by Nora Roberts
“Of course.” The pale green eyes half closed as if with pleasure.
Hannah waited for the door to shut again. A man’s life was over. “The day may come when you decide to replace me as casually.”
“Not if you continue to please me.” He lifted her hand again and kissed it. “I have a feeling you will.”
“I must tell you, monsieur, I have a distaste for killing children.” His fingers tightened, very slightly on hers, but she didn’t fidget. “I believe it will take five million American dollars to overcome this distaste.”
She saw it in his eyes. He would break her fingers as easily as he would kiss them. Hannah kept her gaze steady on his and hoped she hadn’t pushed her luck too far.
“Is it money that seduces you, ma petite?”
“Not seduces, pleases. I like to be pleased.”
“You have two weeks to please me, Lady Hannah. Then I shall return the favor.” He kept her hand in his as he drew her to her feet. “Now, as a show of faith, you will tell me what you failed to note down here.”
Hannah walked over to the specs and prepared to lie to him.
* * *
She was exhausted. In a decade of assignments, nothing had left her feeling so empty and soiled. As she drove through the palace gates, she could only think about a long hot shower where she could scrub off whatever traces remained of Deboque’s cologne. Reeve was standing a hundred feet beyond the gates. Hannah stopped the car and waited for him to slide in beside her.
“You were gone a long time.” He gave her a long, thorough study. “It wasn’t in the plans for you to be out of contact for over an hour.”
“It was in the plans for me to get to Deboque.”
“And you did?”
She rolled down her window a bit farther. “I met him on a yacht, the Invincible. It’s anchored about five miles northwest. He has at least six armed guards, double that by a guess. He has the information we wanted him to have. I’m replacing Bouffe.”
Reeve’s brow lifted. “You must have impressed him.”
“That was the idea.” She wondered how soon she could wash the taste of his brandy from her mouth. “He’s planning something for the opening of Eve’s play.” When Reeve stiffened beside her, she went on. “I don’t believe it’s going to be anything directly against the family. He seemed to think it would be entertaining to confuse matters. He’s very careful how he phrases things. Nothing too direct. Even if I testified against him, it would be difficult to actually convict him of conspiracy. He hypothesizes, theorizes.”
“Did he give you an idea where he intends to make his move?”
She listened for a moment to a bird that was singing its heart out. “He seemed most interested in the palace. It’s the biggest challenge. We have two weeks.”
“He moves in two weeks?”
“That’s how long he gave me to murder your family.” She turned to him then and saw his face was pale and set. “All of you but Armand, Reeve. The children, everyone. He wants to destroy Armand’s soul and leave Cordina without an heir. If you trust my judgment, he wants this done as much for personal satisfaction as for the profit he might make when Cordina is thrown into chaos.”
Reeve drew out a cigarette but didn’t light it. “I trust your judgment.”
“We have two weeks to stop him, or to convince him that I’ve done what he wants.”
It was his family, his heart, yet he knew he had to think as coolly as she did. “Is he setting you up?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s certainly possible that he’d dispose of me after I’ve finished the job, but I think it’s more likely he’d continue to use me. We did a good job of planting information about me, and over the past two years I’ve saved him a bit of trouble and money. If he believes I can give him this, he’ll sit back and wait.”
“Armand will have to be told.”
“I know.” But not Bennett. Armand and only Armand.
“For now, just go on as usual.” He indicated that she should drive ahead. “We’ll need some time.”
“Eve’s opening is in a few days.”
“We’ll handle it. You get some sleep. As soon as we have a direction, I’ll let you know.”
Hannah got out of the car, then as Reeve stood on the other side she stopped. “I want him. I want him for myself. I know it’s unprofessional and stupid. But if I have the chance, if I find the way, I’m going to take him out myself.”
Reeve said nothing as she walked up the steps. He’d already vowed the same thing.
Chapter 8
“I don’t want you to go tonight.”
“You know I have to.” Eve stood, grim and stubborn, facing her husband. “It’s my play, my troupe, my production. I don’t have a choice, Alex.”
“Excuses can be made.” He looked at her, dressed in midnight blue that skimmed her shoulders and swirled to her ankles. Her hair was caught up in the back so that it fell over one shoulder like ebony. Even after all the years he’d known her, just looking at her made his pulse race. “You know how dangerous it could be. With the information we have now, we can be sure there’ll be an incident tonight. I don’t want you involved.”
“I am involved.” She was frightened. Ever since Reeve had told them that he’d received a tip that there would be trouble at the theater on opening night, her nerves had been stretched tight. Yes, she was frightened, but she was no less determined. She crossed to the beveled mirror above the bureau as if checking the arrangement of her hair was of some importance. “I wrote the play, I produced it, and more important than either of those,” she continued before he could interrupt, “I belong at the theater tonight because I’m your wife.”
The fact that her arguments were valid meant nothing. He wanted her in the palace, safe, untouchable. His heart would rest easy if he knew she was here, in the suite of rooms she’d decorated, tucked high in the palace that had been his family home for generations. Nothing could happen to her here. Anything could happen outside.
