True Peril

by Veronica Forand

  “I’m afraid I need to break up this party early. Henry, can you drive Cassie home and get Alex out of here through the back door? We have an uninvited guest who showed up.”

  “Where?” Henry asked, his voice low, his eyes on Simon.

  “Entrance. We’ll collect coats and anything else tomorrow.”

  The entire group calmly rearranged themselves so no one was facing the entrance.

  “Nice to meet you, Eve.” Henry waved and then offered his arm to Cassie to escort her from the room. “See you next week for dinner,” he called out to Simon over his shoulder.

  “We’ll be there.”

  Alex switched to a different language like German or Swedish, but not exactly, and spoke in a hushed whisper into Simon’s ear, as though they were having an intimate conversation as lovers. She then kissed Simon on the cheek and followed after Henry.

  When Eve was alone with Simon, his arm slipped around her waist. He leaned in to speak to her, as Alex had done with him a moment before. “It’s just you and me. Don’t be too sweet, but remain respectful toward me at all times. Ready to meet your first client?”

  “Lead on.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Simon prioritized Cassie’s safety above all things. His half brother Henry and his wife Alex came in a close second. The private details of his life remained hidden from the outside world. He concealed even the existence of his marriage from most people except Henry and Dane. Henry’s relationship with him was even more protected. It would never be disclosed to anyone outside of Cassie and Alex. Not even Dane knew about Simon’s sibling.

  When he saw Teodor, his supplier from the Ukraine, entering the gallery, he had to move those closest to him out of the building. Teodor could recognize Alex from an old transaction she’d worked on with Simon. Both Henry and Alex preferred complete anonymity and a clean break from high stakes work after the birth of their son. Henry returned to his position as a university professor, and Alex focused on appraising art for a fee—a large fee in most cases. They didn’t need to be yanked back into the world of illegal arms deals and stolen art.

  Why Teodor was hanging out in this art gallery in London, Simon had no idea. Teodor frequently accepted stolen art masterpieces as collateral on larger transactions, but this event displayed only legitimate art. Simon kept one eye on him as he led Eve to meet Federico.

  Federico was standing with a beautiful woman, probably a former beauty queen from Venezuela. The woman towered over him by four inches, partly from the heels, partly because Federico was small. He smiled when he saw Simon approach, but his attention shifted to Eve. She had dressed perfectly for the evening, all curves and attitude. Her reaction to being treated like a piece of meat would tell Simon how she’d fare in his business. Unlike his prior partners who needed to blend into their surroundings, she needed to stand out. She was in the role of dealer, not date.

  “Simon, you’re looking well. And you are?” He clasped Eve’s hand and kissed it.

  Simon switched to Spanish. “This is Eve, my new associate. She’ll be handling several of your transactions.”

  “Really?” Federico’s eyebrows raised.

  “Eve, this is Federico Isler. He owns Potencia, C.A., the biggest manufacturer of handguns in Venezuela.”

  Simon had briefed her on the transaction, so hopefully, she had her story straight.

  “Your .38 Special is a work of art,” she replied in perfect Spanish, with a Costa Rican lilt.

  “You’ve used my weapons?” He kept hold of her hand as the beauty queen faded a step behind him.

  “In Bolivia. I was unable to obtain one in the States.”

  “Yes, arms control tends to place a dent in my sales figures.” His focus dropped away from her lips to the bodice of her red silk gown.

  Eve didn’t smile at all, nor did she look put out by Federico’s adolescent ogling. She spoke with deadly calm and an impressive air of authority. She was better than expected. Simon ignored the guilt of throwing Eve in over her head. He had confidence in her ability to swim. The only thing she lacked was the reputation as a hard-ass leader with zero scruples. Dane, however, had that in spades. If everything worked out, and Dane joined his group, perhaps he could keep Eve working with him.

  Simon waited until Federico stopped drooling at Eve’s chest and then said, “I understand you’re looking to move some merchandise into Juarez.”

  “Two weeks from now. I have a very special rifle with some important buyers. Do you have a team on standby?”

  “Always.” The merchandise was not the kind that could ever be sold legally—a powerful weapon created from a stolen patent. Simon knew about it from his contacts, and he wanted to handle the deal so he could trace the merchandise back to the plant for MI6.

  “We can hammer out the details later.” Federico kissed Eve’s hand again and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, but the sparks in her glare made him back off. Smart man and an even smarter woman. If she wanted respect, she couldn’t present herself to the room as a decoration, like Federico’s current plaything. To be a player, she needed to act like one.

  After Federico left, Simon escorted Eve over to have more champagne. Could she hold her alcohol, or would she slowly lose her inhibitions and place them at risk? A lot could be determined about her maturity and competence based on her behavior in this fairly controlled environment.

  Eve took a sip of her second glass for the night and sighed, as though bored. “The buyer in Mexico. Do I need specifics?”

  “Not a big purchaser, but big enough for you to get a handle on my operation. I’ll give you the details in the morning.” This was one of the deals he took on to keep his funds high and clients happy. It would go through without a hitch and his reputation would improve. Eventually, however, the plant could be shut down and the operation destroyed if Vauxhall deemed it necessary.

