“I’ve not seen them, no one has seen them,” Humphrey added. “They could be notes he wrote about birds he saw out the window for all we know. None of us bloody care. These papers mean we have a new limit. These papers expand the limit. For the first time in ages, we have something new to learn about the man, and the characters, we worship so much.”
Even I was sitting forward, drawn into the implications of what he was saying. Sloane tapped me. “Bernard…” I stopped, pretended to think for a second. “Bernard would be trying his hardest for the Society to own those papers as part of their collection, correct?”
“With what funds though?” Reggie said. “Even with our best efforts, we can’t compete with the collectors of the world who have millions at their disposal. We are mere scholars.”
Bernard wasn’t a mere scholar though.
Bernard had access to millions of dollars.
Bernard had access to a network of highly trained thieves who could easily pull off a theft of this magnitude. They’d been helping him pull off stunts like this for twenty years now.
I imagined laying out this story for Freya, Sam, Delilah, and Henry. I imagined them yelling at me, in their own special ways, to pay attention.
“Did Bernard ever get over losing the first batch of private papers?” Sloane asked, immediately on the same wavelength. “Eudora mentioned it at the talk, the one at The Langham.”
Humphrey laughed, a little joylessly. “No. Because I’ve known him longer than anyone, I can tell you the man’s a god-awful sore loser and a cheat at that. I had to take him here every night for a week and ply him with fine liquor to get him to smile again.”
“That was very nice of you to do,” Sloane said, laying her hand on his arm. Humphrey touched it, held it, stared at us with real vulnerability.
“Thank you,” he said. “Current members of my marriage disagree.”
I snorted, nodded at Reggie. “What’s the disagreement here? Unless there are other members in this sacred union I’m unaware of?”
“Just one,” Reggie said dryly. “I adore Bernard. We all do. But I tell Humphrey all the time that the man uses him.”
Humphrey’s pale face blushed—he seemed as innocent as a schoolboy. I couldn’t, for the life of me, parse Humphrey’s moral code. Good or evil? Thief or innocent?
“Some people in this world are more difficult to love than others,” he said. “Do they not still deserve to be loved?”
Sloane let go of Humphrey’s hand, sat back. Slid her hands down her thighs, but not before I caught her fingers trembling.
“Tell me how you met,” I said. “Knowing him for sixty years is an incredibly long time.”
He brightened. “Bernie and I grew up in Canterbury and went to school together there. My grandparents raised me, and I was a wily and rambunctious thing, always prowling the streets looking for trouble. Bernie was the same, although we often got into less trouble once we had each other.”
“Is Humphrey still rambunctious?” Sloane asked Reggie.
“Only where it counts, love,” Reggie said. Her laughter rang out like a bell, and I was completely enchanted by it. Did everything she do have a kind of magical spell attached to it?
Humphrey leaned in close. “Bernard once orchestrated a street-wide game of hide and seek. All the kids he could wrangle, sent us off running into the woods and behind cars and every nook and cranny we could imagine. A large field ran the length of our street, and we couldn’t help but head there as Bernie yelled out the numbers. He gave us a full minute, which set us off laughing. And then the lad couldn’t even find us.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
He paused, preparing to deliver a punchline. “The bastard slipped into every single one of our houses and stole our toys.”
Sloane laughed—this time, it sounded forced. “How very devious for a child.” I could feel her body’s reaction next to mine; that blood-in-the-water response so closely mirrored my own.
“How did you find out?” I asked, feigning lightness.
“Well, he did a crap job of hiding them.” Humphrey chuckled. “And after about twenty minutes, we went lurking back across the field in search of him, unsure of what had happened. When we found him in his room, he was surrounded by toys like a little king.”
This boyhood image didn’t resonate with youthful innocence for me. It resonated with the sense of ownership that Bernard Allerton must have been born with.
“Were you angry?” Sloane asked.
“Of course. Although also we were damn well impressed. He did give them back to us, although I always told him it made him a right bastard from such a young age.”
I raised a brow his way—he anticipated my next question. “He was eleven.”
“You don’t say,” I muttered.
Humphrey sighed, clinking his glass against mine and Sloane’s. “Here’s to Bernard. He does always get what he wants.”
17
Sloane
An hour later, Abe and I had to place Humphrey and Reggie in a cab. Together, they were adorably drunk. As the cab had prepared to drive off, Humphrey had called back, “Thank you for a magical evening, enchantress. Have fun bewitching Mr. Fitzpatrick. Remember, valiant!”
Abe and I waved them off—looking, I was sure of it, like a couple. The more drinks they enjoyed, the sloppier their stories became. And while Bernard was in quite a few of them, no other relevant information was revealed, other than the confirmed fact that the man was a self-centered asshole.
The Kensley auction in four days had become my primary investigative focus, given what Humphrey had revealed in there. If Bernard was going to make any moves while in hiding, it would be to steal those private papers for himself. I just needed to figure out how I was going to handle a giant auction with tons of guests and multiple exits and entrances.
