“Ms. Whitney,” he said. They air-kissed like old friends. Henry had gone still, muscles rigid with tension. “I’m sorry for the poor service. Gregory is new.”
“It’s not a worry,” she said with a facial expression that read fire him immediately. “Did you see what I won?”
“An excellent choice,” Alistair praised. He peered at Henry and me as if finally noticing the two other people in the room. For a split second, I thought Henry might bolt—I could feel his body pulling toward the door.
“Alistair Chance”—Victoria waved at us—“Henry and Delilah Thornhill. My new wonderful friends. They’re collectors themselves.”
“A pleasure,” he replied, shaking our hands. “Victoria is our best patron.”
“Because I give you all of my money, Alistair,” she sniffed. She wrapped her mink more firmly around her shoulders. Stared at Henry and me as if deciphering a challenging puzzle. “Henry and Delilah have visited Reichenbach Falls. Isn’t that right, you two?”
“Absolutely,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. Because hearing the code spoken so openly sent a shockwave through me.
Alistair appeared surprised, but then steeled his features. “How lovely.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to show me at this time?” she asked softly.
Now it was Alistair’s turn to stare at us—an assessment that found us lacking. “Perhaps later. After you’ve bid farewell to your guests.”
I expected Victoria to exert her will, to demand to see whatever it was she was referring to. Was it the Copernicus? Or another book entirely? But instead she merely nodded her understanding.
“I see,” she said. “Come, you two. We will drink our celebratory champagne before I’m called back to Alistair.” I couldn’t get a read on the way they said goodbye to each other—anger? Distrust? Concession?
We followed Victoria back down the gleaming hallway, out into the auction room with the chairs and the chandeliers. I felt desperate for Abe and Freya’s presence, if only to verify that we’d heard a staff member at Philadelphia’s most respected auction house allude that he could show Victoria Whitney stolen goods.
When she turned back to us, Victoria again appeared calm, ice-like. Triumphant.
“You know,” she started, “my dear friend Bernard used to say that human beings had a special capacity to go after that which they admired the most. A compulsion that we must give in to.” Her eyes glittered. “We crave to own things that are beautiful. Things that no one else can have.”
Henry’s nostrils flared at the mention of Bernard.
“Henry and I certainly agree,” I jumped in. I smoothed my palm down his back—an attempt to focus his attention.
She smiled at that. “There are levels in this world. You understand.”
“Of course,” I said. “Alistair seems like a wonderful…contact.” I chose that word carefully.
“He is.” She glanced around the room, waved like the queen at a few other patrons. It was a strange sensation, being the center of Victoria’s persistent scrutiny. Because she was the center of everyone else’s.
“Private collecting,” she said, turning toward Henry. “When did you begin, Mr. Thornhill?”
I needed Henry to play the game with her. He adjusted his glasses, glanced around the room like Victoria had done. He appeared to be verifying that no one could hear us.
“Like Bernard,” he began slowly, “I have a very special occupation. With a very special access. It seemed only natural to begin our own collection. There are so many different ways one can come into a rare manuscript. If you’re smart, you can find them.”
“I’m incredibly smart.” She tilted her chin.
“I can see that,” Henry agreed. He leaned in as if sharing a joke. “I once read an article about you in the newspaper. Your collection contains many scientific works. Any reason why?”
“I’m always being called for interviews, you can’t even imagine,” she said, looking pained. I painted my face with mock sympathy. “My mother had a mind for science and math, which was interesting since my father was the oil man. But it was her finance skills that grew his money so rapidly. Her head was filled with figures.”
I felt a bizarre twisting in my gut at the mention of Victoria’s mother.
“I never took to it myself, but it felt right to honor her memory with scientific texts. The ideas of our greatest thinkers are housed right in my mansion.” She preened, looking positively delighted. “It’s a source of power, I’m sure you know. To own something others want. To own the theories that have shaped our very understanding of the universe.”
I watched my fake husband. His thumb swept across the nape of my neck. “The more you seek that kind of power, the more you desire it.” Another drag of his thumb, setting off nerve endings I never knew existed. “I’m certainly the kind of man who has the kind of capacity Bernard referred to. I crave things that are beautiful.”
His thumb left my neck. Replaced by his entire hand, spreading between my shoulder blades. I arched into it a little—shamelessly wanting his hand to caress every inch of my back.
But he didn’t.
“It’s why I love to visit the falls,” she said.
Henry didn’t respond, but he did raise his glass toward hers with a wink. It was a charming move, and she tipped her head flirtatiously.
“The Philadelphia Natural History Museum is hosting their annual gala a week from today. Come be guests at my table. I have two empty seats with your names on them.”
“We’d love to,” I said, even as my heart dropped. The clock was ticking on the Copernicus, and seven days away felt like forever. I could already see Abe’s disappointed face. “Unless you’d like us to visit your collection sometime this week? We’re free tomorrow.”
It was a desperate toss out. And Victoria knew it immediately.
“I don’t just invite anyone to see my collection, Delilah.” Her tone was sharp.
“Oh, I know, I thought…Henry might be able to look at…” I turned to him, eyes pleading. “I thought you wanted him to view it. And we’re available this entire week. Pardon my eagerness.”
