In the Clear (Codex Book 3)

by Kathryn Nolan

  I squirmed beneath the intensity, turned on and excited all at once. “I agree we’ve got him in our sights. Do we have the time, though? Can they get here? Won’t it only draw more attention to ourselves?”

  These were pathetic questions disguised to hide the jealous reaction bubbling inside my stomach. It had taken a lot out of me to be honest with the man standing in this room. And a close-knit team like Codex was already giving me bad-college-memories; all those secret languages and hidden social cues I struggled to interpret. Being naturally charming was one thing. Being able to make friends was another.

  “It’s early evening for them right now,” he said. “They could easily be here by tomorrow, giving us time to prep and get them up to speed. We have, at least, four active suspects we want to be watching on Thursday. We haven’t even seen the auction space yet to assess entrances and exits, or weak points in their security system. And if you and I stake out the auction, who’s watching the other properties where we suspect Bernard might be hiding?”

  Abe was so very right, and I was so very uncomfortable. I’d known this man barely five days, and already I wanted to snatch him to my chest and keep him as mine. Which was an issue regardless because this man was going home to Philadelphia either way, and then where would we be?

  He dipped his head, caught my eye. “So what does my partner think about that?”

  Honesty, Sloane. Hadn’t we just openly declared our attraction to each other? Hadn’t I already exposed more of my secret, inner self to him than I had to anyone else?

  “Your partner doesn’t like teams,” I said slowly, although I did smile. “Lone wolf, and all that. You’ll have a chemistry with them, you’ll work together great. It’s hard for me to jump in and work with people I don’t know. It makes me feel nervous, I guess.”

  “If it’s hard for you to work with people you don’t know, what would you call this?” he said, pointing between the two of us. “Because, most assuredly, we did not know each other when we started working together.”

  I opened my mouth and found I had no argument. What would I call this? A fever dream? A waking fantasy? Or a glimpse into a life that was finally possible for me? A life filled with real human connection and even, against all odds, friendship?

  “This,” I said, mirroring his action. “Is a first for me.”

  “I think you underestimate the value you’d bring to a team like Codex. But this is your case and your client. Ultimately, it’s your decision, Sloane.”

  I wiggled on the bed, getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. “Call them. Of course call them, especially if they can help us catch this asshole. We both know this case is bigger now than my client or a payout. If our instincts are right about the auction, we’ll have one shot. So we better bring our best.”

  I knew that now. Every hour, every day that passed working alongside Abe exposed Bernard’s crimes as a universal injustice we had a duty to correct. “Besides,” I added. “If I was your team, I’d be pissed as fuck if you caught Bernard without me.”

  He winced. “To be perfectly honest, I’m worried they’ll still be pissed. I didn’t tell them about the email, and I lied about my true motivations for coming here.”

  I looked at him, dashing and disheveled in equal measure. “I bet you underestimate your qualities as a leader. They’ll forgive you. And they’ll follow you here.”

  “Hardly,” he drawled. He was tapping his phone against his leg, clearly on edge.

  “Call your damn team, Abe.” I grinned.

  “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think they’d help,” he said. “I would hate for you to think I doubt the two of us in anyway. Because trust me when I say that is not the case at all.”

  A pleasant heat spread from the tips of my toes to the top of my head—less sexual, more affectionate. Appreciative. Which only intensified my hesitation to mix up this sweet, heady chemistry between us by adding four more people at the last minute.

  Except I was twenty-seven years old, in London, working a case even Interpol couldn’t solve with a man that challenged and pushed me in the best possible ways. Trusting another person, especially a man, had never been in my top priorities. Yet here I was putting my life and career in Abe’s extremely capable hands. Trust was now something I could reach out and grab on to, cling to, clutch to my chest and keep safe. Surely I could do the same with four people who trusted him the way that I did. And as Abe sat on the edge of the bed and dialed a number on his phone, I knew the success of this case depended on my doing just that.

