Elizabeth, distracted momentarily by the view out the windows, asked mildly, “Best what?”
“Get-out-of. . .” Annesley began, and then narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you ever play Monopoly as a kid?” Elizabeth just stared at her. Annesley shrugged and waved a hand. “Never mind.”
Elizabeth pulled the small slip of paper Bob had given her. “This is for the FBI and Homeland,” she said, handing it over. “I’d rather you handled it. More official coming from you. Tell them it’s my parting gift.”
The attorney gingerly accepted the paper. She retrieved reading glasses from her desk, settling them on her nose and brushing a lock of hair back from her face as she read the tiny letters. “Is this for real?”
“I trust the man who gave it to me.” She paused. “And so does Homeland. They’ll recognize his code,” she told the other woman. When Annesley sent her an inquisitive glance over the top of her glasses, she arched an eyebrow and assured her, “It’s in there somewhere.”
Annesley nodded. “It doesn’t look good for Senator Barker, then.”
“It does not,” Elizabeth agreed. “I’m fortunate to have people watching my back—Barker was very savvy, but every transfer of money does leave a trail somewhere. You just have to know where to look.”
Annesley removed her glasses and leaned back against her desk. “What about the George Wickham that caused all that trouble the last time you were in town? Even if Senator Barker is taken down by this, Wickham may still be a threat to you all.”
Elizabeth gazed out the windows. “He’s not.”
“Are you . . . ” Annesley stopped short. “Ah.” She motioned to the door and changed the subject. “Normally I’d have my assistant make the copy, but I’d like to play this one close to the vest.” She chuckled. “Much more satisfying when I surprise her as well as whoever the director sends,” she said.
Elizabeth nodded. “I’m done, in any case. I know you’re busy. I’ll walk with you and then head out.”
When Annesley handed the letter back, she smiled. “Well, Elizabeth Bennet, it’s been . . . something. If you find yourself on YouTube again, you have my number.”
“And you have mine,” Elizabeth assured her with a saucy grin. She tucked her letter away and lifted her bug-splattered helmet in salute. “See ya.”
As she walked outside, helmet already over her head, she decided to take a drive around town and across the Golden Gate Bridge. She’d been anticipating making the trip when she’d flown out just after Thanksgiving but hadn’t gotten the chance. No convertible, she thought, but a Harley works. She pulled on her gloves. She spent an hour riding around, but it wasn’t the same without Will. She hit the bridge at a good time—there was a break in the cloud cover and the traffic was relatively light. She pulled into the slow lane and allowed herself to take it all in. A pale blue sky opened over the bay, the sunlight sparkling off the water. She pulled into the Welcome Center lot, parked, and walked back to the bridge.
She leaned as far forward as she could to see across the water, Sausalito on one side, San Francisco on the other. She blocked out the traffic noise behind her and listened to the gulls, breathed in the salty air, and felt her shoulders unknotting. She gazed at the bridge itself, imagining numbers whirling in the air as she thought of the calculations necessary for the bridge to survive the winds here. “Glad that’s not my job,” she muttered to herself, watching the ships travel under the bridge as they came in from the Pacific. A kind of peace rolled over her, and she could feel herself relaxing just a little more.
Slowly, she tore her eyes away from the view and strolled back to the bike. She found her phone, hit the speed dial, and held it close to her ear until he answered. “Will?”
Will had just fallen into a deep sleep, one arm trailing off the sectional in his uncle’s suite, when his phone rang. He threw out his hand instinctively, but only succeeded in knocking the entire table on its side, sending the phone flying. The jarring motion made him open his eyes. That’s not my ceiling, he thought, disoriented. The phone rang again, waking him fully. Abruptly reminded of where he was and why, he rolled off the sofa and began scrambling for the vibrating phone, grabbing it just before the call was sent to voice mail. “Hello?” he asked breathlessly, without even checking who was calling. He knew.
“Will?” Elizabeth asked, and his heart gave a leap. “I said I’d call when I got here. Want to meet me?”
