by Lora Leigh
Living under the constraints of that “protection” was starting to get on her nerves. She wasn’t a hare-brained debutante, she had assured them. She knew how to take care of herself.
“Nice place,” John commented as he let his hand linger at the small of her back to lead her to the open double doors to the marble foyer of the cabin.
“Do you think so?” she muttered. “I always felt it was a bit ostentatious. Too large and much too glitzy. It’s the one piece of property that Mary owns that causes me to question her taste.”
No one else heard the muttered insult, though John doubted Bailey would care if it had been. It was rather a known fact that Bailey shared housing and clothing tastes with few other people.
He could hear something more in her voice, though, a sense of disappointment, a soul-deep ache as she stared at the glittering, glitzy dwelling and those who were entering it.
Chauffeurs and house staff called back and forth. Luggage by the ton was being hauled in for a two-week stay, and many of the twenty-four guests had retreated to the ballroom and the buffet and drinks provided there.
“Ms. Serborne. Mr. Vincent.” Raymond and Mary’s butler met them at the door. “The Greers have requested your presence in a private gathering in the library. If you’ll follow me.”
Nose in the air, highbrow, and definitely status-conscious, the middle-aged gentleman led the way through the foyer to a marble-floored hall that in turn led to another wing of the house.
“Mr and Mrs. Greer.” The butler opened the door with a flourish before addressing his employers. “Ms. Serborne and Mr. Vincent.”
John placed his hand on Bailey’s back as they entered, felt the fine tension that held her muscles tight, and ached for her. She hated Raymond Greer. There hadn’t been a single noted confrontation between the two when they had been in the agency that had ended with anything less than animosity. She had known her former boss was on the take. Had known it, and had been unable to do anything about it.
Until now. But the road to the final goal was paved with heartache and pain for her. He had seen it in her eyes before their arrival, and he felt it now emanating from her body.
“Bailey, John.” Dressed in black silk pants and a matching black sweater, Raymond rose from where he sat with his wife in front of the fireplace and approached them with a friendly smile.
“Greer.” John accepted a hearty handshake and watched as Raymond turned to Bailey, gripped her shoulders, and gave her a warm kiss to the cheek.
A smile curled Bailey’s lips, even sparkled in her eyes, but it was no more than a testament to how hard she was reaching inside herself to carry on the charade.
“Call me Raymond, John.” Raymond clapped him on the shoulder as he turned back to Bailey. “Let me get you a drink. What are you having?”
Bailey’s voice was soft, gentle, so sweet it was almost enough to give him a toothache. Raymond’s smile was pure charm on a weasel’s face as he turned back to John. The illusion the man presented was almost amusing.
Requesting a straight whiskey, he kept his hand at Bailey’s back as Raymond motioned them to the small gathering. Ford Grace and his ex-model mistress Rose sat on a love seat parallel to the fireplace. Mary sat on the love seat directly in front, which left another free for Bailey and John.
“Wagner.” Ford nodded back at Bailey almost hesitantly.
“It will be good to see him,” Bailey stated. “I haven’t had much time to spend with old friends.”
Ford nodded. “I’m glad to see you survived the last party well,” there was a hint of concern in his gaze. “I worried your past would follow you when you left the agency.”
Ford glanced at Raymond, then back to Bailey. “Your father worried constantly that one day you wouldn’t return home,” he stated as Raymond handed them their drinks.
Bailey stared back at Ford, hiding the hatred that welled inside her, that threatened to damage the goal she had kept in the forefront of her mind for so long.
She hated the sincerity he faked so easily. The concern that darkened his gaze and gave his expression the appearance of affection. She wanted to scream at him, to rage over the elaborate game he was playing and force him to admit to being the coldhearted son of a bitch that she knew he was.
“If my past is returning to haunt me, then I’m certain I’ll have it dealt with soon,” she assured Ford before glancing at John with the confidence of a woman who knows her lover is taking care of the matter as they settled on the love seat in front of Mary.