  Abe placed his phone on the bed, hit the speaker button. Kept his eyes trained on mine when a deep voice said, “Hello?”

  “Henry, it’s Abe.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled. I gave him a nod and a smile. There was a lot of noise in the background of the call, a shuffling.

  “How are you, sir? How’s vacation treating you?”

  “Well,” Abe said, “I guess that’s why I’m calling you. I don’t even quite know where to begin, to be perfectly frank. I, uh… I need your help, Henry.”

  “You need my help?” Henry asked.

  There were sounds of a scuffle, voices. Then a bright and cheery voice came on the line. “Abe?”

  “Freya?” Abe’s brow creased. Softly, like an afterthought, the sound of a robotic intercom voice echoed from the phone. Now boarding American Airlines flight 5703.

  “Wait, where are you?”

  “Hilarious story, boss,” she said. “We’re at the airport. All four of us. The cardboard cut-out we’d made of you wasn’t the same, so we figured we’d surprise you in London.”

  “I’m sorry, what now?” Abe’s voice was shocked, surprised.

  The phone must have changed hands—Henry, back on the line. “Sir, what Freya is trying to say is that you happened to have hired four of the most brilliant investigative minds this world has ever known. Forty-eight hours after you left on vacation, we started to suspect why you were really there, obviously. For a human lie detector, your lying ability is total shit. All due respect, of course.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand—a laugh trying to force its way out.

  “Respect noted,” Abe said, looking almost flustered. “And what exactly did you realize?”

  “That you’re there for him,” Henry said. And even I could feel the emotion rippling through the phone from across the Atlantic Ocean. “And we’re not going to let you do this alone. We’re a team, remember?”

  Abe glanced back at me. “And who taught you this?”

  “You, sir.”

  Abe swallowed hard, nostrils flared. He stood, breaking our eye contact, and paced across the room with his phone. “So am I to believe all four of you are at the airport right now?”

  “Our flight leaves in a few hours, bound for Heathrow Airport,” Henry said. “We should be arriving at The Langham Hotel around breakfast time. Figured you could catch us up to speed over tea and scones. Oh, and we closed The Black Stallion case and put a pin in the others. It’ll be a little chaotic, but if you need the four of us in London for a couple weeks, we’ve all committed to it.”

  More scuffling. Freya again. “Next time, hire shittier private detectives, and we won’t detect your lies. Also, London in October is literally the worst time to go, and Sam told us two months ago there were reported Bernard sightings there. Frankly, I’m offended you didn’t think we’d put it together.”

  Abe had a small, secret smile on his face. He still held the phone out so I could hear but was now standing at the glass doors, overlooking the city. Without his knowing, I admired Abe Royal on the phone with his team and admired the awed respect and admiration evident in the voices of Henry and Freya. Gentle teasing, teamwork, a mutual regard for one another. Codex would fly to the ends of the earth to support this man—a feeling I understood since I felt extremely compelled to do the same.

  “Abe,” Henry said quietly. “You know we’re happy to do it. We’ll be there. I’m guessing its big if you’re ca
lling?”

  “Yes,” Abe said, voice tight. “An auction. Two nights from now. New private papers from the estate of Arthur Conan Doyle coming up for auction, and the Sherlock Society wants them.”

  There was a heavy pause on the other line. “I’m also guessing you know how big of a deal that would be to Bernard.”

  “I wouldn’t have made the call if I didn’t think this might be it.” Abe’s voice was low, urgent. I could see the tension in the way he held his body. Through the speakers I could hear a muffled boarding call. “We’ll need to work fast as soon as you land.”

  “We?” Henry asked.

  “One of the many things I’ll need to update you on is a private detective named Sloane Argento. She and I met here. She’s been hired by your former boss, Louisa Davies, to do exactly what we’re about to do.”

  “Louisa? You have to be joking,” Henry said.

  “I am not,” Abe said. “Lots to tell you. Go board the plane, sleep as much as you can, and call me when you’re all in the lobby.”

