“Me neither,” I said. “Will you be mad at me if I don’t get the book back?”
“Absolutely not,” she promised. “I’ll be mad at you if you go in there, metaphorical guns blazing, and get hurt.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You’re not a police officer anymore.”
“Abe already gave me this lecture.” I crossed my arms, sullen as a teenager.
“And I’ve been your partner, and your friend, for two years now. I know your style.” Her smile was mischievous. “Delilah Barrett doesn’t like to fail. But you might have to on this one. Also it’s not really failing. We’ve taken cases before where we never recovered the book. Sometimes they stay stolen for good.”
“When did you get so wise?” I said, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness.
Freya gave a big shrug. “Who the hell knows? But you should open your present though.”
I removed the tissue paper cautiously, not wanting to destroy its pristine prettiness. Inside was a wide, black lace garter belt.
“Lingerie?”
“Even better,” she said, green eyes bright with laughter. “Just because Abe says no guns, doesn’t mean I can’t sneak you in a few weapons.” She slid a few things from her back pocket—zip ties, duct tape. “I made this last night. Each part of the lace overlay has a tiny hook sewn into it so you can do this.”
The zip ties hooked in, dangling carefully. She took the duct tape, folded it in two. Curled it up and nestled it through the remaining hooks. Then she held it up for me to admire. It looked like a very small, very delicate lace toolbelt.
“I feel like Xena, Warrior Princess,” I exclaimed, taking it from her.
“That was my plan.”
“I might not be able to carry a gun, but I can still incapacitate Sven.” I bit my lip. “Probably.”
“Maybe you should avoid Sven,” she said lightly. “But incapacitate the others for sure. At Quantico, they convinced us that zip ties and duct tape were all you ever truly needed.”
“Bind the wrists and shut ’em up,” I said, giving her a toothy grin. “I fucking love it.”
“Not that you’ll need it,” she said somberly. But she gave me a wink. She grabbed my dress—a white, goddess-like gown with floaty, gauzy layers that came right to the ground. It was strapless, baring my back and shoulders, and whisper-soft as I stepped into it. And I couldn’t help but allow myself one luxurious minute of fantasizing about wearing this on a real date with Henry.
“How’s your mobility in this?” Freya asked. I held still while she zipped me up.
“It’s fine.” I flexed my arms, did a few fast jabs.
“Show off.” She rolled her eyes. “But you look gorgeous. Victoria will be fooled, yet again.”
I pulled out a pocket mirror—checked my hair, my red lipstick. Admired Freya’s dexterous skill with an eyeliner pencil. “I’m already counting down the minutes until we get to partner again.”
“Henry that bad of a partner, huh?” she replied in an odd voice.
I turned around to make a joke in response—but her mouth was set in a grim line, brows knit together. My pulse tripled. Freya may have dropped out of Quantico, but she had a gut instinct that rivaled mine and the keenest ability to sense the innate truth.
“You know strange things can happen when you go undercover,” she continued. “Our instructors at Quantico used to tell us horror stories in class.”
“Like what kinds of things?” I kept my tone easy.
“Moving back and forth between these different realities. These distinct personalities. Some of the agents we knew went deep for months and years, balancing two versions of themselves. It’s kind of easy to lose yourself.”
Like last night, giving in to the fantasy of being dragged into a closet at a gala for newlywed sex. Or having an emotional conversation with Victoria Whitney—not as a target, but merely an interesting woman who wanted to connect with me over her many heartbreaks.
“You know, I remember having this conversation with my dads, right after I moved back home.” The memory was crystal-clear: their two border collies were asleep at our feet as we sat on the large veranda that faced the forest. It was so quiet you could hear the waterfalls. “I told them being with Mark felt like being an undercover operative. Wearing a new identity that was definitely not my own.”
“I think that makes total sense,” she said. Her expression was compassionate, but I knew Freya wouldn’t let me off the hook. And I almost said it—almost voiced this persistent feeling I’d been having that everything I’d done with Henry had been the opposite of fake.
But I took the coward’s way out—again. “Why are you telling me this?”
“For the same reason I gave you this,” she said, holding up the tiny lace garter. “I wouldn’t send my partner into a dangerous situation without the tools she needed to stay safe. A partner or a friend.” Freya dropped her voice. “Codex is a team of four. Small office, intimate situations. Not much room to hide your feelings if you had any.”
And the look she gave me indicated she knew what those feelings might be.
“I hear you,” I said simply. Even though I had no idea what all of this meant or what the fuck I was going to do. “I’m listening.”
Freya’s eyes searched mine. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. Took the garter. “Thank you. For everything.” I gave her a hug that she returned in full. She smelled—as usual—like Earl Grey and sugar cookies. “Do you want to go practice punching in your dress? I’ll hold the bag for you.”
“Let’s do it,” I said, needing the focus. Needing the release.
“And I meant what I said about tonight,” she said. “Stay focused. And stay safe.”
34
Henry
Abe was sitting at his office desk, chair turned around to face the city lights. He had a glass of bourbon at his side, tie undone, shirt sleeves rolled up.
I’d never seen him look so informal.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” I asked, knocking lightly.
“Yes, please come in,” he said, slowly turning around. The limo was set to arrive any minute. “Dorran will be here soon?”
I slipped my hands into my pockets. “Yes, sir.”
I closed the door behind me—and caught a quick, alluring sight of Delilah laughing with Freya, back-lit by the orange rays of the setting sun. She glowed and shimmered—looking at ease, hopeful—and I felt my yearning reach an entirely new level. “Is this about how many times I’ve compromised our success with my inexperience on this case?”
Abe was briefly startled. Then said, “No. Not at all. You’ve done stellar work, Henry.”
He indicated that I should sit. “I know in the past I’ve mentioned my contact at the FBI’s Art Theft department. Whenever Codex agents happen upon illegal activity during our legal work, I send the information over to him. I’m not sure how exactly he currently uses it, but the former law enforcement officer in me couldn’t have my agents walk by something illegal and not at least take a fucking picture of it.”