His Spy at Night (Spy Games Book 3) (12 page)

He got out of the car to greet them.

“I take it you had a good time,” he said.

Lies pulled herself together and made the introductions. “Harry, this is my cousin Yasmin. Yasmin, Harry. My boss.”

In her boots Yasmin stood half a head above Harry, but he didn’t seem to find it at all awkward—another point in his favor. “The resemblance is uncanny,” he said, glancing between the two women. “Except for the color of your hair, you could be twins.”

“Thank you. Everyone says so,” Yasmin replied. “I’m glad they do. I think Lies is beautiful.”

“She is.” Harry’s gaze lingered on Lies, making her skin prickle as if he’d actually touched her. “You both are,” he added as he opened the back door of the car for Yasmin, then ushered Lies into the front passenger seat.

Lies wasn’t modest, and there was a definite family resemblance, but in her opinion Yasmin, with her dark hair and extra height, was the truly beautiful one. She wore a midriff-baring white halter top and matching mini skirt paired with thigh-length, high-heeled red boots, whereas Lies had dressed for comfort. She’d chosen a sleeveless black tank, low rider jeans, and slouchy, flat-heeled black suede leather boots.

“How was the concert?” Harry asked as the oversized car crawled through narrow streets packed solid with people.

Yasmin beamed at him in the rearview mirror. “Wonderful. Very noisy. There were three members of the royal family and a few Ajax players in the VIP section with us.”

Ajax was a Dutch professional soccer team and its players were superstars in the Netherlands. One had gotten Yasmin’s phone number from her. Another had asked Lies for hers as well but she’d politely refused to give it to him. She wasn’t interested in spoiled athletes—although a year ago, if he’d asked for her name first, she might have been tempted.

Yasmin, gregarious, liked to speak English whenever given the chance. It wasn’t long before she’d teased a smile out of Harry. The two of them carried the conversation during the short trip to Lies’s flat.

“What was Lies like as a little girl?” Harry asked.

“Fearless,” Yasmin said promptly. “Determined. Quiet. If there was trouble she was usually in the middle of it. She’s still the same.”

“I’m not sure I believe the quiet part,” Harry replied. “She has strong opinions and she doesn’t mind sharing them.”

He was supposed to be her employer so Lies stayed in character and didn’t contradict him. Her cousin, however, was fair game. “All of those things could be said about you too, Yasmin,” she pointed out. “Except for being quiet.”

Yasmin nodded cheerfully in the back seat. “It’s true. They could.”

Harry asked her if she’d ever been to Canada and when she said yes, what she’d enjoyed most about it.

“Really? Niagara Falls?” His incredulity had both women laughing. “Did Lies send you over it in a barrel?”

“You know her very well,” Yasmin congratulated him. “Although she’d have tried it out first to see if it could be done.”

Again, Harry’s eyes were on Lies. “I don’t know her at all.”

Fingers of regret tickled some of the joy out of the evening. He’d never believe she was as much herself when she was alone with him as she was with Yasmin—which might well be for the best.

The two women got out of the car at Lies’s flat.

Before closing the door, Lies rested her hand on the frame and leaned inside to say a final goodnight. “Thank you. It was very thoughtful of you to see us home.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll think of some way for you to pay me back.”

She had to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to hold back the multitude of smartass suggestions she longed to make. If they’d been alone she wouldn’t have shown any restraint.

They were barely through the building’s main door before Yasmin spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell me your boss has a crush on you?”

The idea of Harry having something as childish as a crush on a woman was too ridiculous for words. “Because I don’t make up stories,” Lies replied. So much for not wanting to discuss it. Yasmin would never let it go now. They climbed a narrow flight of stairs as they talked. “And he’s not a twelve-year-old boy.”

“He likes you,” Yasmin insisted. “He’s also very attractive—at least he is when he stops being so serious. So why haven’t you done anything about it?”

“Like” might be too strong a word for how Harry felt about her. She unlocked the door to her flat and flicked a switch. Light flooded the small entry. “He isn’t my type.”

Yasmin tugged off her tall boots with a groan of relief. “You mean because you’d never have to worry about him being involved in organized crime?”

“Because he can be a little too…” Lies refused to say boring. Whatever Harry was, he wasn’t that.

“Mature?” Yasmin’s boots dropped from her hands and she kicked them aside. “Responsible? Intelligent?” She flopped on the sofa and propped her bare feet on the coffee table, crossing her ankles. “Be honest, Lies. You’ve always dated men you know won’t interfere with your freedom. They’ve passed in and out of your life. You like parts of them but not everything about them. There’s nothing not to like about Harry. And no. You wouldn’t have to worry about him being involved in organized crime.” She studied Lies. “I’m not certain he could have the same confidence in you.”

Lies let those words settle in. “You think
I’m
involved in criminal activity?”

Yasmin scrunched up her nose. “I think you like taking too many risks and you keep too many secrets. You never talk about your work.”

Was that why Yasmin had introduced her to her friend Baart—not because Yasmin respected her opinion, but because she believed Lies would be able to recognize a fellow criminal?

Lies had then proved her right by being able to do so. Another fit of giggles overcame her. Poor Yasmin. She was as worried about Lies as Lies had been about her.

“I work for a Canadian embassy,” she reminded her cousin, once she could speak. “My job involves discretion. That’s why I don’t talk much about it. We’re also trained to watch for criminal behavior in the people wanting to immigrate to or do business with Canada.” All of which was close enough to the truth to be credible.

Relief spilled from Yasmin’s eyes. “If that’s true, then you do need to have more care with the men you date. They could ruin your career. An even better reason why you should give Harry a chance,” she persisted. “He’s different. And you could talk about your work with him.”

