31. Typhon

31

TYPHON

T he following morning, I had to travel to Shere. When I arrived, Brand and Penelope were already there.

"Good to see the two of you again. El and I had such a nice time last night," I said, greeting them before I noticed Saint was on the far side of the room. When our eyes met, he scowled.

"I understand Eliza Fox took you to Five Hertford. It's where we had our first date," said Wren Whittaker when she and her husband, Wilder, joined those of us gathered in the largest common area in the house that had been converted into a situation room.

I knew both Wren and Wilder well. She was Z's daughter, and Wilder, his older brother, Shiver, and I had deployed missions together when I was still with MI6.

When I glanced over to where Saint had been standing, he was gone. Thankfully, El was in London rather than Brighton, although I still regretted not bringing her with me. Like the last time, she could've waited for me in the village, and her cousin would have been none the wiser.

"Sorry to pull you away," I heard Nem say to Brand, motioning in the direction of the library. Rather than follow them in, I waited to see if she'd invite me to join them. When she didn't, I used the time to ring El.

"I wanted you to know your cousin is here. We've made eye contact but have not engaged."

"Thank you for letting me know, Levi."

"Should he show up in London?—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have no intention of seeing him, especially this close to our wedding. You needn't worry. I've left specific instructions that no one—other than you, of course—should be permitted access to my apartment without my expressed permission."

"Well done, my love. There's a meeting I should make my way into."

"Hurry back. I miss you. I'm in the bath, by the way."

I closed my eyes and groaned, picturing her naked body and water cascading over her luscious curves. "I may have to hire a helicopter to get me there quicker."

She giggled, and we ended the call.

"Pardon the interruption. I was unaware this meeting was taking place, or I would've joined you sooner," I said, walking into the library.

Nemesis glared at me. "This doesn't concern you."

"I beg to differ. There's vital information the coalition has not yet been made aware of."

She sighed. "Very well. Get on with it."

"Unit 23 has two agents already embedded in the Calabrian Syndicate—Giada Notaro, code name Luna, and Antonio Casavetti, code name Keeper."

Nemesis raised a brow. "Shall I assume the next thing you're going to say is you also have two who have infiltrated the Sicilians?" When I didn't respond, Nemesis leaned back in her chair. "Stop playing games, and answer my question."

If she weren't looking directly at me, I would've rubbed my hands together in anticipation of her reaction to what I was about to tell her. "It may come as a surprise."

"For God's sake, Typhon, spit it out." Nemesis was seething.

"Me."

"For how long?" she spat.

"Years."

"In what role?"

"Enforcer. By contract only."

"Convenient," she muttered.

"It's served a purpose," I said, barely able to hold back my grin.

"Where are you going with this, Typhon?" she demanded.

"I'll be spending some time in Tropea with Brando."

"His code name is Michelangelo."

"The Sicilians know him by his given name. Are you suggesting we blow our cover with a mistake only a green agent would make?"

Her face flushed, and she folded her arms, resting them on the table in front of her, then raised her head and glared at me through scrunched eyes. "As with prior instances of overlapping missions, I will insist you brief me on every facet of whatever ops you're planning."

"For now, it will consist of support only."

"Do you have reason to believe your involvement is necessary at this time?"

I nodded once, achieving my goal of further annoying her.

Nemesis stood, slammed her laptop closed, and stalked from the room. "We'll continue this discussion later."

We wouldn't be, but I had no intention of informing her. To the Americans—Tank and Blackjack—I said, "Gentlemen, would you also please excuse us?"

They both stood and left the room as if their chairs were on fire.

"What Nemesis didn't say before she left in a huff is that the deployment is set for two January," I said once they were out of the room.

Brand studied me but didn't speak.

"You were anticipating it was imminent, weren't you?" I asked.

He nodded. "I was."

"The Sicilians will be wary, which is one of the reasons I stepped in."

"Do you intend to be my entrée?"

"Ease it, at least. Not to mention, Tweedledee and Tweedledum will be of no help whatsoever. Why in God's name Nem would send two Americans in with you is beyond me."

Brand appeared thoughtful. "I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Were you involved in the hit that was to be carried out on me four years ago?"

"Of course I was. However, Scaglione called it off." There was no reason for him to ever know what it had taken to save his life, so I changed the subject. "You will not be able to communicate with Penelope outside a secure app."

"Understood."

Given I didn't want to take the time to review my history with the Italian crime syndicates, I did something I never did—prepared a brief.

"This will give you insight into my cover as well as my history with both families. It is for your eyes only," I said, handing him the document.

"Understood."

I raised a brow.

"Sorry. Understood, sir."

"There are others not mentioned whom I worked with earlier on, when I was establishing myself. Within those pages, you will find an approximate kill count. Keep in mind those numbers aren't in any way accurate."

He looked down at the brief but didn't open it.

"You're not going to ask if the number is higher or lower?" I prompted.

"Frankly, I'd rather not know," he muttered.

"Lower. Much lower."

His eyes scrunched. "I don't understand."

"While those of us in Unit 23 are tasked with eliminating the evil-doers of the world, many of the lives the mob wants terminated are the good guys."

