?”

I laugh quietly as we begin our final descent into the Prague airport.

**

Several hours later, we’re ensconced in a downtown hotel in Prague, going over our final mission profile. “Are you sure it will work?” I ask for the eighteenth time and Shane sighs in exasperation and the repeated question.

“Yes, it’s going to work,” Shane says. “It’s all worked out.”

“It almost seems too easy,” I say, and Shane nods.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Shane says.

“And you really think Leukos will go for it, despite being off profile? You really think they'll give us backup when we call for it?”

“They’ve wanted him for so long, they’ll go for it,” Shane says confidently, then looks at his watch. “You better get dressed.”

I glance down at the terry bathrobe I’m wrapped in, and then at Shane’s dapper, four thousand dollar suit. “What?” I say with a smile. “I can’t go like this?”

**

The taxi ride across town takes entirely too little time for me to mentally prepare for the mission ahead, but before I know it, we’ve screeched to a halt in front of the Klacek Přirození, an exclusive club in downtown Prague, a meeting place for executives, CEOs, businessmen, people in power, politicians…

And apparently, terrorist financiers who are able to slip out of our grasp over and over and over...

Shane exits the taxi after paying the driver, and I scoot out after him, sliding my business suit skirt down on my thighs. My hair is pulled into a tight knot, a pair of studious glasses on my nose, and I have a leather briefcase in one hand. Shane’s suit is a glossy black, his longish hair slicked back off his face, accentuating the hard angles of his high cheekbones.

He opens the door of the club for me, and we enter the dark paneled front room, where we are immediately met by the head of the club. “Pan Hruby, Slečinka Vavra, welcome to Klacek Přirození. Is this your first visit to Prague?”

Shane shakes the man’s hand, and then I follow suit. “Not my first time in Prague, but my first time here at the club. Thank you for extending the invitation to me," Shane says smoothly.

“We always welcome our brothers from the West who help bring commerce and prosperity to our great city,” the man says easily, with a slight bow. “There is a bar through that door,” he gestures, “and several conference rooms upstairs. There is a cigar bar, as well as a library, with Wi Fi access. Perhaps my staff can bring you and your assistant a cocktail as you settle in?”

“That would be lovely,” I say easily. “We have some figures to review and a report to prepare for Munich before we can really settle in and enjoy all your facility has to offer.”

“Of course,” he says. “The library is very comfortable – up the stairs, and it’s the first door on your left.”

We exchange thanks, place a drink order for both of us, then walk slowly up the stairs, noting egress points and the apparent lack of security but for discreetly placed cameras. I suppose when the clientele is so exclusive, bodyguards become less and less necessary.

Shane and I enter the library, sitting down at a long oak table, where we go through the guise of booting up a laptop and spreading out several papers. “I must use the restroom before we begin,” Shane says, and I agree that I must do the same. We both exit, my purse over my shoulder, Shane’s hand in his pocket.

We slip quietly down the hall in tandem, looking from room to room as though searching for the bathrooms, both of us freezing as we see who is in the largest room at the end of the hall.
Stepanek, several of his lieutenants, and… no guards.

How can he be here without guards?

Shane and I have a quick conversation in sign language about how to enter the room, before I turn and casually sling my cardigan sweater over the camera above the door, blocking out the view of whoever might be watching. Before I can even catch my breath, Shane walks into the room confidently, his gun raised and pointing at the center of Stepanek’s forehead.

My own pistol subdues his colleagues, who all sit back down in their chairs at an ordered bark from Shane.

“This is how this is going to work,” Shane says, his voice deadly calm and quiet. “You’re going to make a few calls for us.”

“Calls to whom?” Stepanek asks, his voice almost mocking despite the weapon pointed at him, his English heavily accented. “Mummy and Daddy?”

“No,” Shane says with a ghost of a smile. “You’re going to call off the hit on Connor Cross. And then you’re going to call off the hit on James Cross. And then we’re going to have a little chat.”

"And why on earth would I make those calls?" Stepanek asks, still not moving a muscle.

"Because if you don't," Shane says with an oily smile, "I'm going to shoot you between the eyes right here while my partner kills your colleagues, and then we are going to walk out the door, and watch your whole organization collapse from the inside out. You wouldn't want that, would you? Not after all your hard work for so many years?"

"You wouldn't kill me," Stepanek says, but with a bit more of a waver in his voice. ‘That's always the way’, I think to myself. ‘It's always the men who are most powerful who end up fearing death the most, and the peons of the organization who don't.’ "I'm too valuable."

Shane continues to smile, looking like a cobra about to strike, giving Stepanek time to examine the end of his silenced gun, which he has moved closer to Stepanek's forehead. "Don't count on it." Shane looks lazily around the room, waiting for Stepanek to make his move. "Make the calls. Now."

"I..." Stepanek falters, and I see one of his colleagues, the one closest to me, half rise out of his chair. Without thinking, I swing the butt of my gun against his forehead, dropping him swiftly to the floor with nary a groan. I resume my stance of covering the other guards, not even breaking a sweat as the man bleeds at my feet.

"We aren't afraid of you," Shane says quietly. "Make the calls."

Stepanek's hand trembles ever so slightly as he reaches across the table and retrieves his cell phone. He makes three calls in rapid succession, his Czech speeding along as he cancels the hits and reports to his second in command. Shane looks to me for confirmation - I'm the only one who speaks more than rudimentary Czech of the two of us. I nod that he's made the calls, and then Shane takes the phone, reviewing the numbers dialed. We quickly plug them into a database on Stepanek's laptop, confirming that he spoke to his second in command, and then two hit men.

The hits are cancelled.

Thank god.

"And now, we're going to have a little chat," Shane says, his voice almost teasing.

Stepanek, assuming the threat is over, resumes his cocky demeanor. "Let me guess. You want my recipe for knedlíky, no?"

"No," I say, answering in Czech. "I already know how to make Czech dumplings, thanks."

His eyes widen slightly, realizing I speak more Czech than Shane. "Instead," I say, "you're going to give us all your contacts, all your bank accounts, everything we need to shut down your organization. Do that, and we might let you live."

Stepanek studies me, obviously weighing the truth of my words, but I'm deadly serious. But I can see the flicker in his eyes that says the two of us can't subdue his entire organization.

We're just blackmailers. People out to steal a million or two. That’s what he sees.

I can already see him trying to find an appropriate bribe when Shane speaks again. "Now, Stepanek. Start talking."

"No," Stepanek says, crossing his arms across his chest. "I don't think I have anything to tell you today."

Without blinking, Shane lowers his gun and fires, a bullet slicing through Stepanek's upper leg. He howls in pain, and then Shane and I are engaged by the other men in the room, fists flying and weapons being brandished, until we make short order of them all - two with bullet wounds, two with sound knocks to the head that are going to give them a mighty headache when they finally awaken - several hours from now.

"We aren't playing games," Shane says. "You're done, Stepanek."

And with that, Shane pulls out his cell phone and dials. "This is Agent Croft, agent number 4582319. I've apprehended Vaclav Stepanek at the Klacek Přirození club in Prague. I need housekeeping, a detention crew, and secure transport to return Stepanek to England for extensive questioning before we dismantle his organization. This is priority one - I need agents to report to Klacek Přirození, right now."

