“You are also aware that your own courts have determined that you must release him to my custody.”
Wilder sighed. “What they determined is that there is cause for extradition. Not that he should be released.”
“Same difference.”
He smiled. “Are you enjoying the bisque?”
“Not half as much as the conversation.”
That made him laugh out loud. “I’m disappointed that you don’t appear as eager to collaborate as I am.”
“You’re only interested in collaboration because you know that soon the suspect will be out of your jurisdiction.”
There was another rap on the door, and before Wilder could summon the person in, the door opened and someone other than the previous server came in.
“I’m terribly sorry to disturb,” the man said. “But there is an urgent call for you, sir.”
“Excuse me.” Wilder stood, not appearing surprised by the intrusion.
When the door closed behind him, I pulled out my cell phone only to find that I had no signal. It wasn’t surprising, given the exclusivity of the club; however, it left me annoyed at my inability to at least check my email.
There was something different about Wilder when he returned. I could only describe it as “lighter.” Whatever the call was concerning, was obviously good news, and I said so.
Wilder smiled, again a little differently than I’d seen him do up to this point, but it left his face almost as quickly as it had come.
“Whether the news is good depends on the point of view. I’m afraid you may not find it as such.”
“Out with it, Whittaker,” I said, folding my arms.
“The appeal court has overturned the lower court’s ruling.”
“I see.”
“So, unless you Yanks are ready to give up the cause, it appears you and I may have the opportunity to spend more time together.”
The smile was back along with the same arrogance I’d encountered earlier in the day when I’d shown up at his office.
“You are entirely too pleased with yourself.” I brought another spoonful of the bisque to my lips.
“I’ll admit only to how much I know I’ll enjoy the pleasure of your company.”
“Even if it means it will require you being subdued, controlled, and even civilized?”
“We’ll see about that.”
Throughout the rest of dinner and on the ride back to my hotel that Wilder insisted he give me, he acted as though my staying in London and working the case with him here was a foregone conclusion.
I wasn’t so certain. It would be Homeland Security’s call whether I stayed in England or went home.
5
Wilder
The pub was crowded by the time I arrived, but I could see my mates across the room. I stopped on my way over to them to grab a pint.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” said Pinch, clapping me on the back.
“I didn’t expect to be seen.” I took a drink from the glass and rubbed the back of my neck, appreciating that Axel “Pinch” Fulton had approached me before the rest of the blokes.
We’d grown up together on the grounds of Whittaker Abbey, my family’s estate in Bedfordshire. Pinch’s father was the head groundskeeper, whom my siblings and I had called “Wellie” since before I could remember. When I was old enough to wonder why, Shiver told me it had started because we never saw the man with anything on his feet other than Wellington boots.
Wellie’s wife had died shortly after Pinch was born, so without siblings of his own, Pinch spent most of his time with us.
In a lot of ways, Wellie was like a father to Shiv and me, even more so to our younger sister, Darrow. Which made the fact that, over a year ago, Shiver and I had discovered that Pinch and Darrow were secretly dating, all the harder to navigate. I wasn’t certain whether they still were, and I wasn’t about to ask.
It didn’t matter. Not only was Pinch my best mate, he was also a colleague at MI5—a job Pinch had gotten all on his own, even though both Shiver and I would’ve been glad to put in references for him.
“So…what happened?”
“The appeal court overturned the lower court’s ruling on the extradition of Caird. Over dinner, I proposed Agent Harlow and I work the investigation together.”
Pinch nodded. “That would change the course of the evening. Is she game?”
“She doesn’t think DHS will approve it.”
“You know differently.”
“Not yet. It was Shiv’s suggestion.”
“Right.” Pinch laughed. “Have another?” he asked, pointing to my empty glass.
“At least another.”
“Are you staying in town?”
“Tonight, but I’m thinking of going to Whittaker Abbey for the weekend. You?”
“Undecided.”
“Do I want to know why?”
“Probably not. Fancy a game of darts?”
“Always. What’s the wager?”
“Pub tabs.”
“Flipping hell,” I mumbled. That meant Pinch had rung up quite a large one.
The next morning, I considered skipping the office and going straight to Bedford, but before I did that, I needed to know the status of the Caird investigation. Primarily, whether I’d be going it alone as I had been, or if the delightfully charming and very beautiful Agent Harlow would be joining me.
“Come in,” Z called out when I walked up to the man’s secretary’s desk, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Good news on the court’s decision,” I said, sitting in the chair Z motioned to.
“Agreed, although the rest isn’t so much.”
“No?”
Z shook his head. “My contact is not confident that Officer Harlow is the best person for the job, as they say.”
“Did he or she say why not?”
Z sat back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of his face. “It was suggested that a man would be better suited.”
I was stunned. “He said that aloud?”