  They lingered by a few more paintings, had another glass of champagne, and then Simon moved Eve toward the door before—

  “Simon Dunn. Fascinated by contemporary art?” Teodor, overweight, yet impeccably dressed, strode through the crowds straight at him.

  “Teodor. I’m surprised to see you here. None of this art is listed with Interpol.”

  “I enjoy getting out now and then. But this isn’t a business trip, I’m here to meet with Darya, one of the artists displaying their work.” He pointed to a tall, thin woman with long auburn hair and a sexual aura that could knock most men to their knees, standing in the middle of four potential victims.

  “Nice. She’ll be an asset to your collection of exotic and gorgeous women. This is Eve. She’s my new associate.”

  “Belinda’s replacement?” Belinda had been one of Alex’s identities when she was tracking down a stolen painting. Alex was another woman he’d love to employ as an associate. Regrettably, she’d retired after she became pregnant with his nephew.

  “No. Belinda and I based our relationship entirely on sex. Eve is the brains of my South American operation.”

  Teodor laughed. “Beauty, brains, and a body to die for.” He settled a hand on Eve’s ass.

  Simon waited, curious to see what Eve would do. She gently clasped Teodor’s hand and gave it back to him, her expression tight, but not shocked and not angry. Teodor took that as a challenge and stepped even closer.

  Her chin tilted up, her voice purred, yet her eyes blazed. “If you ever lay a finger on me again without an engraved invitation, I’ll rip your hand off and stick it so far up your ass it’ll block your vision.”

  She waited for him to release her, and he did. He remained silent for two seconds and then burst out laughing, slapping Simon on the shoulder.

  “I love her. Where do you find such incredible women?”

  Simon shook his head at his colleague. He’d never change. “They’re all around you, Teodor. Just divert your eyes from their breasts, and you’ll be amazed at what you find.”

  Teodor lifted his gaze to Eve’s face, specifically her erotic li
ps. “Perfect. Are you both available for a small project in two weeks?”

  “Maybe. Send me the details in the morning, and I’ll have an answer to you by lunch.”

  “I look forward to working with you.” Teodor bowed to Eve, but didn’t touch her again.

  …

  Three days later, Dane stared at the gray skies of New Delhi and thought of the red gown he’d bought for Eve. By tomorrow night, he’d be flying back to England and that very fitted gown. He’d thought about what he could say to her and most of it involved describing his work with the CIA, which he didn’t have the clearance to tell her.

  “Mr. O’Brien, do you agree with the deputy minister?”

  He turned back to the meeting room and tried to focus on this deal, but he didn’t care. “If the U.S. government makes assurances about Jordan, it would be beneficial for you to buy American drones. You won’t receive the same quality, customer service, or support from China.”

  General Humphreys stood, pissed that Dane had pushed him to make a promise he didn’t want to make. Tough. They needed to support an ally, not arm their neighbors. Pakistan’s acquisition of the sniper rifle would be a blow to U.S.-Indian relations. “Let’s take a lunch break and reconvene in three hours.”

  More delays. As soon as he got free, he called Eve from a small restaurant near the meeting spot.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  A waitress with too many dishes pushed by him, followed by a large party of business men. He stepped aside and held a hand over an ear to block the outside noise.

  “Too busy to miss you.” There was a lightness in her voice, that carefree attitude that he’d seen when they first arrived in London, before he left her. “Simon is allowing me to go on my first real assignment.”

  “What? I’m not sure I heard you.”

  “I’m helping Simon move goods from one group to another. You’re not authorized to know any more than that.”

  The vision of one of his first assignments with the CIA, to kill an arms dealer in Kabul, flashed through his brain and weakened his legs. “You can’t. You aren’t ready.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I understand what’s being sold, the logistics of moving the goods across borders, and the best method of payment. I’m more than ready.”

  “There’s more to these transactions than a mere transfer of goods. Most of these guys want money and power, and they’re ruthless in how they get it. This is not a cute action adventure movie, it’s a deadly game.”

  “How would you know?” Her voice had iced over, probably with annoyance at his stepping into her life and trying to control her actions. If she only knew how deeply she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

  He couldn’t tell her everything until he saw her in person. The restaurant, the phones, the people walking by all forced his silence. “I’ve been around Simon a long time.”

  “Then you’ll have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. I have to go. Cassie’s giving me new identification for the trip. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

  “Eve—”

  Too late. She’d hung up the phone. He had to get these negotiations finished so he could focus on how to keep Eve safe and in his life.

  …

  Part of Eve wanted to travel with Simon to assist in a real arms deal for the excitement alone, yet that would be pretty selfish considering where the arms would end up. Her best hope was to take down his operation sooner rather than later, before she became hypnotized by the adventure of it all, and before she came to care any more for Simon and Cassie.

  “Come over here.” Cassie, resting at her desk in her office, lifted up a large envelope for Eve.

  “What is is?”

  “Everything you need to get through the next few days.”

  “I appreciate this.”

  “It’s really no problem. I handle most of Simon’s security issues now. These documents should protect you unless you get arrested. That makes things more difficult.”

  “I’ll try to avoid that.”

