Intimate Knowledge (13 page)

“McIlroy?” Saul interrupted. “You’re from the Dublin branch?”

Both the man and Chelsea stared at him. Recognition lit in her eyes and her stance relaxed infinitesimally.

“Of course, I’ve seen you in the group meetings. Preston Jones is your boss, right?”

“He’s Agency?” the man verified.

Chelsea nodded.

He seemed to make a snap decision. “David Greer, and you’ve met Chelsea Atchison. We’re under deep cover right now, have been for almost eighteen months. We’re on loan, you could say.”

“Okay, well that fills in a few blanks, but I still think—” Saul started but David cut him off.

“The rest of the team are only minutes away, and they aren’t Agency, even though we’re currently with them. We need to split up and leave, right now. McIlroy has dealt with Vincent and Graeme. They’ve been taken in and are being held as hostile witnesses. They’re a part of our case. We’ll file a report later, we have to go.”

“They were supposed to tell you phase two was being instigated before the attack happened,” Chelsea insisted to David.

He shrugged and took a gentle hold of her arm. “We need to move, Chelsea. Right now. I suggest you both leave with all the other innocents,” he said to Saul.

“But—” Jennifer had a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue, most important of all whether David was sure he had the right men in custody. She wanted to know what the hell he meant by ‘holding them as hostile witnesses’ and what that would entail. But Saul had taken hold of her hand and headed in the direction of one of the emergency exits. David and Chelsea were moving deeper inside the Gallery.

“Saul, hang on. They haven’t explained…well much of anything!” she insisted.

He cast her a glance over his shoulder but kept walking at a fast pace. She recognised the grim determination on his face and sighed, going along with him for now, but swearing she’d get some answers very, very soon.

They evacuated the building.

Chapter Eight

“They’re Agency,” Saul said once they were in view of the street. The simple way he made the statement showed that to him it really was that easy. “If Preston doesn’t know right now what’s going on, twenty minutes after I call and update him he sure as hell will discover what’s happening.”

Jennifer had to walk fast to keep up with Saul. When he noticed, he shortened his strides but kept up a quick pace.

“If David, or his branch have Vincent and Graeme in custody, how could Preston not know? And how can they hold onto them when surely it should be me who presses charges against him?”

“I’m more disappointed I couldn’t come face to face with those arseholes first,” Saul replied grimly. “I had a few choice…words…I meant to get across to them.”

Jennifer huffed out a nervous laugh. She rushed to come up side by side with Saul and took his hand in hers. She squeezed his fingers gently and decided it might be best to change the subject.

“Didn’t Chelsea say she’d seen you in a meeting?”

“Those monthly meetings have upwards of two hundred people at them, remotely and in various offices,” Saul explained. “Though I am curious how their mission wasn’t mentioned in any of the minutes. A catalogue of all on-book and in-progress activities is supposed to be submitted.”

“Sounds like they’re not official,” Jennifer mused.

Saul nodded as they approached his car. She was well used to his instinctive courtliness, opening the doors for her. Oddly, though, he rested a hand against the window of the car and carefully studied each direction around them. Since he did this silently, she didn’t interrupt.

Even more bizarrely, Saul crouched to the wet pavement, tilting his head almost to the ground. He looked under the car, scanning the undercarriage carefully. Part of her brain insisted the chances that there would be a bomb or something similar planted on the car was insane. But then, she similarly would have assumed not half an hour ago the chances of gunfire at the National Gallery, the giant windows being smashed and the alarms sounding, was also utterly impossible.

She remained silent as Saul checked the car thoroughly.

Seeming satisfied, he stood up and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, pressing her back against the outside of the vehicle.

“I was so worried for you,” he stated, his tone deadly serious.

Jennifer threaded her arms about his waist, drawing his body close to hers. Saul leant down and kissed her tenderly. They moved their lips slowly, delicate and almost reverent in their desire.

Her heart soared. This was so easy, this burgeoning, new relationship between them. Better than that, it felt so right, so good. Jennifer couldn’t imagine her life any other way, not ever.

She clung to him, waves of pleasure shooting through her body as she lifted her hips to rub herself into his delicious muscles. Saul lifted his hands, held her jaw and tilted her head. At the new angle, he could penetrate her mouth deeper, plunder her with his tongue.

