The London Deception

by Addison Fox

  Alexander leaned forward, his sturdy frame and vivid blue eyes an older match for his grandson. “We need you to protect her.”

  * * *

  “What did you say to him?” Rowan pulled on her coat as she stood with her grandfather in the foyer. Liam had dragged Finn off to look at something, and Grandmother was in the kitchen wrapping up leftovers, despite Rowan’s protests she wasn’t going to be eating chicken cordon bleu for breakfast tomorrow.

  “Nothing.”

  She quirked a single eyebrow, the gesture one he’d taught her. “You said nothing at all?”

  “Beyond casual conversation?”

  “Grandfather, come on. Spill it. What did you say to the man?”

  “I asked him to keep you safe.”

  “Oh.” The realization that he worried for her safety quickly dulled the ire that had flooded her veins since she and Grandmother were not so subtly asked to leave the room. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I know that.”

  “Really capable. I take classes in self-defense. And I research the projects I’m working on. And I have a set of contacts in place around the world that I can call on for assistance. I’m not helpless, Grandfather.”

  The congenial smile he’d worn since the evening had ended vanished, replaced with the quick spark of anger. “I never said you were helpless and don’t suggest I did.”

  “What did you mean, then?”

  “I like the idea there’s someone else watching out for you. You spend too much time alone. I got to look someone in the eye and ask him to take care of you. To watch out for you. Don’t deny me that.”

  She took his arm and gestured him back into the small parlor off the front hall where they’d had dessert. “You know the House of Steele isn’t without some danger. We minimize risks, but it’s not a desk job. I thought you were okay with that.”

  “I am okay with that. And I’m damn proud of what my grandchildren have built. None of it changes how I worry.”

  As she stared into his bright blue eyes—eyes that had seen so much of the world, both good and bad—she knew she owed him better than simply dismissing his words. “I know you’re proud of me. Of all of us.”

  “Every damn day.”

  The events of her younger days were on her mind—her time with Finn had ensured that—but she couldn’t deny the focus on events from her youth had churned up emotions that went well beyond her interactions with Finn. “How can you say that you’re proud of me? I haven’t always done good things.”

  He gripped her hand with his and she marveled at the strength still to be found in him. “You overcame those things. That’s not only something to be proud of, it’s something to celebrate.”

  “But you stood by me. Even after...” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Even after you found out.”

  “Especially after, my dear.”

  “I betrayed the values I was raised with.”

  “And then you proved you had them in spades when you changed your life.” He patted her hand. “Sometimes our pain is so great, we can’t see anything else.”

  “It’s still there sometimes.” She hesitated, then continued what she started, her voice a whisper. “The urge to steal.”

  “Do you give in to it?”

  “No.” Unless she counted key fobs into the apartments of men she couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “Do you let it control you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why worry about it?”

  She laid a hand over his. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Oh, my darling. It’s not that hard, either. Life is full of joy and sorrow. You must take the joy when you find it.”

  Memories of that morning in Finn’s apartment filled her mind’s eye. The image was entirely inappropriate to have when talking with one’s grandfather, yet it was oddly apropos to his comment.

  Take joy when you find it.

  But how did she take that leap when the person on the other side of the canyon represented all the demons she fought each and every day?

  * * *

  Will flipped off the light on his desk and gathered up his papers. Debbie was still pissed off from the night before, and he figured he should put his hours suffering the silent treatment to good use.

  Besides, grading sixty essays had a strange sense of penance to them.

  The self-imposed exile had gone a long way toward making a dent in the papers and he’d finish up the rest tomorrow during his free period. Now it was time to head home and face the rest of his punishment. Not that he could blame Debbie. Last night he’d taken absentminded and obsessed to new heights.

  And while he knew he should feel remorse, damn it if it didn’t feel as if Rowan and her friend were onto something. Additional comments had been added to the forum by the poster he kept questioning, but something in the wording had caught him off guard. The poster had used the name Nefertiti instead of Nefertari, and it had his instincts firing.

  While the two Egyptian wives were often interchanged by the general public, they were two distinctly different women who’d lived a half century apart. Someone who truly understood the period would have known better. He’d said as much on the forum, disgusted by the lack of scholarly vision before he’d thought better of it and erased the post. He was supposed to be an unobtrusive visitor, and he needed to leave the damn professor hat in the office.

  Even with that knowledge, the post had bothered him and he’d shot a note to a former colleague who now lived in Cairo. Briggs would have an ear to the ground and could be counted on to get the latest gossip on key projects in the region.

  Because whatever suspicions Rowan had, Will was rapidly coming to agree with her.

  Something smelled rotten in this equation. Of course, if anyone could get to the bottom of it, it was Rowan Steele. Nothing fazed her and she was tireless in the pursuit of her goals.

