You should not trust her.
Hell. His gaze slid to Jezebel. Her words had only carried to him. The guards near the elevator would not have been able to pick up her whisper. “You know something you want to share about Simone?”
“She is a ghost, I told you that already. The fact that she has no history should make you extremely nervous. It makes me nervous.”
“You have her prints.” He was sure of this. Jezebel had causally offered Simone some tea after they’d come to an agreement about Simone’s cooperation. As soon as Simone had headed into the bedroom to rest for a bit, Jezebel had made the little tea cup vanish. Thus, the prints. “I know you’re going to run them.”
“And I know that I probably won’t get hits in any system on them. Something tells me that your new friend hasn’t been apprehended before.” A thread of admiration came and went in Jezebel’s voice. “She’s good at her job.” A little hesitation. “Might even make for a good CIA operative.”
He took a step back. “We are not recruiting Simone for future missions.” No way.
“You’re right. We should see how this one goes first before we make future plans. Good call.”
His temples throbbed. “You just told me not to trust her.” Now she wanted Simone to join the CIA? What?
Jezebel smiled. It was her unsettling smile. “Just because we can’t trust the woman, it doesn’t mean she can’t be exceedingly useful. Use her.”
Use her. Those two words did not sit well with him. His hand rose, and his index finger skimmed over the bridge of his nose.
“You’re doing it again,” she murmured. “Feeling guilty, are we?”
His hand dropped.
“That’s one of your tells, and I’ve warned you about it before.” She had. “You rub your nose when guilt slides through you.”
He’d broken his nose ages ago. When his sister Agnes had fallen out of a treehouse and he’d caught her. In return for his heroic effort, she’d kicked him in the nose. An accident.
And yet…
Funny thing about that whole incident…he felt guilty as fuck about it. To this day. Because he was the one who should have been watching Agnes on that fateful occasion. He’d promised to watch her, but he’d gotten distracted and…
He’d barely made it to the treehouse in time.
I won’t get distracted ever again. When someone needs me, I will be there.
“Don’t feel guilty for doing your job,” Jezebel advised him.
“I’m not going to let Simone get hurt.” They needed to be very clear on this particular point. “She will not be put in danger.”
“The woman is playing a game with international criminals. She’s already put herself in danger.” A pause. “What was she trying to steal that was so valuable?”
He stared back at Jezebel.
She grunted. “If you don’t know, find out. And if you know and you’re covering for her, why the hell are you doing that? Red flag. Blazing red flag.”
“Jez…”
“My goal is to apprehend Konstantin. He’s my target.” An inhale. Her slender shoulders seemed to brace. “My final one, by the way.”
Shit. “You’re seriously retiring?”
She looked toward the waiting guards. “My father had this charming little villa in France when I was a child. It was surrounded by miles and miles of fields. Beautiful green fields.” She sucked in the side of her cheek. “No bad guys. No monsters. No death. I was safe there.”
He knew her father had been a French artist. He’d fallen hard for Jezebel’s mother when he met her in South Africa.
Jenkins was not her real last name. Then again, Jezebel wasn’t her real first name, either.
“Sometimes, I miss safety.” Her gaze was still on the two guards. “You get tired of worrying about betrayal everywhere you turn.”