Her face didn’t appear to pardon anything.
“There are levels in this world,” she repeated. “Levels you will care to respect.”
“Of course.” I stepped back, hand on my chest. “Of course, I’m so sorry.”
“My wife knows that viewing your private collection is a professional dream I’ve had for a number of years,” Henry said smoothly. His hand between my shoulder blades traced down my spine. “We apologize for the inference. It was pure excitement. And love for me on her part.” His lips grazed the top of my hair down to my temple in a soft, impossibly tender kiss.
Victoria thawed the tiniest of amounts. But still—her body language remained guarded as Sven appeared like clockwork to mutter something in her ear. “I must leave you two now. My assistant will call you.”
She left us without her usual effusive goodbye.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I needed to punch the shit out of something.
16
Henry
Delilah struck the punching bag with a sharp slap.
“That’s my girl,” Freya cheered. She was behind the bag, holding it steady as Delilah attacked it with a fierce precision. “Float like a butterfly, am I right?”
Slap slap. Delilah was nimble grace on her feet, bouncing lightly, fists at her face. “Don’t move. I don’t want to accidentally punch you, Frey.”
She shrugged and winced as Delilah hit the bag with a vicious whack. “I can take it. Last time you and I sparred, I think I won.”
“Bullshit,” Delilah teased.
“Last time I believe I won,” Abe said. He was leaning against his desk with his legs crossed in front of him. The fireplace was lit, and Freya’s table was a mess of papers, highlighters, computer screens blinking rapidly. “Our new hire doesn’t know self-defense. At least, I�
��m assuming. Is that correct, Henry?”
Every head swiveled my way. Delilah and I had left the auction, and as soon as we arrived, she’d stripped off her dress and returned in a sports bra and yoga pants. And proceeded to spar with the bag like it had committed a personal offense against her.
“Um…no,” I said. “Not really a reason to engage in self-defense while earning your PhD in Library Science.”
“You should teach him,” Abe said to Delilah. We locked eyes. Delilah was panting lightly, sweat misting on the muscles of her lean abdomen. Her eyeliner was smudged, but her lips were still blood red.
I had a fleeting vision of her kicking me to the ground, foot landing on my chest. The way she’d smirk down at me, as if she knew the domination was the kind of punishment I’d beg for.
Twice now I’d told her she was beautiful—and both times it was the goddamn truth. Not an element of our fake fairytale, but bone-deep honesty. Maybe having Delilah Barrett force me to my knees in submission wasn’t a smart idea. Part of me wanted to take it—let her use my body however she saw fit.
Part of me wanted to make her beg.
Which meant all of this was a bad idea.
“This is a great idea, actually,” Abe continued.
“I’m a quick study, remember?” I managed to say.
Delilah looked me up and down in a perfect mimic of my fantasy. Blood rushed to my cock. “And I’m still a tough fucking teacher.”
“What she’s trying to say,” Freya cut in, “is that she’ll kill you.”
Delilah pulled Freya in for a hug.
“Ew, you’re all sweaty,” Freya squealed. “Keep punching.”
“Punch and talk,” Abe corrected. “We need a game plan for what’s happening next.”
I let out a long exhale, grateful for the high-pressure distraction from Delilah. I shrugged out of my jacket and scrubbed my hand down my face.
This evening’s coursing adrenaline vanished by the end of Abe’s next sentence.
“We have seventeen days until the exhibit. The gala Victoria invited you to is in seven. That leaves us, honestly, less than ten days after that to convince Victoria to show you the Copernicus.”
“If she has the Copernicus,” Delilah said. “Who knows? The contact she introduced us to tonight, Alistair, knew the code word. And had potentially more pull than Victoria in whatever…”
“What?” Abe prodded.
“Whatever this world is. This…system of buying and selling stolen books that we operate in. Tonight, it felt like we were witnessing something structured. An illegal auction hidden inside a legal one.”
“When I was at the FBI, I always had a theory there was one person at the top of this pyramid,” Abe said. “One person pulling the strings. I always thought it was Bernard Allerton.”
I grimaced. If I hadn’t been at that auction house as an undercover Codex agent, it could have been a regular Saturday night for me. Back at Oxford, Bernard and I frequented auctions together—often with the library’s donors.
Had I really been that naive?
“I think I know Alistair,” I admitted. All three heads whipped toward me again. “That man. He didn’t recognize me, but I told Abe one of the suspicious behaviors I was tracking with Bernard was the bringing on of interns or assistants that I wouldn’t see again. They’d be at the library for ‘special projects,’ and Bernard had the kind of sway that meant no one would double check who they really were. Alistair, he… I think he was one of them.”
“Recently?” Abe said. “Like you saw him the month before Bernard fled?”
I shook my head, trying to remember. “Years ago. Maybe five. It’s a unique name, which is why I remember it. He may even have introduced him as someone who worked for an auction house. But either way, that man was given access to whatever he wanted at our library.”
“That was allowed?” Freya asked.