  “Absolutely,” Henry said, sounding a little shell-shocked. “I’ll tell the team. We’ll be there soon.”

  Abe was staring right at me. “Thank you. For coming to help.”

  My chest was filling with light and buoyant air. I was proud of him. Another dangerous element to add into the mix.

  “And thank you for asking,” Henry said.

  The moment Abe hung up the phone, exhaustion crashed over me like a tidal wave. I broke into a massive yawn I couldn’t have stopped if I tried. Although as soon as Abe looked at me, I steeled my spine and kept my chin raised.

  “They’re no litter of kittens you found in your backyard, Mr. Royal,” I said.

  He chuckled softly. “No. They are not. They are extraordinary.”

  My chest pinched at the emotion in his words—what would it be like to have coworkers like Abe and Henry and Freya? What would it be like to go to work with people who were proud of you? That you were proud of?

  “It’s so obvious to me, the way they feel about you,” I said, a little tentative. “And it’s so obvious the way they call you on your epic amounts of bullshit.”

  He put the phone down, leaned back against the window with a playful smirk. Tie tugged off, first two buttons open on his shirt, exposing a patch of skin I wanted to see more of. The man just embodied sex.

  “I’m starting to believe I’m the kind of man who needs to be called on his bullshit,” he said. “You seem to enjoy it.”

  Abe was flirting with me, and I was pretty sure he didn’t even realize it. And I literally couldn’t flirt back without wrapping my fingers through his belt loops and tugging him down on top of me.

  “Tomorrow will be interesting.” I shrugged, sidestepping those urges.

  “They’ll love you,” he said. “And you’ll love them. Just in case you have any doubt.”

  “I’ll do anything to catch Bernard,” I said firmly.

  With a nod, he pushed himself off the wall and rearranged himself back into impassive, serious observer. He must have sensed my raising walls—it was sheer survival mode at this point. Abe Royal was standing over my bed in a room we were going to sleep together in. My head literally spun with sexual fantasies, and between that, the adrenaline, my various cuts and bruises, and the nerves at meeting Codex, I was a hot goddamn mess.

  “You and I need to sleep before the chaos of tomorrow,” he said. “What do you need? Water? Food?”

  “Just this bed and the lights off.” I bit my lip and watched him prowl back and forth, grabbing the clothing that the hotel had given us from their gift shop.

  “I can facilitate that,” he replied. “I’ll shower and flick the lights off, okay?”

  I smiled until he was assured of my comfort. I’m sure he pegged my silence as a symptom of exhaustion when I was actually tongue-tied with wanting him.

  He turned off the lights, slipped into the bathroom. A second later, I heard the water come on, and I quickly tossed my dress, threw my hair into a hasty braid and yanked on a gift-shop shirt easily three times my size. Beneath the covers, I tried to sink into the pillowy escape of sleep.

  Instead, I could only think about Abe sliding his shirt off his shoulders. Could only think about his bare chest, his back, his naked body slipping beneath the steam. His hands, slicking back his wet hair. Would he think of me while in there? Think of me and touch himself? Stroke his cock beneath the arc of water and stifle his moans?

  A flash of what I hoped wasn’t lightning streaked across the room, smashing my fantasy to pieces. I pulled the blanket all the way to my chin and tried to get comfortable, tried to mute my fear. Tried to strengthen my willpower to resist Abe Royal in all of his glory.

  If only he’d stayed Hot Guy in a Suit—a hot, quick, anonymous fuck I’d take home as a souvenir from my first trip to London. Instead he was a tender, brilliant, funny, respected leader who had the magical ability to beckon my secrets from the most private corners of my mind. And was easily the world’s best kisser. But forty-eight hours was all that existed between us and a crucial break in the biggest case of our lives. If it was only sex between the two of us—only raw, physical attraction—surely we could resist each other until then?

  30

  Abe

  The scream that tore through the hotel room ripped me from sleep. I gasped, fumbled for the lamp next to the trundle bed. Outside, London was being lashed by a powerful thunderstorm, rattling the windows with ominous rumbles amidst a torrential downpour.

