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“Just drive.”
“Where?”
“Head north of London. Peter will meet us.”
“And he’ll have a gun,” Killian said. “Are you going to shoot Mahmoud, too? Because he’s going to be pretty pissed off if you kill me before he has a chance to do it.”
“No one’s killing anyone, no matter how tempting,” Isobel said.
“At least not tonight,” he said.
And Isobel said nothing at all.
“Get up.”
Reno ignored the voice. The plump blonde lying next to him squealed, jumped up with the sheet wrapped around her, leaving him stark naked in the bed, and ran out of the room. Reno turned over, slowly, to look up into Peter Madsen’s ice-blue eyes.
“What’s up?” For a moment he wondered whether Madsen would put his hands on him. It would be an interesting battle—Reno didn’t underestimate his opponent for one moment, despite his bad leg and the ten years age difference between them. There was no guarantee of the outcome, and Reno tended to fight dirty. He expected Peter Madsen did, as well.
“Get out of bed. And get rid of the girl. Who is she, by the way?”
Reno shrugged. “Just someone with a taste for the exotic,” he said. “There are more of them around here than I can count. In English or in Japanese.”
“Did you ever stop to consider that sleeping around might compromise our security?”
“I know what I’m doing,” he said lazily, climbing out of bed. The girl emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, beet-red. Was that one Lucy? Or Angela? He’d lost track.
“Uh…I’d better be going,” she said, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
He half expected Peter to stop her, but Madsen simply stepped back. “See you,” Reno said unhelpfully. In fact, he didn’t expect to see her again. The novelty of English girls was wearing off.
He pulled on his discarded black jeans, zipping them, then turned to look at Peter with his usual innocent expres
sion. He’d already gotten rid of the condom and washed off, hoping his activities would arouse his somnolent bed partner and send her on her way, but it had taken Peter to roust her. He never liked sleeping with them. “So what’s the big emergency?”
“We’ve been compromised. Isobel almost walked into a trap at least three times in as many days, and we’ve just lost another operative. And I asked myself, what has changed around here recently that might have compromised our security?”
Reno reached for the black silk shirt he’d been wearing. He was growing very fond of the quality of clothing he’d been finding in London—rich silks, creamy leathers, angel-soft wools. He pulled it on, stalling for time. “So you think I’m a plant,” he said. It was not a question. “You think I set Isobel up. So why am I still alive?”
“I’m not convinced of anything. And out of respect for Taka I’m keeping an open mind. Did you sell us out?”
“If I said yes, you’d kill me.”
“Yes.”
“If I said no, you wouldn’t believe me.” He slid his feet into the leather motorcycle boots he loved.
“Try me.”
Reno tucked his shirt in, reaching for his sunglasses. “No, I didn’t sell you out. I may not want to be here, but I don’t betray family, and by extension, you’re family. You matter to Taka, and Taka matters to me.” Reno met Peter’s gaze calmly. He’d taken out his tigereye contact lenses, and there was nothing between them, just ice blue gazing into cold brown.
And then Peter nodded. “I believe you.”
He’d managed to shock Reno. “You shouldn’t just take my word for it,” he said.
“I have good instincts. And I already called Taka.”
“Good,” he said. “I would have done the same. So why did you wake me up? What time is it, anyway?”
