Page 12 of Undercover Savior

“It would have been less rude than ignoring me.”

I cocked my head. “Would it have?”

She took a bite of the samosa she’d put on her plate, closed her eyes, and uttered a sigh of pleasure. “This is fantastic,” she said before taking a second bite.

Rather than partake myself, I watched her. Memories of a night when our families had dinedal frescoon a perfect summer night floated back to me. My mum, who was a brilliant cook, had made one of our favorites—slow-roasted salmon. Sullivan’smother, whose first name I couldn’t recall, had brought a dish of rumbledethumps—a traditional Scottish dish made of potato, cabbage, and onion. I knew there’d been other food served, but like Sullivan’s mother’s first name, I had no recollection of it.

What I remembered most was how much Sullivan loved the salmon, something she hadn’t had before.

I didn’t remember much about the house we’d lived in for that brief time, only that when we moved, I missed Sullivan more than anything else.

Now, I wanted to know everything about her life since we’d last seen each other, and I didn’t want to read it in a dossier. I could guess what had made her pursue a career in journalism. Even at eight years old, she was the most inquisitive person I’d ever met.

When she’d said I seemed familiar to her, I was on the verge of asking if she recalled living next door to a skinny, scrawny boy, small for his age, who went by Davy. I’d stopped myself, knowing the risk of exposing who I was in society and what I did for a living was far too great. Years of covert work, of concealing who I was, of carrying out assignments around the world while maintaining my anonymity, couldn’t be tossed aside just to share a pleasant memory with a childhood friend.

I’d made a vow to serve the Crown, and it would forever come before my personal desires.

It would become increasingly more difficult to keep up the lies I now avoided telling her simply by not responding.

The best thing for both of us would be for Typhon to determine who’d ordered the hit on Sullivan, assess the remaining threat, and make arrangements for her to be put in longer-term protective custody. I could walk away without revealing a thing about myself, and like that childhood crush, Sullivan Rivers would remain the stuff of fantasies.

Until such time as I heard from him, though, my options were to continue refusing to answer her questions, or I could come clean about who I was and admit she wasn’t wrong about my familiarity. My final option was ensconcing her with either Tag or Con at their estates rather than at my own. Neither shared history with her, and both had alternate accommodations larger than I had at Ashcroft, even though my estate was greater in size.

Since I wasn’t there often, unlike the two of them, who lived in the west of Scotland close to year-round, I kept a very small staff. Given most of them lived in the castle itself or in the village of Tarbert, there hadn’t been a need to maintain or restore any of the older dwellings. Those that were inhabitable were occupied by tenants who’d lived in them for years.

There was one exception to my decision not to refurbish them. A few months ago, Gus had suggested the cottage that sat closest to the loch be rehabbed. I’d given my approval for it to be without bothering to ask why he made the request.

Now, though, I was curious. Perhaps his plan was to live in it, and that would be fine with me. Once I was no longer responsible for Sullivan’s protection, I had every intention of resuming my life exactly as it had been, which meant it might be a year before I returned to Ashcroft again.

I’d never desired to live there full time like Con and Tag did on their estates.

Con, especially, loved spending most of his days in this part of Scotland. He entertained lavishly, hosting house parties similar to those our ancestors did a couple of centuries ago, requiring a far larger staff than I did.

Tag was happy here too, and when he wasn’t on assignment for Unit 23, he was the epitome of a country squire. His familial home was a former monastery, and he raised prize-winning Highland cattle.

While I’d momentarily entertained the idea of Sullivan staying on one of their estates, her spending time with either man filled me with trepidation. Both were handsome, rugged, personable, and wealthy. Not that I thought the latter would matter to Sullivan. Still, what if she fell in love with Con or Tag? What if either of them felt the same for her? The thought of it made my chest tighten.

“I thought you were hungry,” she said, motioning to the uneaten food on my plate.

“Famished,” I muttered, digging into what was some of my favorite food.

“How did you find this place?” she asked while we waited for our entrees to be served.

“It was recommended.” It was an accurate enough response. Ramesh Sharma’s oldest son was a fellow Unit 23-er and someone I considered a friend. “Eat up. We still have a long drive ahead of us,” I reminded her when dishes I hadn’t ordered but the owner knew were my favorite were brought to the table.

“Where are we going?”Sullivan asked once we were in the SUV and back on the highway.

“Somewhere you’ll be protected,” I repeated the words I’d said previously when she asked. “Sleep if you’re tired,” I added when I saw her jar herself awake when her head drooped. She shifted her body so she could rest her head against the seat.

“It reclines if you’d be more comfortable.”

She opened one eye. “Thank you for saving my life, David.”

5

SULLIVAN

“We’re here,” I heard a voice say.

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