Moaning, Jennifer arched her back.

“Oh, no,” she whispered when he finally pulled back. Instantly she wanted to taste Saul again, feel his mouth roam over hers, explore him lower. Forgetting for the moment they stood in the middle of central London, Jennifer wanted nothing so much as to find somewhere warm and comfortable, strip them both naked and lick every delectable part of his dark, luscious body.

Slowly.

Inch by inch.

Something of her thoughts must have reflected in her eyes, for Saul grinned wickedly at her.

“You’re going to get me into a world of trouble,” he rumbled. He unlocked her door and held it open for her as he continued, “I can just see myself trying to talk our way out of a public exposure and performance of indecent acts charge. ‘But you see, Officer, my woman is so hot I couldn’t resist. She gets this look in her eye and unconsciously licks her lips and my cock stiffens and I can’t help myself.’”

Jennifer laughed. She reached out to caress his cheek as she moved past him, then slid into the passenger seat. He climbed in next to her, sitting behind the wheel, then dug his phone out, pressed a few buttons and held it to his ear.

“David Greer and Chelsea Atchison,” Saul said sharply. “Dublin branch. Jenn and I just bumped into them at the National Gallery. Apparently they’re working undercover and the Gallery’s in a shambles. They have Vincent and Graeme in custody—some man called McIlroy over there is in charge.”

“Son of a bitch.” She could hear Preston’s curse from next to Saul. Curious, Jenn leaned closer in to hear both sides of the conversation. “No wonder we couldn’t find either of them and there’d been no activity in any of their accounts. Let me make some calls, crack some balls. But McIlroy is a good person. If his team says those two are locked down, they’re not going anywhere. Give me a bit of time to make some calls. The two of you should come down here. I’ve a mountain of paperwork for you to get started on.”

“Great,” Saul sighed. “We’ll be down there soon, but only for an hour or two.”

“Fine.”

Saul disconnected the call and placed the phone on the dashboard. Jenn caught his gaze as he slowed for an intersection. He seemed tired but resigned. She took his hand and squeezed it.

“It’ll be good to get some answers,” she said.

He nodded. “Hopefully. It sounds like there might be some internal politicking going on. But Preston will get what we need, I’m sure.”

* * * *

“I’m still trying to get all the details,” Preston said the moment Saul walked into his office. “McIlroy is strangely difficult to reach just now. But I’ve spoken to a few others over there in Dublin. Vincent and Graeme are locked down tight and will remain so. I’ve threatened to tear holes into everyone down there if either smells fresh air before they’re thrown into a cage and scheduled for court. You can tell Jennifer she’s safe.”

“Nice to see I wasn’t the only one in the dark here,” Saul replied mildly. Beneath his calm exterior he was still angry as hell at the entire situation, though not at his boss personally. He’d left Jennifer at his desk, clearly interested in his work area and making friends with a few of his colleagues.

“I’ve managed to confirm Atchison and Greer are indeed ours, from Dublin,” Preston said as he laced his fingers behind his head. “No one there has any inkling if they have changed sides—or if they do, they aren’t sharing that information. Right now I’m not sure they’d even tell us whether they thought their Agents were turned or not. I’ve put pressure on some of their team leaders—pointing out an innocent bystander was not only drawn into the mission unwillingly, but also nearly harmed. They didn’t appear to be paying attention until I brought you into the equation and threatened to potentially take over. That’s when they started making noises.”

“I’m not going to get to see either Vincent or Graeme, am I?” Saul scowled.

“I know where you’re coming from,” Preston shook his head. “And believe me, if Felicity had been in the same circumstance I’d likely be just as eager as you are now to get a message through to these men. But right now I would prefer you lay low, with Jennifer. Find a cosy, secluded B&B and hole up there for a week.”

“You’ve already got someone looking into this?” Saul replied, surprised.

“No. Actually I was intrigued when you mentioned you saw Rob and Eleanor at the Gallery. Not being a man who easily believes in coincidence, I tapped a mate of mine in their division. He was cagey, would only say that they were on what he believed was an unrelated mission and that he’d get back to me once he’d checked it out for himself.”

