Page 58 of Undercover Savior

Her eyes darted between mine. “Likely very little.”

I wove my fingers with hers. “We’ll be landing soon.” I waited several seconds to see if she’d ask where we’d go from there, but she didn’t. I found myself disappointed. “You’re taking the fun out of this adventure.”

She leaned back. “I thought you said you liked everything about me.”

“I’m teasing.”

“Where are we staying, Davy?” she asked in a voice that sounded more like her eight-year-old self.

“You’ll see.”

When she slugged my arm, I laughed.

Typhon’s placewas much like I’d pictured it. In fact, it reminded me of my flat, here in the city. I’d purchased it furnished, kept nothing personal in it, and was rarely there. Perhaps after he’d married, he’d taken mementos with him. Or, like me, he had none.

“This is, err, nice,” Sullivan said once we were inside.

“It belongs to my boss.”

“It’s, um, very modern.”

I chuckled. “It’s also cold.” I walked over and flipped a switch that, as I’d expected, lit a gas fireplace. “There are three bedrooms, I believe. Take your pick.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. Wherever you’d be most comfortable. Wait. I mean, pick the one where you would be.”

I stepped closer to her. “I like your first idea better.”

She rubbed her arms. “I don’t think the chill has much to do with the temperature. It’s the overall feel of the place.”

“If it helps, I don’t believe he spends time here anymore. He was recently married.”

Sullivan walked over to the windows in the main room. “It has a lovely view.”

I looked down at what was one of my favorite pubs in the city, hating that I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking Sullivan there. Which reminded me that I hadn’t followed up with Gus aboutthe protection I requested to be put into place. I sent him a message asking for confirmation.

“For someone who doesn’t live here, he keeps his refrigerator well stocked.”

I hadn’t noticed Sullivan walking away. “Hungry?” I asked, joining her in the kitchen that was twice the size of the one in my flat.

“Not really?”

“A drink?” I suggested.

“Sure.”

I noticed a wine cooler beneath the counter. “Fancy a glass?”

She shook her arms like they were noodles. “Something stronger might be better. I feel so…”

“Uncomfortable?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just so utilitarian. And before you say it, I know I should just be grateful to be alive, not complaining about my accommodations. It’s just that, never mind.”

I pulled her over to the sofa where we could sit near the fire. “Tell me.”

“I was most comfortable at the cottage. It felt like”—she shrugged—“you, I guess. The suite at Tag’s was lovely…God, I sound so ungracious.”

“The suite was lovely, but…”

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