“If the call itself was discovered, she’d be in the hot seat, not to mention what was said in it. Although she did admit she didn’t necessarily agree.”
“Admittedly, I am shocked.”
Z shook his head. “I don’t know why, Whittaker. Your reputation is…how shall I say this? Legendary.”
“Mine? What have I got to do with this?”
“They’re uncertain Officer Harlow will be able to resist your charms.”
“Unfair on so many levels. This person doesn’t even know me. Not to mention that she has such a low opinion of one of her own, uh…officers. I thought they were agents.”
“Not at DHS. As far as the other matter, she does know you, Wilder, or I should say by two degrees of separation.”
“Bugger me,” I said under my breath. “You aren’t going to tell me who it is, are you?”
Z shook his head. “Not even under threat of death.”
“This person knows me only through someone else, yet she’s making a determination that could affect someone’s career solely based on hearsay.”
I couldn’t say exactly why I was so determined to keep Officer Harlow in London, but I felt like a dog with a bone. “What if you put George in charge?”
“And took you off the case entirely?” Z asked with raised eyebrows.
“Officially.”
“My contact would never believe it.”
“She might if my move to MI6 was announced publicly.”
Z’s steepled forefingers brushed against his lips. “And when Harlow reports that she is working with you, what then?”
“The caveat is that my role in the investigation would be classified.”
“Why would she agree to such terms?”
I couldn’t say why I thought she would; it was something in my gut.
“Is my involvement her only concern?”
“I can’t say for certain, but it seems the only one strong enough to insist
Harlow return to the States.”
I racked my brain, trying to figure out who this woman might be. I couldn’t remember having even minimal involvement with anyone at DHS, although that didn’t mean this person hadn’t moved over from another agency.
“One more question,” said Z.
“Go on.”
“Why do you care if Officer Harlow is replaced?”
I couldn’t answer that question any better than I knew why I intuitively believed she would agree to work with me even if she had to lie to her bosses about doing so. “I can’t say,” I responded finally.
Z continued to study me. “I’ll green-light the announcement. As officially unofficial as it may be.”
“Thank you, sir.” I stood to leave the office.
“Sutton?”
I stopped at my boss’ use of my given name.
“Do not muck this up.”
Nodding, I walked the hallway back to my office. Z’s question looped inside my head. Why did I care if Officer Harlow was replaced?
“Um, sir,” said Mrs. Udele as I approached her desk. “I’m sorry, sir, but she insisted.”
Peeking into my office, I was delighted to see Wren Harlow’s tush planted firmly on the edge of my desk.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“As I expected, I’ve been called back to Washington.”
Rather than walking behind my desk, I stood next to her. “Shame. When do you leave?”
“In the morning.”
I attempted to contain my smile, hoping against hope that Z would be able to work his magic before then.
“You seem pleased.”
“Not at all. In fact, I am profoundly disappointed.”
“To be honest, I am as well. My guess is it would’ve been fun to see who won out in the end.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Wilder. It wouldn’t have been a competition to see whether Caird ultimately remained in the UK or we prevailed as I anticipate we will?”
Competition be damned. All I could think about at that moment was how much I wanted to lean closer, breathe in her scent, even touch her lips with mine. But I couldn’t. Whoever Z’s contact was, predicted I’d do exactly that, and when I did, something told me that Wren would be lost to me forever. Inexplicable pain settled in my chest just thinking of it.
“Your reaction is a far cry from twenty-four hours ago,” I said.
Wren stood and straightened her charcoal-gray pencil skirt and reached for the jacket she’d tossed on the chair. “One day older, I suppose.”
“Wait.” I rested my hand on her arm.
Our eyes met: hers questioning, mine struggling.
I ran my free hand through my hair while the other remained on her arm.
“There’s to be an announcement soon. I’m not exactly certain when. However, I will be moving on from my position with MI5.”
“To Section 6?”
“Yes.”
“Sooner than you anticipated?”
“Much.”
She moved her arm away. “Congratulations, Agent Whittaker.”
I was at a loss for words. Whatever my brain came up with sounded too much like a come-on. “Perhaps we could celebrate over lunch?”
Wren looked at her watch. “I don’t know what time lunch is at in your part of the world, but for me it’s barely past breakfast.”
I grinned. “Right. How’s the Black Dog at…let’s say twelve noon?”
I held my breath when she hesitated. Was she really going to turn me down, walk out of my office, and then what? Be angry when she realized, tomorrow, that she’d been duped? That was if Z was successful in convincing whomever the wretched hen was who was insisting Wren leave.
“I was going to do some sightseeing, but I suppose I could squeeze in lunch.”
“You know, I fancy some sightseeing myself.”
“I would think you’d have seen all of London by now.”
I picked up her jacket, held it for her to slip her arms into, and leaned forward. Everything about this woman assaulted my senses in the best possible way. My hands lingered on her shoulders a moment too long, and in that time, I swore I heard her breath catch.
