Page 83 of Scarlet Angel

He cracks up, laughing at his own joke, and I slap his chest.

“Seriously.” I roll my eyes, waving my hands about in exasperation. “For a second there, I truly thought you might be mad enough to assassinate a TikToker, Mr. Jealous,” I say, shaking my head.

“Not normally,” he says, growing quite serious. “It’s you.”

He’s playing, but I’ve been over here worried about his sister.

“How’s Lina?”

“She’s good, I think. I mean, what do I know?” He rubs a hand through his hair. “I’ve thought she was in a good place before. But she isn’t in denial. Accepts she has a problem. For the moment. She was worried about you.”

“Me?”

He brushes his fingers across my face, circumspect.

“And me. It’s good to see she’s thinking about someone other than herself, if I’m being honest. This place she’s at now, it’s got good reviews.”

“They’ll allow the additional security presence?”

“Aye. They’re working with me.”

My mobile screen lights, and we both read the text.

Unknown number

My flight’s on schedule. I’ll call when I get in.

“Who’s that?”

He’s right to ask. In theory, no one should have this number. The country code isn’t Italy. Will he recognize it? Of course, he will. This is Nick.

The coded message is meant to avert suspicions, but it couldn’t look more suspect to Nick.

“Wrong number,” I say, looking across the room instead of at Nick.

I’m lying. Why? What am I doing?

I sense Nick stiffen. He picks up my mobile and pecks away at it. I’ve no idea what he’s doing but…oh, Christ. He’s going to track the number.

I glance down in time to read his message.

This is Nick. Get me everything you can on this number and a log of all calls made from the number I’m messaging you from.

If I weren’t guilty, I’d be furious. Should I act furious? For survival, yes. I should be affronted and storm out. Only, I can’t quite force myself because I am guilty and he’s right to investigate.

“I lied,” I say, head bowed.

“You don’t say.” A chill crisscrosses his tone, but it hasn’t dropped to deadly.

“I had a plan. Before you.” I lift my gaze from my hands. “A member of British intelligence approached me. They wanted information on Titan’s shipping clients—I presumed to curtail the drug trafficking going on through the EU—but it became clear they also have an interest in tracking shipments to and from Russia.”

“Go on.”

“I haven’t given them much. I haven’t told my contact what I provided to Interpol. Honestly, my contact seemed more interested in information than in actually bringing them down. And I hadn’t yet decided if I could trust him.”

“Why is he reaching out now?”

“He keeps up with me.”

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