No she couldn’t, and he’d hate that. He valued honesty and her work was all about deception. “You met him for fifteen minutes. How could you possibly know that for certain?”

“Is he different?” Yasmin demanded.

“Well, yes. That doesn’t mean he’s better than other men I’ve known.” If anything he was far more complicated than most. She tried to turn the conversation around. “Would you date him?”

“Not right now.” Yasmin yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “I have a striker from Ajax lined up. I’m not ready for someone like Harry. But if I were a few years older, then yes, I would. Harry is the type of man a smart woman marries. You should grab him before someone else does.”

“You make me sound like an old woman. I’m not ready for marriage.”

“No? You turned down a chance to go out with an Ajax goalkeeper.”

“Because he didn’t even ask for my name.”

“You wouldn’t care about his name either if you were only interested in fun. Therefore, you’re ready for something more serious. You know I’m right.” Yasmin yawned again. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me until it’s time for my train.”

Lies sat at the bistro table by the sliding windows, her chin cupped in her hand, and watched the sleeping neighborhood as she waited for Yasmin to finish in the bathroom they shared. She was only three years older than her cousin. She had an exciting career that left her little time for relationships. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind.

And there was no need to wonder how Harry would react to Yasmin’s suggestion that she pursue him. He’d remind her that Plan A was in effect.

She stilled. Was that why he’d been so personable in the car and asked questions about her as a little girl? Had he been trying to see if he could fool Yasmin into believing he was interested in her? Was he trying his hand at deception too?

She discarded the possibility. He wasn’t that good an actor. Harry really was aware of her, at least on a physical level. And she was equally aware of him. She could hardly deny it when she could still feel his touch on her skin. But neither could she deny that they weren’t right for each other. Lies would need to be trusted by any man she became seriously involved with and he’d never trust her. He’d been jaded by his experience with Alcine.

Never mind that he hadn’t loved her.

Lies had searched through the embassy’s files until she’d located publicity photos of Harry and Alcine together. She’d told herself she’d wanted to find out the type of woman Bernard found attractive.

She’d also been curious as to Harry’s taste.

Alcine was tall, elegant in style, with an olive complexion. She had long, straight dark hair. In some photos she’d worn it upswept, in others loose. She appeared to prefer classic clothing that showed off a model-thin figure and obviously knew how to play up her best features.

Something about her body language, however, had expressed discontentment to Lies. In the photos of her posing with Harry she’d had her face turned away from him and there was a subtle physical distance. To Lies they looked more like business partners than lovers. From what little Harry had told her, their private relationship had been no different.

On a whim she’d also searched for the Albanian diplomat’s wife—the twenty-three-year-old former model. She had long, curly black hair, very fair skin, and decidedly trashy, although expensive, taste in clothing. Her gowns were cut far too low to be appropriate for anything but a Hollywood awards ceremony. They did, however, illustrate her plastic surgeon’s genius for breast enhancement.

The only common denominators between the two women Lies had found were the ones she’d expected—both were unhappy in their relationships, ambitious, and had access to information a third party such as Bernard might find useful.

That Bernard had already been romantically involved with Harry’s former girlfriend made Lies’s own position precarious. Harry had made it no secret that he didn’t like Bernard. If Bernard liked to play games, however, then going after a second woman Harry had expressed an interest in—one who could also get him any information he wanted—might prove an irresistible challenge.

She was counting on it.

She heard the bathroom door open, then the spare bedroom door close. She rose from the table. Tomorrow evening she would have to sit down with Bernard Vanderloord and pretend to be infatuated.

She could well imagine Harry’s opinion on that.

* * *

Lies saw Yasmin off at the train station before bicycling to the wine bar where she was to meet Bernard. She planned to establish her alibi with him—that she was indeed a spoiled embassy junior staffer, nothing more. The game required patience.

The evening was warm for late September and the streets were crowded with people taking advantage of the fair weather. She locked her bicycle in a stand outside of the bar.

Inside, Bernard was seated at a corner booth with a drink in front of him. She noted they’d have to sit next to each other on the L-shaped bench and doubted if the intimate arrangement was accidental.

Perfect.

So why did she feel so uneasy about it?

“You look very lovely tonight,” Bernard said, rising to greet her. “As usual.” He gave her the friendly Dutch greeting of three quick kisses on either cheek and waited for her to be seated, then reclaimed his own before ordering her a glass of red wine. “How was the concert?”

“Excellent. I was assured that my hearing should return by Tuesday.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

He sounded so far from sorry that Lies had to laugh, then challenge him on it. “You are not.”

“No,” he admitted. “But you can tell me all about it.”

“That’s very selfless of you. I’m sure it qualifies you for some kind of award.”

She told him about the concert while she sipped the wine, which was very good. When she said so, he ordered a bottle over her protests. It was hardly a new ploy. He’d drink very little of it while topping off her glass at every opportunity. It was his motive for this meeting she was uncertain of. He liked younger women. But did he like them more than information?

“How did you come to be working with the embassy?” he asked. “I know you have a background in political science and are interested in the foreign services, and you speak the languages here, but most people have some sort of connection for diplomatic positions.”

“My father is a Dutch diplomat,” Lies said. “In his earlier years he spent a lot of time in Indonesia. That’s where he met my mother, who’s Canadian. She’s why he now works in Ottawa.” All of which would be verified if he chose to do a search. Using her name or the keywords she’d given him would raise red flags in the government databases. Harry’s name too, along with his profile information, had been flagged. “He got me an interview, but I like to think I earned this position on my own.”