A drop of rain landed on my head. The drop turned into a sprinkle immediately, and I shivered, hoping these rain clouds stayed thunder-free. A second later, a large umbrella opened over my head courtesy of Abe.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, surprised again at these tiny gestures of thoughtfulness. “I didn’t bring one.”
“My pleasure,” he said smoothly. “Shall we walk back to our hotel? It should be less than a mile if you don’t mind sharing this enclosed space with me.”
I cast a glance his way. It wasn’t that I was nervous. It was that I craved being in Abe Royal’s space the same way I craved water, food, and air. From the first moment I saw him in that ballroom, being around him had felt like a necessity. Suddenly faced with his presence again, I realized how much I’d ached these past forty-eight hours, ached the way you do with fever.
“The closer I am to you, the easier it is to steal from your pockets,” I mused.
He laughed softly, a dangerous sound that raised the hair on the back of neck. “I am a willing victim this evening, Sloane.”
We headed down the street, the sides of our bodies brushing together, and I almost stumbled at the use of my real name and the words willing victim. We were about to walk, together, to our neighboring rooms. Together. Where we’d go sleep… separately.
I shivered again, but not from cold. Abe had walked into that pub this evening looking too handsome, too dashing, too refined. His tuxedo was tailored perfectly, exposing the long lines of his body, the poetry of his broad shoulders, the elegance of his clean-shaven jaw. He’d been at the symphony, and really, the man was a fucking symphony: no note wasted, no scale imperfect, no crescendo too loud.
Although the second his eyes had landed on mine, they flared with a lust so raw that heat pulsed between my legs. And those lips on my cheek spoke of the sinful devil in him, the man so confident he simply took what he wanted.
Take me, I wanted to beg.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay this evening,” Abe said. “I hope I didn’t ruin your operation.”
“Humphrey wanted to talk with the both of us,” I replied. “You helped him share what I
needed. You asked the right questions.”
“As did you,” he said.
“So, thank you.” I swallowed hard, saw him do the same. Given our last conversation, when we’d both refused to budge, this tiny allowance felt like a major milestone. Certainly, the experience I’d had with Abe was bizarre as hell, given that I’d never had a work partner before or ever worked with a team. I was distractingly attracted to Abe. I also felt safe around him. Protected, even though I’d always been able to hold my own, physically and intellectually. Our on-the-fly tap messaging caused a giddiness in my stomach. We were two minds, working as one, playing off each other’s ideas. I felt connected to him. I felt entwined.
I wasn’t sure if it was a smart idea to feel professionally entwined with a man who made me literally faint with lust.
We crossed a busy intersection, the rain falling harder against the umbrella. Abe looked both ways, laying his palm at the small of my back to guide me forward. More heat flared there.
“You did extremely well back there, Sloane,” he said. “In fact, you’re a natural. If you were coming through the FBI’s training academy right now and I was your instructor, you’d be the one I watched for excellence. I didn’t do anything back there you couldn’t have done on your own.” He paused. “I’m sure I’m not the first person to comment on your remarkable charisma.”
I avoided making eye contact, even though I appreciated everything he’d said. He was right. I was often told I was charming and alluring. But that was because I was the biological byproduct of two professional grifters. Charm was our bread and butter, and while undercover I could slip into those roles without hesitation.
Technically, I was using my powers for good now. Only a former con artist could catch other con artists so easily. Being a private detective was my way of enforcing my own moral code.
But having those attributes commented on made me uncomfortable. It was the reminder I didn’t need that my genes and upbringing predisposed me to be an excellent liar.
“Do you think we convinced Humphrey that we are valiant in our passion?” I asked, dodging the compliment.
“If I’m a dapper Norse god, as you say, you are definitely a Norse warrior princess.” A smile tugged at the sides of his mouth. “The kind that devours the hearts of feckless men for breakfast.”
I hummed a little, hiding my own smile. “They do say it’s the most important meal of the day.”
The Langham Hotel was ahead. Our hotel. My heart rate sped up again, and I felt a corresponding flutter low in my belly.
“Speaking of being remarkable, you weren’t so bad yourself tonight.” Receiving compliments made me feel vulnerable. Giving them even more so. Each word was foreign on my tongue, and I wasn’t sure I’d nailed the delivery.
Abe turned, caught my gaze, and held it. “Thank you.”
We make a great team. Those words—even more unfamiliar—tried to force their way out. I managed to restrain them. I didn’t trust that yet.
“You can’t turn it off, can you?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “Turn off what?”
“This job.”
His light expression became a grimace. “Codex has been under an enormous amount of pressure since Henry joined our team back in February. And as my team likes to remind me, I’ve taken not a single damn day off during that time. I need this time to let go, sort myself out.”
There was a long pause. “Yes. I can’t fucking turn it off. The world spins forward, and people take vacations, and I can never seem to stop myself from caring about what’s happening in the shadows.”
“Same here,” I said. “I struggle with that. I pretty much work every weekend and every night.”
“No leisure for you, either?” he asked.
“Not as much as I probably should have.” We shared a quick look—absent of rampant sexual lust, it was more emotional.
“You’re a true lone wolf, Abe Royal,” I said.