I closed my eyes against the temptation of resting my head on hers, backed away, and motioned to the door. Since I parked underground, I hadn’t bothered with an overcoat when I came in.
“Fancy a drive?” I asked.
“I was killing time anyway,” she murmured. The softness of her voice surprised me. Perhaps she was sad about having to leave.
“What time is your flight?”
Wren laughed, and the sound was like the most beautiful symphony to my ears. “It isn’t until tomorrow, Wilder. I’ve told you that twice now.”
“Morning or afternoon?”
“Again, already answered, but can I ask why it matters?”
“It’s a bit of a long drive.” I led her off the lift and over to the passenger door of my 1967 Jaguar XKE.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t hesitate getting in the car either when I opened the door for her. To me that was a win.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said a few minutes into the drive. I could see her gaze from the corner of my eye.
“Go ahead.”
“The Caird investigation will be officially handed over to MI5 Agent Marietta.”
“And unofficially?”
I smiled. She was quick—another thing I liked about her. “Whatever involvement I may have in it will be on a need-to-know basis only.”
“Meaning you’ll still be leading the investigation, but no one can know about it.”
“That’s right.”
“Because of your move to MI6?”
I shook my head and looked out the window, taking a deep breath before continuing. “No, Miss Harlow, because of you.”
6
Wren
“If you didn’t want me to divulge that information, you could have refrained from telling me.”
“Bollocks,” he mumbled, scrubbing his face with his hand. “This may be premature, but there is a negotiation taking place that may change your travel plans.”
I turned in my seat so I was looking directly at him. “Why?”
He let out a deep breath. “Because I don’t want you to leave London.”
“And yet you’re heading north on the motorway.”
He bestowed on me one of his mercurial smiles. “Better put, I don’t want you to leave England.”
“Why not?”
He sighed again, and the smile disappeared. “I don’t know.”
I looked away, unsure whether I should confess feeling the same. “Where are we going?” I asked a few minutes later.
“There’s a pub in Bedford with food so out of this world, it’s not to be missed.”
He rolled his eyes when I snickered.
“Okay, the truth is, I want to show you the abbey.”
“I was hoping that was where you were taking me.”
Wilder slowed the car and pulled off the motorway.
“I may not know a lot about this part of England, but it doesn’t look like we’re in Bedford.”
“We aren’t.” Wilder stopped on the side of the road and killed the engine. “There’s more I need to tell you,” he said, unfastening his seat belt and turning his body toward me.
“We’ll be working together, Miss Harlow. That’s if everything goes the way I hope it will. And that means as much as I’m dying to kiss you right at the moment, I cannot.”
My cheeks flushed. I wanted to look away from Wilder, deny how much I wished he would go ahead and do it, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from him—and that fact annoyed the hell out of me.
Wilder leaned his head against the back of the seat. “I hope you understand that stopping myself from touching you is literally killing me. The last thing I should be doing is taking you to my family’s estate or even spending the day with you. However, I am powerles
s to do otherwise.”
His fingertips touched my cheek, and I leaned into his hand.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Wren.”
“Wilder…start the car.”
He did as I asked, and got back on the motorway.
By Texas standards, Wilder’s familial estate was on the smaller side, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
“Pinch’s father is the head groundskeeper,” Wilder said, perhaps noticing that I kept looking from left to right, taking it all in. “You should see it in spring and summer.”
“I can only imagine.”
While Texas was, in my opinion, one of the prettiest places I’d ever been, this was too, but in such a different way. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t seen formal gardens, or even the English countryside. It was almost as if I could envision Wilder exploring every nook and cranny of this place when he was a young boy.
“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now.”
“I was picturing you growing up here.”
The mercurial smile was back. “Do you ride, Miss Harlow?”
“You’re joking.”
Wilder raised a brow. “I suppose I should’ve asked if you ride English.”
“I’d prefer bareback.”
“Over anything?”
“Over English.”
“You may be in luck. I’ve heard my sister, Darrow, has been riding Western as of late.”
“Why?”
Wilder shook his head. “My question precisely,” he muttered. “As with many things my younger sibling does these days.”
“I’m not exactly dressed to ride, Wilder.”
The way he looked me up and down set my skin first on fire and then ice, as chill bumps rose on its surface. There were countless reasons I could name why Sutton Whittaker wasn’t my type, without even trying. That he was known as Wilder should’ve crossed him off my list from the get-go. And yet, my body seemed to be in complete disagreement with my mind, and it was pissing me the hell off. No one got under my skin. No one.
“You’re Darrow’s size.”
“You’re so certain, are you?”
When I turned toward him in anticipation of a witty comeback, Wilder looked more embarrassed than playful. “My apologies,” he murmured.
The Lord and the Spy Page 3