Page 111 of Code Name: Typhon

“Perhaps,” I responded, looking beyond him to where Blackjack was pulling up in a black SUV. “Our ride has arrived.”

“Off so soon? What a shame.”

“Interesting guy,” I commented as we drove away. “Is he connected to the Sicilians?” I knew he wasn’t, but I was anxious to see what Brand would say.

“Not that I’m aware of. He’s never given me the impression he was connected to any of the families.”

“What did you say he does?” I asked.

“Maximo is the head of the Italian Civil Aviation Authority.”

“A person doesn’t get a job like the one he has without mob connections,” I muttered.

I studied the passing landscape as we neared the part of the city closest to the Sicilians’ compound. I fucking hated it here. Not just Tropea but most of Southern Italy. The mafia had settled into the area decades ago, turning it into an innocuous-looking war zone, where men behaving more like spoiled children battled it out to take over the kingdom. This year, it might be Scaglione seated on the throne of organized crime. Another year, it might be Macellaio, the Sicilian don. Then again, if our plan was successful, one or both would soon be dead.

“Where are we staying?” Brand asked.

“My villa.” I’d made arrangements to have seventeen masterpieces that had been acquired for the mission delivered there. Each had a tracking device implanted that we hoped would lead us to where Macellaio was storing the originals his team of artists had already forged. Once we found the pieces and the people hired to copy them, we’d take that information, along with other evidence I’d spent years compiling, to Scaglione and let him do the dirty work of cutting his rivals off at their knees—perhaps literally.

I heard Brand sigh, then groan.

“Trouble with Penelope?” I asked, looking down at a message on my mobile.

“No, why do you ask?”

Hornet messaged he’d just seen Saint enter El’s building only to come out minutes later, appearing to be furious. “Fucking Saint. I hate the bastard,” I muttered.

The next message that appeared on my mobile was from Tank.

“Maximo de Rossi was in the States at the same time you were. Did he make contact?” I asked Brand.

His eyes scrunched. “He did not. Why was he there?”

“I hoped you knew.”

33

ELIZA

Iwasn’t joking when I told Levi a few days ago that I wanted to invite Kima to dinner. Sadly, when I rang, she said she wouldn’t be available to visit London anytime soon. Seemed everyone had something to do except me. Why hadn’t I at least turned my spare bedroom into a place where I could paint?

I opened the door of the empty room, wondering if it would be possible to get everything I needed to make it a workspace delivered when I heard my mobile that I’d left in the kitchen chime.

Saint has entered the building, said the message from Hornet. I braced myself for what might happen next. If I heard a knock at my door, one I was prepared to ignore, I’d see to it every doorman in the building received a reprimand.

Had he called first, I would’ve spoken to him. I might not have agreed to see him in person, but I wouldn’t have ignored him. Sometime in the next few days, I’d see him, Harper, and Agatha. If he wanted to clear the air before my visit, I’d certainly give him the opportunity. If he intended to continue berating me about Levi, I couldn’t abide it.

He’s just exited.

I breathed a sigh of relief. However, I was still troubled. How had things gone so wrong between us? As heartbreaking as it was, Levi was my husband now, and I loved him. Chances were, I was already pregnant with our child, and that was something I wanted—needed—Niven to be happy about.

A few seconds later, my mobile rang. It was with a mix of hopefulness and trepidation that I answered Niv’s call.

“Eliza, it’s good to hear your voice,” he said.

“Yours too, Niv.”

“How are you?” He sounded more like the man I’d known all my life rather than the angry arsehole he was when I last saw him.

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