Page 93 of Code Name: Michelangelo

Seven days later, he received a message from Typhon alerting him of several things. First, Flick, who I’d met at Camp Peary, had officially joined the coalition, and further intel regarding all organized crime in Italy, not just the two most powerful families, would be coming his way more rapidly. Second, another agent from Typhon’s team was also officially part of the UK task force. Third, his business in London was complete, and he was ready to return to Italy.

I ached when Brand said he had to leave that night. I tried to focus on how I’d been able to spend an entire week with him when I thought it might be months before we could be together.

Like before, he insisted we say goodbye at the town house rather than the airport. Knowing how hard I’d cried the last time he left, I knew it was for the best. Somehow, though, I felt like every minute we were together counted.

“Come home to me soon, Brand,” I said after the door closed behind him. There was no sense in wiping away my tears. They’d be streaming down my face for the rest of the day, at least.

The next morning, when I received an alert on the secure app, I grabbed my phone, anxious as I always was to hear from Brand. Instead, I saw a message from DeDe.

Is the offer of the place to stay still on the table? it said.

Definitely. How far from Patchogue are you? I responded.

When she answered saying it would take her at least three hours, I called Tara. “Brand left last night, but there are some things I need to take care of today. Would it be okay if I came back tomorrow?”

“Of course, but I was going to call you today and let you know a man stopped in wanting to meet with you about the gallery representing him. Or maybe not him. He might’ve said someone in his family. Anyway, I told him you were on vacation and wouldn’t be back for a few days.”

“Did you get his contact info?”

“I asked, but he said he’d stop in next week.”

“What about his name?” I asked.

“I didn’t get that either.”

“Tara, what the hell?”

“Sorry, but I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“Him. God, I love Knox more than anything, but this guy—damn, he was hot.”

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me. “Okay, so if a hot guy walks into the gallery next week, I’ll know he’s there to meet with me about representing someone in the gallery. So helpful, Tara.”

“I couldn’t help it. He was a hot-as-fuck Italian. You know I can’t resist them.”

“I hope Knox isn’t within hearing distance. Or listening in on your calls.”

“He’s neither, and even if he was, he knows that it wouldn’t matter who walked into the Catarina Benedetto Gallery. I could never want another man as much as I want him. To be honest, Pen, he’s the only person who’s come in for days. I think we should just close for the rest of the month.”

“Go ahead. I won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Why sit there all day? If someone wants to reach us, they have other ways of doing so.”

“Knox and I have talked about returning to California for a few days. Want to join us?”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know.” Before I made any commitments, I had to talk to DeDe.

“She’s gotten so big!” I exclaimed when I looked up and saw her walk in with Linnea. “And I’m sorry to say you look dead on your feet.”

She set the carrier on the table and sat in one of the chairs. “I am.”

“I knew you must be if you made contact.”

“I’m sorry for the way I left?—”

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