Her Spy to Hold (Spy Games Book 2) (25 page)

But, even if she did, she only had one person she wanted to wear it for. Having the kind of relationship where they saw each other a few times a year strictly for sex might have been something she could have learned to be OK with in the beginning, but now her heart was involved and she’d learned a few more things about pheromones. Once they’d incited a strong physical attraction to one member of the male species, they were hard to redirect. She could write a paper on it.

That made Kale Martin unfinished business. If she planned to move on she had to do something about it.

She drew the curtain across the window and shimmied out of her business suit, dropping the skirt and jacket on the floor. She stared at them for a second, then kicked them aside. She didn’t have to go back to the conference tomorrow if she didn’t want to. She grabbed a plain white blouse and gray leggings from the foot of her bed. She tugged on a pair of high-heeled ankle boots and reached for her laptop.

Since she was working up nerve she was going to London. She had Kale’s number and his phone had a GPS. When she got there, she’d give him a piece of her mind. He didn’t get to decide what she wanted. He didn’t get to end things between them this way.

She had a say too.

* * *

London sucked. It was cold, it was rainy, and if Dan was deliberately setting Kale up for failure he couldn’t have lobbed him a better assignment. The usual thrill Kale experienced was gone from the chase.

He’d made such a mistake. Handled things poorly. He wanted Irina more than he did any of this and it was affecting his work. At least he knew she was safe. Dan, despite his complaining, had checked on her for him and made sure the RCMP kept her under unofficial surveillance. CSIS had a presence at the defense conference in Paris so she’d be safe enough there.

There’d been no discernible fallout from the administrative assistant’s firing either. Whoever was behind the cyberstalking seemed to have moved on. As for the investment banker… Irina was no doubt the last thing on his mind these days. When Canada’s anti-terrorism act had been read to him and he’d learned what the charges against him would be he’d cried like a girl.

A splatter of rain hit Kale’s table, creating a dark splash on the wood. A quick glance at the sky warned there could be more where that came from. He was on Broadway Market, not far from London Fields in the borough of Hackney, nursing a mid-afternoon pint between showers at an outdoor pub. Five women in niqabs occupied the table beside him, parcels strewn at their feet as if they’d been up to nothing more than a day of shopping. CSIS, however, suspected they were being used to exchange information by male relatives with terrorist connections. One of the women was a Canadian national bent on making questionable life choices.

Normally Kale enjoyed tailing stupid people, trying to figure out what motivated them, but this situation was beyond his understanding. It wasn’t greed or ego driving his target. Her ideology was also in doubt. What sane woman of the twenty-first century gave up her freedom by marrying into a foreign sub-culture noted for its harsh treatment of women? And took on a husband who was the worst of its offenders? How little self-respect must she have?

A lot less than Irina, that was for sure. She knew her self-worth. She’d never forgive him for running out on her. That had been his goal at the time—which made him stupid too and gave him no right to judge other people.

Regardless of this target’s poor personal choices the Canadian government continued to claim her as a citizen, and therefore part of a larger problem they had to deal with. CSIS was looking for a name, a date, and a location from her and her friends. That was where Kale and his Arabic came in, but tailing women was always tricky and today was his last chance to get the information. He’d never get this close to her again without tipping her off.

The women, however, weren’t cooperating with him. Even though he was doing his best to appear as nothing more than a tourist in need of a break from sightseeing, they’d made it plain they disliked having a strange man sitting so close to them. Any second now they were going to bolt.

“There you are!”

Kale recognized Irina’s voice even before turning around. When he did he could scarcely believe it was her. Stalking toward him, all high heels, leggings, and stormy green eyes, was someone who certainly looked like her.

What he couldn’t quite get his head around was the spectacle she was currently creating. Irina was the soul of discretion. So, too, was Dr. Glasov, her alter ego. This beautiful, obviously pissed woman was a version of her he’d never before seen.

She slung her bag on a chair and slapped her palm on the table. She leaned forward and got in his face. “You didn’t leave me the credit card. How am I supposed to do any shopping?”

His peripheral vision told him the women at the next table were having a good laugh at his expense. Their comments were priceless and made it apparent they had no idea he could understand what was being said. They settled in again, no longer in any hurry to leave and miss the entertainment. Kale was tempted to kiss Irina and add to their fun. The day wasn’t going to be a total bust after all.

Instead, he drank in the sight of her. She was cute when she was riled. Hope expanded inside him, nudging the chill of discontent from his soul. Letting her emotions take charge meant there was hope things could be salvaged between them. She wouldn’t be here if logic prevailed.

He kicked a chair out so she could sit down. She inched it forward, bringing it close to his, warning him that while she might be playing a part in his current drama her anger was real.

“You showed up at just the right time, Dr. Babe,” he whispered to her. “I owe you.”

“Don’t think for a minute that you and I are on good terms,” she replied, her voice equal parts softness and finely-honed steel. “You left without saying good-bye. I deserved better than that.”

He had. She did. He reached for her hand across the table, his stomach a mess because of the distinct possibility she might say her piece and leave before he had a chance to say his. She was unpredictable when in a snit and even on a good day he pushed all her buttons. But this wasn’t the best time or place to admit he’d made the worst mistake of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her tiny palm so she couldn’t withdraw. “This is going to make me sound like a jerk but I’m working right now.”

“I can see that. So can the whole world.” She raised her voice. In the blink of an eye she became whiny and demanding, and so completely unlike her normal self that it threw him. “I’m tired of London. You promised me Paris. I want to see the Louvre, not another stupid soccer game.”

