Declan indulges my question. “Oh, you’re on a work trip. What type of work do you do? What company do you work for? Why are you here on a weekend and not a weekday?” He pauses and drops his impression voice, one that sounds a little too familiar to me. “It invites too many questions,” he explains. “Besides, any spy worth their salt could check the registration log and see if we stayed in separate rooms.”
I don’t want him to have the last word here, but his reasoning makes sense. “OK, but I don’t need another reason for Celine to hate me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Declan smirks. “I do. Can we somehow get her to back off ?”
As I move further into the room, I see an incongruous modern sofa that looks infinitely more comfortable than the antique couch.
“So one of us on the couch?” I point to it, assuming that will be mine.
“Yep, you can take the bed,” Declan offers. Which is nice, but he is too tall for the couch. Also, I have yet to find the bed. I turn round, hoping I missed it. Declan indicates the doors on the far wall.
I open one and find a clean and updated bathroom. The second door leads to the bedroom. An ornate four-poster bed fills most of the small room. But at least I’ll have some privacy in here.
“Let’s get some rest and we’ll head out in an hour to establish our cover,” Declan states as he makes himself comfortable on the newer couch. His robotic non-answers remind me of my first week on the job. I know he’s focused on the mission. But how serious he is, is making me more anxious about this operation. I don’t want to mess up. And I really,reallydon’t want to be shot at again.
“Should we synchronize our watches?” I ask, putting on an air of sarcasm. I’m trying to lighten the mood.
Declan shoots me a look that says he is not amused.
I grab my bag and move it into the bedroom. Even if we’re only here for a weekend, I want everything in its place. I set an alarm and let myself sleep. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until my body hit the bed.
And “hit” is indeed an apt word. Not “bounce’,’ not “flop.” Because this mattress is as hard as a rock. I realize now that Declan opted for the modern couch not out of some kind of chivalry but because he knew which option would be more comfortable. I roll my eyes, accept my torture, and fall asleep.
When I wake, a few moments before my alarm, I remind myself of where I am. That this is an opportunity to prove myself in this new job. More than that: a woman’s life is on the line. And potentially the lives of whoever will be on the wrong end of these weapons. This isn’t about sightseeing. It’s about
keeping people safe.
Declan Davidson
In the lobby.
It’s a text from Declan.
I change out of my plane clothes for our outing. The weather here is cooler than Florida, but it is still summertime. I have on a butter-yellow sundress and a blue cardigan. I look like a tourist, which was my only instructions when packing for the trip. I hurry out of the room to find Declan.
He stands up from one of the richly upholstered couches when he sees me cross the lobby toward him. He’s in well-worn jeans and a fitted black Henley shirt, his lean muscles visible. I’m grateful for the prescription sunglasses I brought so he can’t see me checking him out.
Declan indicates with his head that we should move outside. He holds the front door open for me, while he does a visual sweep of the street. Scanning for someone, something. Or just keeping an eye out. He dons the baseball cap that was in his hands, TAMPABAYembroidered on the front.
He wordlessly navigates us down the sidewalk; he must have an idea of where we are going. The temperature outside is perfect, the afternoon buzz of the city giving me all the jet-lag-fighting energy I could hope for.
As we cross the street, Declan moves his hand protectively, reflexively, to my lower back. I look over at him, but his gaze is focused ahead of us. It dawns on me for the first time that I am massively complicating this mission for him. Because of me he has an unfamiliar cover, which I have to help maintain. He has to watch both his back and mine. I remind myself to stay sharp. If we get trapped somewhere, Ian can’t come and let us out. It’s only the two of us.
This should make me more nervous. Before we left, I was on edge. Like I was being watched. I haven’t been able to shake that feeling ever since the shooting. But in a foreign city on a secret mission with Declan, I’m relaxed. I think maybe it’s Declan whose presence is soothing me.
“Well,honey,” I say with emphasis, “let’s get something to eat.”
I’m hoping that sitting at a café where he has a view of the entrance and the street will put him at ease. Instead, he leads us into an open-air market.
“Way ahead of you, sweetheart,” Declan says. His voice is lighter.
This place is amazing. Food, flowers, drinks. The aromas from various stalls create a mouthwatering medley in the summer air. But to a spy, even a novice like me, this is a nightmare. Faces, people everywhere. Lots of areas operatives could hide, the buildings that surround the square could be the ideal cover for a sniper. I may never view the world the same way again.
We head to a stall and order sandwiches. My body hums with excitement and a tinge of anxiety.
“I thought you were gluten-free?” Declan asks as he hands me the food.
I take a bite and let the flavor hit my tongue. Four years without gluten. FOUR! “Shhh, I’m going to enjoy this.” I let out a moan that my body has never created before, never. Not even with my college boyfriend.
