Page 166

A phone record.

A surveillance camera.

An informant.

Something.

They know. The thought echoed through her head.

They know.

And they are coming for him.

*

“Ronan.” His name emerged as little more than a strangled whisper from her.

He crossed the room in three strides and took hold of her upper arms. “Look at me.”

She did. “Ronan—”

He could read the fear in her eyes. Fear for him.

It gave him hope.

Maybe he hadn’t destroyed their relationship irrevocably.

“I have this. Please,” he begged, “trust me and play along.”

She pursed her lip. Then nodded.

Relieved, Ronan’s gaze swept the room, stopping at the low table. The dismantled pieces were still spread across the surface. “Dammit.”

He collected them and shoved them into the drawer of the built-in desk. Not because he was trying to hide them, but explaining a half-assembled homemade weapon to Agent Barker was a conversation neither of them needed right now.

The knock came again. More insistent this time.

He tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. At the door, he turned back to Felicity. “Game face, Lissy-love. You just woke up after a thorough fucking.”

Ronan opened the door and stepped back. Barker’s gaze swept over him, then flicked past his shoulder to where Felicity sat on the edge of the bed, slipping her arm into a cardigan. Only then did he step inside.

Agent Barker viewed them both with suspicion. “You’ve been here the whole morning?”

“Yes.” Ronan nodded toward the breakfast trays still sitting on the dining table. “I called room service around seven. Breakfast arrived about half an hour later. Felicity was still asleep.”

He shrugged. “The waiter left and I noticed the ticker running across the bottom of the television screen. The sound was muted, but Vasily’s name caught my eye. I woke Lissy, and we watched the news.”

A sheepish grin tugged at his mouth. “After that, we went back to bed. Kind of felt like celebrating. And forgot all about eating.”

Barker’s gaze swept the room. “Room service can verify you were both here?”

“I suppose so.” Ronan glanced toward the door. The area wasn’t small, but from where the dining table sat, the bed was clearly visible. “You’ll have to ask the waiter. Can’t recall his name, though.”

Barker sighed. “We will.”

“Vasily had a lot of enemies, Simon,” Felicity said quietly, pulling the cardigan tighter around herself.

“I know.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s just … you and Raegan had more reason than most to hate him. I’ve cleared her. Which brought me here.”