Page 6 of Summer of Fire
His blunt tone stung Lizzie like a slap.
‘Ms Beaumont is the best we have available for you. We are stretched every which way.’
Jack glowered at them both, and Lizzie wished she hadn’t been so quick to agree to accompany her boss.
Drake cast an apologetic glance at Lizzie and shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’re in a sticky spot and Jack asked for my help urgently. Although, one might expect him to be a bit more gracious in the circumstances,’ he said, eyeing Jack. The reprimand was clear.
Lizzie examined her boss’s face, wondering what the heck was going on. Why was he leaving her alone with this disagreeable character who clearly didn’t want her here?
Jack King sighed. ‘Thank you, Drake.’
‘Play nicely, you two,’ Drake said, and then he let himself out.
Jack didn’t so much as crack a smile, but jerked his head toward the dark hallway and took off. Lizzie walked briskly after him, trying to keep up with his forceful strides. He came to an abrupt stop, threw a door open and ushered her inside.
The morning light seeped in through the dusty blinds and she saw he was a well-built man, with striking dark good looks, despite his grumpy manner. Ordinarily she might even have been smitten, but the scowl on his face cured her of any danger of that immediately.
‘Sit down,’ he said, nodding at a chair. ‘I won’t keep you long. It’s good of you to volunteer, but as I said, we don’t need an office girl—what we need is an experienced operator who can hit the ground running as a courier in occupied France.’
Lizzie didn’t move toward the chair. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘No, believe me, you’re not the only one.’ He laughed, but it was a humourless sound more like a bark.
She took a shaky breath and drew herself up to her full height. ‘It seems you have the wrong end of the stick, Mr King. You are mistaken in thinking I volunteered for this role. I was asked to meet with you urgently by my boss, and that is the only reason I am here.’
One of Jack’s dark eyebrows shot up like an arrow, and his tanned forehead creased into telling lines of displeasure. ‘That’s all well and good, but that doesn’t mean you aresuited for undercover war work. We’re not playing at espionage here, you know—Ms Beaumont—is it? This is a serious business, and you could get yourself killed. You could get our people in the field killed, for that matter.’
A rush of violent rebellion surged through Lizzie as she looked at his impudent face. She raised her chin and faced him head-on, her green eyes clashing with his black ones.
‘So, what is it you would have me do for the war effort, exactly, Mr King—darn your socks and bring you tea on the hour?’
Seconds felt like minutes as they stared at each other, neither of them blinking nor backing down. Lizzie’s head pounded.
She knew she had been rude—probably to a senior government official—but he deserved it.
Jack let out another humourless bark. ‘Ha! Tempting as that is, that’s not what I had in mind.’ His voice rang with sarcasm as he swept one large hand through his shock of thick raven-black hair.
Lizzie forced her lips to curve into a smile. ‘Good. So, whatdidyou have in mind? Would you prefer I refuse to help, even though my boss summoned me here?’
Jack beckoned towards the chair again and dragged it closer to Lizzie. She followed his cue and perched on the end, her knees touching primly.
He sat down heavily in the chair opposite and released a deep sigh.
‘Call me Jack, for God’s sake. What did you say to call you?’
‘Elizabeth. You may call me Elizabeth.’
Lizziewas for people she was on good terms with, and this man was clearly not going to be one of them. She hadn’t encountered anyone with such a cavalier manner before, andshe wasn’t going to let him off lightly, no matter how important he thought himself.
‘We obviously got off on the wrong foot,’ he said, throwing her a conciliatory look. ‘Forgive me if I was rude, Elizabeth, but this is a critical situation.’ He enunciated every syllable of her name. ‘You can’t possibly know what’s at stake here.’
Lizzie squared her slim shoulders and glared at him.
‘Why don’t you spell it out for me, Mr King—Jack?’ she said.
Her parents said she was headstrong when riled, and they were right.
Jack shook his head as if amused by a private joke. ‘I was trying to assess whether you knew what you’d be getting yourself into by working with us.’