“It was allowed because Bernard allowed it.” I crossed my arms, feeling uneasy. I’d recycled Bernard’s words tonight and it had left behind a sick feeling. I have a very special occupation. With special access.
“We have to get into that house,” Abe said.
“What about her psycho killer guards though?” Freya asked. “Plus, Henry and Delilah said she might be able to transport rare manuscripts. Victoria has a mansion in Santa Barbara. A penthouse in New York City. And an apartment in Paris. If she stole the Copernicus, she could have moved it or sold it already.”
Now it looked like Abe wanted to punch something.
“If I could convince her to let me see her private collection…” I started.
“I agree,” Freya said. “The psycho guards are a complication, but getting in to that Main Line mansion of hers would be a big help.”
“But then what?” Delilah asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Abe said firmly.
Delilah and I exchanged a look behind Abe’s back.
“Let me see if I can put you in Victoria’s path before the gala next week,” Freya said, dropping the punching bag. “The more face time with her, the better.”
“And I’ll go convince Francisco that we’re making progress,” Abe sighed.
Both of them began picking up their things, packing bags, extinguishing the fireplace. Delilah and I, however, seemed rooted to our respective spots.
“I should make it clear though,” Abe said, standing in the doorway to leave. “We are making progress, even if it doesn’t feel that way. You two did good work tonight.”
“Thanks, boss,” Delilah said.
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded.
The door closed but she still vibrated with energy, running a hand through her wild curls.
“Do you want me to hold the bag?” I offered.
She chewed on her lip, then shrugged casually. “Sure. Keep it still, okay?”
I walked over, gripped the bag tightly. She flexed her fingers, cracked her knuckles.
Whack whack whack.
“You told me that partners know how to read each other,” I said. She propped her hands on her hips, panting. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re…angry.”
She executed another series of jabs. “I’m not angry. I’m just stressed out about the case.”
She shook out her fingers, rolling her neck.
Avoiding my eyes.
“Delilah.”
Another series of jabs had the bag shaking against my hands. But I let her go, hoping she’d reach out and grab the olive branch I was offering her.
“I sounded desperate tonight with Victoria,” she finally admitted. “You had her in the palm of your hand, and I made us look like idiots.”
“That’s not true,” I countered. “You were right to ask. She basically left an opening for you to do it.”
“No, she didn’t.” She danced back on her toes. “I came off as overeager, and she admonished me like I was a disobedient child.”
“Hey,” I said softly. She didn’t stop. “Delilah, look at me.”
She stepped back, wiped her brow. Raised her blue eyes toward mine. I almost said you’re beautiful but I stopped myself this time.
“We’re under a lot of pressure. I feel it. Freya and Abe feel it. You heard what he said—we did a great job.”
“I’m supposed to be training you, Henry,” she said. “Showing you how to gain a target’s trust, which is a very delicate push and pull. I wasn’t delicate. I pushed too hard.”
“You also told me that you can’t always control the environment when you’re undercover,” I argued. “You just…stepped on a twig. Now we’re even.”
“Even?” She tilted her head with an almost-smile.
“You’ve seen me fuck up in the field about seventy times,” I said. Her lips twitched at the ends. “I’ve seen you fuck up barely once. It hardly seems fair.”
She sank back onto the edge of Freya’s table, pulling on a tee-shirt. “I don’t know what the fuck this case is, Henry. And I
hate that.”
“I understand,” I said.
She studied me for a long time, as if she was about to make a hard choice. “Henry. Do you know where Bernard is?”
My brow furrowed—and then I realized what she was accusing me of.
“You can’t be fucking serious, Delilah.”
She raised her hands in concession. “The other night, what you said about Bernard, his relationship as your mentor. I told you I know what it’s like to be taken advantage of. It can make you do things you wouldn’t normally do.”
“Like conceal the whereabouts of a known criminal?”
She didn’t look away. “I’ve been in your shoes,” she said with a gentleness I didn’t expect.
“I’ve spoken to the FBI and Interpol multiple times. Given them every piece of evidence I have. Delilah, he was going to frame me.”
“I know he was,” she replied. “And you wouldn’t be the first person to still believe someone like that was innocent.”
This is bigger than you, Henry. Bernard’s taunt hadn’t left me—in fact, those words reared up whenever I needed reminding of my guilt.
All the anger left my body as I sat down wearily next to her on the desk. “Tonight, I witnessed what we believe is confirmation that one of Philadelphia’s most distinguished auction houses sells stolen antiques. I met a man from my past who could have easily walked out of the McMasters Library with anything he wanted—that’s how flimsy our security system truly was.” I scrubbed a hand down my face with a heavy sigh. “A few weeks ago, I was holding out hope for Bernard. Now the only thing I understand is that I must be a special kind of fool to have been blind to all of this my entire career.”
Delilah placed her hand on my back. “You know why I had to ask you, right?”
I turned to look at her. “I do.”
Her blue eyes softened. “You have a lot of integrity, Henry. And you’re no fool.” She paused, seemed to consider her words. “And you really did charm Victoria tonight. This role fits you. And you saved me again. Jumping in like that when I was flailing…it helped. You reversed some of the damage.”
Behind the Veil Page 11