“I’ve hired extra security staff for the party, dear,” Mary expressed, her concern genuine. “We’ve had to do this several times when Ray’s enemies have found him as well. It’s a shame that serving your country comes with such risks right when you should be able to relax and enjoy your lives.”
“It would be far easier to tolerate if the country you risked your life for gave a damn,” Ford injected smoothly, critically. “I’ve not seen a time that Raymond’s life was in danger that the agency gave a damn.”
Unfortunately that was true. Bailey wished she could argue the fact that more was done to protect retired agents, but she knew her argument would sound hollow at best. Besides, arguing for her country would do very little to engender the trust she needed to draw Warbucks further into this little partnership.
“The agency barely gives a damn when you’re active,” she lied. She knew better. She knew the extremes that went into trying to protect agents, both active as well as retired.
“A shame,” Mary sighed, her delicate face creased in sympathy.
“Raymond, I believe Rose and I will see our way to our room now.” Surprisingly, Ford rose to his feet and extended his hand to his mistress as she joined him.
“And I believe I will as well.” Mary lifted her hand to Raymond, allowing him to help her from her seat. “I’m certain you and Bailey would like to discuss old times and those tales simply give me nightmares.” She grimaced.
Living those times still had the power to give Bailey nightmares.
Saying goodbye to Mary, Bailey restrained her own desire to escape to the privacy of her room with John. The sitting room felt stifling, the very air within it heavy with deceit.
“Bailey, would you mind if I talk to John alone for a bit now?” Raymond surprised her with the request. “I’d like to discuss a few security details with him, if you don’t mind.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “John and I are partners, Raymond,” she reminded him coolly.
“And I understand that clearly.” He nodded. “Unfortunately, your choice of broker is going to have to prove himself to me, as well as to Warbucks, to gain approval, Bailey. John won’t be accepted instantly simply because he’s the one you chose.”
Of course, it couldn’t be that simple, could it?
Staring back at Raymond, her gaze cold, she rose slowly to her feet. “Very well. I’ll leave you two to discuss whatever manly things you have to discuss without me.”
Raymond appeared a little too amused by her statement. Comedy wasn’t exactly her forte, so she wasn’t a bit pleased by it.
“We do appreciate your patience with us, my dear,” Raymond drawled. “I promise I won’t keep him long.”
John had to restrain a smile as Bailey shot him a worried look from beneath her lashes. To give her credit, she didn’t argue further. Rather she donned the polite, femininely arrogant look that made him hotter than hell before she turned and left the room.
He knew the interrogation that would come later. She didn’t like being cut from any phase of this operation. The fact that she hadn’t been involved during his meetings with the team pissed her off enough. Now, he was going to have to deal with her anger toward Raymond. And she did know how to get pissed at the other man.
As the door closed behind her, Raymond followed and locked it quietly before turning back to John.
“You’re taking control of things nicely,” John told the other man as he stared around the sitting roo
m. “I hope your marriage isn’t too constraining.”
“My marriage is the one thing in this farce that gives me any pleasure.” Raymond grimaced as he moved back to his drink and tossed it back, then narrowed his eyes on John. “Does Bailey suspect my involvement with the unit?”
John shook his head. “Not at all. Does Warbucks suspect your involvement?”
Raymond gave a hard shake to his head as he rubbed his hand over his face and breathed out roughly. “It’s a dangerous game we’re playing here, John.”
“But a necessary one,” John murmured. “How close have you gotten?”
“His second in command is Myron Falks, just as we suspected,” Raymond answered him. “I haven’t pieced together the rest of the group yet, though.”
“It’s a group rather than an individual, then?” John probed.
Raymond shook his head again. “At this point, I don’t know. I’ve managed to move in close enough in the past years that Myron trusts me implicitly with everything but Warbucks’s identity. I’m wondering if he even knows himself. As you know, I’ve identified several of Ford Grace’s security personnel, as well as at least one of Waterstone’s and Claymore’s. There’s no way to track exactly who it is, because no one singularity ties any of the men.”
