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Grace sighed quietly, but even that small sound had Gabe looking at her sharply. Her green eyes were bright with anticipation, and her spine was straight. He could practically see the energy running across her skin.
“That’s right,” she said. “Hitler was an amateur artist. He was never good enough to get accepted into the Royal Academy.”
“No, but after his death his paintings were sold for millions.”
“Oh, man,” said Ethan. “That is wicked awesome. Where are they? Do we get to steal them?”
Gabe wanted to laugh at Ethan’s enthusiasm but kept his mouth firm. God, had he ever been that young and eager? Maybe. When had the rose-colored glasses come off? After his first kill? After his twentieth?
“One of them is in the Tehran Museum,” Gabe answered. “The second was bought by a private collector from a Sotheby’s auction. The purchaser is hidden behind anonymous bidders and a couple of private corporations. I don’t have a name yet.”
“So let me get this straight,” Jack said. “We’re going to Iran to break into their national museum so we can destroy a painting created by the most hated man in the world?”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
Gabe’s gaze never strayed from Grace, and he could see the slight stiffening of her shoulders as she realized what this could mean for them. Tussad spent a lot of time in Iran. They could kill two birds with one stone. And then maybe, just maybe, once they’d taken their revenge, they could start to put their lives back together.
“Everyone get a good night’s sleep,” he said. “We’ll start recon in the morning at 0800.”
* * *
Jack stayed behind in the conference room when everyone else left. He’d known Gabe too long and knew in his gut that something else was going on. Gabe and Grace had always set fire to each other, and it looked like things hadn’t changed much. But very few people knew Gabe’s true identity, and even fewer knew he’d once had a wife and family. The two of them needed to cool it in a hurry if they didn’t want Ethan and Logan to speculate.
“What the hell is going on, Gabe?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“The part about you having the hots for your wife isrealobvious. At least to me. I’ve never had a meeting before where my commanding officer was in heat during the entire briefing.”
“Jack…” Gabe warned.
“Besides, your sex life isn’t what I’m referring to, though it’s more entertaining than British television. There’s something else going on, and I want to know what it is. You two are planning something.”
“Hell.” Gabe closed his eyes and massaged his neck. “Having you for a friend is a real inconvenience.”
“You’ve mentioned it before,” Jack said.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gabe said. “I guess some ideas are better in theory than reality. I need to get out of here. Let’s go get a beer.”
Jack unfolded his long body from the chair and followed his friend outside. The night was warm and the humidity thick. Fog rolled low across the London streets and crept into alleyways. The steady drizzle of the afternoon fell faster in darkness, and the wet soaked right through to the skin. The black lampposts that lined Chapel Street glowed a soft yellow, and umbrellas of different hues covered the heads of those walking home from work along the dismal gray streets.
Neither of them noticed as passersby veered far out of their way. They looked exactly like what they were—dangerous.
The Lamp and Light was dimly lit and sparsely populated. It wasn’t one of the nicer establishments in Westminster, so the tourist crowd was always small. If you wanted booze and privacy, then the Lamp and Light was the place to go.
Jack noticed the blonde working the bar right away. He looked her over slowly from head to toe, appreciating what the leather halter top did for her breasts. He caught her eye, winked, and held up two fingers. He followed Gabe to a round corner booth and sat across from his friend.
The bartender brought the drinks herself—hips swaying in tight black jeans and the edge of a tattoo peeking from her midriff. She set the bottles on the table and laid a folded napkin in front of Jack with a number written on it in black marker.
“Can’t you go anywhere without attracting women?” Gabe asked. “It’s embarrassing the way they throw themselves at you.”
“I’m just sowing my oats till the right woman comes along. They’d throw themselves at you too if you didn’t look so damned scary all the time. Haven’t you ever heard of a razor? Maybe getting a haircut?”
“I don’t want them to throw themselves at me. I’m not interested.”
“Are you telling me you haven’t had sex since Grace left you?”
“I happen to think marriage means something.”
