Page 41 of North

He’d done well. Two years after agreeing to the employ of the US government, Damien had proven not just useful but steeped in potential. If he could just get a handle on his money. Live a little less large.

“Deputy minister’s son.” Crowley’s voice dropped. “Living well above his means.”

“I noticed.” Alexander took a sip of the champagne. It burned his throat. Last week, Damien had been spotted at the Hungry Duck with known Bratva members.

“We need eyes on him.” Crowley watched his daughter dance, his jaw tightening slightly. “Someone who won’t be bought. Someone with everything to lose.”

Alexander’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He let it go to voicemail.

“York may not be my first choice for a son-in-law,” Crowley continued, “but he’s proved himself. Clean record. Moral compass. The kind of man who’d die before betraying his country.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Let me know how it goes.”

The chamber orchestra shifted to a waltz. Alexander’s phone buzzed again. Timea, again. Not now.

Nine minutes later, Alexander pushed through the heavy bathroom door. York stood at the sink, adjusting his bow tie.

“We need to talk.”

York glanced at him. “Do I know you?”

Alexander kept his voice low. “We need to discuss Damien Gustov.”

“The deputy minister’s son?” York glanced at the door, back at Alexander. “What about him?”

“You’ve noticed the changes. The unexplained meetings. The new friends.” Alexander stepped closer. “The money that shouldn’t exist.”

“I notice everything in this building. It’s my job.”

Funny. York didn’t sound like he was from Wisconsin. More British, really. Crowley wasn’t telling him something.

“The question is,” York said, “who are you?”

“Someone Crowley trusts.”

“Crowley doesn’t trust anyone.” But York’s stance eased slightly. “Especially not with his daughter’s safety. Again, name.”

Right. “Al”—er—“Alan. Martin.” His mother’s maiden name. Felt like something he could remember. He held out his hand. “And clearly Crowley trusts you, because here you are. The man who married her without his blessing, now running his embassy security.”

York shook Alexander’s hand even as his jaw tightened. “I’m just the second in charge, but I earned that position.”

“Yes. You did. That’s why we need you.”

Alexander’s phone buzzed again. His chest tightened.

“We?” York’s eyes narrowed.

“Your country needs you to watch Damien. Report his movements. His contacts. Especially his new Russian friends.”

“I don’t know. I have a family. Claire’s pregnant.”

“And your wife and child will be safer if we stop whatever he’s planning.” Alexander thought of Timea, of her laugh when he’d given her the crystal ornament for her tree. “Sometimes we have to lie to the ones we love to protect them.”

York considered him, his mouth a grim line.

“Take the night. Think it over.” He pulled out a card—no name, just his number. “But don’t wait too long.” In his pocket, his phone hummed again.

York took the card, tucking it into his jacket. “You should answer that. Might be important.”

Alexander waited until York left before pulling out his phone. Three missed calls from Timea. He answered. “Babe⁠—”