A Brilliant Deception (22 page)

“
T
onight? Are you crazy?” Jack said, staring at me in disbelief.

“We’re not ready to do the job tonight!”

I shrugged. “Well, it’s now or never. Hendrickx warned him, so he’s going to move it tomorrow.”

We were all back at Raffles, gathered in Templeton’s suite.

“How can you be sure he’s not going to move it tonight, my dear?” Templeton asked.

“He said he was going to deal with it in the morning. He’s got a poker tournament and then he’s throwing some kind of party tonight.”

There was protracted quiet as everyone on the team processed this.

“If we don’t go in and get it tonight,” I said, “we may never have another chance.”

They knew I was right. There was further silence.

At last, Ethan raised his head. “All right, I say tonight it is. I think it’s possible.”

Felix nodded. “Let’s do this.”

I swiveled my head to look at Jack. Reluctantly, he dragged his eyes back up to mine. He shrugged. “You’re all insane. But all right. Tonight it is.”

I grinned and we set to work, concocting a detailed plan of attack. And the plan we came up with? Well, if we could pull it off—it would be nothing short of spectacular.

 

I’m not sure why I called them that night. I told myself it was because I wanted to check in and see how my mom was doing. Today was the day she was supposed to be discharged from the hospital.

“Dad? How is Mom? Is she back home now?”

“She’s right here.”

He handed the phone to her. “Darling!” she said. “It’s so nice to hear your voice. Listen—while you’re in Yorkshire, you should really look up the Petticoat family. You know, Thomas and Susan?”

“Oh, Mom, I’m not—”

“Don’t protest, Cat. This is your cousin. Have you never looked at your family tree? Your father took ages putting it together a few years ago. We have plenty of family in the North. Anyway, I’m sure they could introduce you to someone. I’m
positive
there are many eligible men in North England—”

“Mom,” I interrupted. “I’m not in Yorkshire anymore.” Extended family in England was not going to be much assistance to me now.

“Oh.” She paused and sniffed. “Next time, then.”

“Any chance I have some well-connected relatives in Singapore, Mom?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said. Then she asked, more quietly, “Is that where you are?”

“Yes.”

My chest tightened; she asked no further questions about what I was doing in Singapore. Of course she knew.

“Sweetheart, I want to be sure you’re trying to be safe.”

Define “safe,”
I thought. I resisted the temptation to say it, staying quiet instead.

My mom filled the silence. “So, Singapore?” she said brightly. “That’s exciting. A lot of suitable men, there, I’m sure—”

“Mom,” I warned.

“What? It’s simply an observation. Besides, you know your ovaries aren’t getting any younger . . .”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I can see you’re back to normal, Mom. Did they expect you to recover quite this quickly?”

As much as it irritated me, the truth was, she was right about my biological clock. It was the thing she’d always nagged me about, always wanting me to find a man and settle down and, most importantly, produce babies. And I’d always protested and resisted.

But just then, I really couldn’t find it in me to protest. Because . . . it was a future that didn’t sound all that horrible anymore.

“Listen, darling, do be careful, all right?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll try.”

I disconnected the call and sat back. There had been something different about our conversation. Our talks usually had a certain cadence: she nagged and pushed her agenda; I brushed her off and dismissed her issues. It was a dance we did. This time however, there had been something different in her voice—a little more concern, maybe. And in my voice, a little more sincerity. Something more than lip service.

For the first time, I wondered if she was right. What kind of future was I creating for myself, flitting around the globe, all tangled up with the criminal underworld? It was no kind of future at all. Something needed to change.

As soon as I completed this mission.

W
e were supposed to be getting an hour’s rest before the job. We were ready, and there was nothing more to do but wait for our go time—midnight. So Templeton had ordered us all back to our respective rooms for a brief catnap before leaving.

Trouble was, I couldn’t sleep. My brain felt like a hamster wheel, continuously rotating at a furious pace.

I stared out my suite’s window at the slowly sinking sun and ran through the job in my head. I thought of everything that could go wrong. And, in particular, I thought about all the people I cared about who might get hurt in the next few hours.

I had to prevent that if I could.

