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“I need your help with something.”
“For God’s sake, Puck.All you had to do was ask.This…this…”—I motioned to the gun—“is not necessary.I insist you explain yourself immediately, followed by exiting the vehicle.I have a previous and urgent engagement.”
“’Fraid that won’t be possible, sir.”
“Agent Lindstrom, I demand you lower your weapon—” Before I finished my sentence, the car sped off.
“Now, hand over your weapons and your mobile.I’d rather not, but if you force me, I will kill you, Z.”
I stared down the barrel of his gun, knowing I had no choice but to do as he said or prepare to die.
2
GEORGE
There was simply no way I could’ve gotten the time wrong.I was a bloody MI5 agent, for God’s sake.More, I’d spent the last four years waiting, wishing, hoping for this day, or night, rather, to come.
Z and I had danced around each other, so to speak, since the first time we met.When our flirtations felt like they were about to turn into something more, one of us would pull back, remind the other a relationship between us was inappropriate, and for a while, we’d avoid each other.That would last a few days, sometimes longer, until we couldn’t stand it anymore and struck up yet anotherinnocent, usually work-related, conversation.
I paced between my flat’s door and the front window, watching for Z’s arrival.As of right now, he was ten minutes late.Z was never late.It was one of many reasons I was attracted to him.Punctuality.Professionalism.Respectfulness.Charm.The thick mop of silver-gray hair I was forever tempted to run my fingers through.Perfectly tailored clothes that hugged his broad shoulders—and exemplary backside.And bright blue eyes that had sparkled when he finally asked me on a date.The date that was supposed to be taking place right now.
I checked my mobile.Another five minutes had passed, and I hadn’t received a message from him, explaining his delay.
There was no way I’d accept he’d merely changed his mind.After all, the date was one impetus for his decision to resign as chief of MI6—Military Intelligence, Section 6.
I’d never seen the man as giddy as he was earlier when he’d sauntered into my office, leaned forward, and rested his hands on my desk, then told me he’d resigned.
I’d raised a brow.
When he added that it was effective immediately, I’d asked what was next for him, fighting against my temptation to jump up, throw my arms around him, and kiss him the way I’d wanted to almost from the moment we met.
“I was wondering if you’d like to celebrate over dinner tonight.With me.”
“Is there a group gathering?—”
When he clarified it was a date, I immediately accepted.
I’d agreed without a moment’s hesitation, and yet, here I was, waiting on the man again.
At the twenty-minute-and-counting mark, I sent a text.At twenty-five on the dot, I rang him.At thirty, I called my boss.
“George?What can I do for you?”asked Pinch Fulton, Director General of MI5.“Aren’t you supposed to be?—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but Z hasn’t shown up.”Not wanting to jeopardize either my job or our potential relationship, I’d informed Z of my intention to apprise the DG of our plans.Z, who was as forthright as anyone I’d ever known, agreed it was a prudent idea.
“He hasn’t shown up?”His stunned tone reinforced my own disbelief.“I fear something has happened.”
I heard jostling in the background.“I’ve accessed tracking”—something he had the authority to do and I did not—“his last known location is in the opposite direction of your flat.”
“The restaurant where we have reservations is between his place and mine.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“GPS shows his mobile is in an alleyway.No doubt smashed to bits, given it stopped transmitting approximately thirty minutes ago.I’m headed to the Cross and have issued an all-call alert.”
My mobile vibrated.“Got it.Headed there now.”