"How do you prove the deaths?"

"You'd be amazed at what my crew is capable of." My words appeared to ease some of his tension. "What else do you want to know, Brand?"

After he told me he planned to get with Nemesis to confirm his role would be as they'd originally discussed, I assured him he was going in, in the same role he'd had with the Sicilians years ago—as an art forger.

"It's another reason I'm deploying with you. I don't want your head or fingers in human trafficking. You don't have the background or the training."

"Understood, sir."

"Tank and Blackjack will be poking around, as will I. You keep your eye on your own prize."

"You expressed a fairly low opinion of them. Why are they still deploying?"

I shrugged and smiled. "Part of the Unit 23 persona."

"It appeared to be solely for my benefit."

I nodded. "Brand, if you aren't intimidated by me at this point, you have no business participating in this mission."

"Your goal was to intimidate me?"

"Damn straight. There isn't a person in either family who's met me and isn't. That includes both dons."

"Got it."

"Now that there's no need for you to wrap things up with Nemesis, I suggest you get your arse back to London and enjoy every minute you can with Penelope in the same way I plan to do with El."

The following day, Eliza and I walked out of the Kensington and Chelsea Register Office as man and wife. While we'd talked about spending Christmas in London, once outside, we turned to each other and, at the same time, said, "Casa Melro."

We laughed at the brilliant feeling of being that in tune, then rather than going straight to the apartment, we stopped by the Market pub, the place where we'd spoke our first words to each other and, for me, where I first fell in love with Eliza. It was almost a year since the day my life had changed forever. I'd changed.

The anger and resentment I'd felt for so long rarely reared their heads anymore and never when I was with my wife. God, I loved thinking of her that way.

It was the freedom from so many negative feelings that allowed me to look at what had happened the day of Jekyll's death in a new light. What if Saint hadn't been at fault? What if I'd hated him all these years instead of the person I should've been holding responsible? If only internal affairs had released the final report of their investigation, years of questions and assumptions would've been unnecessary.

I stared at my beautiful bride as Rile's words echoed in my head. He'd told me to forgive Saint, then added, "It will be worth it. I promise you." I could see that now. More, I could feel it.

"You look so at peace," El said, reaching over to cup my cheek.

"There is an expression fitting the way I feel today: all is right with my world. Hope it is true for you as well."

"As right as it can be." She smiled, but not through her eyes. "Ninety-nine percent perfect."

If only I had it in my power to give her the missing one percent. Perhaps one day, I could mend the break between her and Saint. I didn't know if there was anything I could do about her parents.

I ordered two glasses of Booker's neat, like I had that first day, and we drank a toast to a lifetime of blissful happiness, mind-blowing sex, and love for each other and the children we both longed to have.

Her eyes met mine, and I saw everything I'd just said mirrored back to me. "How many?" I asked.

"Four," she responded without the need for me to clarify.

"Perhaps in the new year, I'll stop taking you away from Brighton so often and you can begin work on your sculpture."

Her eyes scrunched. "Whatever happened to the drawing we did that day?"

My cheeks flushed, a rare occurrence for me. "I framed it."

She giggled. "And where is it?"

I pointed in the direction of the building where my flat sat empty. "Up there." I took her hand in mine. "I watched for you that night. I told myself not to. I thought about spending time in my gym and about getting work done, but I couldn't leave that window. When you came out with your cousin, I rang you."

"I remember. You walked me home."

"And almost lost you forever."

El brought my hand to her lips. "I'm certain we would've found our way back to one another, no matter how. We're meant to be, Levi. I know you feel it the same way I do."

"Deep in my soul."

"Agarve is calling me." She winked.

Angel and Crash were scheduled to be in the cockpit, and when we arrived at the airfield, I asked El if she wanted to tell her friend that we were married, but she didn't. "Let's keep it just between you and me a little while longer."

I loved the idea and said so. There was something about keeping it a secret that excited me.

"Perhaps we should consummate our marriage while in flight."

Her smile was mischievous. "Do you think three hours will give us enough time?"

"If not, we have days upon days to make up for it."

"Levi? I've been meaning to ask about your apartment," she said a few minutes later while we waited for the aircraft to reach cruising altitude before getting up from our seats.

"I should probably think about selling it."

"I've never seen it."

My eyes opened wide. It hadn't occurred to me, given I liked her place so much more. "Would you like to?"

Her mischievousness was back. "I'd at least like to see where you hung our artwork."

We had ten glorious days spent making love, eating, making love again, and talking late into the night.

On New Year's Day, I received confirmation from Z that Nemesis was, in fact, ready to deploy Brando Ripa's mission as scheduled, which meant in the next few days.

"I'd hoped you'd be able to sway her against it," I muttered.

Z chuckled. "Not even the tiniest bit."

El knew we might have to leave tomorrow, but I apologized anyway. She smiled and told me she'd be happy to get back to her studio anyway.

"I'm feeling particularly creative these days," she said, wriggling her eyebrows.

I pulled her body flush with mine so she could feel how her simple words had turned my cock hard as steel.

Again, we made good use of the stateroom on our return trip to England.