But it certainly wasn’t the décor that captured Simone’s attention. It was the woman who sat, sipping tea, in the blue chair. A woman with short, dark hair. Small, pearl earrings hung from her lobes, and she wore an austere, gray suit that should have swallowed her delicate frame. It didn’t, though. Somehow, the suit just made her look extra refined.
The woman took another sip of her tea and then put the fragile cup back on its saucer. She rose, her stare assessing, as she took in Simone.
When the lady rose, Simone realized that the CIA operative barely clocked in at five feet.
“I’m Jezebel Jenkins.” She extended a hand toward Simone. No trace of an accent shaded her words.
Simone took the offered hand. “Should I be pleased to meet you or terrified?”
Ryan grunted from his sprawled position on the couch. “You can be both. Most people are.”
Good to know.
Harry wasn’t seated. He sort of bobbed around nervously near the window.
“He was both,” Ryan said, waving toward Harry. “They were introduced moments before you joined the party in here.”
Well, Harry was not being threatened with an arrest so what had been his excuse for terror?
“You don’t exist,” Jezebel announced, still holding Simone’s hand. Her dark gaze flashed with a cunning intelligence.
Simone forced a smile. “Of course, I do. I’m right here.” She tugged her hand back.
Jezebel let her go, even as she sent Simone a cold smile. “On paper, you don’t exist. In computer databases, you don’t exist. There is no Simone Sailor from Asheville, North Carolina.”
“Oh, did I say that I was from Asheville? I don’t remember doing that.” She darted a glance at Ryan. “There must be some confusion.”
“There is some confusion.” Ryan seemed certain. “You caused it. You put Asheville down on your employment paperwork with Frederick. That’s where we got the idea that you were from Asheville.”
“Sorry. Can we back up?” A very polite inquiry, and then, “You accessed my paperwork?”
“Guilty,” Ryan murmured.
“Guessing you are not from Asheville?” A faint curl of Jezebel’s lips.
“I moved around a great deal while growing up.” That was completely true and wonderfully vague. “I did visit Asheville for a time, but I wasn’t born there.”
“Where were you born?” Jezebel asked. “While we’re at it, how about you give me your social security number? Your real date of birth? And a couple of people who can vouch for every single thing that you say to me? Because that would be great.”
“My, but you do request a lot.” Simone’s words were cool even as her heart raced. She could play this scene in an assortment of ways. Simone decided it was time to just roll with things. “So I fibbed a bit on my resume. Who hasn’t committed that particular crime?” Now her right hand waved casually toward Ryan. “Case in point, our bored billionaire.” Time to direct attention his way. Her body shifted as her stare pinned him. “Do you really want to talk about causing confusion? You were the one who caused chaos and confusion in the gallery when you stole your precious egg. Then I got blamed for the theft and nearly died.” A ragged exhale. “Honestly, I should probably get an apology for the entire chain of events.” She peeked at a watchful Jezebel. “Will I get a full apology? Perhaps one from the CIA as a whole?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Unfortunate.”
“Yes, well, here’s a bit of even more unfortunate news. You’re currently on a hit list,” Jezebel informed her. Very casually. Very flatly. “As of an hour ago, you’ve got a bounty on you.”
Simone absorbed that tidbit without changing expression. “You’re right. That is even more unfortunate to know.”
But Ryan erupted off the couch. “Unfortunate? That’s all you both have to say?” He closed in on Simone. “Jez tells you that you’re got a bounty on your head. By the way, it’s fucking high from what I was told before you came into the room. And you act like it’s nothing?”
What did he expect her to do? Panic? Cry? Not going to happen. She was far too used to masking her emotions in order to do any of those things. “It’s certainly not nothing. It’s my life.”
He growled.
Simone’s heart raced frantically in her chest. “I’m assuming that Ryan has informed the CIA of Alexei’s death?”
“We are aware,” Jezebel replied. “But, FYI, his body seems to have vanished.”