“Yes,” Will said firmly. Yes, yes, yes. “Where are you?”
She laughed, a calm, happy laugh, and he felt the corners of his mouth lifting in response. “I’ll text the address.” Her voice softened. “Can’t wait to see you.”
He couldn’t wait to surprise her. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied, his voice lowered. We’re in the same city at last. The thought was comforting.
She apparently was on her way to her hotel, because she didn’t text him right away. He waited nearly an hour, tapping his feet impatiently, getting up and pacing the floor, checking the news on the television without really listening, never letting go of his phone. At last the information came with a long buzz. He read it while grabbing his bag and loping downstairs to grab a cab.
Elizabeth emerged from the shower followed by a steamy cloud. She combed out her hair and dried it. Then she climbed into bed, gazing out the windows to the bay beyond. The hotel wasn’t that far from Annesley’s office, but she felt no desire to let anyone know exactly where she was yet. Just Will. She kicked her legs up and down a little, unable to keep still.
Even if he could get a flight out today, he’d be quite late, so she’d splurged, both on the quality of the hotel and the length of the stay. She’d reserved the room for three nights, and she wasn’t planning on doing much sightseeing. If she wanted to work out, the hotel had a gym and a pool, and the building was only half-full after the Christmas holiday. My own vacation, she grinned, flopping back on the bed before popping back up and grabbing the room service menu. Nothing appealed, so she tossed it on the side table. She’d thought it would be easy to sleep, but she was too excited. She flipped on the television and scrolled through the movies. Nothing interesting there.
Just as her eyes were beginning to close, there was a knock on the door. She thought it might be housecleaning, so she slipped out of bed and padded to the door, hastily tossing a terrycloth robe over her sleep shorts and t-shirt. She peered through the peephole and jerked her head back in shock. Will. For a wild moment, she thought she might be imagining things, but she looked again and saw him shifting anxiously from one foot to another. She threw back the locks and yanked the door open.
Will was holding a small white bag and a tray with two cups of coffee. Elizabeth felt her breath coming in quick bursts, and she struggled for control.
“Bagels?” he said quietly, his lips stretching into a wide smile, dimples on full display. He lifted the bag a bit.
Elizabeth would never admit that her legs had betrayed her, so she leaned one shoulder against the door frame, playing it cool. “Are they Murray’s bagels?”
Will glanced at the bag and turned it around. Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, they are Murray’s.” Her entire body was humming, but she maintained the façade and just nodded at the coffee. “I hope you didn’t bring those from New York.”
He shook his head. His eyes were glossy, but his next words were a tease. “Before you ask, I bought the lox here, too,” he said, the smile still in place, his eyes boring into hers. “Didn’t think Uncle Terry and Oscar would appreciate smelling it on the plane.”
“You brought me lox?” she asked, her voice breaking just a bit.
Will shrugged, the smile disappearing, his stare growing even more intense. “Last time we had bagels. . . I said I would.” Before he could finish, Elizabeth had removed the coffee from his hands and dropped the tray on the closest counter to the door, grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged him inside the room. He touched her cheek gently with his free hand.
He placed the Murray’s bag on the counter next to the abandoned coffee and unwound the strap from his overnight bag, letting it fall to the floor. At the same time, Elizabeth was hurriedly locking the door behind him and tossing the bag of lox in the room’s small refrigerator. Their eyes met for a second before Elizabeth straightened and leapt into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
He took a step back to balance them but held her close. “So,” he grumbled into her neck, “seems like you missed me.”
“Nice speech, Darcy,” Elizabeth teased, nuzzling the spot just behind his ear and reveling in the shudder it produced. “Very romantic.”
He answered her with a crushing kiss.
“Talking’s overrated,” he told her gruffly. He took three steps with her in his arms and then they both tumbled onto the bed.
