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“What the hell?” Tess lifted a hand to touch her stinging skin, more gobsmacked than hurt. Sophie towered over her, wearing alligator stiletto heels, and decked out in a sleek black suit topped with a loden trench coat. Stunning as ever, Sophie’s tousled black hair and wind-swept bangs highlighted her sable-colored eyes. She wore dusty rose blush that complemented her olive skin and angular cheekbones.
“Goddamn you, Bennett.”
“All right. I apologize for missing our weekend in Paris. Foolish me, thinking being kidnapped was a legit excuse.” Unprepared for an argument, Tess struck an indignant tone, then braced herself for the diatribe she suspected was coming.
“I risked my cover a hundred ways to text you a warning to stay away from Canada, and what do you do? You fly right into it. For fuck’s sake, girlfriend. Were you on drugs?” Legs planted wide, Sophie tilted her chin high and made sweeping arm gestures.
“Of course not. Though I was tempted for a brief, stupid moment at Torque.” Tess took a couple steps backward while massaging her stinging cheek. “I never received any text, or I wouldn’t have gone. You realize I was taken hostage by terrorists, right?”
“Right, and almost got yourself killed, goddamn it.” Sophie’s stiletto pumps clicked in a frenetic rhythm on the cobblestone walkway. “We made a pact to never die, and here you are, beaten to a pulp. Did you learn nothing from our dads growing up?”
Tess tensed her body and glared with equal passion. “Dad taught me how to fight to survive when there’s no escape, and I did.”
“Remember the family security briefing at the Swiss embassy when we were fourteen? You sat right next to me. Security rule number one: avoid trouble.”Sophie’s tone softened several decibels, and she folded her arms.
Despite over two decades of friendship, Tess could never predict Sophie’s mood, but at least her friend’s belligerence had downshifted to wounded annoyance. Fragments of a long afternoon surfaced from deep in Tess’s memory, and she recalled the pungent smell of bleach-mopped floors in a stark Swiss conference room. Embassy administrators outlined endless security and emergency protocols for families of State Department officers. “Sure, I’m a diplomatic security brat, but I’m not telepathic. Stop acting like I should’ve predicted the attack.”
“They could’ve killed you.” Voice cracking, Sophie swept her into a hug.
She buried her nose in Sophie’s pashmina scarf and inhaled the exotic scent of jasmine with top notes of tuberose. The last dose of oxycodone kicked in, and her head buzzed with pleasant warmth. Her crutches slipped and threw off her balance, but she gripped Sophie’s arm and couldn’t suppress a tipsy smile. “I missed you.”
“Now I know you’re high.” Sophie offered a broad smile.
“No. Well, maybe. Just pain meds for my leg surgery. And if it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t alone in captivity.”Scrambling to redeem her actions seemed unjust, given Sophie rarely faced any consequences for her tempestuous behavior.
“Ah, the hot Norwegian doctor, right? Great pictures of him in the international news a few days ago. Damn. If I were still sleeping with men, I’d go for him.”
The painkiller dulled Tess’s inhibitions, and despite her usual discretion, she beamed with a knowing smile.
“Bennett, you’re blushing. Did you…” Sophie stepped closer.
“Don’t pry.” She groaned, annoyed her secret slipped out. Figuring the saucy smile on Sophie’s lips signaled a shift from antagonism to amusement, Tess relaxed her shoulders.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Sophie erupted in laughter and landed a faux punch on her arm. “Oh, my Gawd, it’s about time. Kyle was amazing, and may his dear soul rest in peace, but you need to start living again. So, how was the doctor?”
The tension between them disappeared like a burst soap bubble. Tess let out a long, pleasurable sigh. “Incredible. Life-affirming. He visited me in Seattle after I got home from the hospital.”
“How brilliant—an empirically hot, smart guy. One-night shag or something more?”
“More, I hope. Mark’s kind, selfless, and witty. A surgeon.” She allowed her thoughts to drift to Mark and yearned to see him again. Then she remembered their argument over her London trip and frowned.
“So, what’s the problem?” Sophie’s dark brows knitted together.
“I’m the problem. I screwed up and raced back to London against his medical advice and scared him away.” Regret joined the narcotic buzz pulsing through her veins, and her forehead creased. Hiding anything from Sophie never worked. “Look, I didn’t call you away from international diplomacy to analyze my quite-limited sex life. Kyle left me a message, and I need help.”
At the mention of Kyle, Sophie’s smile disappeared, and she placed a hand on Tess’s arm. “Tell me what you need.”
Numb from the bracing air, Tess stuffed a hand in her pocket and touched the cold brass key and the letter’s smooth edges to ground herself. “I’m on a mission, and we need a taxi for Hotel George now.”
“Afternoon tea? How lovely.” Sophie clapped her hands together.
“Not today, my dearie. Kyle left me a treasure hunt, starting with an unexpected stroll down memory lane. Much as I love a tasty scone spread with clotted cream and topped with jam, I need help staying vertical.”
“You hopeless American, you spread the jam before the cream. I’m in, and let’s go.” Sophie raised a manicured hand to hail a taxi.
A black cab screeched to a stop at the curb.
“Lovely to see you’re still stopping traffic, Ms. Reed.” As the cab sped toward Trafalgar Square to the corner of the Strand, Tess summarized the Cedarcliff attack, the current threat against Kingsley Tech, and Kyle’s last request.