  His mind was still whirling with the possibilities when he climbed the steps from the Underground a half hour later. October would soon be giving way to November and he could feel the bite in the air. Wind whipped around him and he huddled deeper into his jacket as he walked the last few blocks toward home. He passed the park he and Debbie loved to take Eli and June to on the weekends, memories of his children’s peals of laughter rising up over the playground equipment, and another shot of remorse filled him at his asinine behavior the night before.

  He loved his family to distraction. They were the lights of his life, so—

  Pain washed through his skull as something heavy hit him from behind. A deep scream welled in his throat at the assault as everything happened at once.

  He whirled, but the movements felt clumsy, as if his limbs were too large for his body.

  And the pain. The crazy, screaming pain behind his eyes was almost too much to bear.

  He lifted his hands to clutch his head, the messenger bag he carried on his arm so very heavy. That weight almost pulled him down and he nearly gave in to the urge to drop to his knees until he stared into the eyes of his assailant. Dark eyes, filled to the brim with menace as the man lifted the cricket bat once more.

  Will swung out, his significant height advantage giving him a greater reach, and the bat connected with his forearm. The sickening thud of bone and the cracking of the bat met his ears but he ignored it.

  He had to get away.

  His feet felt too big and he stumbled a few steps before he caught his balance and willed himself forward.

  Toward home.

  * * *

  Rowan watched the city pass by through the windows of Finn’s car. The evening with her grandparents didn’t quite deserve the moniker “unqualified disaster” but it was close, and Finn had borne the brunt of it. Her phone buzzed from the depths of her coat pock
et, and she ignored it as she tried to figure out a way to make the evening up to Finn.

  I’m sorry was far too tame and terribly inadequate.

  “They love you.”

  She pulled her attention from the view outside the windows and her maudlin thoughts.

  “Even if they are a bit ham-handed in how they show it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Finn rubbed his side in the same area she recalled seeing his gunshot scar and she wondered if he even recognized the gesture. “There’s something touching about it.”

  “They grilled you like we were headed to the prom instead of on a work trip.”

  “Yet I repeat my original point. They love you.”

  “It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

  “How so?”

  “Forget it.” She already regretted the harsh words. As he said, her family loved her. They looked out for her, as she did for them. It was just how it worked.

  “Come on, Rowan. You said it for a reason.”

  “It’s a lot of things, really.”

  “So tell me about it.” His grin was broad and altogether cheeky. “You know I know how to keep secrets.”

  It was only because he had a good point that she started talking. Or that was what she told herself. And then she didn’t care what the reason was because it just felt good to get it out.

  “My whole life, I’ve always felt I’ve needed to prove myself. Work harder or try harder because I’m the baby. Everyone wants to take care of me. And because I’m the peacemaker of our family, I let them.”

  “I thought older children were the peacemakers.”

  “You did meet my brother, right?”

  “Liam’s not so bad.”

  A vision of her brother ordering them around the park when they were kids came to mind. “He’s great. But keeping the peace is not his strong suit. Unless, of course, it suits whatever objective he has at the moment.”

  “All right. There are two more siblings between the two of you. How’d you get to be peacemaker?”

  “I don’t know exactly. It’s just who I am. I want happiness and harmony and—”

  “And your family’s been a source of little of it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did it change after your parents died?”

  “Their deaths changed every dynamic of our family. The way we interacted with each other. Our relationships with our grandparents, both my father’s and mother’s side. One day we were one group of people and the next day something new entirely.”

  He reached out and linked his hand with hers. “And you had to deal with it at a time when so many other aspects of life are changing, as well.”

  How did he understand?

  All the pent-up anger and frustration she’d carried for far too long seemed to fade in the face of his understanding. “You get it.”

  “I’m an observer, Rowan. You are, too. In order to steal from a place, you have to know how to case it. How to really see it and how it works. The comings and goings. The noisy moments and the quiet.”

  Like a punctuation mark to her comment about noisy moments, the buzzing of her phone started again and she fumbled in her pocket with her free hand, silencing the ringer.

  “I suppose that’s true. I’ve always seen too much. My youthful choices simply gave that trait an outlet.” She stared down at their linked hands, the gentle support enough to make her keep going. “I had words with Liam last night at dinner. When I told him about my, um, activities as a teenager.”

  She gave Finn a quick recap of the conversation before admitting what was truly upsetting her. “He always seems like the one who’s got it all together, and I think I hurt him when I suggested my pain was harder to bear.”

  “You probably did.”

  “What?”

  “You both lost your parents. That’s a hardship for anyone.”

  “I wasn’t trying to insult him. I was just trying to explain my actions.”

  “And he responded on a visceral level, from deep inside his own pain.”

  Rowan wanted to sink inside herself when faced with such obvious truth, but she knew that was the coward’s way out. Instead of trying to make her feel better, Finn wasn’t afraid to point out the truth. Other than her grandparents, she’d had little of that in her life.