“Do you think they were investigating David and Chelsea?”

“It’s impossible to say, but if the Fire and Ice team are looking into our colleagues from Dublin I’d be tempted to back right the hell off and go somewhere nice for a week on the work budget.”

Saul thought about what Preston had told him.

Rob and El were known throughout the Agency as the ’problem solver’ team. Frequently referred to as Fire and Ice—whether it was in reference to the term Shock and Awe, or El’s red hair and Rob’s frequently icy demeanour, Saul didn’t know.

Suddenly, though, a week at the seaside with Jenn appealed far more. This case already had too many agents hovering around it.

“I’d like to at least be appraised of what’s happening in it,” Saul finally said.

They both knew he was on the edge of capitulating and merely stating his terms.

Preston nodded. “When I know, you will.”

Saul agreed and stood. They shook hands.

“Where are you guys headed?” Preston asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“The Isle of Wight,” Saul replied. “We’ve been down there a number of times in groups with friends. I know Jenn is particularly fond of a few places down that way. I’ll bring my laptop, stay in touch. It’ll be good to get away for a while, though, especially considering the hectic weekend we’ve had.”

Preston grinned. “I’m sure you’ll both manage quite comfortably.”

Saul left Preston’s office. After scanning the large area, he found Jenn with George at his desk. The two of them had their heads bent over George’s computer screen, peering at something. Saul came up behind them and laid a hand on Jenn’s shoulder. She cast a fleeting glance up at him accompanied by a ravishing smile that nearly caused his heart to stop.

“George has all these cool cheating codes for computer games,” she said as she turned back to the screen. “Look at this one, I can have unlimited—”

“I’m hoping when I get you down to the beach you’ll find better ways to pass the time,” Saul commented, feeling smug at the surprise he had for her.

Instantly Jenn’s full attention swung in his direction. A very primitive, egotistically masculine part of him loved how she focused completely on him, as if nothing and no one else in the world were present.

“The beach?” she repeated. “We’re going down to the Isle of Wight? Oh, have you booked that little place down the road from the old ice cream parlour? I love it there, though it’s not really paddling weather.”

“We can walk down the beach wrapped up in our winter gear,” Saul insisted.

Jenn laughed. Oh shit, how he loved that laugh of hers. He wished she’d use it more often. He made a personal vow to surprise her often, give her small things just to hear that husky laughter full of sin and sex.

“I need to make a couple of calls when we get back to my place, but yeah, that’s the plan. For a whole week.”

Saul’s breath hitched as Jenn gazed at him with those searing, beautiful eyes of hers. He always felt stripped bare beneath her, as if she could see into the most secret core of his heart. He loved her more than words could ever come close to expressing.

“Did you get answers?” she asked.

Saul shrugged, knowing he couldn’t discuss much in front of George just yet. Despite the fact he trusted his mate, the mission—what little he knew of it, anyway—was being strictly compartmentalised.

“Some. It got us a paid week at your favourite place. You’re safe, though—the bastards are under lock and key. They’re not going anywhere.”

“Nice for some,” George grumbled good-naturedly. “Meanwhile I get called in—on my night off, no less—to sift through boatloads of data. Some dipshits shot up the Gallery and now I have to—oh. Oh…really?”

Saul took Jenn’s hand in his when she snickered, unable to contain her laughter. George looked from her to him and his shoulders sagged. He put the pieces together.

“Well fuck me running. You owe me now, mate. Owe me big.”

“I’m good for it, you know that,” Saul assured his friend.

He waved to George, who honestly looked far more interested in his work now he knew more of the back-story than practically anyone else in the Agency. Working the keyboard like a pro, he simply nodded as Saul led Jenn out of the building.

He paused when they were halfway down the street. Need rode him hard. He lifted Jenn’s knuckles to his mouth and kissed them lovingly.

“Preston is calling in some favours, finding out what’s really going on. This seems to be blowing out of control. That couple who we spotted before everything went to hell? Well, they’re internal investigators, the go-to team if something isn’t adding up or things are going bad. They seem connected to Chelsea and David’s mission, whatever that is. Preston assured me the Dublin office is containing Vincent and Graeme and neither will breathe the air as free men again.”