His Spy at Night (Spy Games Book 3) (23 page)

And he was calling an ex-lover to find out. That was how crazy Lies made him. “No. Just checking on you.”

“It’s been nine months. It’s a little late to be worrying about me, don’t you think?” She said it without malice, simply stating a fact.

She was right and this was awkward. They weren’t friends.

Maybe that was what they should have been. They’d genuinely liked each other in the beginning, but Alcine had wanted more than tepid affection. Now that he knew firsthand what they’d been missing, he no longer blamed her. He simply wished he’d been the first to find out they were finished, not the last.

“Better late than never. Believe it or not, I do care what happens to you.” He really did. They’d spent three years together, not all of them bad.

“I’m getting married.”

He absorbed the shock of that blunt revelation. She’d never been interested in marriage. Not with him. “Congratulations.”

“I owe you an apology,” she added. “There’s no excuse for what I did, although I do think it turned out to be a favor in the end. For both of us.”

The point wasn’t worth arguing. He hadn’t called her for that. “Are you happy?” he asked.

Her voice softened and warmed. “Extremely.”

He waited for the jealousy to hit. It never came, making him equal parts sad and relieved. “Then I’m happy for you. Can I ask you something?”

She hesitated, her wariness returning. “Of course.”

He rolled his question around in his head, seeking the best way to frame it, before giving up and tossing it at her like a live hand grenade. “Was I too possessive?”

She let out a gasp of surprised laughter. He could picture the backward tilt of her head, the length of her throat—how very pretty she was—and the memory did nothing for him. She wasn’t Lies.

Her spurt of amusement turned into a sigh. “Hardly. If anything, you weren’t possessive enough. If I wasn’t in the same room with you, you didn’t spare me a second thought. Even when I was I don’t think your attention was ever completely on me. I wanted to come first in your life. The sad truth is that I didn’t even come a close second.”

He winced, wishing he could deny it. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be. Everything’s worked out for the best. I’ve found what I was looking for. I really hope you do too.”

That was part of the problem. He hadn’t been looking for anything. Certainly not what he’d found.

He made himself a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa in his living room to drink it, pondering over their conversation while watching the world news on BBC. The stark, unvarnished truth finally sank in.

He might not have been possessive enough with Alcine, but he was far too possessive of Lies. He lost his mind around her. They were no better suited than he and Alcine had been, although their differences played out in a far more destructive manner. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared into space, torn between regret and resolve.

This had to end.

Chapter Fourteen

Lies set up her listening post at a small boutique hotel not far from Bernard’s home. Her room, although austere and meant to be nothing more than sleeping quarters for tourists out exploring the city all day, was clean and comfortable enough for her purpose.

She had a good book with her, which was fortunate because Bernard spent little time at home on the computer or the landline next to it. By the second afternoon she was beyond bored and becoming concerned she might have to return to The Hague with nothing to show for her efforts.

And then Bernard made a phone call.

She could only capture one side of it, and she didn’t understand the language he spoke, but her instincts said it was Ukrainian. She’d have to send the recording to John in Ottawa for translation to confirm that this was the connection between Mike Freeland, the lawyer, and Bernard she’d been seeking. That connection, in turn, would lead back to the defense minister. She could feel it.

“You were right,” John Carmichael announced when he called her back the next evening. Lies had remained in the hotel room in Amsterdam, not yet ready to return to The Hague and cross swords with Harry. She wanted to get her job done first, as Dan had advised. “Freeland brokered the sale of weapons systems parts from Canada to the Ukraine on behalf of a third party. Vanderloord’s call was to arrange for payment and delivery, and confirms the hawala system the Albanian diplomat’s wife reported. Freeland, as it turns out, is the defense minister’s personal attorney—on retainer, no less. And it’s highly unlikely that those parts will remain in the Ukraine, or at least with that particular company. I couldn’t see how a helicopter company would have a need for CP140 Aurora parts, particularly ones shipped from Canada when they could legally buy the same P-3 Orion parts directly from the original equipment manufacturer in the States, so I did a little more digging. The Ukrainian helicopter company is owned by a Russian enterprise, which in turn is owned by a dummy corporation, and—wait for it—links back to one of Vanderloord’s businesses in the Netherlands.”

The intricacies of Bernard’s game were impressive. The defense minister’s daring involvement equally so. The level of arrogance, stunning. She could only imagine what these people could accomplish if they’d harness their powers for good.

“What’s my next move?” she asked.

“Now that we’ve established Freeland is a domestic threat to national security, we can complete the investigation of him from Ottawa. You’ll finish out the next two weeks with the embassy,” John replied. “I’m sure Vanderloord has been flying just under Interpol’s radar for years. I don’t want to take you out so abruptly that he pieces together CSIS is also now interested in him and reports his suspicions back to the defense minister. And I really don’t want the minister questioning me. Once the two weeks are up you’ll be transferred on paper to a British possession in the Caribbean and disappear from the system.”

Lies picked at a loose thread on the worn hotel bedspread, struggling with a sharp jolt of regret that she now had a date for saying good-bye to Harry rather than the ambiguous timeline she’d been exploiting. Sorting out her personal life was going to take no time at all. Their affair really was over.

“What about Bernard’s grievance with the trade commissioner?” she reminded John, although she could see the writing on the wall for it too.

“I can’t find any logic behind it. It still troubles me, but as hard as it is to believe, it might simply be a case of clashing personalities.”

Translation—it wasn’t CSIS’s problem.

