Shadow of Betrayal

The original plan had been to just remove Marion Dupuis and the child she’d stolen out from under them. Kill them and dump them someplace where it would be years before they were found. But Tucker knew things had changed the minute they realized in Montreal that someone else was also interested in the two targets. At least Marion Dupuis had been predictable enough to take her sister’s car. The night Tucker and his men had arranged the “accident” at Marion’s family’s house, he had also put a tracking device in her sister’s car just in case. Preparation, that’s what it was all about.

Unfortunately, what they hadn’t been prepared for was someone else being there, too. Tucker would have been much happier if he knew who the man who’d followed Marion from her house had been, but whoever he was, he’d been able to lose Tucker’s men. A problem, but not one Tucker could personally see to. He’d have to use one of his contacts to see if they could find out anything.

“Where’s the plane?” Mr. Rose asked.

“Here. In Toronto.”

“Use it. Bring them here,” his boss said. “We need to find out what she knows about the others. We can use the girl as motivation. And if the child is still alive after, we’ll make her part of the program.”

“Consider us on our way.”

CHAPTER

18

QUINN DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO CRACK OPEN HIS EYES to know where he was. He could sense it as his body began to wake. The feel of the sheets, the comfort of a known pillow, and the overall feeling that he belonged.

Home. He was in his house in the Hollywood Hills above the Los Angeles Basin. He smiled at the thought.

It had been almost three weeks since he’d last been here. First the job in Ireland, then the part job, part vacation in Boston, followed by all the fun in New York and Montreal. His work often kept him away for long periods of time, but for some reason it felt extra special this time to be back in his own bed.

When Peter told him the meeting was to take place in Los Angeles, Quinn almost didn’t believe him. He made sure he, Orlando, and Nate were on the next flight west.

He opened his eyes and looked at the only thing that was out of place in his room. Orlando lay on the bed next to him, facing away. It wasn’t that she’d never been here before, but those occurrences were few. Mainly he had either gone to see her in Vietnam or San Francisco, or they had met elsewhere. Hawaii, Bali once, Japan, and a very wonderful week in Switzerland.

But here she was now, her bare shoulder sticking out from under the sheet hinting at more bare skin below. Quinn moved over, spooning into her. He placed his arm over her side and rested his hand on her chest between and just above her breasts. She turned, moving into him, so that they could become as close as possible.

“Don’t even think about it,” she whispered as his hand began to drift south. “We don’t have time.”

“The meeting’s not until noon,” he said.

“That’s only five hours away. We’ve got a lot to do before then.”

“I can be quick.”

“Then you can do it alone.”

There was a second of silence, then they both began to laugh. She turned to him, her face inches away from his. He started to move in for a kiss, but she pulled back.

“Morning breath,” she said.

“I love your morning breath.”

She snorted. “That’s the worst lie I think I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t care that you have morning breath. Better?”

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled. “Better enough.”

She moved forward, her lips on his lips, her body on his body.

By the time they left the bedroom, there were only four hours left until the meeting.

They arrived at LACMA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, at 10:00 a.m., parking Quinn’s BMW on Sixth Street.

“We’ll start on Wilshire and do a perimeter search,” Quinn said to Orlando. “You go west and I’ll go east.”

“Okay,” she said.

“And me?” Nate asked from the back seat.

Quinn handed Nate the bag of items he’d picked up at a 7-Eleven on the way. Inside were a couple bottles of water, an energy bar, and a newspaper.

“Find a table in the central court and relax,” Quinn said. “That’s where I’m supposed to meet him, so I want you to keep an eye on things. There’s a chance he’ll show up early to have a look around, too.”

“I can do the walk-around, one of you could sit and wait,” Nate said.

“We’ll do it the way I said,” Quinn told him.

“You worried about my leg again? Jesus, haven’t I shown you that it’s not a problem? I helped you run down that guy in Ireland. I was chased in Montreal. I’m fine.”

“I don’t care about your leg,” Quinn said. “But if you want to walk, fine. Give the bag to Orlando.”

Nate didn’t move. After a moment, he said, “I’ll do the court. Whatever you want. You’re the boss.”

“Yes. I am.”

As soon as they got out of the car, Nate started to walk away.

“Wait,” Orlando said. “You need this.”

Nate turned just in time to catch the small comm gear packet she had tossed at him.

He stuffed it in his pocket, then resumed walking away.