  That honesty mattered. A lot. “Damn, but you do see a lot.”

  “That’s my job.”

  The darkened interior cocooned them, and the problems they faced seemed far away. Egypt. The Victoria bracelet. Even their shared past.

  Instead, all she saw was the two of them. And all she knew was the moment that wrapped around them.

  “My grandmother took a shine to you.”

  “It’s my heritage. We Irish stick together.” He laughed, a hard, coarse sound. “I suspect she wouldn’t be quite so welcoming if she knew about my less-than-stellar career choices.”

  Rowan heard the raw notes in his voice and turned. Half his face was in shadow, the other half illuminated by the lights outside the car windows. The moment was oddly poetic, summing up the reality of his life.

  “It’s hard to live two lives.”

  His hand tightened around hers before he broke the contact. “Is that how you saw it?”

  “Always. There was the person people saw every day and then there was the person on the inside I hid from everyone.

  “It’s a lonely place.”

  “Then leave it. You don’t need it anymore, Finn.”

  Something raw and elemental framed the half of his face she could see. His struggles were stamped there in the harsh lines of his profile and the corded veins that stood out on his neck. “It’s not that easy.”

  It’s not that hard, either. Life is full of joy and sorrow. You must take the joy when you find it.

  Grandfather’s words from the front hall echoed in her mind and she marveled how closely the conversation with Finn mirrored the one she’d had a short while ago.

  “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a thief.”

  Finn’s quiet voice floated around her, the words a reminder of what she’d believed for far too many years.

  She focused her gaze on him once more, watching the play of light over his face as their driver turned onto the Strand. The shadows faded and she could see all of him.

  And the bleak chill that colored his eyes a pale green.

  “I know who you are. You’re Finn Gallagher. You’re a businessman and an historian. You believe the things from our past have value. You know the benefits of hard work. And you’re far too smart to think you can be defined in such simple and misguided terms.”

  “It’s not misguided when it’s true.”

  Her phone rang again, the heavy tone of the ringer intruding on the moment. “I’m sorry this keeps going off.” She dragged the phone out of her pocket, intent on turning it off when she saw Will’s name stamped across the screen.

  “Answer it.” His tone was implacable.

  “Will?”

  “Rowan! It’s Debbie.” Frantic crying greeted her, heavy sobs punctuating her sentences. “Will. It’s Will. He’s been hurt. Beaten.”

  “Debbie? Where are you?”

  “House.” More sobs echoed from the phone. “We’re on the front steps. Will said it’s urgent.”

  “Did you call for help?”

  “Where is she?” Finn’s voice intruded.

  “Their home in Bayswater.”

  Finn was already disengaging the privacy glass and barking orders to their driver.

  “Call for help.” Rowan fought the rush of fear that filled her veins like a dark, putrid sludge and focused on helping Debbie. “I can’t hang up and I can’t get a straight answer through her crying.”

  Fi
nn nodded and Rowan focused on Debbie. “We’re on our way and Finn’s calling for an ambulance.”

  Rowan grabbed her tablet from her purse and tapped through her address book to give Finn a destination.

  Debbie sobbed in her ear, her words increasingly fragmented as she switched between sobbing at Will to stay awake and giving Rowan updates.

  “Are his eyes open?”

  “Sometimes. He called your name.”

  “Debbie.” Rowan punched up the command in her voice, willing Debbie to calm down and fervently praying for Will to hang on. “I need you to listen to me. Did he say anything about what happened to him?”

  “No! No.” More sobs filled her ear. “What?”

  Rowan fought to keep track of the thread of the conversation and knew her job was more to keep Debbie sane than anything else. The car flew around corners and they even went briefly airborne as their driver hit a curb. The streets passed in a blur, but every so often Rowan caught a familiar landmark. “We’re almost there.”

  Another loud sob filled her ears before Debbie went quiet. A hard crash echoed and Rowan could only assume the phone was dropped.

  And then she heard Will’s voice.

  “Egypt, Rowan. It’s the thread. Nefertiti.”

  “Will.” The tears she’d held at bay welled up and spilled over and she didn’t care. “You need to save your strength. The doctors are on their way.”

  “Should...be...Nefertari.”

  “Shhh, Will.”

  “Rowan!” Will’s voice shook with the command. “Listen. Con...contacted Briggs. He can help you.”

  “Briggs from college?”

  “He’s in...Cairo.”

  Sirens echoed through the phone and Debbie’s quiet, helpless sobs competed with the noise. “Bye, Rowan.”

  “Will—” She wanted to keep him there—wanted to say something else—but she knew he needed his family.

  And as her own tears fell, she kept hearing one word over and over.

  Bye.

  Chapter 13

  The street in front of Will’s home was chaos as they pulled up. Lights flashed from all the emergency vehicles, washing the scene in a garish display of color that was far too cheerful for what had happened.