Maybe it was talking to my mother that had triggered these feelings. Maybe it was the awareness that Templeton and Gladys and Felix—none of them field agents—were all here, ready to risk everything. Undoubtedly it was the memory of what had happened to Esmerelda, only a few days ago.

I knew what I needed to do, whom I needed to talk to. And it had to happen before the job started. I climbed from bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and crept down the long hallway to Jack’s suite.

To my surprise he answered my knock right away. “Can’t sleep?” I said.

He shook his head. “You neither?”

I shrugged.

“So . . . what’s up, Cat?” Jack was one of the few people I knew who looked good when sleep-deprived. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his hair rumpled, like he’d been running his hands through it. The scruff on his face from a couple of days without shaving . . . well, the whole picture was a red-blooded look for him.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I said, unsure exactly how to say it. “It’s about the job.”

“Okay, well, come in.” He stood back to let me in.

I walked in quickly, head full of the things I needed to tell him. Once inside, however, with the door closed, I became acutely aware of the fact that Jack and I were alone, together, in a hotel suite.

I went to sit on the bed, then decided that was the wrong way to go, and settled for an armchair.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, looking at me with concern. “Your head—is it giving you trouble?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Feeling ready, then?”

I frowned slightly. “I think so. I mean, I know everything is in place. I just . . . have to get my mind wrapped around a few things.”

“You know what I think?” he said, walking over to the mini-fridge. “You need to relax.” He brought out a bottle of Shiraz, already opened, and poured two glasses. “Here, have this.”

“No, Jack, I’m okay—”

He pressed the drink into my hand. “You need it.”

I nodded and took the glass.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” he said as I sipped. It was a really good wine—dark and full-bodied. “You’ve got this, Cat. You’ve done this kind of thing a hundred times.”

“Yes, but usually it’s just me. If I get caught, that’s my own damn fault. I’ve never worked with such a large team before. If anything happens to anyone, it’ll be my fault—”

“Hey, we’re all grown-ups. And nobody is being forced into anything. Things happen. There’s risk. We all know that.”

I sipped again, thinking about what he said. The wine started to soak into my insides, softening my bones.

“Well, that’s what I came here to talk to you about.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I need you to promise to do whatever it takes to keep people safe. Even if it means compromising the job.” As I said it, I knew I was doing the right thing. Jack was FBI; he was uniquely positioned to help whoever needed it. “I mean—I know I need this job to succeed. But, in fact, it’s more important to me that everyone gets out of there in one piece.”

He looked at me carefully for a long time. And then he nodded. “If that’s what you want, Cat, I can do that.” He took a sip of his wine. “But tell me—what’s going on with you? Why is this such a thing for you right now?”

I shrugged and shifted in the armchair.

“Does it have something to do with what happened to your mother?”

I looked at him sharply. “You know about that?” I fiddled with the glass in my hands and gazed down. Of course he knew about that. Jack always seemed to have the inside scoop when it came to me and my life. “My mother has always supported me in my career choice; she’s never questioned it. But after she got shot . . . I guess
I
was the one to start questioning it.” I laughed. It felt good to talk about it; I’d been keeping it inside far too long. “And you know what’s even crazier than that? For the first time in my life, I’m starting to think all my mother’s nagging about me getting married, having babies . . . well, you know, it’s not all that off base. I think I actually want all that in my future—”

I stopped, realizing in that moment exactly who I was talking to. I glanced around awkwardly. “The point is, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me.”

Jack’s eyes were gentle. “You have my word on it, Cat. I will be looking out for everyone. And . . . that includes you.”

I covered my mouth with the wineglass and took a large sip. My stomach tightened and I cast about for a change of subject. “Did I mention how amazing your suite is?” I said brightly and stood up. “Look at this balcony!” I walked out into the warm Singapore air prepared to feign admiration, but then quieted at the sight of the sunset: blazing pink clouds amid an aquamarine sky. A cashmere blanket lay rumpled on a plush chaise lounge, an empty coffee cup resting on a small table beside it. Jack had been sitting out here earlier. I wondered—what had he been thinking about, as he sat out here, alone?

The balcony overlooked the courtyard, lush with palms and ferns. I took a deep breath; the air was soft and full of the nectar of flowers.

