She sighed. “Too many moving parts.”
“Many of which we remain unaware of,” Draco agreed.
Draco spotted the bank from half a block away. The imposing limestone façade rose at the front of the building, giving the air of understated importance. No sign identified it, only the street number on a brass plate affixed to the brick beside a massive black wooden door. Surveillance cameras, attached to the corners fifteen feet up, angled toward the entrance.
Cate tipped her head toward the structure. “That’s the place. On the corner.”
“Right.” Draco cupped her elbow, turned her toward a shop window and pointed at a display of Hermes scarves. “I like the blue one,” he said. “It’s that gray blue, like the color of your eyes.” Though he’d noted the scarf, his attention was on the reflection of the street and buildings behind him. He leaned close and brushed his lips to her hair about her ear and whispered, “We need to establish ground rules.”
“This is my case. I lead.”
“Absolutely.” He rested his hand against the small of her back, as a boyfriend would. “If I tap your back like this, two times,” he pressed his fingers twice against her spine, “we’re leaving. We thank whoever we’re talking to, smile and leave. No questions, just go.”
Cate glanced up at him, her eyebrows rising. “But what if?—”
He cupped her cheeks and smiled down at her. “You’re in charge of the investigation. I’m in charge of safety. We leave. You can be mad at me later.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Got it?”
Her eyes flared, her gaze dropping to his lips. “Got it. Two taps.” She turned back to the window, her gaze meeting Draco’s in the reflection, a frown wrinkling her brow. “You think we’ll be in danger inside a bank?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Last night, a man tried to take off with you in a taxi. I’m not taking anything for granted.” He slid his arm around her waist, pulled her against him and spoke in a tone only she could hear, “And, Ms. Marsh, you need to remember we’re supposed to be a couple. That frown isn’t cutting it. You have to act as if you like me.”
“That’s asking a lot so soon,” she said.
“What’s the cliché? Fake it ’til you feel it.” He leaned down, pressed his lips to the top of her head and said a little louder, “Sorry, sweets, as much as I like that outfit, it’ll have to wait until the store opens.”
The frown deepened for a millisecond before it disappeared, and she gave him a beatific, albeit very fake smile and asked in a whisper, “Better?”
He laughed. “You’re perfect,” he said and then murmured, “and you’re scaring me.” With a wink, he turned her and patted her ass hard enough to propel her forward as he fell in step beside her.
The fake smile pinned to her face, Cate said between her shiny teeth, “Do that again, and I’ll make you pay.”
“Promises, promises.” His smile was real as he took her hand in his.
She didn’t fight him. Instead, she wove her fingers with his.
Holding hands was part of their cover. Yet, the cool, smooth feel of her skin against his shot electric surges up his arm and throughout his body, blasting through any thoughts of rogue taxi drivers, shadowing men tailing them or a nine-million-dollar theft someone would kill to keep from exposing. He’d missed the feeling of her hand in his.
Her fingers tightened around his, and she muttered under her breath, “Don’t make this weird.”
And he was back and grounded in the task ahead.
He pushed open the door of the bank and ushered Cate through, once again aware of what his big mistake had cost him.
Their feet tapped against pale, polished marble floors, with onyx marble columns in the background. A beautiful, raven-haired woman, wearing a dove-gray skirt suit, rose and rounded the corner of a desk that was probably worth more than Draco’s annual salary.
In that way that residents of Zurich had of switching between three different languages, the woman immediately pegged them as American and addressed them in English, “May I help you?”
Cate smiled. “We hope so. Is Stefan Brunner available? I would like to speak with him.” Her voice took on the professional, confident tone of someone who did this for a living. Draco had seen her employ the same confidence and take-charge attitude a couple of times while they’d been dating in Virginia, once when she’d made a call to a prospective witness, and another time when she’d accidentally run into one of her previous contacts on the street.
She was good. Very credible.
The woman’s brow dipped. When she opened her mouth, Cate continued before she could speak.
“I’m Cate Marsh, a private investigator representing the family of Marcus Calloway. A friend of Mr. Calloway said I should speak with Herr Brunner.” She met the woman’s gaze head-on, without blinking.
At the mention of the name Marcus Calloway, the woman’s face changed. Not a lot, but enough Draco could tell the name meant something.
Her chin rose. She brushed her hand over the smooth material of her skirt and said, “One moment, please.”