“My love, Reeve is rarely wrong. If he says there’ll be trouble tonight, I want you well away from it. The fact that you’re carrying a child is a very simple reason for you to be excused. I know the play is important to you, but—”
“Yes, it is,” she interrupted. “But you’re more important.”
“Then do this for me, and stay home tonight.”
She tilted her head, holding on to both her nerves and her temper. “Alexander, would you stay behind with me?”
“If it was possible, of course.” Impatience had him dragging a hand through his hair. It was a ploy she’d used before, and one there was little argument against. “I can’t close myself up every time there’s a rumble from Deboque.”
“For Cordina,” she said quietly. “And Cordina is now my country, too.”
“Eve.” He thought he loved her as much as it was possible to love. Every day he learned there could be more. “You are the most precious thing in the world to me. I almost lost you once.”
She crossed to him then, knowing the first step, the first touch should be hers. When both of his hands were in hers, she looked up into his eyes. “And I you, Alex. I’m going to sit in the Royal Box beside you, where I belong.”
From outside the door, Hannah heard the conversation clearly enough. It was moments like this that made it difficult to think of what she was doing, what she had yet to do, as merely another assignment. There were people beyond the door who she’d come to care about. The Bissets were no longer names or symbols, but friends. After ten years of playing dangerous games, she knew how risky it could be to make friends.
She closed her eyes and drew her breath deep before she knocked.
“Entrez.” It was Alexander who answered, the impatience in his voice ripe. Hannah opened the door but didn’t cross the threshold.
“I’m sorry. I’m disturbing you.”
“Of course not.” With the warmth that was so much a part of her, E
ve smiled and gestured her inside. “I see you’re ready for the evening.” She felt a little twinge of regret at Hannah’s severe beige dress and hairstyle. She’d hoped with a little time she could urge Hannah to soften her image. Tonight, however, there were more immediate matters of concern. “We were just about to come down ourselves.”
Hannah saw Eve take Alexander’s hand again. “I thought you might need some help.”
“No, there’s nothing.” But the cloud of concern didn’t leave Eve’s eyes. “Hannah, I don’t want you to feel obligated to go with the family. Knowing there’s a possibility of an—incident,” she began. “Well, it might be more comfortable for you here at home.”
“Of course I’m going.” With the hated secret tucked inside of her, she shifted the wrap on her arms. “And I really believe everything’s going to be fine. If you don’t need me then, I’ll just go down.”
“Please, let’s not talk about it anymore,” Eve said when Hannah shut the door behind her. “Let’s go say good night to Marissa before we leave.”
“Eve.” Alexander gathered her close. He could feel the slight swell where another child lay. “I love you.”
“Talk’s cheap,” she murmured, and tried for a laugh. “Promise to show me later, after the play.”
He let his cheek rest on her hair. “You have my word.”
Bennett was already waiting in the main hall. Even with the distance separating them, Hannah could feel the impatience coming from him. Impatience, she thought, mixed with a recklessness that the elegant evening clothes couldn’t disguise. He was looking for trouble, Hannah realized. More, he was hoping for it.
“There you are.” Though he smiled up at her, his mind was already on the evening ahead. Instinctively he took her hand, holding it as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “You don’t have to go tonight, Hannah. I’d be happier if you didn’t.”
Guilt came so quickly that she had squeezed his hand in reassurance before she could stop herself. “Now even you sound like Eve,” she said lightly. “I want to be there. A vague tip from an anonymous source is a foolish reason to miss a night at the theater.”
He touched the pearl cluster at her ear. “Is that what we call British pluck?”
“It’s what we call common sense.”
“Whatever it’s called I want you to stay close. There’ll be enough guards to smother us, but I prefer to keep an eye on you myself.” Before she could stop him, he was leading her toward the doors.
“Eve and Alexander are nearly ready. I said I’d wait for them.”
“Security feels better splitting us up.” He acknowledged Claude with a brief nod. “You’ll ride with me. Father will come along after Alexander and Eve.”
“All right.” She walked out into the star-studded night, calmly holding the .22 that lay within her beaded evening bag.
* * *
The theater was sold out. Long before the first curtain, the seats were filled so that the babble of conversation rose up to the Royal Box. There was thunderous applause when the Bissets entered. From the background as bows were made, Hannah held her breath and studied the sea of faces.
If Deboque had been there, she knew she would have found him.
“The Center’s been swept twice,” Reeve murmured in her ear. “There’s nothing here.”
She nodded and took her seat as the curtain rose.
The play was everything Eve had hoped for, though Hannah doubted anyone in the box had their full attention on the drama and pathos onstage. More than once, she cast a sidelong look at Bennett to find him studying the audience.
Deboque wasn’t there. Hannah hadn’t expected him. Whatever happened, whenever it happened, he would be far away with an alibi as solid as Cordinian rock.
So they would wait. And watch.
When the lights came up for intermission, Hannah could almost feel Eve relax. A false alarm? No. Though she preferred Eve believing it was so, Hannah knew better. There was an itch between her shoulder blades, vague but persistent. Some called it a hunch. Others called it instinct. Hannah had been in the game long enough to know when to wait and when to go with it.