I hold my breath, waiting to see what the powers that be of Leukos will say to this request - as it will take them all of two seconds to figure out this was obviously not an authorized mission. "I understand that, sir," Shane says evenly, and I tense. "But we had a lead, and quick action was necessary," he pauses, and then continues. "Agent Sutton is with me, sir," I wait, closing my eyes briefly. "This was my mission to plan and execute, sir. She was only following my direct orders."

I don't think I start breathing again until I hear Shane snap his phone shut with a wide smile. "He says congratulations on a job well done. And I think we might be in line for a promotion for 'taking initiative'."

I grin widely, and Shane pulls me into a one-armed hug even as Stepanek writhes on the floor in pain. "I told you it would work out. Don't you trust me?"

"Always, Shane," I say happily. "Always."

46380/50000

Chapter Thirty-Four

2008-11-24T21:08:00.004-06:00

Stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid.

I can’t even see where I’m going. And I can’t get the looks on Emme and Shane’s faces out of my head as I blindly crash through the woods, shoving branches out of my way, nearly falling flat on my face when I trip on a tree root, but not slowing my pace for even a second.

I need to get some space between me and… those two.

I’m breathing heavily when I finally collapse onto a log deep in the woods, trying to stop the spinning in my brain and the ache in my solar plexus.

My brother. And the love of my life.

Spies.

It’s all been a huge web of lies, and I’ve fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

God, I’m so stupid.

It all starts falling into place as I stare at the ground, my breathing slowly returning to normal – Emme’s injuries when I met her at the hospital. The constant travel for ‘art galleries’ and ‘buying trips’. Shane’s constant inability to return a damn phone call. All of it falls into place…

They were off being James and Jane Bond, and I’ve been blithely accepting every word they’ve said for the last… who knows how long. Years with Shane, and weeks with Emme.

I don’t know how long I sit on the log until I hear a branch snap under someone’s foot. I don’t turn around, but I know from the gait that it’s Emme slowly approaching me, as though I were a rabid animal.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk,” I say angrily, not looking at her as she sits down beside me on the log, not touching me.

“I know,” Emme says quietly. “That’s why I’m going to do all the talking. And I hope you’ll hear me out.”

She waits, and I finally nod curtly.

I can hear her take a deep breath, and I settle in for more lies, crossing my arms protectively across my chest.

“First, you have to make a choice,” Emme says softly. “Right now, you are free. You don’t know anything. And you can walk away from me and from Shane and I will absolutely and completely understand if you do – and so will he. But if not, you have to understand that you will know something that few people on the planet know, and that it could put you at risk.”

“I want the truth,” I say without hesitation.

Emme sighs again, and then continues. “Shane and I work for a secret organization. We’re ghosts. We take down… we take down the bad guys no one else can. Our identities are secret, and we have to stay secret if we want to stay alive, and if we want the people we care about to stay alive.”

I say nothing, which she takes as a cue to continue.

“Right now, Shane and I have to go… somewhere, so I can’t tell you everything, but I will when we get back. I promise you. But you have to understand that where we are going, what we are doing… it’s for you. It’s to protect you.”

“I’m in mortal danger?” I ask wryly.

“Yes!” Emme says forcefully, then tempers her next words. “You are. And it’s my job to protect you, but more than that…” she pauses, considering her next words. “Because I have to. Because when I said I loved you, I meant it. You are on the only part of my life in the last five years that’s given me any kind of meaning, any kind of positive emotion. You are everything to me, and I will do what I can to protect that. And Shane is the same way. He cares about you so deeply… I wish you could understand that by staying away from you, he’s been protecting you because you mean so much to him.”

I try and absorb this, but say nothing.

“Look, we have to go. I’m sorry. I can’t say sorry enough times, believe me. But I’ll tell you everything when we get back. You have a couple of choices. If you want to, you can stay here in the farmhouse, and I’ll tell you the truth when I get back. Or, you can lock the door behind you and go back to England. I wouldn’t blame you if you did – not at all. And I swear I will never contact you again, if that’s what you want. But I mean it, Connor… you are everything to me. And I don’t want to lose you, but I will absolutely respect your decision, either way.”

“I don’t even know what to think, Em,” I say, my voice breaking, and I finally dare to look at her. Despite her even tone, I see that tears are streaming down her cheeks, and it takes everything I have not to pull her into my arms and kiss the tears away.

But I can’t. Not yet.

“I know,” she says softly, not meeting my gaze. “I know you don’t know what to think, and there’s nothing I can say that will make it okay.”

I shrug, and she continues.

“But, listen to me and believe me. For the last five years, I have taken chances every day to protect innocent people. I don’t know how many more years I’ve got in me. My soul is so far gone, I didn’t know if I’d ever get it back – until I met you. And now, I’m thinking of…”

“Of what?” I prompt when she pauses.

“I’m thinking of walking away altogether, but it depends on you, Connor. I love you – always will.”

She stands up and brushes the leaves from her pants. “We really do have to go. I’m sorry, Connor. For everything. When I get back, I’ll know your decision, either way.”

She turns to walk away, but I can’t just let her go, not like this.

“Em?”

She stops, but does not turn back around to face me.

“I love you too, little one.”

I hear her sigh, a deep, hopeful sigh, before she continues to walk away from me and back towards her shadowy life.

The question is: what do I do now?

44369/50000

Chapter Thirty-Three

2008-11-24T20:42:00.000-06:00

Every muscle in my body tenses as I hear the sound of a car approaching, crunching along the gravel driveway leading up to the farmhouse. I quickly glance around, seeing that Connor is still snoozing on the bed in the master bedroom, and I dart over to my purse, extracting my pistol and then creeping over to the window that faces the drive.

I don't recognize the car, but I slump in relief a moment later when Shane emerges from the driver's side, his piercing eyes disguised by sunglasses, his injured abdomen covered by a leather jacket.

The relief I feel floods away a moment later as reality set in...

Shane was here.

Connor was here.

Shane and Connor are both here, right now, and Connor has no idea what's about to happen...

Oh, shit.

I fling open the front door, and then yank it shut behind me, hissing at Shane, who is walking up the step, his eyes trained on his Blackberry. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Shane looks up at me quizzically, pocketing his Blackberry. "I told you I was coming. What's the problem?"

"You didn't tell me that!" I hiss again, my voice low. "I didn't get the message!"

"I texted you about a hundred times, but figured you were - ah, distracted - with Connor. And please god, I don't ever want details about what sort of distracting you guys do with each other. Ever. Especially if we're going to be related someday," Shane says, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he removes his sunglasses.

"Shane," I bark, trying to bar his entrance in the front door to the farmhouse and to block out his comment about being related someday. "Connor is still here!"

Shane freezes in place, then turns slowly to look at me. "What the hell do you mean? You were supposed to get him away for a few hours. I've got all the intel on Stepanek, and we can roll out in just a few hours, if you're ready to go."

"Yeah, but like I said - I didn't get the message! What are we going to do?!"