Maybe not, but it remained hers. She couldn’t let it alone. Bernard claimed to neither like nor dislike Harry. He hadn’t said he had no interest in him. If she left without identifying the problem, on top of CSIS not having Bernard arrested, then Harry’s visit to CSIS would have gained him nothing except one more reason to remember her without fondness.

Lies had plenty of time to think about it—and Harry—on the train from Amsterdam to The Hague. She stared at the landscape whipping past, ignoring the noisy students seated behind and across from her, and rubbed at her temple with one fingertip.

Her chest ached in tandem with her throbbing temple and burning eyes. This was her second affair to crash and burn while working a case, only this time she’d fallen for a man who was exactly what he presented himself to be and she wasn’t going to recover from it as quickly. She hadn’t been sleeping with Harry strictly for the sex. She’d pushed him from the very beginning because she’d been drawn to him. Because being honest and straightforward didn’t mean there weren’t interesting layers to him for her to explore. She’d fallen in love with him the night they’d been caught making out in his car and he’d flipped off a group of boys. She would never have trusted any other man the way she did him. Not after her last gross mistake.

Two weeks. She crossed her arms, hugging her stomach.

A woman carrying a blond, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked baby in her arms took the empty seat to her right. The baby, a girl, wore a bright blue, quilted jacket with ducks on it and shiny yellow rubber boots. Her fine, fuzzy hair stood straight up in the front and stuck out in every other direction, reminding Lies of a dandelion gone to seed. She examined Lies with wide, inquisitive eyes before gifting her with a toothless grin. Drool dribbled from a plump lower lip and down her chin, suggesting she wouldn’t be toothless for long. Lies had no burning desire for children of her own, but appreciated them when she could hand them back to their parents.

“Hallo mooie meid,”
she said.
Hello, beautiful girl.

The baby’s mother smiled at the compliment. The two women struck up a conversation that kept Lies distracted for the remainder of the forty-five minute trip.

In the back of her head, however, she knew what she had to do and why there was no point in prolonging it. She’d tell Harry about her upcoming transfer. If he wanted to end things between them immediately, she’d begin shuffling her responsibilities to other staff members in his office, minimizing any interactions between them for the next two weeks. But if he were as reluctant to end their relationship as she was, and she believed him to be…

She couldn’t allow her hopes to go there. Harry had never been about compromise.

The minute she walked through her flat door and tossed her bag on her bedroom floor, she pulled out her phone and sent a brief text.
We need 2 talk.

His reply was immediate and equally terse.
Agreed. Be there in an hour.

Her bell rang fifty-seven minutes later. She let him in.

His dark brown hair had been recently trimmed, the front styled so it slicked upward. Designer jeans outlined well-muscled thighs. His intent eyes, the same color as his hair, scanned her face as if committing it to memory. Her heart beat faster. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye. She wanted to grab him by the lapels of his gray sport coat and drag him into her bedroom instead.

“I bumped into your neighbor on the way in and said hello.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the lift, his serious expression never changing. “I told him if he hears any strange noises he should ignore them. Your reputation is saved.”

His deadpan sense of humor—that most people never got to see—was another aspect of him she’d miss. The thought of never seeing him again wrenched her heart. “Are you spending the night?”

Indecision flickered, deepening brown irises feathered with gold. “No. I can’t stay that long.”

She shouldn’t be this disappointed. “Come in and sit down so we can talk.”

“I’d rather stand.”

It was as if he’d seen her hunger for him and was afraid to venture too close. She was a sex partner who’d yanked him out of his comfort zone, nothing more. Any professions of love from her would horrify him. She had more pride than that.

She did.

Folding her arms across her chest, she braced her shoulder against the wall. “Suit yourself. Consider this is my notice that I’ve finished my investigation. John is arranging for me to be transferred out of your office within the next two weeks.”

“I see.” He mulled that over. “When will Vanderloord be arrested?”

She hadn’t expected that to be his first question. She’d assumed he would want to talk about their personal relationship first—that it would be equally as important to him as it was to her. Consequently, her tongue stumbled forming the explanation she’d prepared and he noticed.

“He’s not being arrested, is he?”

Lying, which came easily to her in so many instances, escaped her in this one. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know how these things work.”

She wished she could tell him about the defense minister, but she couldn’t. She’d never risk an investigation. Not even for Harry. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“Oh, I am. Believe me. But not with you.” She sometimes forgot the connections he had and how much authority he carried. He’d take his anger higher up the chain of command. He’d go straight to John. “Besides, I wanted you to be finished. Remember?”

Yes. That was what they’d argued about. So if he wasn’t angry with her, and the reason they’d disagreed was now a moot point, why did he still look as if he’d bolt for the door if she made any wrong moves?

Because he’d come here to end things, even without knowing they only had two weeks remaining. Certainty was a blade of ice thrust into her heart. His explanation had better be good. She wasn’t going to make rejecting her easy for him. “I gave you my news. What did you want to speak to me about?”

He shifted from one leather-encased foot to the other. His gaze, however, remained steady on her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. If it was important enough for you to come here to tell me, then you should come right out and say it.”

Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I was going to tell you we shouldn’t see each other outside of the office anymore.”

A wave of rage breached the berm she’d erected to help her brace for rejection, swelling from her chest to her face. Spots of red light prickled at the backs of her eyes. She’d been angst-ridden over falling in love, and how hard it would be to leave him behind, and that two weeks wasn’t nearly enough time to say good-bye. She’d dared to hope he might want something more and that his feelings were as invested as hers. Meanwhile, he’d been plotting how best to get rid of her.