Page 51 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
That barb struck home, but she let the pain wash through her like a tide. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t already done before. In Hong Kong, when she ran away with his suitcase and threw his belongings in the harbour, she’d become an expert in pretending to be indifferent to him. Not letting her body betray how often he threw her off-balance. She just quietly rebuilt her walls and ramparts, wrapped them in thorns, and waited for him to crumble them all over again.
“I’m not a coward,” she said.
“Could’ve fooled me. Ever since that night, you’ve been running so hard I’m surprised there isn’t an Isabel-shaped hole in the hull.”
“For someone so determined to analyse my actions, you seem remarkably obtuse as to their cause.”
“Obtuse?” He scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you. It’s a wonder anyone can parse your intent through that thorny tangle you call communication. You were almost bearable when you were chained to my bed.”
“And you’re almost tolerable when your mouth is shut. What a shame that’s such a rare occurrence. Tell me, did you expect fawning gratitude when you offered to fuck me as a reward for information?”
Callahan winced. “I told you it came out wrong. I know you’re used to closely hoarding any scrap of intelligence and making me claw it out of you.”
Her chest burned. He was right; he did keep clawing it out of her. Picking and picking andpickingall her scabbed-over wounds, things she’d buried deep. And one day, he’d ask her again about the scars all over her torso, and she was going to tell him because this man was her own personal apocalypse. Destroying her with tenacity and stubbornness and all those tender kisses. As if hecared.
Isabel curled her fingers into her palm. “I’m re-establishing boundaries. This is business. I think your superiors at the Home Office would appreciate my efforts to remind you that you are an agent of the Crown, and I’m an asset, and the moment you deliver me to my handler, I’m no longer your obligation.”
His mouth closed with an audible click, expression hardening. “Of course,” he said flatly. “I beg your pardon, Miss Dumont.”
Miss Dumont. Said deliberately, as if he weren’t scratching at her walls with his fingernails.
We’re nothing. We can’t be anything.
They jolted to a stop in front of a handsome brick townhouse. Callahan climbed out of the carriage, helped her down, and then pulled from her touch – cold, perfunctory.
Treating her like an asset.
The door of the residence swung open, spilling golden light onto the steps. A woman emerged – tall and lithe, with dark hair and sharp, angular features.
“Agent Vale,” Callahan said, inclining his head in greeting. “May I present Miss Isabel Dumont?”
The woman – Vale – fixed Isabel with a piercing stare. Her eyes were a startling shade of amber, and Isabel had the discomfiting sensation of being dissected.
“Miss Dumont,” Vale said. “Welcome to Boston. I hope your journey was uneventful?”
Frankly, Isabel wished it were less eventful.
“As uneventful as one might expect, given the circumstances.”
“Indeed.” Vale smiled and gestured to the open door. “Well, come in. No sense in lingering on the doorstep.”
The townhouse’s interior was elegant, filled with mahogany furniture, landscape paintings, and dozens of shelves lined with books. Isabel stored away each piece of information, learning about her new circumstances, her temporary home and handler. Vale favoured dramatic mountain scenes with colourful, wild strokes. The leather-bound books were primarily travelogues, indicating a spy accustomed to playing different regional roles.
Vale led them down the hall to a study and motioned to the chairs across from the desk.
Isabel tried not to squirm as she sat beside Callahan.
“I’ll be frank, Miss Dumont,” Vale said, leaning against the desk. “Your presence puts me in a delicate position. On the one hand, you possess valuable intelligence. On the other, you’re a criminal with a history of betrayal and deception. So what I expect is your full cooperation. That means unquestioning obedience and discretion. Can you give me those things?”
For a long moment, Isabel said nothing. She could feel Callahan’s gaze on her. Daring her to rear back and refuse. Isabel didn’t, after all, take well to the wordsunquestioning obedience.
But she also wasn’t in any situation to object.
“I can,” she said. “But if there are any chains or darbies, my assistance ends.”
She half-expected Vale to bristle at her defiance. “Fair enough,” the other woman said. “You won’t be chained, but you won’t leave this house without my permission and escort. You will submit to daily debriefings, during which you will share every scrap of information you possess about the Syndicate. Simple enough?”
“I already agreed with Agent Callahan to these terms. I’m aware of the deal I’ve made.”
