Chapter Forty

Hutchinson River Parkway, Connecticut

October 22

All four doors of the SUV opened simultaneously. Miles shielded Clara with his body despite knowing who was in the car. Eight booted feet hit the gravel on the shoulder, one pair particularly large and familiar. His twin brother, Tox, emerged from the front passenger door. Andrew “Chat” Dunlop and Leo “Ren” Jameson appeared from the back seat, and Jonah “Steady” Lockhart looked across the car from the driver’s side.

Miles knew Clara had briefly met the Bishop Security men on a few occasions over the past two years. Nevertheless, battle-ready and serious, they were an intimidating bunch. Miles felt a surge of pleasure at the thought of joining the team, of being one of the good guys. He had waded in the muck for so long that the idea of swimming in clean water was suddenly very compelling. Miles hadn’t anticipated the lure of doing good.

“Hope we’re not interrupting,” Tox said with an unapologetic grin.

Miles took Clara’s hand and led her back to the road. “You didn’t need to come. I sent a follow-up text that I had her, and everything was okay.”

Steady joined them. “Miles, you’re dealing with a bunch of knucklehead former sailors. We don’t handle downtime well. Ren’s got girl trouble, so it was either get drunk and give him shitty advice or saddle up.”

Tox added, “So I ignored the all-clear and tracked you.”

Miles embraced his brother with his usual distantly affectionate hug and said, “I’m glad you did.”

Tox laughed. “Doesn’t look like it to me. Hello Clara.”

Miles pulled Clara to his side. There was no point in hiding his attachment from his twin. Tox always knew what Miles was thinking and feeling. Miles hadn’t underestimated his brother’s intuition. Tox’s nearly imperceptible nod spoke volumes.

A pickup drove by, laying on the horn. Chat said, “We should move off this shoulder.”

Miles retrieved both helmets. “Meet us back at the place. I need your help.”

“Oh, hell no.” Steady snatched one of the helmets from Miles’s grasp. “You two ride in the back. I’ve got a date with this fine lady.”

Miles had no sooner tossed Steady the fob than the Ducati shot off. Miles put his hands on his hips. “If he puts so much as a scratch on it, I’ll wring his neck.”

Ren clapped Miles on the shoulder as he headed around the car to the driver’s seat. “No worries there. The guy could fly an F-18 through the Lincoln Tunnel.”

As they pulled into traffic, Tox said, “Tell Clara your troubles, Ren. Might help to have a woman’s perspective.”

Miles saw the muscle in Ren’s jaw flex, causing the arm of his wire-framed glasses to bob.

Ren changed the subject. “I think there are more pressing issues at the moment.”

Tox blew a raspberry. “Fine. Sitrep?”

Miles deferred to Clara, and she told the team about her complicated history with Lucien Kite.

Tox texted Twitch, their cyber security expert, no doubt getting background info on Kite.

Tox’s voice was lethal. “What happened at the house just now?”

Clara explained, “He stole a painting from my father. Well, he stole it from the Marseilles Customs House, but it belongs to Papa. Kite wanted to show me.”

“What painting?” Miles asked.

“It’s a portrait by a fairly obscure artist. Somewhere by Francisco Tavarro. Reynard bought it as a gift for me. It has sentimental value. I think Kite found out who I am and wanted to show me his reach. Then he invited me to a party.”

“What party?” Miles demanded.

Clara pulled the invitation from her crossbody bag and passed it to him.

Miles took the card, then pulled a red leaf from her golden hair.

“I also may have told him I was going to steal the painting back.”

“May have?” Miles prodded.

“I think my exact words were, ‘I’m going to steal that painting right out from under your nose.’”

“What’s this party he mentioned?” Tox asked.

Miles read the invitation. “It’s a masquerade party—a return to Versailles.”

Ren shook his head. “The guy has no shame.”

Miles kept his eyes on the card. “You can send your regrets.”

Clara snatched it out of his hand. “Maybe I’ll go.”

He gripped the back of Clara’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “Over my dead body.”

“It’s my decision, Miles,” she replied, annoyed with the sudden breathiness of her voice.

Miles growled in her ear, “Then, I hope Kite’s expecting a plus one.”

Ren stepped on the gas. “The game is afoot.”

Clara sat in the middle between the twins. She leaned forward and spoke to Ren. “No more than usual, really. I need to steal a painting from a crook. I won’t apologize or make excuses.”

Tox rested a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to justify your actions to us, Clara. We understand doing the right thing isn’t always black and white.”

Miles stared straight ahead. “This time is different. He knows you’re coming, and, what’s more, he knows your methods.”