  Cassie returned to doing something on her computer, and Eve went in search of coffee in the kitchen.

  She poured herself a large mug and sat at the table to take stock of what Cassie had handed to her. Inside the envelope, she found a passport with her photo but a new name, airplane tickets, and some bank account numbers. Bingo. Exactly what she needed.

  She grabbed the coffee mug and envelope and went into her bedroom. Between the mattresses in her bed, she had hidden the notebook where she’d been detailing Simon’s operation.

  She took a sip of coffee and then wrote every detail of the arms deal with Teodor in her notebook. The location in Bulgaria, the ammunition requested, the recipient, the collateral, the means of transportation, and all of Simon’s personal details. There was enough information listed to establish the existence of Simon’s operation and the illegal business it conducted. She didn’t have the names of his associates, but this was a start.

  A shadow of guilt crept inside of her as she thought about the consequences of her actions, and how it would affect Cassie and her baby. Cassie, however, was as guilty as Simon. She arranged parts of the transactions through her computer network and had no problem sharing in the profits earned off the backs of minors. Eve thought of the kids who had been raped and murdered and stolen from their families. They didn’t benefit at all from these transactions.

  Simon had left to rendezvous with someone she didn’t have the authority to meet, so she took the chance to borrow Cassie’s car, an Opel Insignia, and went to the village post office to mail the notebook. As she stood at the counter, a deep pounding in her stomach warned her that maybe she shouldn’t send the package. She’d turned to leave when a young woman walked into the post office with toddler twins in matching green wellies. The boys held each other’s hands and laughed at some joke between themselves. Eve’s heart tugged her straight in the direction of those tiny gingers. Every life counted. She took a deep breath and sent the package, and hoped someone in the government would handle it. She’d tried to send the package as anonymously as possible, but was not naive enough to think fingers wouldn’t be pointed toward Simon’s weakest link.

  …

  Talks had broken down hours ago. The Indian government wouldn’t buy the Pelican drones if the sale of the sniper rifles went through to Jordan. Dane didn’t have the authority to make the assurances they wanted, and the U.S. military members who had accompanied him refused to limit the U.S.’s ability to sell to whomever they wanted. Dane had one job, and he couldn’t do it. This final round of discussions related to convincing the Indian military of the limitations on Chinese technology.

  He needed one friggin’ American general to say they’d place limits on the sale to Jordan, and he’d be home free. If they wouldn’t do it, he’d lose the sale, and perhaps his job as well.

  Finally, the Minister of Defense accused the United States of making a mockery of their long standing alliance. He stood up and announced that India would buy the Chinese drones if the U.S. didn’t make assurances that the sniper rifles would never end up in Pakistan. The Americans in the room with authorization to make that agreement stayed silent and the meeting ended. Dane remained behind for a few moments staring at the coffee cups and water glasses scattered over the table. He’d failed. Well, that wasn’t actually true. He hadn’t been allowed to succeed. His opinion hadn’t mattered and all his years of experience with these deals were ignored as some hotshot with power made the final decision, a dumbass decision that could mess with the balance of power in this region. Perhaps hiding behind a desk wasn’t helping the world as much as he’d always believed it did.

  He left the government building and walked several blocks across New Delhi to outside the protected zone of the wealthy and into the crowded, dirty, noisy world of poor families and makeshift houses. Traffic stalled with small cars, scooters, and mini-trucks all vying for the limited road space. Several children chased him down the road in search o
f a spare coin or two. He ignored them all. He needed to clear his head, and for some reason the chaos of the city calmed him.

  When he returned to his hotel room two hours later, he had a message from the CEO of Pelican. The Indian delegation had signed contracts for the purchase of the Chinese Pterodactyls, and maybe Dane should take some time off before they met to discuss his future with the company. Screw them. They wanted to fire him as a salesman because his real employer, the U.S. government, wouldn’t help him make the sale. Fucking fantastic.

  He flew halfway across the globe to Virginia to meet with Greg. So much for time with Eve. Ordered to Headquarters was not a hint of good things to come for his career. Normally his meetings were held at an outside meeting point, but they wanted him in this time.

  “I didn’t think you cared this much, Hart.” Dane entered the conference room, poured himself some coffee, and sat at the head of the table, just to piss off Greg. His actions didn’t matter. He’d already been removed from Pelican, and rumor had it the Agency wanted him in a desk job as an analyst.

  Greg tossed him an envelope. “Know anything about this?”

  The envelope contained a notebook with charts and lists all related to Simon Dunn. It seemed he had a mole. One named Eve. Dane put down his coffee cup. He didn’t need to add to the acid churning in his gut. What the hell was she doing, challenging Simon? Did she understand that traitors died in this field?

  “Seems your wife is more useful to the United States than you are.”

  “Seems so.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us she linked up with Simon Dunn? We’ve been looking for an inside track into his deals for ten years.”

  “Must have happened while I was being forced into a hopeless position with Pelican.”

  “That was your own damn fault. You couldn’t keep your mind on the transaction. You’ve always succeeded in making seemingly impossible deals, regardless of who was in your bed.”

  Dane almost flung his coffee into Greg’s face, but something in the notebook caught his eye.