"Em, I need to use the bathroom, I need a drink and something to eat, and we need to hop online to confirm a few facts before we take off from Prague to take care of this. You're going to have to get rid of him somehow. Without him seeing me."

"How?" I plead, my eyes wide.

But they widen even more when the front door swings open, and a sleepy, tousled Connor looks out at me, blinking in the dim sunshine. "Em? What's going on? Um, hi?" he says to Shane's broad back.

"Oh god," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. "Um, Connor, I need you to go inside. Please. Right now, honey. Please."

"What?" He asks, his voice stronger now, protective. "What's going on? Who is this?" Connor takes a step out of the door, but Shane remains frozen in place, facing me.

Shane's eyes meet mine, and we have a silent conversation for a long moment before Shane shrugs slightly, and then turns, slowly, so slowly, to meet his brother's gaze.

There is a long beat of silence.

"Shane?" Connor asks, his voice dangerously quiet. "What the..."

"Hey, little brother," Shane says, his voice sounding forced to my trained ears. "How are you?"

"What are you doing here?" Connor asks, obviously confused.

"Um.... I was in the neighborhood?" Shane tries with obvious failure, based on Connor's skeptical look. "Look, can I come in? We have some things to discuss."

Connor snorts. "Yeah. Let's discuss the fact I haven't heard from you in, like, two months. Or the fact that Dad's fallen off the radar completely. Or the fact that you have somehow found my girlfriend and I in the most deserted farmhouse in Normandy. In fact, we should discuss all of that."

"Connor..." I try, taking a step towards him, but his piercing eyes stop me in my tracks.

"I want to know what's going on. Right now."

I've never heard this Connor before - authoritative, strong, and demanding.

I kind of like it, actually.

"And I want to tell you, but..."

"Let me guess," Connor says hotly, crossing his arms across his chest. "You've promised to keep some things confidential. Even from me, right?"

"Connor," I plead softly, and Shane steps forward and puts a brotherly hand on Connor's shoulder. I breathe a small sigh when Connor doesn't shake him off immediately.

"Listen, man, I know this is a lot. But this isn't about Emme, it's about me. And it's a long story, and I swear to god we'll all sit down with a six pack of beer and tell you all about it sometime. But right now, Emme and I have to..."

"Have to?" Connor prompts.

"We have to go," Shane says evenly. "After I pee and get a drink of water."

Connor laughs, a hollow sound which bruises my heart a little. "You stopped by Normandy to pee. And to take off with my girlfriend for who knows where for who knows how long, and think I'm just going to take it like some defenseless puppy? I've got news for you, BIG brother," Connor sneers. "I don't fucking think so."

"Connor," I try again, walking towards him, resting my hand on his arm. "Look, it's like this..."

"Em, don't," Shane says, a warning in his voice, so I whirl around to face him.

"No," I say shortly. "This has gone on enough. He has to know the truth - at least a version of it, or I'm not leaving, and I don't care what the costs are. I'm done lying."

Connor's eyes are on me, and I can feel Shane's boring into my back. "Fine," he says curtly. "Tell him."

"Connor," I say softly. "Shane and I work together. It's complicated, and we can't get into details, but... we work together. We've worked together for five years. But until a few days ago, I swear by all that is holy I had no idea you were brothers. And right now, Shane and I have to work."

"Some emergency art deal that needs an accountant?" Connor barks, and I step back at the venom in his voice.

I can't blame him, though. I would have already punched someone in the face if this were happening to me, so actually, I admire Connor's restraint.

"I deal art. Shane's an accountant. But that's not all we are."

"What are you? La Femme Nikita and James Bond?" Connor asks with a wry smile, but I say nothing. His smile fades, and he looks at me, his eyes wide now. "You're a spy? You're not. You're not really a spy. And you," he whirls on Shane. "You are too?"

"Connor, we'll explain later. But right now, Emme and I have to spend a few hours finalizing a deal that's going to keep this family safe."

"Family," Connor says, inching away from the front door. "You think we're a family?" Connor walks backward, his eyes on Shane, then darting to me. "Family means trust. Family means honesty. Family means watching each other's backs. Family means not lying. Family means not being played. And I've been played, big time," Connor says, his eyes boring into mine, causing a physical pain to sear in my gut. "And I'm done. With both of you."

And with that, he spins on his heel and races off into the woods.

43333/50000

Chapter Thirty-Two

2008-11-24T15:06:00.000-06:00

“This was such a great idea,” Connor says from the passenger seat, his voice contented as we zip along the A Road towards Dover, bound for a ferry to France. “I can’t believe we both have the weekend off. And here I thought I was scheduled to be on all weekend – what a nice surprise to be off and going away with my girl.”

I bite my lip, feeling a little bit guilty. Connor has the weekend off because I called the human resources department at the hospital and explained that I was his sister and that he had a family emergency that necessitated him leaving work for the weekend, and possibly longer. Sorry for the inconvenience…

But then again, Connor doesn’t know that part.

“It’s going to be a great weekend,” I agree, deftly pulling into the docks of Dover, looking for our ferry. The back of the car is loaded with luggage and groceries, and all I’ve told Connor is that we are going to go visit the farmhouse of an art contact I have in Normandy. It’s quiet, secluded – perfect for a weekend away.

And for, you know, eluding enemy assassins.

The ferry ride across the Channel is smooth, and we make the drive across France to Normandy in a leisurely fashion – stopping for a long and tasty lunch in a café, taking in the scenery, and Connor even snaps some photos on a tiny digital camera he bought right before the trip.

We look so happy and relaxed in those photos – I hope we can stay that way. I’m definitely going to be framing a few when we get home…

We find the farmhouse after getting turned around only once, and unpack all the food and luggage from the car. I set the kitchen to rights while Connor lights a fire in the enormous stone fireplace, in typical he-man fashion. It’s like a fairytale cabin away from the world, and now that we’re here, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I know we’ll be safe here, and I can stop looking over my shoulder every few seconds, like I did from the time we left the flat until we pulled into the farmhouse drive.

Okay, sure, my boyfriend doesn’t know that I lied to get him out of work, or that he’s the victim of basically a kidnapping, and that he’s going to be held hostage for the next few days while I work to keep his very life intact. Lying, kidnapping, hostage – surely my lovely boyfriend will overlook all of that, right?

Too bad he’s one of the most honorable, upstanding people I know.

I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like knowing what I’ve done.

But luckily, he’s one of the most trusting people I know too.

The next two days are perfect, lazy ones – sleeping late in the enormous, and enormously comfortable, master bed, fireside picnics, long talks into the night, walks in the woods surrounding the farmhouse, and a lot of laughter.

It’s the perfect romantic holiday, and I couldn’t be happier.

Except that I’m checking my Blackberry surreptitiously every few minutes to see if I have received any word from Shane. He texts me that he has been released from the hospital after only an overnights stay, and then I get another text that he is working on an off profile mission plan, and that he thinks he’s gotten close to finding a way in to Stepanek’s fortress for us.

