Addison Fox - The Royal Spy's Redemption

“Not buying it.”

“It’s the truth.”

With lightning-quick reflexes honed from being the only sister in the midst of a horde of rough-and-tumble brothers, she had her handgun out of the drawer and pointed toward Knox in a handful of heartbeats. “I’m only going to ask once more. Why are you really here?”

Chapter 3

Knox stared down the barrel of the impressively steady semiautomatic and figured he had exactly thirty-three seconds to make up a plausible story. She’d gotten the jump on him; that was for sure.

Maybe he was more exhausted than he’d wanted to admit.

Cycling through what he knew, Knox tried to figure out what pieces of the truth he could use to distract her. There was no way she could know about Moray or where he suspected the man’s influence extended. But he also needed to give her something.

Hell, after a midnight arrival that included bleeding all over her kitchen supplies, he owed her that much.

Gun or no gun.

Gabriella glanced toward the door, and he was reminded of her earlier statement. My brother’s a cop. He patrols this dodgy area regularly.

For his money, he wasn’t sure she needed the additional surveillance, but he pressed on.

“Those gems belong back in England.”

“Says who?”

That gun stayed remarkably steady, but the fierce notes of protection had faded slightly from her stance. His first inclination was to disarm her, but he was too damned tired to try anything. And while she’d surprised him with having the gun in the first place, he wasn’t actually concerned she’d shoot.

Her brother was likely another story, so he’d do well to avoid police interference.

“Says the British government.”

“The government doesn’t control the royal family’s possessions.”

“No, but they should have some say and influence over a political gift. And regardless of a decision made decades ago, those gems were given to England. They belong back in my country.”

She seemed to waver slightly before she let out a hard sigh and lowered the gun. “Possession is nine-tenths and all that.”

Knox fought the urge to squirm, the rubies in his cargo pocket suddenly like lead weights beneath the countertop. “A delightful American colloquialism to indicate you can take whatever you want.”

“It was a gift that was subsequently turned over to Mrs. B’s father. Cassidy even found a letter from the king and queen that thanked her father for taking the gems and removing them.”

Knox stilled at that. “A letter?”

“Or more to the point, provenance.”

He filed that detail away. Moray’s behavior was deeply rooted in a lack of ethics, but something that denoted such clear ownership made the Security Service’s claims on the gems far harder to justify. Considering a different tack, he pressed an earlier point. “You said yourself your friends are well rid of the gems.”

“Perhaps I was too hasty.”

Unbidden, a kernel of panic took root in his belly. Her friends were lucky. And from what he knew and a few other aspects he’d pieced together, they were all fortunate to have escaped with their lives. “This isn’t a problem for civilians to concern themselves with.”

“Too late.”

“Or just in time.”

Although she didn’t reset her aim, Gabriella’s gaze drifted toward the gun before snapping firmly back to his. “That doesn’t mean your arrival isn’t worrying and suspicious. No one knew about the gems three weeks ago. Since then, my friends have discovered the rubies, uncovered corruption in the police department and dealt with a horrible threat from a well-respected businessman. Now MI5 shows up? How is it all connected?”

He’d figured out about three minutes after meeting her that Gabriella Sanchez wasn’t a woman to be underestimated. The gorgeous exterior and lush body was an easy distraction, but a whip-quick mind lived underneath.

He couldn’t tell her they’d kept tabs on Josephine Beauregard for years. Nor would he share that the highest levels of British intelligence had information on all of Tripp Lange’s nefarious dealings, a catalog that began when they caught wind a few years back he was nosing around about the gems. That one got awfully sticky because they knew about the man’s unsavory side practices and hadn’t bothered to share the information.

Avoid sharing that one with the class, mate.

Although he wasn’t going to provide extensive details about Lange, he could use the man to his advantage. “Tripp Lange’s involvement is being dissected now.”

“What’s there to dissect? He betrayed his wife and stepson, lying to them both. He manipulated his position as a wealthy businessman to buy off members of the police department. He even put out a hit on Reed and Lilah.”

Reed Graystone had been as suspicious of Knox’s presence as Gabby, but Knox’s badge had gone a long way toward reassuring the cop. Reed had taken the time to fill Knox in on his stepfather’s activities and the hit Gabby spoke of—cut brake lines that had caused an accident Reed and Lilah were lucky to walk away from—was proof positive of Lange’s mania to possess the gems.

A mania that seemed to extend to Moray, as well.

Was it even possible the jewels were to blame?

Although he didn’t doubt their value, the hysteria surrounding their retrieval bordered on obsession.

Dark obsession and a desperate need to possess.

Again he was conscious of the weight against his thigh, and if he focused on the gems he could feel their hard edges. Each was roughly the size of a strawberry—small in the scheme of things, yet massive in the gemology world—and he knew from their history many had killed to possess them.

The ringing of her cell broke the moment, and Gabby eyed the device. On a small sigh, she flipped the safety and shoved the gun back in the drawer she’d pulled it from, then answered the call.

“I’m good.”

Although Knox only got half the conversation, it wasn’t hard to piece together what was being said.

“I’m working late, that’s all. Mama wants enchiladas for the party tomorrow, and I couldn’t get to them earlier.” She paused a moment before quickly talking over whatever was being said on the other end of the line. “There’s no need to stop by on rounds. I’m almost done and trying to get out of here.”

Knox watched, fascinated, as she worked her way around the kitchen. She was a full participant in the conversation with her brother, but she managed to multitask her way through the conversation, pulling a large metal bowl from the fridge, then hip-bumping it closed.

She added several quick comments—barbs, really—in Spanish and it was hard to miss the small layer of frustration beneath.

“I’m fine, Ricardo. And I already made you an extra batch, so you can quit bugging me already. Good night. I love you, too.”

She shoved the phone in her back jeans pocket and walked toward a stacked set of trays on the far wall. The trays settled onto a base that rolled, and she dragged the entire set back to the counters along with the bowl.

“Your brother?”

“Who else?”

“Does he always call you this late?”

“When he’s on rounds and he sees my lights he does.” Gabby looked up from where she carefully pulled light towels off the top of a tray of fresh tortillas. “You’re lucky he didn’t just show up.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“He was called to an accident during his earlier drive-by. Something going on downtown in the park. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No.”

As the lie tripped off his tongue, Knox was suddenly glad Gabby had put the gun away.

* * *

“No?”

“It’s the same answer you’d give your brother if he asked you what’s going on here.”