“What?” seven booming voices demanded in unison.
Miller cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s need to know, I’m afraid, guys.”
“That’s bullshit!” Max boomed. “How the hell are we supposed to do our jobs properly if you are keeping information from us?”
“I’m sorry,” Miller said, “It’s not my call. Some of Clara’s work on this case is classified.”
“So, whatcanyou tell us?” Seb asked.
Miller blew out a breath, apparently grateful that at least one of the men wasn’t at his throat. “Not much more than you already know, I’m afraid. Rory might be able to shed some light on the shit show that happened last night because he was at the Gala with Ortega.”
When all eyes turned on Rory, he sat up a little straighter in his seat.
“I’ve got an in with Ortega,” Rory explained. “To some extent. He has an eye for fine art—all funded through his terrorist activities, naturally. I’m posing as a high-end art dealer, and I’ve been helping him to…acquire certain pieces.”
“Steal them, you mean?” the one called Carter asked bluntly, and Rory shot him a look that, while not wholly hostile, certainly wasn’t friendly. Andthis, Clara knew, was why shifters didn’t tend to work in large teams. Things could get tense quickly without a clear chain of command. And with one, too, apparently.
“No, actually,” Rory said tightly. “There’s a particular painting he’s been trying to get his hands on for months and we knew the seller would be at the gala last night so Ortega asked me to meet him there to try to broker the deal. Usually, when he goes out to something as public as that, he takes the full force of his guards with him and that was what he did last night.” Some of the tension and defensiveness left his posture, and he looked genuinely apologetic. “Halfway through the night, he got a call on his cellphone and moments later he sent his guards back to the warehouse. I called Senior Officer Lopez to let him know, but by then, it was too late to call you guys back.”
“So, he got a tip-off? Seb asked, but the tone of his voice turned the question into more of a statement.
Rory nodded. “It looks that way.”
Clara frowned. “Who else knew about the plan to infiltrate?”
Senior Officer Miller steadily met her gaze. “No one.”
Clara froze. If no one else knew about the CIA’s plan, that meant someone in this room had passed along sensitive information—information that could have proved fatal. They had a traitor in their midst.
The men in the room started talking loudly amongst themselves, arguing mostly, and denying vehemently that they had anything to do with the leak.
Clara looked first at Seb, then at each of the other men in the room. Could one of them really have tipped Ortega off? It couldn’t have been Seb, or the two friends he said he’d been with in the forest, because she didn’t believe anyone would willingly walk into an ambush—unless of course they hadn’t known that Ortega’s guards were wolf shifters and thought they could handle a few humans.
But despite the fact that she had only just met Seb, she didn’t want to believe that fate could be so cruel as to have matched her with a traitor, not when her duty to her country meant so much to her. Would other members of Seb’s team willingly have sent them off to risk their lives? Then there was Rory, a man she had worked closely with over the past three months and knew reasonably well, but did she know him well enough?
Clara’s handler, Senior Officer Lopez, had been with her from the beginning. They’d been through a lot together and she refused to believe he could have had anything to do with the leak. She’d only met Senior Officer Miller a handful of times. It was difficult to believe any of them could be on Ortega’s payroll, but clearly one of them had let the cat out of the bag. The only thing Clara knew for certain was that they hadn’t had any problems until Seb and his team had shown up.
Senior Officer Miller heaved a sigh. “Alright, alright, settle down,” he said, waving a hand to silence the chatter. “Now, there are other explanations for this leak, of course.”
The room fell silent as he continued.
“It could mean that someone else in the CIA, someone who is not in this room has had access to the case files, and I’ll be looking into that theory thoroughly over the coming days. In the meantime, we’re all staying here in Spain until we can get this sorted out and determine how Ortega knew about our plans.”
The news made a couple of the men in the room groan and Seb grinned over at them as if he was sharing in some private joke. But then he glanced at her, and the grin slid from his face. His eyes were sharp and assessing as if he too had questions about her loyalty. A charged energy fizzled between them, making Clara wonder if Seb was happy about having to stay in Spain. After all, it meant that they got more time to spend together so they could properly get to know one another. Would he be pleased about that? Clara wasn’t even sure ifshewas pleased about it. After all, she’d spent three months working this case and she couldn’t afford any distractions now, not when they were so close to getting results and finally putting Ortega behind bars where he belonged.
Senior Officers Miller and Lopez went over a few minor details and gave them all tasks to complete then Miller called an end to the briefing, and everyone started to disperse. Seb spoke to his friends for a moment before heading over to her, but she didn’t miss the way they all glanced at her before heading out the door, some with open curiosity and one or two with barely disguised suspicion. She supposed she couldn’t blame them—her expression was probably much the same as she regarded them.
“So,” Seb said as he reached her, “I guess that explains the lies between us last night.” His voice was low, a mix of understanding and curiosity.
Clara nodded, her mind still reeling from the revelations of the meeting. “There’s a lot we need to discuss,” she replied, her voice equally subdued.
“Maybe we could take a walk?” Seb suggested, his gaze searching hers for agreement.
Clara hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “A walk sounds good.”
They left the building, stepping out into the bustling streets, the noise of the city a stark contrast to the tense silence of the meeting room. As they walked, the conversation flowed more easily, a mixture of professional discussion about the case and cautious probing into each other's backgrounds.
“How long have you worked for the CIA?” Seb asked.