And so, I wait for word that I’m going to have to find a nonsuspicious way to ditch Connor in the farmhouse for a day so we can fly to Prague, take care of Stepanek, and then get back to the farmhouse as fast as I can. And to make sure Connor stays indoors and protected at all times.

Sure, easy. No problem.

Connor doesn’t notice anything amiss with me until the second day, when he catches me biting my lip worriedly and texting Shane quickly, my fingers flying over the keys of my Blackberrry.

“Em?” Connor asks, flopping down on the couch beside me, his body warm against mine. “Can’t you let work go just for a few days? I thought maybe we could go into town, have lunch at that restaurant we saw on the way in, and that you could even leave your Blackberry behind for a few hours,” he says, pointedly looking at the object. “I know cutting the cord is tough, but…”

“No!” I say, a bit too quickly. “I mean, I don’t really feel like going out. It’s so nice and cozy here, and we have all that food, and everything. Let’s just stay here, and…”

“And?” Connor asks with a wry smile.

“And, you know, not eat.”

Connor can’t hold back his grin or the twinkle in his eye, and I answer with one of my own. “You really are a hussy, aren’t you?”

I laugh out loud at his affectionate tone, and then slide over until I’m sitting in his lap, my Blackberry forgotten, as it slides between the sofa cushions. “Gotta keep my sugar daddy occupied, now, don’t I? Give him some sugar…”

And I do, for the next several hours as the world turns dark and the firelight is the only thing illuminating the farmhouse and our bodies on the floor beside it.

Which explains why I don’t hear my Blackberry buzzing with new, urgent text messages from Shane. That and the fact that my Blackberry is completely wedged in between the sofa cushions, and despite a frantic search of the farmhouse at two o’clock in the morning while Connor was asleep, I didn’t find it.

And that’s why I missed the one that said he was on his way to France – to the farmhouse.

And that I had to find a way to get Connor away from the farmhouse long enough for Shane and I to pack up, distribute weapons and get to Prague. Without arousing suspicion, of course.

Yeah.

I missed those completely.

42081/50000

Chapter Thirty-One

2008-11-23T18:40:00.000-06:00

I slide the door shut behind me as I enter Shane’s recovery room, deep inside the secure hospital Leukos is contracted with. Shane looks pale and small, swaddled in the hospital bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets, but his eyes are open, staring at the ceiling. “Hi,” he says, not looking at me.

I walk over the bed and sit down beside him, taking his hand in mine and giving it a squeeze before I release it. “How are you feeling?” I ask softly.

Shane turns his head to look at me, not quite meeting my gaze. “The doctors say I’ll live.”

“Are you in pain?” I ask, looking at the drip in his arm, and then at the bandages bulging around his middle.

“I have good drugs,” Shane says with a ghost of a smile. “Everything is all… shiny.”

I smile slightly, and then get up, unable to stay in place a moment longer. “Shane…”

I’m not even sure how to start, what to say, how to say it.

“I trusted you. I thought we trusted each other,” my voice is even, but dangerously quiet.

Shane closes his eyes, and then opens then, watching me pace back and forth at the foot of his bed.

“You lied to me. You LIED to me. How could you do that?” I ask, my voice rising several octaves despite my tenuous control.

“I didn’t lie,” Shane says. “I… omitted the truth. I skirted around some details…”

“Don’t play me,” I say angrily. “We’re friends – we’re colleagues. How could you not tell me that the man I’m in love with is your LITTLE BROTHER? How could you…”

Tears start trickling down my cheeks and I brush them away furiously. I haven’t cried as much in years as I have in the last few days, I muse.

“Em, I’m sorry,” Shane says. “I have no excuses, but I have at least a ghost of an explanation.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” I say, marching over to the chair and sitting down again, my arms crossed protectively across my chest.

“I didn’t tell you, I didn’t tell ANYONE about Connor – or about my father. I couldn’t put them at risk. I knew my father was into something dangerous, and I knew I had to put distance between all of us to keep them both safe. I couldn’t make them a target, and I couldn’t let anyone use them to get to me, or vice versa. It’s a dangerous game I’m caught up in, Em, and for years, I’ve had absolutely no idea how to get out of it.”

I can hear the pain and anguish in his voice, and I soften slightly. “Does Connor know? Does he know anything about you – about Leukos?”

Shane shakes his head. “He thinks I’m an accountant.”

This makes me smile a little. Shane is the furthest thing from an accountant I know.

“So when you warned me about getting close to him…”

“Believe me, Em, I’ve always wanted a girl like you to make my little brother happy, but not at the expense of his life – or yours,” Shane says quietly.

“I just can’t believe that you didn’t tell me,” I say, all the fight going out of my voice. “We don’t keep secrets – not from each other.”

“But surely you can see why I had to keep this one?” Shane implores, and after a long moment, I nod.

“Yeah,” I agree. “I can.”

Shane sighs and takes my hand in his, squeezing it. “I’m sorry, Em. Really.”

I nod again, and try to gather my thoughts. “So… what now?”

Shane shrugs slightly, wincing at the tug on the bandages around his middle. “I’m not sure. The only thing I know for sure is that Connor still isn’t safe. You need to keep him safe. For both of us.”

“You know something… something from Stepanek’s camp, don’t you?” I ask, not wanting to hear the truth.

Shane nods. “The hit on Connor is still active.”

I wince. “Shit.”

“Listen to me, take Connor and run,” Shane says, his eyes boring into mine. “Fast.”

“I’m not running away, Shane,” I say immediately. “No matter how far we run, we’ll always be running, we’ll always be targets.”

“At least go for a few days,” Shane pleads. “I’ll be released tomorrow, and then I can start digging to see if there’s a way for you and I to get to Stepanek. It’s the only way to eliminate the threat against Connor and my father.”

“Assassinate him?” I ask softly, looking over my shoulder as though someone might be eavesdropping.

“Take him out of the game, yes,” Shane says. “Leukos can’t seem to get close to him, but maybe… maybe we can.”

“Go off profile?” I ask, incredulous. Shane is the most rule abiding of all of us, so for him to advocate going off of Leukos’ books is a big deal.

“Just this once. Just for this,” Shane says quietly. “It’s what I have to do to protect my family. To protect all of us. Afterwards, I’ll make it right with the powers that be.”

I bite my lip, trying to find alternatives.

But we really don’t have a lot of options.

“Are you in?” Shane asks. “I know I’m asking a lot, Em, but…”

I silence him with a wave of my hand. “Yes. I’m in. But you’re going to have to work fast to find us a way in. To find a way to… eliminate the threat.”

“I can do it,” Shane says, his voice confident now. “I’ve been working on contacts, and I think I can find a weakness. I’ll get us close enough, and we can take Stepanek out, eliminate his whole organization.”

“If you can, I’ll do it.”

“In the meantime, I’m serious, Em… you and Connor have to get out of town for a few days, at least. In fact, leave the country. Go somewhere secluded.”

“Where?” I ask, wracking my brain for places in Europe I know where we could hide.

“Use the farmhouse,” Shane says, and I snap my fingers.

