The twist here is that not everything has been planned. While we know a lot about the crown prince, and even the king, Princess Saher has been sheltered from the public eye for years.
I check the inside pocket of my bag, the one that holds my compact. The case with a false bottom that contains a note for Saher in the event there’s no safe place to talk. I can’t risk being seen writing the note there. The note I carefully packed is written on stationary ordered from France that can’t be traced back to us. The paper was treated to repel fingerprints and identifying fibers.
Until we get to the palace, we won’t know for sure how to approach Saher. I won’t know how to approach her. Certainly we’ve discussed the possibilities, but possibilities are all we have right now. Gray will keep the crown prince busy, but the final decision about how to approach the princess is mine alone. It’s too risky for Gray and me to discuss the particulars once we’re there. But maybe a go-between could work if we used some type of code, although that has risks too.
“Do you have a handler?” I ask, sliding my iPad into the zippered side compartment.
“Why do you ask?”
Gray is somewhat aloof, and doesn’t bother to glance up from his phone. It’s almost as if he’s blowing me off.
Although it’s not as if I asked some crazy question. Covert agents have handlers. I don’t care which agency you’re with. “If something doesn’t go as planned, it would be important to have a contact.” He whips up his head, and I now have Gray Wilder’s complete attention.
“I have a handler,” he replies cautiously. “But my handler is not your concern. You’re an asset, not an agent. You don’t have a handler.” He pauses for a beat. “You have me if there’s a problem.”
“What if—” I can barely form the words. “Something happens to you? Should I contact Foxy?”
“No,” he answers curtly, and much too quickly. “Do not call Foxy. Do you understand me?”
I nod, watching him stew from the corner of my eye. His reaction is more than a little strange, especially since she’s been sitting in on the damn meetings.
“I left the final details for the plane,” he says before I can ask any more about Foxy. “But since you brought it up, call Smith if I’m incapacitated. I don’t care whether Trippi or Baz are in perfect health. If I go down, you call Smith.”
Smith? What? “Smith’s been read in?” I’m surprised, but also annoyed that I’m just hearing about this now. I’m sure there will be some bullshit excuse they expect me to buy. I’d like to bang their hard heads together.
Gray bends over to pick up a stray thread from the wood floor. “Smith’s been read in on some parts of the op. But if something happens to me, tell him everything you know so he can help you.”
“Gray—”
He stalks over and grabs me by the shoulders as if to shake me. “Look at me.” His voice is stern, but not as stern as his gaze. “Do not fight me on this. I don’t plan on checking out, but if I go down, do not contact Foxy. But you figure out how to get a message to Smith right away, and tell him everything. Every. Fucking. Detail.”
Smith’s clearance goes a lot higher than mine, that’s for damn sure. But still. Purposefully divulging classified information is a crime—a treasonous crime. Not to mention a risk to national security. I’m no Girl Scout, but I took an oath not to betray my country, and even though representatives of my country have betrayed me, I’m not a traitor, and neither is Gray. “Surely you can’t mean everything?”
He scowls at me. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
His eyes flit over my face, as if searching for assurances. “Am I clear?”
Crystal. And you’re deranged too. But we’ll save that part of the discussion for the plane. “How long has Smith known about the mission?”
Gray pulls away, not just his body, but his eyes too. “He knew before you. He first learned about it during that meeting at the Pentagon sometime early in the summer. I filled in some of the details later.”
I lower myself to the bed. He knew before you. He first learned about it during that meeting at the Pentagon early in the summer. I filled in some of the details later.
The knife wedged into my back is akin to torture. I take a deep breath and lace my fingers together to control the pain. Otherwise, I’m going to fly around in a blind rage, destroying everything in this room that Gray Wilder holds dear. Then I’ll deal with Smith.
Gray places a hand on my shoulder.
I swat it away. “You and Smith conspired behind my back.” I don’t need a response. I know it’s true.
“I went to him first because I wanted to pave the way for your conversation with him. He agreed to let you go because he knew you needed the challenge, and an opportunity to live out your dream, even for a single mission. He wants you happy and fulfilled. He cares a lot about you, Delilah. And just like me, he’s on your side.”
The risk of cavorting with men who require absolute control is precisely this. Not just Gray, but Smith too. There’s never a real partnership with them, because their patriarchal bullshit doesn’t allow for partners.
“I’m so happy that you and Smith had a little soiree to decide what was best for me even before I had a chance to weigh in.” I glower at him, with his chin up and shoulders squared. He doesn’t want to upset me, and I’m sure he’s sorry about that part, but otherwise, the bastard is entirely unrepentant.
“That will never happen again. I won’t tolerate that kind of misogyny from either of you.” I bounce my fingertip off the small piece of luggage to emphasize my point. “It’s disrespectful, and I deserve better from Smith, and certainly from you.”
Gray sits down on the bed near me, but far enough away that I don’t immediately have the urge to get up. “I had a choice of a few contractors to provide backup for this mission. One of those companies was Smith’s. Initially, I rejected the idea because it meant coming clean about my work with the EAD—and all the lies I’ve told over the years.” Gray draws a breath, but instead of calming him, it seems to crush his spirit, making the tiny lines around his eyes more prominent. “Telling Smith was hard enough, but now that he knows, there’s a risk my brothers will find out too. And the real possibility that they will never forgive me.”
His voice is heavy, tinged with sadness, but I’m still too mad to offer even a word of comfort.
“But even with all the risks,” he says frankly, “in the end I chose Smith’s company because I’m confident that if something happens to me, he’ll never leave you behind. He will use every resource he has to help you.”
Gray inches closer, placing his large hand over mine.
I don’t push him away this time. I don’t have the heart, or the desire to shun him.
“If you contact my handler,” he continues, “she won’t lift a finger to protect you unless she can do it without compromising the agency. She won’t even protect me, if it comes to that. Her job is to protect the integrity of the mission, and that of the agency. It’s not to save us if things get too messy.” He squeezes my hand, and weaves his fingers through mine. “I dragged you into this, and I need to be absolutely certain you’ll be safe no matter what happens. I won’t apologize for that.”