I turned and looked at Jack, who had followed me out. There wasn’t any of the cold detachment I’d seen in his eyes in recent days. He looked like the old Jack. My Jack. The one who truly cared about me, against his better judgment.

His eyes grew even more tender as he moved closer to me.

“Cat, I—”

My breathing quickened. Electricity sparked between us.

We had so much history together. Being on opposite sides of the law had always been the only thing keeping us apart. And now here we were, working together on the same side . . . Jack no longer FBI . . .

In an instant, he closed the distance.

His hands went up to my face and he pulled me into a deep kiss. His lips felt soft and warm on mine. A shiver traced down my spine. His embrace was an exquisite combination of familiar and exciting.

His kisses grew increasingly hungry. Our bodies pressed even closer together, and his hands worked their way through my hair. We both wanted the same thing. He picked me up with one smooth movement, carrying me easily, and moved over to the chaise lounge.

I sank into the cushions as he lay on top of me. I breathed deeply, and my head filled with the smell of his skin—intoxicating and alive with memories.

Jack was a big man, six feet three inches of muscle and sinew, and he was focusing every inch of that body on me. His chest against my chest, his heart beating into mine.

He kissed my neck and I leaned back. A delicious chill surged through me, and I arched into him. His hand went under the edge of my top, and in an instant pulled my sweater over my head. His shirt came off immediately after. I traced my hands over his bare chest, enjoying the taut muscles.

God, how I had missed him.

I slid my hands up and around his broad shoulders as he kissed me again. There was a little more urgency to his kisses now. He moved my legs apart with his thigh, still clad in jeans, and pressed against me. I moaned softly and bit his lip.

For a moment I forgot about everything else. All my worries and thoughts melted away.

Except one.

Ethan.

A little hook of guilt tugged at my brain. I tried to shut it down. It was ridiculous. We weren’t a couple. I did my best to ignore those thoughts. I focused on Jack. His body, his breathing, his kisses. And then...

Jack’s phone rang.

He ignored it and continued his work undressing me. But the phone kept ringing, sitting on a table inside the balcony doors.

“Um, do you think you should get that?” I asked reluctantly.

“Nope,” he said, tugging at my jeans. His voice was husky and low. The ringing stopped after a minute, and I promptly forgot about it.

Jack had removed both of our jeans; the feeling of being nearly naked with him sent chills through me. A warm breeze slid over my skin as Jack lifted himself up, looking into my face. “Cat, I—” he began.

Then his phone rang again.

He squeezed his eyes shut and emitted a soft curse. “Just a sec. I’ll tell whoever it is to leave me alone.”

He climbed off the chaise and took three swift steps inside his suite. I propped myself up to enjoy the view of Jack standing at the glowing threshold with the phone to his ear, wearing only his boxer briefs, in all his finely chiseled glory.

Within a second, however, I could tell it wasn’t going to be so easy for him to get rid of this call. His face changed. I sat up fully, my near-naked state forgotten. Something was wrong.

He disconnected the call and returned to me. I pulled the blanket over myself, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward.

“Listen, there’s a bit of a complication,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“Brooke was spotted landing at the Singapore Changi Airport.”

Shit
. This could ruin everything.

Brooke was a pro. She was an excellent thief. It took a good thief to know exactly how to stop a theft from happening. But the worst part, perhaps, was that Brooke knew as much about me, and my modus operandi, as I did. As evidenced by her mangling of my Venice attempt. If anyone had a shot at blowing this thing apart, it was Brooke.

“We’re going to have to rework the plan,” he said. He recognized how much of a threat she was. “Someone is going to need to be assigned to Brooke, to make sure she doesn’t kill this for us.”

Jack started dressing again, without discussion. He paused, and looked at me. “Are you—um, I’m sorry, Cat, I just assumed . . .”

“No, you’re right. We should, ah, stop.” My skin crawled with the discomfort of the situation. I quickly stood and started getting dressed also.

“Call the others?” he said. “I’ll get out the files. Let’s have everyone meet in Templeton’s room in five.”

I nodded. I pulled on my sweater and rubbed my arms; the warm breeze on the balcony had suddenly turned chilly.