“Perfect,” I say with a smile. The farmhouse is a safe house Leukos set up years ago in Normandy, France. It’s rarely used, and not monitored by the organization unless it’s part of a mission. “You have a key?” I ask with a grin.

“Yeah,” Shane says with an answering grin. “I have a key.”

41074/50000

Chapter Thirty

2008-11-23T16:20:00.000-06:00

Shane is handing out night vision goggles as the Leukos van bumps down a dusty dirt road just outside of Madrid. “We’re going to be invading Armand Maxted’s villa. And by villa, I mean his fucking enormous mansion,” Shane says with a wry smile, and all of us laugh. “His property is heavily guarded, but we know he is at home. The objective is to take Maxted alive, as well as his personal computer with all his contacts and data about his operation. All the guards are expendable, Maxted is not. We’ll cut the power to the estate, and then go in on a dark approach. Tennant, Gerber, you’ll approach from the south, Dawkins and Bailey will secure the west, and Emme and I will attack from the east. The north is a cliff face, so try to avoid falling off of that.” More twitters from the assembled team, then Shane continues again. “Egress will be to the south, and we reconvene in the van, hopefully before any local authorities are alerted that there is a problem at the villa, since Maxted has them all in his back pocket. We’re going to try and do this as quietly as possible – hand to hand kills, if possible, but use your weapons if necessary for defense. Keep your eyes open for any contingencies, and report on your comm. unit. Any questions?”

We look at each other, everyone shaking their heads no. “Good,” Shane says. “Good luck out there.”

As the van glides to a halt, we all clamber out, armed with automatic weapons and with our goggles on, ready to approach the darkened villa. Maxted launders money, and is a go between for many ‘free agents’ in the terrorism and assassination community – bringing him in will be a huge boon for Leukos.

But we have to bring him in alive to extract information from him.

Tennant and Gerber slide noiselessly into the trees, and then Dawkins and Bailey disappear into the darkness a moment later, leaving Shane and I to approach alone.

Using hand signals, we coordinate our approach, and I see our first guard as we come out from the cover of the trees. I signal that he’s mine, and I stealthily crawl through the scrub grass, emerging twenty yards behind the guard’s back. I tighten the garrote in my hand, and then creep up behind him, completely focused on my target.

Reaching around before he can turn around at my sound, I wind the cord around his neck before he can let out a peep, and pull it as tightly as I can, cutting off his windpipe. The guard struggles hard, his feet kicking out, his arms flailing, trying to gain purchase on my arms, or my clothes, but I hold on, pulling tighter and tighter for what feels like hours until finally the guard slumps to the ground at my feet. I check his pulse – he’s dead.

One down, how many more guards to go?

Shane is by my side a moment later, and we creep around the edge of the villa, using the wall for cover, trying to sight our next guard to silently take down. The guard stands about fifteen feet away from the wall of the villa, and Shane signals that he will take him down. I nod, gripping the butt of my gun and plotting a way to get in the front door undetected, a way to get to Maxted before he is tipped off as to what is going on outside.

Shane soundlessly slinks away from the cover of the building, but I jump and grip my gun tighter as a hail of gunfire explodes overhead. Whirling around, I lift my gun even as I hear Gerber screaming into the comm. unit.

“Shots fired! Agent down! Sniper on the roof!”

I back up, my gun sighting on the roofline, but I see no one. More shots ring out, and I run around the building, looking for the source of the gunfire, but again seeing no one to sight on.

“Get down, get down,” Dawkins yells from the other side of the house. “We’re under fire!” A barrage of bullets plummet down, kicking up dust, pinging against the building, but it sounds like there is only one gun on the roof.

But one gun being held by one maniac can do a helluva lot of damage.

I finally see a figure on the roof, running with a gun raised, and I sight carefully before squeezing the trigger. The man stops in mid-run, collapsing to the ground.

I know I got a head shot. I know he’s dead. Problem solved.

Gerber’s frantic voice comes back over the comm. unit. “Tennant’s been hit. He’s… he’s…” her voice breaks with emotion. “He’s dead. Oh god, he’s dead.” I can hear her cries across the field, even without the comm. unit. Gerber and Tennant have been a couple for as long as I can remember, and in one instant, that whole future between them is shattered. I block out her keening cry, unable to bear the pain in it.

Instead, I spin back around, looking for Shane, waiting for orders to retreat or to carry on into the house to grab Maxted, but no one is talking, no one is giving orders.

Shit.

SHIT.

I come back around the side of the villa, and that’s when I see him.

Shane is lying prone on the ground, a guard dead near his feet. I run at full speed to Shane, sliding onto the ground beside him, my eyes searching for wounds, as I rip the night vision goggles off of my head and drop my gun to my side.

“I’m… I’m hit,” Shane says, coughing slightly and wincing. “I didn’t even see it coming.” He winces as he moves his body slightly, his breaths short and heaving. “God, this hurts.”

“Where are you hit?” I scream out, my hands sliding over his black clothes, searching for blood.

“My gut,” Shane rasps out. “You have to leave me – get to the egress point and get the hell out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I say furiously, finding his wound and trying to staunch the flow of blood with my fingers. “I need a medic – Shane’s been hit. I need help!” I scream into my comm. unit. “Retreat. NOW!” I order, not sure how many more guards are on the property. “Dawkins, I need help with Shane, everyone else retreat right now. RIGHT NOW!”

There’s so much blood.

“Em, leave me,” Shane insists, and I shake my head, angry tears sliding down my cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up, Shane,” I bark. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“Do me a favor,” Shane rasps, and I bend closer so I can hear him. “In case I don’t make it…”

“Don’t talk like that,” I insist, blinking back more tears as I press my hands harder into Shane’s stomach.

“Shut up and listen,” Shane barks. “If I don’t…” he coughs again. “…make it, tell Connor…”

Connor?

“Tell Connor I’m sorry. And that… I don’t know. Tell him I love him or something, but nothing cheesy. And that I’m sorry I didn’t protect him better. And I’m sorry we weren’t closer. And tell him to forgive Dad. And, yeah, tell him I love him. I don’t care if it’s cheesy.”

“Shane,” I say, my voice icy calm even as his blood flows through my fingers. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Connor is my brother.”

40004/50000

Chapter Twenty-Nine

2008-11-23T15:32:00.000-06:00

“Hi, I got your page,” Connor says smoothly into the phone, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I say brightly. “I didn’t catch you in the middle of an appendectomy or anything, did I?”

He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. “No, I’m on a break for a few minutes actually.”

“Listen, I’m not going to be able to see you tonight… I’m so sorry,” I apologize, switching my cell phone to my other ear. “I have to fly out to Madrid for a meeting with a gallery first thing tomorrow morning. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Connor says easily. “I’m glad you called, actually. I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I just… I know you said you were fine, but are you really? Fine?”

I smile at the attentive sound of his words. “I’m fine. I just had a little crazy girl breakdown. Don’t mind me.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say. “Believe me, if you weren’t in my life, I’m pretty sure I’d been even crazier girl.”

“I might actually like to see that,” he says, his voice teasing.

“Hey, I got some good news today,” I say, cradling the phone to my ear, not wanting to break the connection between us.

“What’s that?”