Tox pointed to the exit for Ren and said. “Miles is right. Might be time to shuffle the playlist.”

Clara chewed on her lip. “Maybe.”

Tox pointed at the invitation with his chin. “When’s the shindig.”

Miles checked. “Next Saturday.”

“That’s not enough time,” Clara said.

Steady’s voice came over the speakers. “You’ve got a team now, Sugar. We’ve deposed dictators in less than a week.”

“Steady?”

“Bluetooth in the helmet is a nice touch, bro. I’ve been muting when I holler. Goddamn, this bike is sweet. The only thing missing is Very on the back wrapped around me like a python.”

Tox disconnected the call with a chuckle. “It’s a frosty day in hell. Steady’s in love.”

Clara saw Ren’s fingers tense on the steering wheel and remembered Steady’s comment earlier about woman trouble. “So, what’s going on with you, Ren?”

Ren released a weary sigh but didn’t speak.

Tox got the ball rolling. “Ren’s been ass over tea kettle for a CIA analyst named Sofria Kirk. He’s had a crush on her for years. He finally grew a pair and asked her out a few months ago.”

Chat spun around to face the trio in the back. “I think his expectations were too high. His buddies were all thunderstruck by love, and he pictured the same thing happening to him.”

Clara’s voice grew sympathetic. “And it didn’t?”

Ren finally spoke for himself. “It did. That’s the thing.” He checked the mirror and changed lanes. “Every time I saw her before we got together, I felt that… What does Cam’s dad call it?”

Tox and Chat replied simultaneously, “The zing.”

“Yes, the zing. I felt it. Sofria is gorgeous and brilliant. There’s nothing about her I don’t like.”

Clara asked the obvious question. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know!” Ren hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, then composed himself. “Maybe she’s too naive or too innocent. Maybe she’s just not that passionate. She can talk about physics or the theater or poetry, but I never sense her fire.”

“She’s a CIA analyst, you say?” Clara asked.

“Yes,” Ren confirmed.

“It’s hard to imagine someone doing that job who wasn’t passionate. Working long hours for low pay all to serve your country.”

Ren thought about Clara’s remark. “I agree, but if something gets her heart racing, I have yet to see it.”

“You could be right,” Clara replied.

“Or?” Ren pushed.

“She’s hiding something.”

The Suburban swerved as Ren overcorrected, then righted the SUV. “What makes you say that?”

“Personal experience.” Clara flopped back between the twins. “I’m a thief. Most people don’t know that, so I’m sure a lot of my acquaintances think I’m distant or don’t have passion. Because I’m hiding it.”

Chat looked out the passenger window as they crossed the 59th Street Bridge into Manhattan. “Clara makes an interesting point.”

Ren waved him off. “Come on. It’s not like she’s doing Finn’s old job or Cam’s.”

Miles knew both Bishop Security operatives had worked undercover for the CIA.

Ren continued. “Sofria’s an analyst for Chrissake. She just left for her first field assignment, an embassy job. I almost wish she had some deep, dark secret. At least then there’d be something there.”

Chat held up his hand. “Hold that thought. Ren?”

Ren glanced in the rearview mirror. “I see him.”

“What’s going on?’ Clara looked behind her.

Miles looked back, too. Even in the darkness, it was obvious a blue sedan was remaining hidden in traffic as it swerved around cars following them.

“We picked up a tail,” he said.

“How?” Clara asked.

“Kite must have had men hanging back,” Chat said. “Probably curious about your white knight.”

Tox held the phone to his ear. “No worries bro. I’m about to make Steady’s day.”

Ren maneuvered the car through Manhattan traffic, stopping at a red light.

Steady said over the speaker, “I’m coming in from the east.”

Tox replied, “It’s a blue BMW, three cars back.”

“Good copy.”

When the light turned green, Ren drove forward at an average speed. Three vehicles back, the sedan jerked to a halt as a motorcycle ran the red at the cross street, popped the front tire, and slammed to a stop, propped on the car’s hood.

Clara swore she saw Steady’s grin through the tinted helmet shield.

Miles grabbed his brother’s shoulder in a firm grip. Tox understood. “Let’s swing by both your places. You have a go-bag?”

Miles said, “We both do.”

“How do you—” Clara narrowed her eyes at him but held her tongue. He had obviously poked around while she slept. She couldn’t very well call him out for snooping. Clara knew every inch of Miles’s home.

They drove downtown in silence. As they neared Alphabet City, Tox said, “Clara, ever been to South Carolina?”