  And Sloane was sitting upright, hair disheveled, looking like she’d seen a ghost. I was up and onto the bed with her before a single rational thought could stop me.

  “What happened? What is it?” I said quickly, reaching for her face.

  She was panting, terrified. “It’s nothing. Nothing. I’m so sorry. I, uh…”

  I’d never seen Sloane Argento look so unsure, and it fucking terrified me. Sensing her discomfort, I slowly flipped on the lights in the room until everything was ablaze. No more shadows. By the time I was done, Sloane was sitting up fully, hair pulled over her shoulder, a large shirt stretched past her knees. And from the steel of her spine, she was already trying to convince me she was fine when it was clear she wasn’t.

  “You what?” I asked softly. I didn’t sit back on the bed. I wouldn’t, unless she asked me. I ran my hand through my hair, dislodging any remaining mental cobwebs. The clock on the nightstand said 2:30 a.m.

  Her shoulders slumped a little. “I’m afraid of thunder.”

  “Thunder?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her.

  She lifted a shoulder, attempting to be casual. “Thunderstorms. I’ve… always been… afraid of them.”

  I’d watched this woman get tackled by a man five times her size and dismantle him with ease.

  “Don’t make fun of me?” she asked. Her fingers clenched in the sheets.

  “I would never,” I said with as much sincerity as I had.

  There was a whack of thunder so loud the lights in the room flickered. She flinched like she’d been slapped across the face. My own fingers curled tightly with the repressed need to go to her.

  “May I… sit with you?” I asked softly, fully expecting her to say no.

  Avoiding eye contact, she said, “Can you?”

  I was there before she’d even finished in the affirmative. With pillows piled behind me, I settled near her trembling form. When our eyes locked, I reached out and entwined our fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I feel embarrassed.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed for what you fear. I’m here. I’ll be here.”

  Even entwined, her fingers were shaking. I was out of my mind with fear for her. “Tell me what I can do, Sloane, please.”

  Inch by slow inch, she slid across the bed. I opened my arms, and she curved into my side. The fit was perfect and utterly divine.

  I laid one hand on her head, scr
atched her scalp. The other reached around and pulled her close. “Does this help?”

  “It does,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  Thunder shook the room violently. I held her tight through each roll of sound, her body shaking as violently as the storm outside. The thought of Dresden security guards torching our rooms with flames to send a message made me furious. And yet, for a single second, I was grateful. Because it placed me here, for Sloane. When she needed me. My palm stroked firmly into the strands of her hair. “Like this?”

  She nodded, clung to me. Any second and I guessed the storm would land right over us, if it hadn’t already.

  “Can you distract me?” she asked—a request that, knowing her, was probably excruciating to make. “Tell me more about your mom? Something happy?”

  I stroked her hair again. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s see… well, I was the officiant that married my mother and Jeanette on their wedding day.”

  Her muscles relaxed an iota. “That’s adorable, and I’m listening.”

  My lips nuzzled the crown of her head. “They got married on the beach in Miami, about four years ago—although they’ve been together for more than two decades. I was ordained online, and they requested I wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.”

  Sloane’s laughter was muffled against my chest. “Abe Royal wore a leisure shirt? And you just told me you would never.”

  “I did, and I never will again,” I said. “It was a special occasion. And I would do anything to make those two happy. It was lovely, truly lovely. They were ecstatic throughout the whole ceremony. When I first met Jeanette, I was a pretty anxious and worried teenager. She swooped in, cared for my mother, helped me be a better caregiver. I was so glad the day they told me they’d fallen in love. Jeanette’s heart is four times the size of a regular person’s.”

  “Did you cry?” she asked.

  My hand paused in its motion. “Yes,” I said. “I rarely do, but I did that day. My mother is an inspiration. She survived an accident and the betrayal of her spouse with a cheerful and resilient spirit. Allowed herself to fall in love again without fear, to open her heart…”