“Am I?”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I said, flashing him my own mischievous smile. Every single thing about him screamed workaholic army of one.
“You’re not wrong,” he finally said—softly. “I find it challenging to reach out to people.”
“What’s it like for a lone wolf to have a team?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“They are extraordinary,” he said. “The four of them, they’re… a group. A team within a team. I’m their boss and therefore separate. As close as they are to each other, I’m merely a bystander. As the ones in charge often are.”
I smelled bullshit but didn’t push. I did say, “They must like you enough to want you to enjoy a vacation.”
“Or they’d rather be rid of me,” he said, except there was affection in his tone.
We walked through the opulent lobby toward the gold-plated, antique-looking elevator doors. Abe pressed the button for number six, then leaned against the wall.
“My mother and my step-mother have been begging me to watch this show called Love Island while I’m on vacation. So that’s one thing I could do with my free time.”
The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside. Immediately we both chose opposite walls to stand firmly against, leaving the entire small space between us. Abe shook out his wet umbrella and raised his eyes to mine.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Enlighten me.”
I swallowed, nervous. “It’s a British reality show where a bunch of sexy singles are filmed on an island, and they have to date each other to stay on the show. It’s basically a non-stop fuck fest.”
“Non-stop fuck fest.” He said each word slowly. “That’s one way to spend my time here.”
“Watching the show?” I clarified. I was hot, my cheeks were hot, this elevator was a million goddamn degrees.
He didn’t reply. He did hit the emergency stop button. We came to a grinding halt, suspended in the air. I raised my eyebrows at his arrogance, but he only shrugged.
“We’re having a conversation,” he said and didn’t move. “What’s your deadline on this case?”
I blinked, surprised at the shift. “Nine more days to capture Bernard or I lose the contract.”
He nodded, face empathetic. “I’m familiar with this kind of pressure. It’s a lot to manage if you’re only one person.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I guess I’m used to it, being on my own.” I cocked my head. “Do you find having a team of people helps you manage the pressure?”
“Makes it harder,” he said. “I manage the pressure for all of them.”
“Because they ask that of you?”
“Because I should,” he said firmly.
I gave him my most charming smile, until he returned it.
“What?” he asked.
“You love your team,” I said.
“I do?”
“The lone wolf loves his staff. It’s not a bad thing,” I replied.
“I have acquired some fondness for them.”
I snorted. “You talk about them like they’re a litter of kittens you found in your backyard.”
“In many ways, that is exactly what they are.” His tone was sardonic.
My smile widened. “You forget I’ve done my research, Mr. Royal. Aren’t all of your employees engaged to one another?”
Abe looked away. “No, not all to each other. Henry and Delilah are engaged. Sam and Freya live together, are together. Romantically.”
“And on a team that small, that intimate, the fact that you’ve willingly allowed two couples to work for you shows a real trust in them. A trust in their ethics and integrity. That doesn’t come from a simple fondness.” I kept my voice light, an attempt at teasing the dashing and unflappable man in front of me. I had to work to soften the jealous edge to my words.
“Are you suggesting I turn in my lone wolf membership ID card?” he asked, playful.
“Maybe.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Mostly, I’m suggesting you’re no
bystander in the lives of these people. You might even have a heart beneath that stoic facade.”
Abe unbuttoned his jacket, made a show of looking down at his chest. “Here?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Shouldn’t I fear you’ll devour it for breakfast?”
The force of my attraction to him walloped me across the face. Stunned, I succumbed to weakness and took three steps toward him. Pressed the tip of my finger to the spot where his heart resided. The echo of its rhythm pulsed in the hollow of his throat.
“You’re not the first man to fear me, Mr. Royal.”
His answering grin was truly beguiling. “I’m quite positive of that, Ms. Argento.”
He gripped my finger where it rested. “Those were interesting revelations we received at the pub tonight about our friend Bernard.”
“Sure were.”
Abe’s grip moved to my wrist, turning my hand open. He examined my palm like he planned to divine my future. “I’m sure all of those details about Bernard dovetail nicely with everything else you’ve uncovered as you’ve been tracking him.”
“Certainly,” I said evenly. “But I’m not sure why I’d share that information with a private detective insisting he’s not here tracking the same man. Insisting he’s on vacation.”
His nostrils flared. He wanted in. It was written all over his handsome face. “You’re right. I don’t want it. And since you clearly work alone…”
“And since you’re on vacation…”
“We’re back at square one,” he said dryly.
I reached forward, hit the elevator button. The machine started again, gears grinding, taking us to the sixth floor. We stared at each other for the entire thirty seconds it took to reach our floor, his grip on my wrist never loosening. When the doors finally creaked open, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. If we weren’t competing for the same prize, then couldn’t I allow this man into my bed for one night?
As I stepped up to my door, and he stepped to his, I saw his hand on his doorknob. He dragged one finger down the panel, head down, body language suddenly full of shy hesitancy. Was Abe like me in every way? Beneath his steadfast independence, was there a core of loneliness?
In the Clear (Codex Book 3) Page 12