Page 17 of Undercover Savior

When he responded this morning, he suggested we meet, which raised the question of where.

I wasn’t prepared to read Sullivan in on my true identity as the Duke of Ashcroft, the roles my closest friends played, or even for her to meet them. Which meant the obvious place for us to get together, other than the cottage, was the castle, made impossible by my uncle’s arrival yesterday.

When I posed the question back to Con, he suggested Tag’s place might be best. I was still mulling over whether that would work when Gus approached.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, squeezing my shoulder.

I smiled. “As much as I shouldn’t be the one you’re asking that of, I have to admit, I’m at odds with my own life presently.”

Gus chuckled. “The lone wolf has no idea what to do with himself. Or better put, what to do with the woman currently under his protection.”

He was right about me being a lone wolf. It had been months since I even saw him, Con, or Tag, and then it had been for the latter’s father’s funeral. I was rarely the first person to reach out to any of them, and when they contacted me, I typically took a long time to respond.

“Con said he wants to meet.”

Gus nodded. “Have you heard from Typhon?”

I rolled my shoulders. “I have, and the news isn’t good.”

When he looked off in the distance, I knew he’d spoken to him as well.

“While she vehemently denies fabricating the order to take Sullivan out along with the gunman, the evidence is piling up against Periscope. I anticipate the nail in the coffin, so to speak, will come from Con.”

“It already has,” said Gus.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Why, though?”

“Con suggested we let her lead us to the answer.”

My eyes widened. “How?”

“By allowing her to believe she’s in the clear and is still your handler, but making the Weber investigation her main focus.”

The plan made sense. “Right. Now, what are your thoughts on meeting at Tag’s?” I asked.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. Brose left a few minutes ago and said he wouldn’t be returning until tomorrow or the next day.”

I breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone. I just wished it wasn’t temporary. “I don’t understand why he insists on spending the holidays here. It isn’t like we do anything.”

As Gus knew, the only reason I visited around this time of year was to give my thanks, personally deliver bonuses, and give the staff that maintained the main residence and grounds them the rest of the season off to spend with their families. That alone made Brose’s visits more curious. He typically expected to be waited on hand and foot but was left to fend for himself when the staff was on holiday themselves.

“By the way, I intend to inform your mother that this year is no different than any other as far as closing shop through the end of the year.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, shaking his head. “She’ll not listen as long as there is a guest on the premises.”

“Sullivan’s hardly a guest,” I muttered.

“I’ll leave you to argue that point.” He motioned toward the loch. “Do you have time for a walk?”

“Of course.”

We took the trail to the far side of the island and stepped inside the cottage I hadn’t visited in years prior to this morning.

“It’s coming along,” I commented, looking around the space that appeared to have been gutted on the inside. “You never said why you proposed this place be fixed up.”

“It wasn’t my idea. It was my mum’s.”

“Ah. Does she want to live in it, then?”

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