Agent Bale narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “This is too important to trust them with it alone. They’re still pirates.” He focused on his tablet. “You’re going to represent our interests and be certain the Tyrfing makes it back into our vault and doesn’t end up sold to someone else who offers them more money.”
She was screwed.
The thought of facing the man who’d blown her cover filled her with a cold rage, but she couldn’t pass up a second chance to redeem herself. No way. This time she’d be ready for… Hell, she didn’t even know his name.
But his intense hazel eyes were burned into her memory. She wished she didn’t remember the way he’d stepped into that coven of witches without a trace of fear.
She’d gone in as a new initiate to find out if the coven had found the figurehead of the Flying Dutchman. The coven’s leader was able to control spirits of the dead and use them to hurt the living. The night Aura was being ceremonially brought into the coven, one of the Sea Dog crew had burst through the circle, attacking the leader and blowing Aura’s cover. All to protect his friend. It hadn’t even been his job. He hadn’t had to face them or their magic.
But he’d done it anyway.
Maybe she wouldn’t need to see him again. She knew Drake, the ship’s carpenter, and Colton, the quartermaster. Both of them seemed capable. She could work with either one of them.
“Who is my contact on the crew?”
“You’ll be partnered with Greyson Till for this mission.” He lifted his gaze for a moment. “He’s their weapons expert.”
“I look forward to meeting him, sir.” An exaggeration for sure, but she was a professional, and she’d get through this. She would stay focused on the mission and finish it in spite of a crew of pirates. Damn straight.
“King is working on your documents now. You’ll have a background workup and a new passport for you and Greyson before you leave for Savannah. Go home and pack.” He tucked his tablet under his arm and offered his hand. “With any luck, we’ll have the relic back in the vault by next month.”
She shook his hand before his final words sank in. Aura frowned. “You think this mission will take a few weeks?”
“Definitely. It’ll take over a week just to get to Glasgow.”
“Wait. A week?” Aura stepped back. “What am I missing here?”
“You’re sailing with the crew to Scotland.”
“We’re…” She choked back a scoff. “Sailing there?”
He didn’t crack a smile.
Oh god, he was serious. She frowned. “Why aren’t we flying?”
“Once you recover the Tyrfing, you can’t check it as luggage on a plane. It’ll be safest to sail it back.”
Her thoughts spiraled. “This is a dangerous artifact. Can’t the department send me on a private jet?”
“Aside from the budget concerns, do you really want to be thirty-five thousand feet up in the air with a blade capable of slicing through metal?” He shook his head. “On the ship, you can sheath it and keep it locked up until you dock Stateside again.”
“I see your point.” She still didn’t like it.
“Good.” He nodded. “Go pack, and then meet me back here for your paperwork.” He met her eyes. “You’re our best chance of recovering the Tyrfing. We’re counting on you, Agent Henderson.”
His words settled on her shoulders with a familiar weight. She could do this.
No pirate was going to get in her way. Not this time.
…
The flight to Savannah, Georgia, was practically empty.
The entire row was hers. Casting a glance over her shoulder to be sure the seats behind her were unoccupied, she released a satisfied breath and faced forward again.
Time to get this over with.
She slid the documents that Kingsley had compiled out of the envelope.
She opened her new passport, blinking at her new name and address. Amber Smith from Savannah, Georgia. Okay, that would be easy for her to remember and for others to forget.
She cracked open the second passport and almost dropped the whole damned envelope.
His bright-hazel eyes stared up at her with the cockiness of a pirate who had already blown her cover once.
Of course this was Greyson Till.
Shit.
Bale owed her an explanation. He should’ve at least warned her that the Sea Dog crew’s weapons expert was the same man who’d screwed everything up for her a couple months ago. Not that it would’ve made any real difference. She’d still be on this flight. The Tyrfing was a weapon of mythical proportion. It was her job to bring it home.
And she would do her job.
Somehow.
She stuffed the passports back into the envelope and extracted the backstory file about Amber Smith and…her husband.
No.
She flopped her head against the seat, taking a slow, deep breath.
Yes, if they tried to purchase a stolen artifact, it would be easier to get the meeting as a rich married couple. But did it have to be the guy who’d ruined everything? Just once, couldn’t it be a simple retrieval mission? Shit.
She pulled herself together and read through her backstory.
They’d been married five years. No longer newlyweds, but young enough to take risks to build their collection. Her husband, Greg Smith, was a descendant of the Oglethorpe family, who’d originally settled Savannah and had owned property there since 1787. Old money. Check.
He was a sailor and weapons enthusiast, and she was a competitive skeet shooter with both rifles and pistols. They didn’t have any children, but Kingsley had included a picture of a golden retriever named…King. Cute.
Next, she skimmed over the fact sheet about the sword. It had been logged into the vault in 1917 during the massive Norwegian emigration to America.
Kingsley had also listed the known stats and a description of the unique blade. She’d be looking for a thirty-six-inch-long sword with a bronze handle that included an inlaid ruby. According to legend, King Svafrlami had trapped dwarves in their mountain and forced them to craft him an enchanted blade.
Angered by his command, the dwarves had placed a curse on the blade that gleamed like fire. Inside the gem, the blood of the sword’s creator demanded sacrifice. Forever hungry for death and evil deeds.
Aura raised a brow, reading the last line again.
An evil, hungry sword. This was going to be…interesting. No wonder Bale had mentioned keeping it locked up.