“But he trusts you enough to interview the broker involved with this sale,” John stated.
Raymond nodded. “I was put in charge of brokers three years ago, as you know, until Warbucks focused on Bailey. I’ve tried to make certain I’ve shown no preference for any one broker. Several times it’s been noted that each transaction you’ve overseen has been equated with greater financial benefits as well as discretion. Jerric Abbas, as you also know, despite his lack of expertise in the area, was running a close second.”
John nodded. Raymond was unaware that Micah Sloane was now Jerric Abbas, and part of the unit. John didn’t always support Jordan’s decisions on keeping relevant information from the players involved in missions, but in this case he agreed.
If Bailey knew Raymond was a part of the mission, then she would spend the majority of her time trying to prove he was betraying them. Raymond wasn’t betraying them. He had too much to lose, and his hatred for Warbucks matched Bailey’s.
“Just ensure that I get the contract on this,” he told Raymond as he rose to his feet. “Let’s make certain we get him this time, Raymond. We may not get another chance.”
Raymond rose to his feet with a sharp nod. “You and Bailey seem fairly close. Will she end up hurt when this is over?”
Was there any way any of them could end up not hurt? John wondered.
“I’ll worry about Bailey,” he informed Raymond. “You worry about your end.”
“Is she still determined that Grace is Warbucks?”
“What are the chances that Ford Grace is involved with this?” John asked, his eyes narrowing on the other man.
Raymond breathed out roughly. “About as high as the chances any of the other men we’re looking at are. Warbucks is well hidden, John. He’s surrounded himself with men who guard his identity like junkyard dogs. Our only chance to find him out is full disclosure on this deal. Thankfully, it’s something Jerric Abbas seems to be demanding as well. The sensitivity of the item, the amount of money involved in the transaction and the risk factor are all things Warbucks will have to look at as he makes his decision.”
“Make certain Myron understands that neither myself, Bailey, nor Abbas will accept anyone but Warbucks,” John told him as he headed to the door. “Let’s not fuck this up at this stage of the game.”
“Now.” John leaned forward, feeling the rage he had been trying to contain for a week now bubbling to the surface. “Who tried to kill Bailey?”
“God, I don’t know.” Raymond grimaced as he dragged his fingers through his hair, frustration lining his expression.
John could see the concern that marked the other man’s face and for just a second, fear for Bailey flashed in his eyes. She thought Raymond held her in such contempt, that his attitude toward her had been one of dislike.
It was an impression Raymond had worked to convince Bailey and others of, but the fact was, the other man held her in very high regard. Most people who truly knew Bailey did care for her.
“Warbucks went through the roof with that attack,” Raymond continued. “Surprisingly, I believe I heard a note of fear in his tone during the conversations we’ve had. For the first time he hasn’t gone through Falks, but came straight to me instead.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “A few times, John, I could have sworn I recognized his voice.”
They had known going in that whoever Warbucks was, he was a member of this particular society. Raymond had worked these past years to infiltrate and work himself into a position of trust to learn the identity of the traitor.
“Not enough to be sure, though?” John asked.
Raymond shook his head. “Just enough to make me crazy trying to figure out who it could be. He has Falks running himself ragged trying to secure Bailey while still working for his employer. I think Falks is a man ready to break. Too many years of trying to please too many masters maybe.”
“That will do it to you,” John sighed.
“He’s a scared man, John,” Raymond stated thoughtfully. “Warbucks keeps Falks with Waterstone, me with Ford, and several other men with the other families in security positions to draw suspicion from him. But in doing so, over the years I’ve noticed that the strain is beginning to show on the men he’s using. They can’t quit, or he’ll kill them. Mess up and they die. They’re stuck between a dagger and a grenade and they know it.”
