Page 69 of Austen

Yeah, she should put Phoenix’s jaded words right out of her brain.

As Austen was sliding out of the car, she overheard the man introduce himself as Eugene Prescott, and Declan glad-handed him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Phil said you’d take care of us,” Declan said, laughing.

Phil?Maybe his DC friend.

Declan turned to Austen and introduced her.

“Gene,” the man said as he shook her hand.“It’s going to be a little bit before we can get those passports processed.Look for them in the morning.But I secured your lodging at a nearby hotel.”

“The lady will need some clothes,” Declan said.“Is it possible to get a car and do some shopping?I’ll also need to stop at a bank.”

Clothes?Shopping?But of course—she was back in Declan’s world.

For a second she thought she might rather be in the ocean with Steinbeck.At least there she knew her way around deep water and dangerous fish.

But Declan put his hand on her back, and she headed inside the embassy.She took a bedraggled picture for her new passport photo, so that was lovely.And then the director brought her and Declan into a private receiving area.The American flag hung on the wall, and two gold sofas faced each other with an oval mahogany coffee table between them.Sprays of tropical flowers sat in vases on a couple of credenzas.

“I’ll arrange for a car to take you to the hotel,” Gene said, then left them there.

And it was just her and Declan standing alone in that air-conditioned, carpeted room of the embassy.

“See, I told you everything would be fine.”Declan walked up to her where she stood by the window, staring out at the manicured grounds inside the embassy complex.Palm trees, a few twisty sand oaks, and a garden full of amaryllis and bougainvillea.

She nearly jumped when Declan put his hand on her shoulder.

She turned and he withdrew it.

“I don’t know why,” he said softly, “but I feel like I’m in trouble.”

She caught her breath.Closed her eyes.Oh,she didn’t want to have this conversation, but, “Have you ever heard of...Dark Horse?”

She opened her eyes in time to see his mouth open and then close into a tight pinch.“Where did you hear that name?”

“Phoenix, then Steinbeck.He told me a story about?—”

“The story is a cover,” Declan said.“Not to get into too many specifics, but yes.For a while, because of my connections with Samiullah Rahimi, I was able to play the role of smuggler.Just long enough to root out the traders inside the base where we were ferreting out the information.I promise you that we did not leak any secrets.It was a sting operation.And I really shouldn’t even be telling you that, but I don’t like the way you’re looking at me, Austen.Please, trust me.I’m not who they say I am.”

She wanted so much to believe him.He took a step toward her and took her hand.“Have I done some things that have gone south?Yes.But they’ve always been because I was trying to do something good.Not evil.”

Aw.She had her own mistakes.

The door opened behind them, and a middle-aged woman came in.“The car is ready for you.It will take you to the hotel, and the driver will wait there for your instructions.”

“Thank you so much.”Declan looked back at Austen and held out his hand.

And heaven help her, she took it.And let herself hold on as he walked her out of the building and into the car.

Because frankly, she was tired of doubting him.He’d done nothing but save her, protect her, and now he was going to feed and clothe her.

What was a girl supposed to do with that?

NINE

“I’ll be honest,Declan.Sitting at a café in the middle of Havana, eating a pork brisket under the starry sky with Cuban tango music playing, is the very last place I thought I would be when I boarded a ship bound for Cuba last night.”

He looked over at Austen, who sat in a yellow sundress, her auburn hair down and flowing, a tan on her skin, her green eyes glowing, a slight smile playing at her lips as she stirred her lemon water.Indeed, it had gone a lot more smoothly than he’d expected.

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