Page 38 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
“You’re an asset. A valuable one when you’re not actively trying to be a liability. And I’m in the business of acquiring and maintaining assets.”
Her lips thinned, but she said nothing.
Let her think what she wanted. Being a cold-hearted bastard suited him fine. Better than the truth – that he couldn’t get her voice out of his head even when he slept.
“And your sister is innocent in all this,” he continued. “I’m many things. A bastard with the Home Office’s boot on my neck, as you so kindly pointed out. But I’m not in the habit of letting innocents suffer for the sins of their degenerate siblings, Miss Dumont.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said, her hands curling into fists.
“What?” Callahan knew he was pushing too far, but God help him, he couldn’t stop. “Miss Dumont?Oh, I’m sorry, what would you prefer? Allison Marks? Mary Griffin? The esteemed Gräfin von Hohenstein? Or perhaps Ekaterina Mikhailovna—”
“That’senough.” Her chest heaved, colour high on her cheeks.
“Why?” He gripped her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, just to hold her in place. “Tell me why I shouldn’t use the only real damn thing I know about you.”
She trembled. Heat radiated between them like it always did when they got too close. Like striking flint against steel.
Christ. What was it about her? Years of this back and forth, years of her getting under his skin. And here he was, still losing his damn mind over her and wanting things he had no business wanting.
“Tell me one real thing,” he whispered. “Just one, and I’ll call you whatever you want.”
There was something so vulnerable about the way her body seemed to curl into him. The way her forehead nearly touched his. A soft exhale left her.
But then she said, “There’s not a single thing about me that’s real. Not in New York or Athens. Not in Hong Kong. That’s the truth.”
Cold swept through him. Stupid, stupid bastard. He’d asked for this, hadn’t he? She had one talent in abundance.
Spectre was a fucking liar.
Callahan released her wrist and stepped back. “I’ll bring you clothes and new travel papers tonight. We leave for the steamer after dark.” He straightened his coat. “I’m sure you’ll be eager to be rid of me, since you’ve just been performing this whole time.”
He walked around her and out into the grey London morning.
*
Whitehall loomed ahead, the pale stone edifices stark against the sky. Callahan shouldered his way through the doors for the Home Office, walked up the staircase lined with columns, and down several dark hallways and corridors.
He ignored the clerks and aides scurrying about their business and didn’t slow until he stood outside his superior’s office.
MATTIAS WENTWORTH, read the plate affixed to the door.
Squaring his shoulders, Callahan rapped and pushed open the door.
Wentworth sat behind his desk with his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow and his dark hair spilled across his forehead. Despite being born to an aristocratic family, the spymaster was anything but soft. His forearms were corded with muscle, and his shirt strained over his shoulders. When his blue eyes rose to meet Callahan’s, they were sharp. Flat.
“Out with it,” Wentworth snapped, tossing aside his pen.Ah, pleasant as ever.“What’ve you fucked up?”
“Good afternoon to you, too, sir. I appreciate your faith in me. It’s a balm to my soul.”
Wentworth snorted. Stabbed a finger at the papers fanned across his desk. “Five minutes. That’s what you’ve got before I ship you to the coldest corner of hell I can find. Start talking.”
Well. Straight to it, then.
“I assume you’re referring to my acquisition of a certain asset?”
“If by ‘asset’ you mean the thief we’ve been after since 1868, then yes. Imagine my surprise when I received a courier this morning informing me that not only had you secured her cooperation, but you intend to ferry her across the Atlantic without my authorisation.”
Callahan shrugged. “There wasn’t time to go through the formal channels. Favreau’s men had already made an attempt on her life. I couldn’t risk them succeeding. She’s the most dangerous thief in Europe, has inside intelligence on the French arm of the Syndicate, and now she’s ours. Forgive me if I thought that warranted expediency on my part.”
