Sloane let go of Humphrey’s hand, sat back. Slid her hands down her thighs, but not before I caught her fingers trembling.
“Tell me how you met,” I said. “Knowing him for sixty years is an incredibly long time.”
He brightened. “Bernie and I grew up in Canterbury and went to school together there. My grandparents raised me, and I was a wily and rambunctious thing, always prowling the streets looking for trouble. Bernie was the same, although we often got into less trouble once we had each other.”
“Is Humphrey still rambunctious?” Sloane asked Reggie.
“Only where it counts, love,” Reggie said. Her laughter rang out like a bell, and I was completely enchanted by it. Did everything she do have a kind of magical spell attached to it?
Humphrey leaned in close. “Bernard once orchestrated a street-wide game of hide and seek. All the kids he could wrangle, sent us off running into the woods and behind cars and every nook and cranny we could imagine. A large field ran the length of our street, and we couldn’t help but head there as Bernie yelled out the numbers. He gave us a full minute, which set us off laughing. And then the lad couldn’t even find us.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
He paused, preparing to deliver a punchline. “The bastard slipped into every single one of our houses and stole our toys.”
Sloane laughed—this time, it sounded forced. “How very devious for a child.” I could feel her body’s reaction next to mine; that blood-in-the-water response so closely mirrored my own.
“How did you find out?” I asked, feigning lightness.
“Well, he did a crap job of hiding them.” Humphrey chuckled. “And after about twenty minutes, we went lurking back across the field in search of him, unsure of what had happened. When we found him in his room, he was surrounded by toys like a little king.”
This boyhood image didn’t resonate with youthful innocence for me. It resonated with the sense of ownership that Bernard Allerton must have been born with.
“Were you angry?” Sloane asked.
“Of course. Although also we were damn well impressed. He did give them back to us, although I always told him it made him a right bastard from such a young age.”
I raised a brow his way—he anticipated my next question. “He was eleven.”
“You don’t say,” I muttered.
Humphrey sighed, clinking his glass against mine and Sloane’s. “Here’s to Bernard. He does always get what he wants.”
17
Sloane
An hour later, Abe and I had to place Humphrey and Reggie in a cab. Together, they were adorably drunk. As the cab had prepared to drive off, Humphrey had called back, “Thank you for a magical evening, enchantress. Have fun bewitching Mr. Fitzpatrick. Remember, valiant!”
Abe and I waved them off—looking, I was sure of it, like a couple. The more drinks they enjoyed, the sloppier their stories became. And while Bernard was in quite a few of them, no other relevant information was revealed, other than the confirmed fact that the man was a self-centered asshole.
The Kensley auction in four days had become my primary investigative focus, given what Humphrey had revealed in there. If Bernard was going to make any moves while in hiding, it would be to steal those private papers for himself. I just needed to figure out how I was going to handle a giant auction with tons of guests and multiple exits and entrances.
A drop of rain landed on my head. The drop turned into a sprinkle immediately, and I shivered, hoping these rain clouds stayed thunder-free. A second later, a large umbrella opened over my head courtesy of Abe.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, surprised again at these tiny gestures of thoughtfulness. “I didn’t bring one.”
“My pleasure,” he said smoothly. “Shall we walk back to our hotel? It should be less than a mile if you don’t mind sharing this enclosed space with me.”
I cast a glance his way. It wasn’t that I was nervous. It was that I craved being in Abe Royal’s space the same way I craved water, food, and air. From the first moment I saw him in that ballroom, being around him had felt like a necessity. Suddenly faced with his presence again, I realized how much I’d ached these past forty-eight hours, ached the way you do with fever.
“The closer I am to you, the easier it is to steal from your pockets,” I mused.
He laughed softly, a dangerous sound that raised the hair on the back of neck. “I am a willing victim this evening, Sloane.”
We headed down the street, the sides of our bodies brushing together, and I almost stumbled at the use of my real name and the words willing victim. We were about to walk, together, to our neighboring rooms. Together. Where we’d go sleep… separately.
I shivered again, but not from cold. Abe had walked into that pub this evening looking too handsome, too dashing, too refined. His tuxedo was tailored perfectly, exposing the long lines of his body, the poetry of his broad shoulders, the elegance of his clean-shaven jaw. He’d been at the symphony, and really, the man was a fucking symphony: no note wasted, no scale imperfect, no crescendo too loud.
Although the second his eyes had landed on mine, they flared with a lust so raw that heat pulsed between my legs. And those lips on my cheek spoke of the sinful devil in him, the man so confident he simply took what he wanted.
Take me, I wanted to beg.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay this evening,” Abe said. “I hope I didn’t ruin your operation.”
“Humphrey wanted to talk with the both of us,” I replied. “You helped him share what I needed. You asked the right questions.”
“As did you,” he said.
“So, thank you.” I swallowed hard, saw him do the same. Given our last conversation, when we’d both refused to budge, this tiny allowance felt like a major milestone. Certainly, the experience I’d had with Abe was bizarre as hell, given that I’d never had a work partner before or ever worked with a team. I was distractingly attracted to Abe. I also felt safe around him. Protected, even though I’d always been able to hold my own, physically and intellectually. Our on-the-fly tap messaging caused a giddiness in my stomach. We were two minds, working as one, playing off each other’s ideas. I felt connected to him. I felt entwined.
I wasn’t sure if it was a smart idea to feel professionally entwined with a man who made me literally faint with lust.
We crossed a busy intersection, the rain falling harder against the umbrella. Abe looked both ways, laying his palm at the small of my back to guide me forward. More heat flared there.
“You did extremely well back there, Sloane,” he said. “In fact, you’re a natural. If you were coming through the FBI’s training academy right now and I was your instructor, you’d be the one I watched for excellence. I didn’t do anything back there you couldn’t have done on your own.” He paused. “I’m sure I’m not the first person to comment on your remarkable charisma.”
I avoided making eye contact, even though I appreciated everything he’d said. He was right. I was often told I was charming and alluring. But that was because I was the biological byproduct of two professional grifters. Charm was our bread and butter, and while undercover I could slip into those roles without hesitation.