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He sighed. “This isn’t about me. I’m not the one who just lost a good friend and then got dropped into the middle of his life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gavin. Itisabout you. It’s about you and me and my friends and this life we lead.” She pulled away from him and he let her go, but only because he sensed she was going to keep talking and that she needed movement to help.
Surprising him not at all, she started pacing as she launched into a tirade in Italian about the shit things they’d all had to do and see in their line of work. About how terrible the world could be, especially when it came to those driven by greed and power. Then she moved on to calling the men who’d participated in the assaults a series of very inventive names—most of which would have made Shakespeare blush.
All the while, she paced and paced.
Then, about ten minutes into letting her steam out, she abruptly stopped and stalked to him. “And you,” she said, her eyes flashing. “What the hell were you thinking staying there? Approaching those two men? You had no backup, and they were armed with Molotov cocktails and guns. Two to one aren’t the worst odds in a fight, but when you don’t have to fight, why take the risk? You should have followed us out.”
He couldn’t help it, he grinned.
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Her long hair, tied back in a ponytail, swung gently as she cocked her head and glared at him.
“You were worried about me,” he said.
She continued to glare at him for a long moment. Then she threw up her hands and spun away, cursing him in such rapid Italian that even he had a hard time following. Although he did catch something about egos and big dicks and—his favorite—pretty faces.
She came to a stop in front of her big picture window and jammed her hands on her hips as she stared out into the darkness. Gavin waited a beat to see if she would remain still or resume her pacing. When it appeared she was running out of steam, he approached her. Taking a chance, he set his hands on her hips, much the same way he had that morning, only this time it was from behind and it was intentional.
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her skin pricked with goose bumps at his touch, and she twitched but didn’t stop him. “I trusted you would get those women safely away,” he said quietly, his lips not far from her ear. She stiffened slightly at his comment, but he continued. “You need to trust that I will do my part, too. I don’t take unreasonable chances, Violetta. That’s not the kind of solider I am.” A beat passed as his words sank in. He liked that she cared. He liked that she’d been worried about him, but she’d have to learn to trust him, and today was the first step in that.
Finally, the tension left her shoulders and though she kept her hands on her hips, she also took a deep breath and, letting it out slowly, relaxed. She didn’t fully lean back against him, but she didn’t move out of his hold.
They stayed that way for a moment, then he forced himself to step away and let her go. “About those files,” he started. She turned and met his gaze. “What do you say we get to it? After all, love, we do have a corporation to bring down.”
* * *
It was only a few hours until sunrise when Violetta sat back from her computer and let her eyes find his. She yawned, making him smile.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t say no.” They’d had a few cups throughout the night, and she made damn good coffee. She made an even better flat white, a drink he hadn’t had since leaving the UK. No one in the Boston area seemed to know quite how to make them the way he liked. Except Violetta.
Rather than stay at his computer, he rose and followed her into the kitchen. Her house was a quintessential New England seaside home—he hadn’t asked, but he’d bet it had been built long ago for some wealthy sea captain and his family. It was large for one person, but not as overwhelming as Cyn’s. Not even close. Especially not with the oversize furniture, colorful rugs, and gorgeous art. The house reminded him of Violetta herself, standing strong against the forces of time and nature, but filled with bursts of color and warmth. Oh, yes, she’d laugh at him if she ever heard him refer to her as being a “warm” person, but she was, in her own way. She definitely had a prickly side, but more and more, he was coming to see that her smart retorts and yes, even her temper, were two sides of the same coin. She was equally as caring—about her friends, about the women she’d ushered to safety twelve hours earlier—as she could be standoffish. In some ways, she was more balanced than most people—certainly more than he. As a tried-and-true Brit, and a soldier at that, emotional balance wasn’t something he strived for. The “Keep Calm and Carry On” memes hadn’t come from nothing, and no one could compartmentalize like a Brit.
“Is everyone going to come over this morning?” Gavin asked, reaching for the mug Violetta offered him. Inhaling deeply, he savored the rich scent before taking a sip.
Violetta finished making herself a latte before she answered. “They’ll be by at ten. Nora has some clients later in the afternoon, but Devil took the day off, and as of yesterday, Cyn’s out for the summer.”
He and Violetta had a lot to share. When they’d started digging into Shanti Joy, it hadn’t taken them long to discover what a shell it was. Oh, it was a legitimate company with a legitimate product. But while it sourced most of its products from what appeared to be ethical suppliers, the ethics of the company itself, and in particular its leadership, were definitely in conflict with its image.
They’d found the interviews Jeremy had done with each of the women. The three files had been buried in his media app and had been titled as names of popular movies. The only reason Gavin had found them among the hundreds of files was because the size didn’t look right for a full feature film.
The interviews had been conducted in the mother tongue of each woman. A translator had been present for each, but the recordings weren’t the best, so they’d sent the files off to MI6 for a full transcript. Those weren’t expected back until later that morning. Even with the low sound quality, he and Violetta had spent hours watching and rewatching the interviews. It sounded callous, even in his own head, to say that nothing they heard had come as a surprise, but that didn’t make any of it easy to stomach.
The most helpful part—at least helpful to them in bringing Shanti Joy down—were the identifications the women made. Each had, independently, identified Julian Newcross as well as Austin and Kaden Fogarty. There was a fourth man there, too, but the women had each confirmed that his name was never spoken, and they didn’t know who he was. The pictures Violetta had, which he’d forced himself to go through, showed only a sliver of a profile of this mystery man. Gavin had to wonder if he was just very lucky not to get caught on film or if he’d been aware of the camera all along.
“I don’t think he’s part of the company,” Gavin said, knowing Violetta would know who he was referring to. “Not in the way the others are.”
Violetta leaned against the kitchen counter and considered him as she took another sip of her drink. Around one in the morning, they’d both taken a break and showered and changed—unfortunately not together—to help wake up. Now she was dressed in a pair of black leggings and a deep yellow sweater that hung off her shoulder. The straps of her camisole were visible, and he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Yes, he knew he shouldn’t be noticing things like that. But sue him, she had his attention at all times.
“Maybe he’s the coordinator? Maybe he lives there, and this is part of what he does when the execs come to town?” she posited.
He shrugged. “Someone has to coordinate it, but I’m also wondering about blackmail. I know we only have a few pictures. But between the way he kept his back to the camera and the fact that no one spoke his name makes me think he might be doing more than just coordinating.”
Violetta considered his suggestion, then frowned. “It would be a golden opportunity for someone so inclined,” she said. “Those men, the ones we’ve identified, weren’t exactly discreet about their actions.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish we had more pictures,” Gavin said.