“Would you like something to drink?”
She turned to Bennett, set to refuse. For personal reasons, she wanted him close at hand. “Yes,” she heard herself saying, knowing this would be just one more deception. “I’d love something cool.”
The moment he was through the doors behind them, Hannah leaned toward Reeve. “I’m going to look around.”
“I’d stay close—I have a feeling.” With him it was in the gut. He’d yet to let Gabriella move more than an arm’s span away.
“I do too. Deboque said something about me staying in the audience. I want to take a walk backstage.”
He started to object, but Gabriella took his hand and gave Hannah the few seconds she needed to slip out. She made her way toward the ladies’ lounge until she was certain no one was watching. With the ease of long experience, she slipped into a stairway and began moving down. She had ten minutes, Hannah thought as she checked her watch, before anyone would miss her.
There were costume changes and stretched nerves backstage when Hannah crossed the corridor. Most of the actors were too wound up to spare her a glance. Nothing out of place. Nothing out of synch. And yet, the itch between her shoulder blades persisted.
Chantel’s dressing room door was half-open. The actress caught a glimpse of Hannah, hesitated, then called out. “Lady Hannah.”
Because she saw no choice, Hannah stopped at the doorway. “Miss O’Hurley. Her Highness wasn’t able to come down, but you should know she’s delighted with your performance.”
“Thank you.” Chantel set down the grease pencil she’d been using to touch up her eyes. “And what do you think of the play?”
“It’s gripping. Your interpretation of Julia is breathtaking.”
With a nod, Chantel moved toward her. The exaggerated stage makeup only made her look more exotic. “You know, I was born into show business. It’s in the blood, if you get my drift. And I’ve always thought one inveterate actor easily recognizes another.”
Very cool, almost smiling, Hannah met her eyes. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Perhaps that’s why while I’m still not sure if I like you, I know I don’t trust you.” Chantel adjusted the cuff of the dress she’d wear in the next scene. “I’ve always been very fond of Bennett. A woman like myself has few men she can call real friends.”
There was something strong, something honest in the woman who faced her. Hannah gave as much as she could. “I can tell you that Bennett is a special man, and one I care for very much.”
Chantel was silent a moment, weighing, considering. “I’m not sure why, but I believe you.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure out why you’re playing Jane Eyre, but I imagine you have your reasons.”
“Places, Miss O’Hurley.”
Chantel turned to give herself one last check in a full-length mirror. She lifted her chin to a different angle and became Julia. Her voice took on the slightest of drawls, an echo of the American South, as she turned back to walk past Hannah. “Darling,” she said in character. “You must know beige is the worst possible color for you.” Then she winked and walked to the wings.
Hannah let out a long breath. She’d seen nothing out of place, seen no one who didn’t belong and had learned a lesson. Her cover wasn’t as foolproof as she’d always thought.
She walked back down the corridor, turned into the stairway and started up. She heard the applause as the curtain came up. Then came the distant sound, the rumble and boom, of an explosion. The lights went out.
There were scattered screams as the theater plunged into darkness. From here, the warning rumble couldn’t be heard. In the Royal Box, guards closed in like a wedge. Guns were drawn, and held ready.
“Stay where you are,” Reeve ordered. He gave Gabriella’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Two of you come with me.” He moved into the hallway
with two guards. “We’ll need a light.” Swearing, he dug in his pocket for a lighter. “We’ll need someone to go over the PA and keep the audience from panicking.” Even as he flicked the lighter on, throwing dull and shadowy light off his face, Chantel’s voice came cool and clear through the speakers.
“Mesdames and messieurs, if you would stay seated for a moment or two. We seem to be having some difficulties with the lights. If you’d like to take advantage of the opportunity by getting to know your neighbor better . . .”
“Good girl,” Reeve murmured as he heard the nervous laughter. “Let’s get down to the main breakers.”
Hannah hadn’t come back. The words kept echoing over in Bennett’s mind as he heard Alexander murmuring reassurances to Eve. She was out there somewhere, alone in the dark. Without hesitation, he was moving toward the door.
“Your Highness.” The looming figure of a guard inched toward him. “If you would please remain seated.”
“Let me pass.”
“Bennett.” His father’s voice cut through the dark. “Please sit. This should be over in moments.”
“Hannah’s not here.”
There was the briefest of silences. “Reeve will handle things.”
There was duty, and the honor he’d never questioned. Now there was love. Bennett shoved his way through the door and went to find her.
* * *
Hannah had the gun in her hand as she stood in the stairwell. She didn’t move, barely breathed, as she debated whether to go up and check on the Bissets, or whether to go down and check the power. If there had been one bomb, there could all too easily be another.
Her head told her that the Bissets were well guarded and her job was to find the source of the trouble. Her heart wanted only to see if Bennett was well and safe. Following it, Hannah started up the stairs. She’d climbed no more than three when she heard the sound of a door closing on the landing below.
With her finger wrapped around the trigger, she pointed the barrel of the gun up and started down again. She saw the beam of the flashlight before she heard the footsteps. Cautious ones. Quiet ones. Like a shadow, Hannah melted into a corner and waited.