You just don’t know when you get up in the morning how your day is going to turn out, Elizabeth thought languidly, stretching her legs and pointing her toes. She had started her day at a Best Western in Buttonwillow, nearly choked to death on methane from the cattle ranch, and made an appearance in a very expensive law firm wearing worn black leather and carrying a motorcycle helmet and a messenger bag. Now she was propped up on one elbow, in a luxurious bed, sprawled next to an incredibly handsome man. A man who’d flown across the country just to be nearby when she called. Who’d then appeared with bagels and coffee. And lox. Better than flowers, she grinned. Who’d then made love to her. Passionately. If she’d ever had doubts about returning, they were vanquished now.
She let her eyes glide down his chest to where his hip disappeared beneath the sheets and sighed tenderly. Just being held by Will Darcy made all her problems feel . . . surmountable. I love him so much, she thought, resting her forehead against his chest. And the miracle of it is, he loves me, too.
She pulled away and reached up to touch his hair, now tousled but still nowhere near as long as in the photo Abby had shown her. His hand automatically came up to hold hers. When she glanced down at his face, he was watching her unblinkingly, with a raw longing. He brought the palm of her hand to his lips, then put a hand behind her head and carefully, cautiously, pulled her face to his.
“I am so grateful,” he whispered, “so grateful you came back to me.”
She touched his hair and kissed him softly. “I’m so grateful you waited. I love you, Will.”
He responded to this declaration with a tight embrace. No, she thought hazily as she drifted off to sleep at last, secure in his arms, you just never know.
Chapter Seven
Richard stared at his brother through the open teleconference feed. “You met Annesley at the Hidden Vine. Go on.”
“I appreciated the performance she gave the FBI and Homeland today. The Director of the FBI even sent his Agent-in-Charge.” Oscar chuckled. He seemed unusually relaxed. Richard approved. They’d all been through the wringer in the past few days, and though Oscar would never admit it, Richard knew he’d been worried about Will.
“Thank you,” said a female voice from behind Oscar.
“Ah good, you’re here,” Oscar said, turning his head to welcome the newcomer. “I invited Ms. Annesley to join the call, Richard. I figured you might want to hear about it from the horse’s mouth.”
“That is a terrible was to describe a woman, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Annesley said as she sat down. Oscar smirked, then adjusted the camera so that Richard could see them both. Richard was silent as he gauged their body language. Relieved smiles, collegial banter—they were happy.
“As you know, Richard,” Oscar began, “Will asked me to work with Ms. Annesley on Elizabeth’s behalf.”
“And you don’t like to leave anything undone,” Richard replied, stretching back in his chair.
“Family trait,” Oscar said with a nod. “So,” he said, turning to Annesley, “I was saying I enjoyed the presentation of evidence today.”
“It really was all Elizabeth,” she informed them both drily. “I saw her on YouTube, you know. Dressed casually but completely normal, middle-America. I thought I’d forgotten Halloween this morning when she arrived dressed like a down-on-her-luck superhero, all old black leather and attitude.” She removed the documents. “Carrying these around in a tattered messenger bag.”
“Did anyone notice her?” Richard asked curiously.
“No,” Annesley replied, pulling the hem of her suit jacket taut. “She was probably mistaken as a courier.” She rolled her eyes and looked at Oscar. “Probably by design,” she said in a self-deprecating tone, as though this had just occurred to her. “In any case, when I asked, she said it was all right for Mr. Darcy or the two of you to see these.”
She held up a copy of the message she’d given the officials that morning. Richard leaned forward to read it on the screen. It wasn’t much, just a few phrases and two long strings of numbers written in very small block print.
“I asked Elizabeth about the number as I was making copies,” she told Richard. “It’s an . . .”
“Account number,” Richard finished, his expression pinched in thought. Annesley tipped her head in his direction in a silent acknowledgment.
“And a digital file locater number,” Oscar added. “I’ll never be able to dig that deep, but I suppose we can at least make a formal request for a copy to let everyone know we’re aware of its existence. The Bureau might be annoyed enough to make a scene—this is really a cross-agency issue, and they won’t appreciate being left out of the loop by Homeland. They can keep each other busy.”
Annesley offered Oscar a small smile. “I have the forms for the request with me, if you like.”