“I got a promotion,” I say happily. “I’m going to be given more responsibility in crafting art deals, getting to make more contacts, things like that. I’m pretty excited about it – I just found out.”

“I hope there’s a huge bump in your salary that comes with it,” Connor says, his voice lightly teasing. “That way you can buy your own Porsche, turn into my sugar mama.”

I laugh out loud. “Oh, darn it. That’s what I was relying on you for, old man. Keepin’ me in diamonds and limos for the rest of my days.”

“Daddy’s gonna need some sugar for that to happy, little one,” he fires back, his voice husky and still teasing, and I giggle again.

“When I get home, how about you, me, and a bottle of chocolate sauce in bed? Would that do for your sugar?” I ask, clearing my throat as a fellow agent walks by, just out of earshot.

“Oh great,” Connor moans. “Now I’m going to be seeing patients for the rest of the day while picturing you with chocolate sauce dripping down your…”

He cuts off abruptly, and I laugh as I hear him clear his throat, obviously having been approached by a nurse to ask for some information.

“Okay, well, if that condition doesn’t clear up in a few days, let me know and I’ll write you a prescription,” Connor says smoothly into the phone, and I laugh again.

“Nurse still over your shoulder?”

“Uh huh.”

“Would it be a bad time to mention the whipped cream?”

I hear a strangled moan on the other end of the line, and I snort with laughter.

“You know what?” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are so going to pay for that.”

“I gotta go. My flight leaves in a little while. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll miss you, and have a safe trip.”

“Talk to you soon,” I say, not wanting to hang up.

“I love you,” he whispers, and I smile.

“I love you too,” I reply. “Old man.”

38753/50000

Chapter Twenty-Eight

2008-11-23T12:51:00.000-06:00

“Are you okay?” Shane falls into step beside me as I walk through the halls of Leukos, making me jump slightly at his sudden appearance.

Obviously, I’d been pretty deep into my own thoughts to not even notice his approach.

“I’ve been asked that a lot lately,” I say softly, thinking back to Connor’s pleading the night before to tell him what was wrong.

“Are you?” Shane asks, his voice full of concern. “Okay?” He adds after a long pause.

“I don’t know, Shane,” I say honestly. “I mean, I killed a man at the hospital, I did my job, but somehow, this kill is haunting me. And then, Connor…”

“What about Connor?” Shane asks sharply. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” I say. “He doesn’t know a thing about what happened, though I’m sure it will be all over the hospital today. He’s working a double shift, so, he’ll be there. He might even be questioned, since he was on duty in the emergency room…”

“You did your job, Em. That’s all.”

“I know,” I reply, then take a deep breath. “Shane… I want to tell him so badly who I am. I can’t stand lying to him anymore.”

Shane doesn’t say anything, and we turn a corner, Shane grabbing my elbow and steering me into a deserted alcove, away from prying eyes and listening ears. “You can’t, Em. You know that.”

“I know I know that,” I say, my voice breaking with frustration. “But I feel like I’m being pulled in two.”

“It gets easier…”

“No!” I bark. “It doesn’t get easier. It’s getting harder… I’m really falling for him, Shane, and I… I killed to protect him. And, yes, I feel guilty, but in some ways, I don’t. And that’s even scarier – I have no regrets about killing that man, because he threatened Connor. What kind of person am I turning into?”

“You’re turning into a good operative, Em. In fact, I was going to tell you today… you’ve been promoted to third tier operative. You’re going to start planning missions on your own now, with a bit of guidance from me for a while. The powers that be are pleased with your performance, and you’ve had a real impact on the world terror organizations in the last few months. You should be really proud of that.”

“I am, but…”

“So don’t lose sight of the big picture because of Connor.”

“I…”

“Don’t break cover, Emmanuelle,” Shane orders, and I can hear the shift in his voice. “Don’t. You’ll regret it. And I might not be able to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I ask, confused.

Shane sighs, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “I’ve done everything I can to keep your relationship with Connor private. I’ve told Harkness to gag it, I’ve hidden the files, and I’ve led the powers that be to believe that your assignment to Connor was because of geography, not emotion. But if you go off grid, I might not be able to…”

“Why did you do that?” I ask, interrupting him.

“Em,” Shane says, his voice deeper now, nearly emotional. “Because you’re special. You’re one of my best friends, and my best operatives. I care about you. I don’t want to see you throw things away.”

“I’m one of your best operatives?”

This is truly high praise, and I’m not sure I believe it.

“You are,” Shane agrees without hesitation. “I think you’re going to leapfrog me one of these days, put me out of a job.”

I laugh. “I don’t see that happening.”

“Anything is possible. Just keep your eye on the ball – at least for a while longer, okay? Things might work out.”

“I’ve really been promoted?” I ask, not quite sure I believe it.

“You really have. You’ll get the official word later today, but I wanted to be the one to tell you. I’m really proud of you, Em. It’s amazing how far you’ve come in the last five years.”

“It’s because of you, you know,” I say with a smile. “I learned from the best, and you still keep me on my toes every once in a while.”

Shane shrugs, but I can see that my comment has pleased him.

“And you’ll help me? At least for a while?” I’m suddenly nervous about my promotion, and about the added responsibilities I’m going to have to shoulder to continue the good work of Leukos.

“Count on it,” Shane says. “I don’t want you screwing up my excellent record.”

I grin, and he smiles in return. “Any news from Stepanek’s camp? Any word about the hospital hit?” I ask, turning back to shop talk, but Shane shakes his head.

“Nothing. We don’t know if your little ‘message’ got through to Stepanek’s people or not. The hit might still be active on Connor…”

“Shit.”

“Precisely,” Shane agrees. “Better to keep Connor close for a while longer, at least until we get confirmation that it’s been called off.”

“I thought we were going out on a mission tonight,” I say, and Shane nods.

“We are,” Shane says. “I’ll assign Connor another tail for the night. He’s working at the hospital all night?”

“He’ll be there until after noon tomorrow,” I confirm, breathing a little easier to know someone will watch him while I’m gone. “Assign someone good, will you?”

“Good. I’ll send one of our best surveillance ops. That way, we can focus on the mission, then,” Shane says. “The Maxted mission is going to go live in a few hours. We’re going to infiltrate tonight. Hope you’re packed.”

I grin. “Brought my best spy clothes and everything. Where’s the target?”

“Just outside Madrid. If all goes well, we’ll be home in time for breakfast.”

“Good,” I say, pushing away from the wall. “You can buy me pancakes when we get back.”

Shane grins and nods his assent. “Play your cards right, I might even spring for a cup of coffee for you, too” he says, falling into step with me again as we go into the operations center to learn about our latest mission.

38180/50000

Chapter Twenty-Seven

2008-11-23T10:57:00.000-06:00

Connor is idly running his fingers through my hair, my head pillowed on his naked chest, my bedroom dark but for the solitary candle burning in the corner.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Connor observes, and I bite back a laugh.

That’s because I just killed a man two hours ago, in your hospital.

A man whose only mission was to kill you.

They’ve probably found him by now, I think to myself. Someone innocently opened up the door to that consultation room, and found a foreign man with a bullet wound through his heart.

