Solomon's Sieve (38 page)

“What? What is it?” She came up behind.

“It’s warm.” He looked up at her. “Mercy, you’re a good luck charm. There must be a fissure underneath leading to some volcanic activity down deep.”

She stared at his upturned face for a beat before she started laughing. “Got to give it up for your attitude, Raif. Not everyone would call this situation lucky.”

His face split into a grin that she knew would be heart stopping if his face was clean. “Let’s go in.”

“In?” She looked at the water dubiously while Raif stood up and started stripping off clothes.

“Come on. We’re both freezing. The water will warm us up. It’s like a natural hot tub.”

“I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know, Mercy? If there was ever a time to throw caution aside, this has got to be it.”

He was making good points both about the chill and the caution. She grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled upward.

CHAPTER 19

Farnsworth looked at her phone. It was a text from Rev.
Dinner at my place tonight. 8. Don’t get caught up and be late.

She smiled at the phone thinking she was the most blessed woman who ever lived. How many could say they lost their love, but got him back again? One. So far as she knew.
Okay. What shall I wear?

Rev:
Little as possible.

It was a private joke that didn’t seem to get old.

She set the alarm on her phone so that, if she did get caught up in work, she’d have a warning and know when to quit. It was a good thing she’d had the foresight because she was in the middle of looking at the reconciliation of the clinic budget when she heard the chime.

At precisely eight she knocked on Rev’s door. The Sovereign’s quarters were a little bigger and more luxurious than any other residence at the Unit, but they still wouldn’t be called palatial. She noticed the stainless steel room-service style cart sitting next to the dining table, which could seat four, but was set for two.

“You didn’t cook?” she teased.

“I’m afraid that if I impress you any more you’re going to spontaneously combust.”

“I’d laugh at that, but can’t argue. You are extremely impressive.”

“Nice to have a woman who appreciates the extent of my wonderfulness. Have I ever told you that you look good in red?”

She smiled. “Uh-huh. What are we having? Smells good.”

“It’s a surprise. One of several.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mashed potatoes smothered in flank steak smothered in onions. I guess it’s a theme dish.”

“Uh-huh. What’s the safe word?”

“Hmmm?”

“Nothing. So we’re eating light. Going dainty?” she quipped.

“There’s asparagus spears,” he said defensively. “But I’m a working knight right now, which means I have to have
real
food that will help me stay in shape.”

“And not get flabby like you used to be?”

She snickered. But he didn’t look like he appreciated her attempt at humor. In fact, he’d gone still and was looking far too serious. “We can’t joke like that or talk like that. Not even when we’re alone together. If we do, we’ll get comfortable with it and, sooner or later, there’ll be a slip. That slip could lead to questions and that, for all I know, could lead to the end of… this.”

A chill settled around her as she confronted the possibility of losing him all over again. She folded her arms protectively around her middle to still the trembling and hoped he didn’t see it. After all, if she couldn’t talk about what had happened, that meant she also couldn’t tell him about how much she feared losing him again.

“I understand.” She nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve got some work to do editing my words. I don’t know how to guard my thoughts though. Sounds hard.”

“Believe me. It is.”

“Don’t worry. Hard is what we do for a living, right?”

“Right.” His face had softened as she expertly diffused the issue. “Let’s eat.”

Over dinner Rev told her some of what happened with the trainees on his night patrolling. Farnsworth shared that Kristoph Falcon was hopelessly enraptured by her assistant and that he found a reason to come to the office every day.

“That’s going nowhere. There’s got to be a six year age difference,” he shook his head chuckling. When he looked up and saw that all the color had drained from his fiancée’s face, he realized too late what he had said. “Wait. I didn’t mean… You know I didn’t. Cripes. Just shoot me now.”

“Well, it’s out there. How you really feel,” she said quietly. “I’d rather know than not know.”

He stood up so fast she didn’t have time to track the movement as she was pulled up and into his hard body. She would have liked to be the sort of woman who could simply give herself over to melting against him and shedding a few tears, but she wouldn’t. She might have felt comforted, but right or wrong, her self-esteem would have suffered.

“Look at me.” She stared at his chest. “Look at me.” After a few beats she managed to raise her eyes. “The reason why I didn’t think about the difference in our ages when I said that is because I don’t think about the difference in our ages. As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t exist. When I look at you what I see is my beautiful, sexy woman who’s soon to be my beautiful, sexy bride. I see everything I ever wanted in my future all rolled into a soft package with just the right curves in just the right places.

“The way I feel about you can’t be reduced to numbers. Please tell me you understand that.”

She nodded and pressed her cheek into his chest so he couldn’t see how much work it took to keep her tear ducts dry. He stood and held her, swaying back and forth, sensing that she needed reassurance.

After some time, when she was satisfied that order had been restored in her world, she said, “What’s for dessert?”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Peach cobbler. It’s being kept warm with that candle thing.” He nodded toward the cart. “Got coffee, too.”

“And another surprise?”

He looked down at her. “Yep. Have a seat.”

He refused to tell her what the surprise was until she’d eaten her cobbler and made the requisite yummy sounds. He took the dessert plates away and set them on the cart.

“More coffee?”

