Her Spy to Have (Spy Games Book 1) (10 page)

“He had a few friends he didn’t want knowing too much about me, or his movements. Acquaintances, rather,” she amended. “Friends of friends. So when I first went to boarding school, he came up with a secondary way of communicating with me that only the two of us would understand. That way, no one would know where or when we planned to meet.”

Garrett sighed. “And you didn’t think any of this was…I don’t know…strange?”

“Of course I did. But we’ve always lived private lives. He wanted to keep his work separate from me as much as he could.” She’d also known not to ask questions she didn’t want answered. “He’s not a bad person. I told you he works for a security management company. It’s highly confidential.”

“And convenient.” He rubbed his forehead. “Tell me about the message. I want to know how you got it.”

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

They were sitting very close together. His thigh pressed tight against hers. She could feel the bunching of his muscles with every slight movement. The alert tension in him. “Would you believe me if I made such a promise?”

She lifted her chin and met his eyes. “As a program officer, yes.”

Humor hooked the corners of his mouth. “Then as a program officer, I promise.”

Which meant his promise was worth nothing. She’d give him the message, but not the delivery system. “He sent me an email from an IP address routed through Portugal. He said I’d be unable to contact him, and will have to wait for his next message. I’m tired of waiting. It’s already been months.”

The hint of a smile in his eyes faded. Caution spiked. This wasn’t the man who’d kissed her. Touched her. The one who’d complained about running and made fun of yoga, and took his nieces and nephew to play at the beach. Staring hard at her now was the intimidating man who’d grabbed her wrist on Khao San Road.

“You’re lying to me about the IP address.”

She couldn’t breathe. “How do you know I am?”

“A good guess.”

Outrage kicked in, hot and defensive, as she figured it out. He was monitoring her email. He really was CSIS. Even though she’d been certain of it already, the confirmation blindsided her. Suspecting and knowing were two very different things.

Her chest ached from holding her breath. She stood, forcing herself to expel air. Anger wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Whatever CSIS was investigating, her father was nothing more than a starting point for them. They were after bigger fish, like the people her father was hiding from. Having CSIS find him first could only be positive. “I—”

A knock came at the door, disrupting her thoughts. A new panic surfaced. This was Bangkok all over. She didn’t want to be caught in her employer’s brother’s private suite. If she were dismissed before she’d saved any money, she’d be back where she started.

Garrett must have had similar reservations about them being discovered together. He jerked his head toward the bedroom. She hurried across the thick beige carpet on bare feet and into the other room, easing the door closed behind her with a silent snick of the latch, then pressed her ear to the white, wooden panel.

* * *

Garrett opened the door. Peter stood in the hall.

“Cheryl wanted to know if you’d like to watch a movie with us,” he said.

“Love to,” Garrett replied. “Give me ten minutes. I have something I need to finish, first.”

“Great. I’ll go see if Isabelle would like to join us.” Peter made a move toward her door.

“I’ll ask her,” Garrett said.

Peter stopped. He gave him a look that Garrett knew well. Too well. “What difference does it make who asks?”

“She doesn’t like to interfere with your family time. She’s more inclined to say yes to me.”

“Your logic makes no sense whatsoever. I think I’ll take my chances.” Peter knocked on her door. He waited a few seconds, then knocked again. “Isabelle?” His hand dropped to his side as he turned back to Garrett. He shrugged. “Guess she’s either asleep or busy. If you want to check with her one more time before you come down, go ahead. We’d hate for her to think she isn’t welcome. She spends too much time alone as it is.”

“I’ll do that,” Garrett said.

Peter paused in the open doorway. “This weekend, the whole family is hosting a neighborhood barbecue at the farm. You and Isabelle are invited too, and—” His words broke off as he stared at something on the floor behind Garrett.

Mentally, Garrett ran through the contents of the room after he’d come in and found Isabelle on the sofa pretending to be asleep, trying to recall anything that might catch Peter’s interest. He saw his laptop—and a pale pink pair of flowery flip-flops, lying partially hidden under the edge of the sofa. He also pictured the closed bedroom door.

The two men looked at each other. Neither spoke, each waiting for the other to go first. Peter finally broke the standoff. Concern filtered into his expression.

“Maybe I should add one more warning to what I gave you before,” he said, very quietly.

Garrett kept his response equally soft. For both his family’s sake and Isabelle’s, and the forward momentum of his investigation, it might be best if he let Peter think this was exactly what it looked like—which it well could have been.

“I’d like to point out that we’re in my room, not hers. She’s a grown woman. I didn’t lure her in here.”

“Fair enough,” Peter said. “But she’s had a hard go of it the last few months. Using her to get information would be beneath you. Keep that in mind.” He spoke louder. “The movie starts in ten minutes. Don’t forget to ask Isabelle to join us.”

“I won’t.”

Garrett closed the door. He rested his palm on the frame and closed his eyes, trying to think. His brother-in-law’s disapproval, although it bore weight, was the least of his worries. On the investigation front, things had gotten a great deal more complicated.

Marc Beausejour had found a simple system for moving around the internet undetected and his daughter knew what it was. It had to be in one of the sites she’d been visiting this morning. An unexpected disappointment lodged in the pit of his stomach. Deep down he’d wanted to believe in her, but so much of what she’d told him spoke of complicity, either direct or indirect.

He heard her come out of the bedroom.

“Did he know I was in here?” she asked when he turned to face her.

He tried to decide how much, if anything, she’d overheard. “He wants us to watch a movie with them.”

