Page 57 of Belgian Betrayal

“We will do that,” Catya corrected.

“You’ll need a vehicle,” Ace said.

They headed back to the airport, where Fearghas rented a small car.

He and Catya would stake out Cassandra Miles’s flat and follow her wherever she went.

Ace, Jasmine and Dmytro would rent a room nearby and rest to take the day shift.

Fearghas drove from the airport to the address Lucie had given them for Cassandra Miles’s flat in London.

Finding a legal place to park was a challenge. Fearghas ended up parking just around the corner from Cassandra’s flat in a no-parking zone. Far enough away to be out of sight, yet close enough he could run back should the police find it and make a fuss over his choice of a parking location.

They walked to the corner where they could observe the flat without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Fearghas took a position leaning against the corner of a building, thankful the mist had abated, and his jacket kept him warm enough for the moment.

Catya leaned against the wall next to him and crossed her ankles. “Best goulash I have ever eaten.”

“Same,” Fearghas said. “Not Ukrainian, was it?”

Catya shook her head. “Ivan and Anya might be Ukrainian, but that was German goulash.” She rested a hand on her midsection. “No matter. German, Russian, Hungarian... It was good goulash.”

Fearghas studied the building across the street from where they stood. “Do you think Cassandra Miles sent those people to kill your parents or Gia Rosolino?”

Catya crossed her arms over her chest. “In my experience, women can be as ruthless as men. Do I think Cassandra Miles sent those men to kill us?” She shook her head. “The fact is, I don’t know.”

Fearghas nodded. “Me either. Cassandra has remained in the limelight along with many members of the different cabinets.”

“Until we witness a flagrant action, we can’t move,” Catya said. “We cannot assume Cassandra is involved in what has been going on.”

“At some point, we’ll need to pull her aside and ask her the hard questions, like, did you send armed assassins to Bruges to kill a man and woman to gain possession of a small disk the size of a man’s thumb?”

Catya leaned her head over and stared up into Fearghas’s eyes. “I don’t know if she’s involved or not.”

“Maybe when we see her in person,” Fearghas said, “we’ll get a better idea of her involvement.”

“I hope so,” Catya said. “If she’s not involved, we need to find other places to look. The time we have left to nail this investigation, and the people involved, is short and getting shorter.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye made Fearghas turn his head in the direction of Cassandra’s apartment. “We have company.”

Catya stiffened and moved into a ready stance, muscles bunched for fight or flight.

A sleek black limousine rolled to a stop outside Cassandra Miles’s place.

A man exited the building, his gaze darting right, then left and right again. He climbed into the front passenger seat and glanced over his shoulder in Catya’s direction.

Catya muttered a curse. “He’s looking this way.” She stepped into his arms. “Kiss me.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Fearghas pulled Catya into his arms and kissed her long and hard, his mouth claiming hers.

For a moment, she lost track of their mission, their purpose for standing on the corner and sank into his kiss. Her hands slid up his chest and locked around the back of his neck, urging him to take more.

His tongue dove between her lips and swept across hers in a languid caress that set her blood on fire.

Fearghas was the first to break the connection. “The car is leaving. It’s time for us to move,” Fearghas said. “Will you be okay with staying here and watching which way he goes while I get the car?”

She nodded, her lips and mind a little numb and tingly. His kisses were dangerous. They scrambled her thoughts and destroyed her focus.

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