“Anything you want, babe.”

She could have no idea how heartfelt that declaration was. If she’d give him a second chance he’d do whatever she asked of him. Not right now though. He tried to get his head back in the game, but it was hard. He had a million thoughts running through it that no longer related to work.

Again, this unfamiliar version of Irina saved him. She proceeded to carry on both sides of their conversation, responding to questions and comments he never made so he could listen to what was going on at the next table. Twenty minutes later he had the information he needed.

The five women began gathering their parcels, their discreet meeting over.

Kale leaned across the table and kissed Irina, partly to shut her up, but mostly because he couldn’t wait one more second. The faint, fascinating sprinkle of freckles on her nose had been the focus of his attention for the whole time she’d been sitting across from him, babbling on about nothing. He loved the sexy way she clipped her hair up, thinking it made her look professional. He knew from living with her that once she performed her morning makeup routine she rarely touched it again and by midday she always looked as if she’d been having hot sex in a storage closet. That was how she looked now. She was the epitome of the absent-minded professor—although granted, a high-class stripper version.

He’d never wanted her more.

“No one listening to you for the past twenty minutes would ever guess you have a brain in your head,” he whispered into her ear.

Her storm-filled eyes remained frosty. “Still angry. And that was the whole point.”

“Let’s go back to my hotel where we can talk.” He stood, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. He linked their fingers together, not letting go when she tried to tug free. As far as he was concerned she was still a flight risk even though she was the one who’d come looking for him. A punch to the face only took a split second. He knew that from experience.

“Talking is all I came here to do,” she warned him. “I have a few things to say to you.”

“Understood.” He had a few things to say to her too. The last three weeks had been hell. He’d been out of his mind to think he could live without her.

The walk to his hotel took forever. Her heels didn’t help up the pace. He thought about hailing a cab but it wasn’t that far.

The hotel where he was staying was modern and cheap. He was on the Canadian taxpayers’ dime.

Irina scanned the surroundings as they entered the building, no doubt hoping to find a spot on the main floor where they could talk so she wouldn’t have to go to his room, but the lobby, while spacious, was open concept and left them nowhere private.

They took the lift to the fifth floor in silence. His room at the end of the corridor was white-walled and plainly furnished, stark without being drab, the only real attraction a king-sized bed that took up the majority of space. A narrow path cut between the foot of the bed and a desk running the full length of the wall. Generic sheer drapery covered the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He shut the door and threw the deadbolt, then turned to her. Before he jumped on her and swore his undying love or let her ream him a new one, there was one question he’d been dying to ask. “How did you find me?”

“The GPS in your phone.”

His eyes almost bugged out of his head. His lower jaw unhinged and swung open. He couldn’t believe that Irina, who thought everything to death, would do what she was suggesting, but also didn’t see any other way she could have found out where he was. “You hacked into a CSIS phone? Have you lost your mind? Do you understand how much trouble you could be in if anyone finds out?”

She stood beside the bed, her arms folded across her chest, her expression angry and unrepentant. “After I hacked into the RBN for you people? Who’s going to report me?”

Not him. Dan either.

But Jesus.

“We do have security on these phones,” he felt compelled to remind her.

“If I can hack past it without tripping alarms and it’s not even my area of expertise, then you should be more worried about who else might be capable of doing the same thing.”

He was impressed and at the same time alarmed. She sounded so practical about committing a federal offense. He’d created a monster. “I’m glad you’re on our side.” He paused, disconcerted. “You are, aren’t you?”

Outside, sheets of cold September rain pelted the window in gusts. She cocked her head to one side. Tendrils of hair too short to be contained by the clip curled at the nape of her slender neck. Her lips pressed into a fine line. “Give me one good reason I should be.”

She had every right to be angry with CSIS. They’d used her. But if she was this angry with them, he could only imagine how mad she must be with him. His betrayals were worse. He hadn’t told her that CSIS wasn’t officially investigating her complaint. He’d hidden the possibility of video footage of their sexcapades from her. He’d talked her into hacking into the RBN when she’d known how dangerous that was, then stood back and let her face the repercussions at work on her own. To top it all off she’d been threatened by someone trying to get back at him.

And then, to really show how upstanding he was, he’d walked out on her in the middle of the night. He’d never considered himself the kind of man who would treat a woman that way, but how would he know? He’d always bailed before things became even close to this serious.

His heart beat too fast for him to catch his breath. She was waiting for an answer and he had no good one to give her as to why she should be on his side at least. Except, perhaps, for one thing.

The tight fist squeezing his lungs eased its grip. He sucked in air, then released it.

“Because I love you,” he said.

* * *

Those weren’t the words she’d expected to hear. And while she wanted to believe them she couldn’t. He had no trouble lying—or withholding the truth—to get what he wanted so she didn’t dare.

But as she’d walked toward him on Broadway Market and seen he was working, and how poorly it was going, the proof of how stressful his job was had finally hit her. Eavesdropping on people. Lying to them every day…

This whole game of spying was bewildering to her. That didn’t mean she couldn’t see the necessity for it. She worked in an industry that could endanger whole countries, possibly the world, without some sort of monitoring system. It was why she’d approached CSIS in the first place.

But the very nature of spying created its own breed of problems. Real-world relationships had to be difficult for intelligence officers and any relationship with Kale, if she chose to pursue one, hadn’t begun under real-world conditions.