“I thought I’d go to bed early.”

His lips twitched.

“Alone,” she added, cutting him off, although she couldn’t quite smother a small smile in response.

That hint of a smile had him pursuing the invitation with more aggressiveness. “Watch the movie instead. You’d be doing me a favor. I don’t want to feel like the third person on someone else’s date night.”

“What movie is it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. Some movies are more ‘date night’ than others.”

“If this one turns out to be too ‘date night’ you and I can play cards in the kitchen,” he said.

“Or you could simply excuse yourself and go to bed. You don’t need me there for that,” she pointed out.

He was determined to win. “If you expect a favor from me, then you can at least do this one thing in return.”

Wary hope sprang into her eyes. “You’ll see what you can find out about my father?”

“I will if you tell me how he contacts you. I need something to start with.”

How much he told her of what he uncovered, however, depended on her level of cooperation. He watched the conflict play out across her face as he waited for her to make up her mind. When she did, she spoke in a rush, the words tripping over each other as if she were afraid to hold them back in case they stopped coming.

“Through an internet shopping site. He sets up an account for selling handcrafted gold jewelry. I always look for a particular ring. If it’s available, I send him a personal message through the buy link. If it’s on backorder, it means I’m not to leave a message or try and contact him. He’ll come to me when he can. This morning, the ring was on backorder.”

“And you’ve already been waiting longer than normal.”

She ran a hand up and down one of her arms. “Something’s wrong. I know it.”

Garrett could think of several things about this that were wrong, especially when he considered what information Beausejour might be exchanging using similar setups. Worse, at least to Garrett, was that while Beausejour hid from the problems he created, he left his daughter to fend for herself on the streets of Bangkok, or wherever else he’d abandoned her over the years, exposing her to a great deal of danger. The people searching for him would have a much easier time finding her. He had to know that.

The man was a bottom feeder.

Between what she’d just told Garrett, and what he’d gotten from her internet usage, he had enough information to turn over to the computer people at headquarters so they could begin to pin down Beausejour’s location. With a little luck, it wouldn’t be much longer before they had him. Then they could find the supply chain for those weapons systems parts.

He also had to factor in how much involvement Isabelle really had in all of it. Right now, CSIS’s only interest in her was in finding her father. Garrett prayed it stayed that way, because he’d have no choice but to turn her in, too, if he found out otherwise.

“Stop worrying. I’ll do what I can,” he said.

Stark relief flooded her eyes. She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “He’s very dramatic. He likes playing games of intrigue. But he’s not a bad person.”

He turned his head to bury his face in her hair. It smelled of fresh ocean air, citrus shampoo, and sunshine. Her impulsive gesture, and the erratic beat of her heart against his ribs, told him more than words how much her father meant to her, and of the enormous stress she’d been under. Peter was right. The last few months had been hard on her. Far more than she’d let on. The next ones would be too, because while she might not want to believe the worst of him, Beausejour was involved in criminal activity. None of this would end well.

Their ten minutes were up. He disentangled himself, stooped to reach under the sofa, and handed her flip-flops to her.

“Let’s go watch that movie,” he said. “You might have to wake me up in the morning if you want me to go running, though. Five thirty is too early for me.”

She held her hair away from her face with one hand and slid the pink flower of each sandal between her toes with the other. She glanced up at him, more carefree than he’d yet seen her. “If you aren’t ready when I am, I’m going running without you.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Guilt pinched his conscience. He’d wanted her trust. Now it seemed he had it.

No. This wouldn’t end well at all.

* * *

He was ready and waiting for her the next morning, and the morning after that.

But, other than running together, he kept his distance and spent his days with either the children or Peter. Since it was difficult to look at him without remembering how it felt to have his hands on her, or the touch of his mouth against hers, which unsettled her, Isabelle avoided him, too.

By Saturday afternoon he still had no information for her, and while Isabelle had known it would take time, she was growing increasingly anxious. What concerned her most was how much of what he uncovered, if anything, he’d be able to share.

She wasn’t certain how much of it she wanted to know. Where her father was, and that he was safe, would be enough. When he did contact her, however, she planned to speak to him about her future. She was done living like this, in both uncertainty and fear. The fact that CSIS was now interested in his activities should serve as a wake-up call to him that it was time to change careers.

She peered in her bathroom mirror and applied makeup with a light hand. The entire Mansford clan was holding a barbecue at the farm this afternoon, something they did every year, and Cheryl had insisted she come. Weekends were hers to do with as she pleased, but without a driver’s license, she had nowhere else to go, so she’d agreed. Besides, there’d be plenty of people and it would be nice to meet more of the neighbors.

A driver’s license.

Her hand stilled in the process of outlining her lips with a nude blush. She’d forgotten about it when she’d discovered it would take her six months to get beyond the learner’s permit stage. There’d seemed little point. But to get a learner’s permit she’d need identification, and a Canadian passport would fulfill all the requirements.

The strapless muslin sundress she’d chosen to wear had a lavender-colored, form-fitting bodice over a tight waist with a white-and-lavender flowered design. The short, flared lavender skirt broke mid-thigh, swirling around her legs when she moved. It was an impulse purchase she loved but had never worn. She didn’t examine too deeply the reason she’d chosen to wear it today, or to put on makeup. Sometimes it was simply nice to feel pretty.

When she finished her makeup, she secured her long hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck with a hairband. A quick glance at her watch, and the pitter pat of three pairs of little feet in the hallway outside her suite, told her it was time to go.