“Enough! I can’t stand it one minute longer!”

“I never realized how impatient you are.”

“Impatient? I have the patience of Jonswil.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching toward a nearby chest with a long arm, he opened the top drawer and withdrew a file.

She looked both intrigued and ill at ease. “What is it?”

“Something that Storm had apparently put in motion when he was still acting as temporary administrator. This came in last night when I was out with B Team, but I wanted to make sure you had some privacy when you received it.”

“What on earth?”

He nodded toward the file. “Open it.”

She looked down at the manila folder where her finger was resting heavily. It was hard to read what Rev’s brown eyes were trying to convey. Intensity? Hope? Worry? She took a surreptitious deep breath and opened the folder.

On the left hand side, a candid photo was attached. It was a determined-looking young woman in an urban landscape, walking purposefully across what appeared to be a square. She wore a form fitted white shirt with exaggerated cuffs, a black knee length skirt, and had a heavy-looking brief style bag strapped cross body. It was a sunny day that picked up streaks of red in her auburn hair and, even though the photographer wasn’t close when the picture was taken, there was an impression of freckles across her nose and cheekbones.

Farnsworth’s first reaction was to wonder why her fiancé was showing her a photo of another woman. Another woman who was beautiful and much younger. She glanced up at him for a reaction, but he just lowered his eyes to the folder to indicate that she should continue.

When she’d finished studying the photo, her eyes moved to the right hand side of the folder and the first page of documents therein. There was a name at the top and next to that a birth date that made her breath catch. She looked back at the photo again and then reflexively clutched the folder to her bosom as if some part of her spirit hoped she could make up for twenty-eight years of separation and empty arms by doing so.

At first she’d thought she felt tears spring to her eyes, but none fell. When the first wave of shock subsided, she continued reading.

Mercedes Renaux.

Her adoptive parents were killed when she was a baby before she ever met them. She’d then been raised by a widowed grandmother who had admonished her son and daughter-in-law, in writing, not to adopt, but rather to graciously accept their childless state as fate and look toward hobbies to fill their time. A copy of that letter appeared in the file. Gods knew how The Order had obtained it.

It seemed the girl had an indomitable spirit. She wasn’t particularly social, but she did well in school and eventually put herself through a Ph.D. program with scholarship and living frugally on a tiny stipend. That led to a field assistant/internship, which led to the teaching appointment at Columbia.

When Farnsworth had a chance to digest the information, she looked up.

Rev said, “I’m guessing the father had red hair and freckles?” She nodded. “Looks good on her. And so do your features and your legs.” He pointed to the photo. “That’s the same way you carry your shoulders when you’re going somewhere with a mission to accomplish. I see you stamped all over her.”

Farnsworth smiled through a haze and a
cyclone of confusing emotions. “I want to see her.” Rev’s smile faded and he sat back in his chair, his mouth gone into a thin line. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well,” he began slowly, “the news is mixed. The good news is that she works for us.”

“Black Swan?” Farnsworth was nothing less than astonished.

“Just came on recently. As in last week. She’s on assignment in Bulgaria.”

Little lines appeared between her brows. “What kind of assignment?”

“It’s right up her alley. An archeology thing requiring her particular specialty. Something that needed to be looked into before the information gets out to the general public. I sent Z Team with her.”

“Z Team!?!” Rev almost laughed. It seemed Farnsworth held roughly the same opinion of The Order’s notorious bad boys as he did. “To escort and protect. You know, they have their flaws, but they can be trusted to do a job like that.” She snorted her disagreement. “Well, there’s more.”

She didn’t know if he was pausing for dramatic effect or if it was really so bad he couldn’t bring himself to just come out with it. “Well?”

“Well… There was an accident at the site. A partial collapse of a tunnel and…” Rev didn’t like the way Farnsworth’s chest was suddenly rising and falling rapidly.

“And?”

“And she and one of the knights are missing.”

“I need to go there.” She stood and began looking around for her things. When Rev didn’t move from his chair, her eyes flashed. “Now!”

“Susan, I can’t get you there at this time of night. If you’re serious about wanting to go…”

“No! Not
wanting
to go!
Needing
to go!”

“
Okay, then. If you’re serious about needing to go, then we can figure out a transport tomorrow morning.”

“No. Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Impossible? Don’t you dare say that to me! Nothing is impossible when The Order wants to make it happen. Nothing!” She picked up her sweater jacket and purse. “I’ve given my life to this organization and never asked for one damn thing in return. Until now. Get me transport tonight.”

Rev stood up slowly and pulled his phone from his pocket. He touched the face a couple of times before looking at her face. He looked away quickly.

“Sorry to get you up in the middle of the night but I need a plane here, fueled up with fresh pilots, ready to fly to Bulgaria. And it couldn’t wait until morning.” Pause. “I’ll wait. Thanks.” Pause. “I’ll owe you. Okay. Goodnight.”

He ended the call and looked up. “Tvelgar says there’s a plane that was going to overnight in Chicago. They can scramble around, get a fresh alternate crew, and be here in three hours.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him tight. “For everything. For the, uh, file and for getting me there. I’ve got to go pack.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you down at the front entrance,” he looked at his watch, “at ten thirty.”