The police, the coroner, everyone gathered around, trying to find out why a man was killed in cold blood in a hospital.

And no doubt wanting to know who did it.

Me. I killed a man. I’ve done it before. More than I like to admit. And I’ll live with the specter of this kill too.

“Just tired, I guess…” I say quietly, and Connor presses a kiss to my temple tenderly.

“Me too,” he says. “Definitely sleeping in tomorrow. I just seemed to have case after case today, where people were hopeless or scared or… I don’t know. Sometimes, I walk into the emergency room, and I’m just stunned by the senseless brutality of people. I had a man who had been beaten to a pulp in a silly argument over a woman. I mean, the assailant nearly killed this guy, and he’s going to have months of physical therapy, not to mention the emotional scars, and all I can do is patch them up. I never know how their lives change after that… I never see them after they walk out that door, but I always wonder what can drive people to do that to another human, you know?”

And that’s when I start to cry.

I’ve held it in for so long – for years – and finally, I can’t hold it in anymore.

At first, just two tears trickle down my cheeks, dampening Connor’s chest, but then, the tears start to fall… faster and faster, and I heave a deep breath, as though all the oxygen in the room has been sucked out in one moment.

I can’t breathe. I just can’t breathe.

“Hey… hey…” Connor says, his voice soothing. “Are you okay, Em? Are you… are you crying?”

He sits up, his arms around me, but in one movement, I pull away from him, violently, sliding across the bed to the other side, dragging the sheet with me, tugging it around me, needing to be away from this good, kind man, needing to hide myself from him.

God, why is he even touching someone like me?

“Em…” His voice is scared now, and he reaches out to stroke his hand down my back, but I pull away from his hand, feeling the sear of his touch on my skin.

Oh god, oh god…

“Emme, you’re scaring me,” Connor says, his voice far away now. “What is it?”

But I’m crying too hard to answer, heaving in great gasping breaths of air, the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Talk to me…”

And despite my attempts to pull away, Connor closes the distance between us on the bed, sliding me into his arms and refusing to let go, though I try to push him away. His arms are warm and safe, and his hands stroke up and down my back, as though he were trying to calm a frightened child.

After several minutes of sobbing, I feel the tears begin to subside, and I realize that Connor hasn’t let go.

Despite having a hysterical woman in his arms, he’s stayed with me.

Few men would, I think, brushing the tears from my cheeks and giving him a shaky smile.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, and Connor brushes my hair away from my face, framing my face in his warm hands.

“Emme, what is it?”

I bite my lip, not sure what to say. “I’m… I’m…”

A secret agent. A spy. I have sworn to protect you. I killed a man for you tonight.

But I can’t say those things.

Not if I want Connor to have a life.

“I… I can’t tell you,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut in regret.

“But why? Don’t you trust me?”

“More than you will ever know,” I say, still not opening my eyes. “But I can’t… I can’t tell you this. I just… you have to trust me too.”

“Are you in trouble, Em?”

I shake my head. “No. I just… I’ve promised to keep some things confidential.”

“You’ve told me that before.”

“And I meant it,” I say, my voice stronger now, my eyes open and meeting his. “I’m not in trouble, and I want to tell you things about me, but I can’t. Not yet. I just need you to trust me…”

“I do,” he says without hesitation.

“Not many men would say that,” I say and he smiles lightly. “Most men would have bolted out the door when the first tears hit.”

“I’m not most men,” Connor says. “I keep telling you what a catch I am, but you don’t believe me…”

I smile a little at that.

He really is quite the catch. He’s right.

“And I need…”

“Emmanuelle Sutton,” Connor says, kissing my nose lightly. “I love you. And I trust you. And I’m not leaving you.”

“You love me?”

Connor nods, his expression serious. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing my temple. “I love you,” he whispers again, kissing my cheek, “I love you,” he says, kissing my lips.

“I love you too…”

I do.

I would kill for you. I would die for you. I would do anything to keep you safe.

If only I could tell you who I really am. Then I’d find out if you really do love me, or just the illusion of me.

But for now, all I can do is wait.

And hope.

“You okay?” Connor asks, lying back down and dragging me up against his chest, his arms around me. “Really okay?”

“I’m okay,” I say, pressing my lips against his collarbone. “Or I will be.”

I really will be.

37165/50000

Chapter Twenty-Six

2008-11-23T09:13:00.001-06:00

Connor smiles as he steps into the emergency room, where I am idly flipping through a magazine from at least a year ago, waiting for him.

“Em,” he says happily, bending over to kiss my cheek. “What are you doing here?”

I smile up at him, my heart zinging to be near to him again. “I thought I’d surprise you and be here when you got off work, thought maybe we could grab a late dinner,” I say easily.

‘Also, I’m working surveillance, but I’m not telling you that part’, I think to myself.

“That’s a great idea. I should be done in about twenty minutes or so unless an emergency comes in, and then we’ll get out of here,” Connor says. “I’ll meet you back here in a little while?”

I nod, and he smiles widely even as he is being paged to radiology over the loudspeaker. He waves and takes off at a quick walk, and I toss the aged magazine back on the table, sighing heavily. I’ve been casing the hospital all afternoon, tailing Connor’s movements, watching for problems, and as yet, have discovered nothing.

But my gut tells me that the hit is close. I don’t know why – my spider sense is tingling or something. Stepanek isn’t going to wait to take out the hit – he’s going to be cold and efficient and get it done, just like he does with all his business transactions.

It’s been several days, so I know time is running out.

At least I’ve gotten to see Connor in action, I muse, watching the emergency room doors swing open again, admitting two men. He’s wonderful with the patients – kind and calming, and really takes his time with each one. I can see why he would be so popular with the patients, and with the staff, whom he treats with respect and admiration.

I wish I had his kind of calling, I think, my eyes watching the two men approach the nurses’ station. The taller one speaks, his voice accented, and every muscle in my body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“We are looking for Dr. Cross,” he says. “Can we see him, please?””

That’s a Czech accent. I pick up a magazine again to cover myself, looking at the pages but straining to hear the conversation.

“He’s on rounds right now,” the nurse says in a firm but friendly tone. “Is this a medical emergency?”

The man smiles greasily. “No, no, we are old friends of Dr. Cross and his family. We are very close, and were hoping to catch up for a few minutes. Is he here, please?”

The other man shifts from foot to foot, as though eager to get on with his kill orders so he can go grab a bite to eat.

I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the bitter taste flooding my mouth as the nurse tells the men to step into a nearby consulting room while she tries to find where Dr. Cross is in the hospital.

No way is Connor walking into this, I think, standing up and reaching a hand into my purse to check on my silenced pistol.

The two men step into the consulting room and close the door, and I see the nurse pick up a handset, so I intercept her. “Connor said he’d be back in just a minute, so I wouldn’t bother him. I know he’s on an important consult right now, so…”

The nurse nods sagely. “I’ll just let those nice men wait, then.”

I smile and nod, and then walk around the corner, doubling back and then taking a deep breath before I quietly turn the knob on the consulting room door.