“Interesting analogy,” John grunted. “Makes sense though. His men are divided.”
“Exactly.” Raymond nodded before glancing at the clock above the fireplace. “We better cut this short. Falks will be arriving soon and I’m supposed to be available as soon as he arrives.”
Of course, Myron Falks would want an update as soon as possible, John thought as he rose to his feet and headed to the door.
“Keep me updated,” he ordered. “I want to know what’s going on immediately.
Raymond nodded before moving to the doors and opening them with a flourish. The arrogant persona was back the second he gripped the doorknobs. Nose high, his expression pinched and self-aware, he stared down his nose at John.
“It’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Mr. Vincent,” he expressed in stilted tones. “And it’s a pleasure to know our lovely Bailey will be so well taken care of.”
Several couples were milling in the hallway as they shook hands. John moved from the room to find his lover. At least two of the men standing in the hallway were on the unit’s suspect list: Stephen Menton-Squire and Samuel Waterstone. Both men had the connections, the background and the ability to acquire the weapons now coming up for auction.
He nodded to the couples as he moved past, aware that behind him guests were moving toward Raymond, greeting him in friendly tones.
Raymond had settled into this society nicely since the operation that had placed him in sight of Mary Altman six years before. The widow had been ripe for a love interest, but had made a point of steering clear of any man her brother set before her. She had expressed an interest in dangerous men. In men who walked a darker path than those she knew. Raymond had been placed in her path. They had married a year later.
Not that John didn’t see genuine affection between the couple. He did. And Raymond had a flair for business that had cemented Mary’s interest in him.
Raymond had been more than a CIA agent, even then. He had been part of a very select group of covert Internal Affairs agents searching for a link between Warbucks and the CIA. Bailey had been under suspicion immediately. It was a suspicion that had been quickly terminated and later used to benefit the unit. Her refusal to pull back on Orion had worked perfectly. It had led to her disenchantment with the agency as well as the renewed inner-agency suspicion that she was indeed working for or with Warbucks.
She was their ace in the hole, but in ways, she would be to Warbucks as well. Because of her close association with all the men involved, as well as her contacts, it was hard for her to suspect anyone outside Ford Grace.
Moving to the opened doors of the ballroom, he caught sight of Bailey at the other end, engrossed in conversation with Kira and Ian Richards.
“Ah, Mr. Vincent. There you are. It seems you and Bailey brought a bit of excitement into our little group.”
If you call attempted murder excitement, John thought.
John turned to face Samuel Waterstone and Ronald Claymore. Claymore was watching Bailey broodingly. Turning back to John he glared at him in disapproval.
“How so, Mr. Waterstone?” he asked curiously.
Samuel winked back at him subtly. “Did you think you could sweep one of our heiresses off her feet without an investigation? A very thorough investigation, I might add. Then the attempt to kill her last week? Be careful son, we would not appreciate losing her.”
John arched his brow. “Neither would I.”
“He’s a smart boy,” Ronald commented with a hint of ire to the other man. “It’s not as though Bailey really gives a damn what we think, anyway.”
John’s brow arched in question. “Should she?”
“You’re a bit unsavory, Vincent,” Samuel stated. “Not exactly unacceptable, though you’ll need a bit of polishing if you know what I mean. We can’t allow one of our group to be caught up in anything illegal, you understand. Discretion is always the key word. And only then if you protect what you’re responsible for.”
“Discretion?” John asked. “You mean as discreet as you and good ol’ Stephen here were in that trade scandal last year?”
Ronald Claymore glowered, though Samuel Waterstone grinned in pride. “Well, a bit more discreet, but in all fairness we did skate by that one fairly well.”
The US government had nearly brought the two men to trial for their involvement in trading delicate national secrets with China. The charges had been dropped for lack of evidence, and the two men had retained their government contracts with their companies simply because they’d been too powerful to warrant pulling them. The pressure that had been brought to bear on several senators, as well as the president himself, had been extreme.