“Ah, is our former mentor joining us?” He nodded at the door. “Did he come with you?”
“He’s with the CIA.” Sydney frowned. “Shall I tell him to come see you himself so he can give you a proper piece of his mind?”
Tems shook his head. “I think Niall has given me enough lectures for a lifetime. We can hold off on one more.”
“What happened during our original rendezvous?” She glanced around the room. “Why’d you go dark?”
“The government here is watching me.” He glanced at the windows. “It was hard enough getting up here unnoticed. Their security has been wiretapping me for two weeks now.”
Perhaps it was the very real threat on her life that had just happened—perhaps it was the long flight—but everything felt surreal now, like she was swimming through a dream. “Why? For what?” she asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, we flew halfway around the world to hear it. And you’re supposed to meet us at the gala, not here. How did you even get in?”
He grinned slyly at the expression on her face, then shook his head in regret. “Sauda shouldn’t have sent you.”
“Why not?” she snapped.
“Oh, come on. I bet you had the same thought when she debriefed you. Sauda probably chose you because she thinks I’ve got a thing for you.” He tilted his head in that infuriatingly mocking way she remembered so well. “Maybe I do.”
Beside her, Winter’s posture had turned to stone.
Tems pushed himself casually up from the chair and wandered over to the suite’s bar, where he began pushing buttons on the espresso machine. “Anyone want a coffee?” he asked.
Winter frowned at him. “I’m sorry, I must have thought that this was my room.”
“Thank you, by the way, for letting me borrow your bar,” Tems answered over his shoulder. “You might notice a few things missing.” He pulled down two mugs, then swapped them out for martini glasses. “Actually, after the conversation we’re about to have, you may need something stronger. Please. Have a seat.”
As if he owned the whole damn place.Winter shot Sydney a look, and Sydney gave him a helpless shrug. Then she settled onto a spot at one end of the couch while Winter took a seat at the other end.
“Why are you here?” Sydney asked again. “Why now?”
“That happy to see me, are you?” Tems replied. “Maybe I should have joined you earlier at the airport—although I did hear that turned a little messy.”
Even though Winter was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Sydney could feel the subtle shift of the couch’s fabric as he draped one leg over the other and glared at Tems in annoyance. She scowled at Temsand started to snap back—but he filled a cocktail shaker, and for a few seconds, the clacking ice drowned everything out.
When it stopped, Tems came back into the living room and handed each of them a glass, garnished with an olive. “I know we were supposed to meet at the gala,” he said, “but I didn’t think that would be enough time for us to go over everything. So here I am.”
“To go over what? Does anyone else know about this?”
He went back for his own mug, then settled on the couch facing them. “Nope,” he answered. “Just the three of us.” He nodded at Winter. “And I’d really prefer if we kept it that way.”
Sydney frowned. “Why haven’t you told Sauda and Niall you’re meeting us?”
“Because the entire reason you’ve been sent to Singapore,” he said with a nod, “is to escort me home. Correct?”
She nodded. “To extract you safely.”
At that, Tems gave a dry laugh. “I tell Niall I need more time, and he sends an associate to drag me back. Typical.”
“Agent,” Sydney corrected him shortly.
“Oh, a promotion? Well, a big congratulations, then.” He glanced at Winter. “And what about a proper introduction to your new friend?”
“Don’t think I need one,” Winter answered.
Tems gave him a dismissive once-over, refusing to talk to him directly. “Are we in the business of hiring pop stars now?”
