Page 9 of The Gentleman

She gasped. Pain speared her chest as she lay wheezing, blinking at the sky.

The hedge shook, and a face appeared—eyebrows raised, sharp eyes, mouth in a grim line. “Bloody hell, Kit-Kat.”

The childhood nickname loosened the knot in her chest. She managed a smile. “Gage.”

Her older brother stepped through the bush and crouched beside her. “What the hell is going on? MI6’s asking questions about you like you’ve got nuclear launch codes stuffed in your bra.”

“Gage. Seriously?” She tried to sit up and failed.

He ran his hands down her arms until he found the handcuffs. His fingers were gentle as they probed the metal restraints. “Nice bracelets. Limited edition too.”

She shrugged, then grimaced as her shoulder protested. “Been a long night.”

His gaze swept the street. “Let’s get you inside before the neighbors start posting on NextDoor about the handcuffed woman in my garden.”

He hauled her upright, one arm around her waist, half-carrying her to the back door. Inside, he settled her on a kitchen chair and disappeared down the hall. He returned with a small leather case, pulled out what looked like a dental pick, and kneeled behind her.

She raised an eyebrow. He grinned and slid the pick into the first lock.

Click.

Blood flooded back into Kat’s right hand, pins and needles shooting up her arm. She hissed through gritted teeth.

“Almost there.” Another click, and both cuffs clattered onto the table. “Souvenir?”

“I’ll pass.” Kat rotated her shoulders, wincing as the circulation returned. Angry red marks ringed her wrists and mud stained her knees.

Gage plucked a leaf from her hair. “You know where the bathroom is. Clean up—we’ll talk after.”

When she returned, hands and face washed, hair finger-combed, a cafetière steamed in the center of the table. Gage poured two cups and slid one toward her with a plate of cookies. “You look like you need sugar.”

She stared at the plate of round biscuits with jammy hearts in the middle.

“Jammie Dodgers.” She swallowed against the sudden thickness in her throat that welled at the sight of her favorite childhood treat.

Gage lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug she knew was anything but. His eyes never left the rim of his cup.

She nibbled a biscuit, waiting for her pulse to slow, the familiar sweet raspberry taste summoning memories of scraped knees and school uniforms. Some things didn’t change, even when everything else had.

“So. Why is Victoria Eldridge flashing your photo around?”

The sugar helped. Kat exhaled a shaky breath. “They rocked up at 3:00 a.m. with a warrant, searched my house, found an SSD in my dresser that I’ve never seen before. Then cuffed me with some bullshit about treason.”

“What the hell?” His expression darkened.

She sipped the coffee. It was hot and sweet. She normally drank it without sugar, but right now? It was perfect.

“Treason?” Gage’s eyes narrowed. “That’s more than regular office politics gone wrong.”

Kat stared into her coffee. “Since I got away from Eldridge, I’ve been wracking my brains. All my cases right now are run of the mill, except one.”

“The Hellisheidi operation? Korolov?” His chair creaked under the stress of his frame as he leaned back. “I thought that was wrapped up.”

She gave him a sharp look. “How do you know about—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Dismissal from cyber-ops hadn’t killed Gage’s network, only pushed it underground.

He flashed the cheeky grin that always disarmed her.

“The Hellisheidi op cost Korolov millions.”

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