She batted me away with a playful smile. “Max… we only just got out of bed.”
“We haven’t christened the couch.”
“That’s true.” She let out a luxurious hum, as though she was thinking about it. Really thinking about it. The idea of taking her again made my cock twitch. I was never going to get enough of being inside her. “I thought we needed to speak to Valentin.”
We did. We had a lot to update my boss with. I let out a grumble, forcing myself away from her. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you’re right about things like that.”
Elizabeth laughed and shifted to curl her feet up onto the couch, next to me. “Maybe once or twice. But the sooner we talk to him, the sooner he can okay me and then we can go back to doing whatever we want to be doing…”
Her sly little smile could have slayed me.
“Have I told you lately how impossibly sexy you are?”
I loved the flush that raced over Elizabeth’s cheeks and the way she smiled, almost awkward, still not quite believing what I told her. One day, she’d have no doubt, I’d make sure of it.
With a sigh, I put the call through to Valentin.
“We have the pendrive,” I informed him as soon as the line opened out, and his broad grin flashed, almost devilish as he leaned in closer.
“Excellent. You’re sure she didn’t have a copy elsewhere?”
“We took the paper copy. Pierce was very explicit in his cover notes that this was not to be uploaded onto anything that could connect to the internet. He was really quite paranoid.”
“Wisely so. Very good Maxim. And this… is Yelizaveta I assume?”
Elizabeth looked momentarily confused and Valentin laughed, deep and throaty. “It’s Elizabeth in Russian. You have defected now, have you not?”
Elizabeth’s eyes darted to me and I gave a minute nod. She looked back to the screen. “I suppose I have. It’s nice to meet you Mr Rozhkov.”
“Valentin, please. We are all family in the Bratva. And family helps each other out, isn’t that right, Maxim?”
“It is. And Elizabeth has done us proud. You should have seen her. You’d have been impressed.”
Valentin rose a brow. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” His eyes shifted. “Maxim’s word is his vow, so I’m sure you were quite spectacular.”
“She was.” And I had a stubborn need to make him see that, make him admit it.
Valentin cleared his throat. “Do you have any progress on Pierce’s locker?”
“This was a little more time sensitive.”
“So you’re telling me no?”
Annoyed, I grimaced. “Where would you have us look? The station was a bust. We’re out of leads.”
Elizabeth had been quiet and a frown to rival Valentin’s was forged across her face. “You’re the one who’s been following him all this time. Where else did he go?”
I stared at her, surprised that she’d decided to side with Valentin instead of supporting me.
“Nowhere else. The man was a bloody bore. Same place for lunch every single time. Same cafe, same wine bar, same pub. Home, the publisher’s, the library. That’s it.”
Elizabeth looked at me and smoothed her hand over my knee. “The British Library? That’s right next to the station. They have lockers there.”
I tilted my head. I’d been doing this a long time now. It was very rarely ever that simple. “I really don’t think-”
But Valentin was already in cahoots. “Yes. That makes sense. Maxim, you should listen to the lady. Go to the library.”
I let out a slow breath, irritated by the pair of them. “Of course. Absolutely, anything you say.”
Valentin’s wolfish grin took over the screen. “That has a good ring to it, Maxim. Usually you do whatever you want.”
“Usually I get the job done.”
“Usually you do. I have no complaints. But maybe it’s worth checking? Elizabeth knew the man best, no?”
That, I couldn’t argue with. And there was no part of me that wanted to when she folded her arms across her chest and rose one fine brow at me. The pair of them were a dangerous combination.
“Fine. Your wish is my command. We’ll go and see what’s there.”
CHAPTER 26
Elizabeth
I looked back over my shoulder at Maxim with a smile as the key slid into the lock of the luggage locker in the cloakroom of the British Library. The stark red brick exterior was exaggeratedly large and brutalist in comparison to the Victorian Gothic spires and layers of St Pancras station, in the same red brick, just next door. The tall square gate opened into the entrance courtyard, set out architecturally with manicured grass and a large bronze figure. It might have been an ancient institution, but this building wasn’t.
I’d expected fusty lines of books, and a dozen other men just like Sutherland, but that wasn’t what we found at all.
There was an exhibition space and a ticket desk, and that side was carefully controlled, all modern and white and it was clear you couldn’t just wander right in. The books were somewhere else in the building.