Both men stand up quickly as I enter and close the door behind me, but my pistol is already trained on the shorter man, who was fumbling for his own sidearm.

“Put your weapon on the floor,” I instruct in Czech, and with a heavy sigh, the shorter man complies.

“You are the shooter?” I ask, still speaking in Czech. “And you…” I flick my gun to the taller man, “you are the proof that the job is done?”

The taller man raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

“I know you work for Stepanek, I know all about the hit, and I know that you are going to go home disappointed tonight,” I say, my voice calm and even, despite the quaking in my knees from the adrenaline rush.

“You think we won’t kill him?” The man asks smoothly, and I give him a shark-like grin.

“I know you won’t,” I say evenly. “Because I’m going to kill you first.”

The shorter man lunges towards me, and I fire my silenced weapon, hitting him square in the chest. He slides to the floor, his eyes open and unblinking.

I knew it was a perfect shot, and I knew he was dead before he hit the floor.

Lunging at me or not, I knew when I walked into this room that this man would never walk out.

“You’ll go home, and you’ll tell Stepanek that you followed orders and have killed Connor Cross, but that your…” I sneer slightly, “friend was killed in a crossfire. And so help me god, if you approach him again, I’ll kill you, too. And don’t think Cross is ever going to be unprotected, because he’s got a squadron of people monitoring his every move. You will never be able to get close to him, so rescind the order. Now.”

The man stares at me for a long moment, obviously trying to read my words before he nods curtly. “I will pass on your message.” He glances down at his dead colleague. “I never liked him anyway. Thank you.”

His voice is so calm and grateful, that I want to shoot him through the heart as well, but I don’t.

“Walk away from this hospital, right now,” I say, my gun still trained on him. In a coordinated ballet, we change places in the small room, and then he opens the door to walk out. I thrust my gun into my purse, and then follow him, tracking his movements out the emergency room doors and into the night, where he slides into a rental car moments later, the engine turning over and the car driving out of sight.

I just hope my threat got through his thick skull, I think, slumping against the concrete wall and taking several deep breaths of the cool night air.

Because I don’t think I can do this much longer.

36139/50000

Chapter Twenty-Five

2008-11-22T22:35:00.000-06:00

The following evening, I’m slipping a pair of diamond earrings into my ears while listening for the sound of Connor’s car.

After our trip to Brighton, we’d spent a lazy – and yes, admittedly sex-fueled – evening at his flat, and during a breakfast of tea and toast, Connor had suggested we go to the theatre this evening. He’d bought tickets to see a production of “The Mousetrap” by Agatha Christie at the Devonshire Park Theatre, and I’d agreed to go along, despite my misgivings.

A theatre was full of people. And would be an easy place for an assassin to hide.

But then, I always did love a challenge, I think wryly, checking my lipstick in the mirror.

“Don’t you want to go out?” Connor had asked, seeing my reluctant look across the breakfast table.

“I do…” I trailed off, not sure what else to say, but he’d simply smiled.

“I thought it would be a good excuse to dress up, and for me to show off my beautiful girl.”

Okay, well, it’s hard to turn down flattery like that.

I hear a honk from downstairs, and grabbing my purse, I quickly wrap a pashmina across my bare shoulders and hustle downstairs.

Connor gives me a wolf whistle as I step outside, where he is waiting to open my car door.

Dressed in a swingy red dress, high strappy sandals and with my hair swept up in loose updo, a few tendrils curling around my face, I have to admit I don’t look too bad.

Nothing as good as Connor though, who stands in a sharp black suit, his hair tousled and holding a red rose out to me.

Tucking the bloom behind my ear, I press a kiss to his freshly shaved cheek. “You look handsome,” I say demurely, stepping away to admire the cut of his suit. “I had no idea you would clean up so pretty.”

“You look…” Connor swallows hard, looking at me, first up and then down. “Maybe we should skip the theatre after all…”

I laugh and climb into his car, smiling as he closes the door behind me.

Minutes later, we are walking hand in hand through the front door of the beautifully restored theatre, and finding our seats – which are front and center. Connor is relaxed and happy – whereas I’m wound tighter than a pocket watch.

I keep scanning the area, noting exit sites, potential sniper points, and watching as the other theatre attendees file in to find their seats, looking for anyone who appears to be out of place.

Or like they are out for the blood of my boyfriend.

Sitting down, Connor presses a kiss to my hand, and then begins talking about other productions he has seen here. I nod and smile, but continue to scan the area, nervously watching for anyone who might want to kill the man sitting next to me.

This is going to be a long night, I think with a small sigh.

“Sweetheart? Are you all right?” Connor asks solicitously, making me jump at his words.

“Sure, yes, why?” I ask, too quickly.

“I don’t know…” he says, watching me. “You seem… preoccupied.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head violently. “No, not at all. I’m just, you know, enjoying the… view.”

And watching for gunplay.

“You sure?” Connor asks. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” I say brightly, starkly relieved when the lights dim and the production begins. The darkness provides cover for us, and for the first act, I’m able to relax slightly, enjoying the fantastic production, Connor’s hand warm in mine.

When intermission comes, we stand and make our way to the concession area, where Connor retrieves two glasses of white wine for us while I continue to watch the crowds for suspicious folk.

We make small talk, then down our drinks to return to the theatre as the lights flash, indicating the second act. As we walk through the door, a man bumps into Connor’s shoulder, causing a small commotion. And then he begins to reach into his lapel pocket…

Shit, SHIT.

I immediately go on alert, half reaching for the small snub nose pistol in my purse, thinking this is a distraction that will line up Connor for a shot between the eyes.

I push Connor out of the way, putting him behind me protectively, my eyes locked on the man who bumped him, who is pulling something out of his pocket...

Dammit. I knew someone was waiting for him…

“Emme!” Connor exclaims, confused and a bit off kilter. “What’s going on?”

I watch as the man slowly removes his hand from his pocket… and brings a handerchief to his nose, blowing soundly into it. I quickly remove my hand from my purse and then stagger a bit, to try and cover my moves from a moment before.

“I’m so sorry…” I say apologetically to Connor and the nose blowing man. “I just… whew, I felt a bit dizzy there for a minute.”

“Should we go?” Connor asks, slipping immediately into doctor mode. “Tell me what hurts, or how you feel?”

“I’m… I’m fine,” I say, still trying to cover my actions. “I just… I think I must have drunk the wine too fast. Sorry about that…”

Connor puts his arm around me, steering me to the seats, his eyes still watching me carefully while I give him a bright smile and explain again and again that I’m fine – just not used to mixing white wine with four inch heels.

And though we enjoy the rest of the play, and the slow walk back to the car, I can feel Connor’s eyes on me, watching to see what’s really going on.

He’s not stupid, I’ll give him that. He knows something is going on, but is too much of a gentleman to ask.

Thank god.

We manage to get back to my flat, and I heave a sigh of relief as I snick the door shut behind us, locking it soundly.

At least I know I can protect him here.

No more theatre trips, I resolve, slipping off my sandals and padding into the family room where Connor is waiting for me.

Way, WAY too stressful.

35039/50000