Oscar raised his eyebrows and gave her a nod of approval.
“How’d she look?” Richard asked, and they looked straight at him. “Elizabeth. Did she look all right?”
“She looked fine,” Annesley said, and paused. “When I got the first call,” she continued, wryly, “I wondered why they were calling me. I thought some rich guy was trying to get his girlfriend out of a drunk and disorderly.” She asked Oscar a quiet question and he got up, returning with a bottle of water which he handed to her. “I had no idea. Elizabeth doesn’t look the part.” She took a sip.
“I imagine that’s the point,” Oscar said, grinning at Richard. “It’s the skinny guy in the wire-rimmed glasses you have to watch out for.”
“Or the loud one in the plaid suit and white socks,” she teased.
“I don’t see Elizabeth in a plaid suit,” Richard replied, fondness sneaking into his voice.
The attorney gazed at Richard thoughtfully before turning to Oscar and saying, “She had her hair in a braid this morning. Did I tell you that?”
Oscar shrugged. “No. Any reason you should?”
“No,” she drew the word out, her expression contemplative. “It just made her look so young.”
Richard heard a wistful note in his brother’s tone when he said, “She is young, Ms. Annesley.” He attempted a smile, but it was closer to a grimace. He stared through the video feed at Richard. “They all are.”
Richard could have argued that. He didn’t feel young. But he let it go.
The attorney was silent for a moment. Finally, she asked, “Elizabeth mentioned a code—did you see it?”
Richard nodded. “I’m not sure what it means,” he said, “but I suspect it’s a temporary identification code so they know who sent it. Look at the file number—it has four capital letters spaced out—FETE. Turn the page over, please.” He made an approving sound in the back of his throat. “See the dots on the back of the page?”
The woman frowned and took the copy from Oscar’s hand to examine it. “It just looks random, like someone rested a pen on the paper.”
Oscar gave him a penetrating stare. Richard shrugged. He didn’t talk about his experiences in the field. It didn’t mean he didn’t have any.
“But Forster from Homeland checked the back of the paper, did you notice?” Oscar asked, wit
hout taking his eyes from Richard.
“I did,” she agreed, staring at the dots. “I just thought I was being paranoid.”
Richard shook his head with exaggerated care. “Not paranoid, Ms. Annesley. Thorough.” Annesley held up the letter. Richard smiled when he saw the letterhead. “Secretary of Defense,” he said softly. “Civilian Service Medal?”
Annesley smiled and nodded. “Did you notice the dates?”
“Covers her since her return home.” Oscar took the letter. “Someone pushed to get this so fast.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Annesley admitted.
“Medal awards normally take a long time,” he told her. “I suppose because it’s civilian it was a bit easier,” he mumbled.
Richard agreed silently. Apparently, Elizabeth has influence in Washington. Or friends who do. He hoped she wasn’t going to make this sort of trip again. He didn’t think Will could survive it.
Will switched the bedside lamp on. It had grown quite dark outside. He wasn’t tired but had no desire to leave the bed. Elizabeth was curled up on her side, facing him. She was deeply asleep. He watched her for a while, stroking her hair and tracing one finger along the silky skin of her cheek. He smiled. Despite her rather energetic welcome, he could see that she was exhausted. Exhausted, but healthy. Weary, but here. With him.
As they were both naked, it was no great feat to see that his initial impressions were correct, she’d lost a bit of weight. But she had called the moment she got her hands on a phone, had tried to play off his early arrival only briefly before giving up and attacking him. He tucked her more securely beneath the blanket and then burrowed in next to her. He held her hand, just to be sure of her.
Elizabeth sniffed and dug into the covers a little more deeply. She sniffed again. Something salty, like the ocean. She was still dreaming, telling Abby to stop calling her Dutch. She forced her eyelids open and found herself in a room brightened by daylight, looking straight into Will’s amused face hovering only inches from her own. He was grinning mischievously, and she wasn’t sure why. This can’t be good.
Overcome Page 7