Page 7 of Once a Hero

Even though Kessler didn’t know Beatrice, she had made him her insurance.

The man sat down without another word.

Just as well. Beatrice did not want to say anything that would give away who she was.

Quietly, she scanned the room. By a dark window, Raynelle was eating salad and reading a book. Presumably she had finished her work as a server in an earlier shift. A former CIA operative, Raynelle Dryden was a coup for Beatrice.

Officially, Raynelle was her bodyguard due to some previous death threats. Unofficially, Raynelle’s job was to assist Beatrice in finding the rest of the lost Amber Room. That was Kenichi’s job too.

Around them, several other tables were occupied, but the people generally looked like customers.

The stage was set.

All they needed now was the woman of the hour to make a grand entrance.

Chapter Three

Jake Kessler hadn’t meant to make small talk with the woman at the next table, but when he saw that chocolate cake, he almost asked for a bite.

Ridiculous, I know.

There was something familiar about that woman, and he thought she looked almost like someone he had been hunting for the last several years.

Then again, he must have been exhausted to think that a random stranger in the middle of the night could somehow be related to Molyneux.

Everyone looked like her after a while.

He couldn’t shake her face from his mind. The big brown eyes, the braids, the dagger in her grip, slicing his muscles from his thigh, the moment he wished God would let him die…

His hands began to shake as he quickly sat down at his table, his back against the wall. That way, he could see the entire dining room.

He opened the menu in front of him to distract himself from the past, which kept resurfacing in his mind.

Six months old now.

Maybe the bureau was right to put him on suspension. There was no way his mind was in the right place right now to do this undercover work.

Yet the informant had called him out of the blue to apologize for Cannes. And she wanted to meet again. This time in San Francisco. Why, though?

Jake hadn’t been authorized to conduct this meeting. He was suspended, remember? But he decided not to tell the informant.

Flying under the radar meant that he had no backups, no protection. And yes, as soon as he started recording the conversation at this table, he could kiss his FBI badge and career goodbye forever.

So long. It’s been nice.

He could go to work for Helen Hu. She had been asking him when he was going to quit the Bureau. However, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to work for a fiery, feisty person for more than just a few months—although Helen was the only one who had come to his rescue when he was trapped in the overturned fishing boat off the coast of France.

Who had been the anonymous caller with the timely tip of his whereabouts? Why had she called Helen instead of the Cannes police?

A woman of mystery.

Jake wondered if she was the informant herself.

Jake drew deep breaths to calm his nerves, but all he smelled was fresh bread passing by him on a tray. His mind wandered to buttering a piece of toast, putting a dollop of strawberry jam on it, and eating it slowly while watching the sun set across a lake.

He closed his eyes.

“Hello.” A woman’s voice interrupted his imagined calm.

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