She turned and stared at the laptop on her desk.
It wasn’t secured. Anyone could have tapped it and could spy on any information she pulled up. She needed the ability to secure it, and she needed to do so quickly.
Was anything in this house secure though? She turned slowly, her lashes lowered, her gaze taking in the areas that could possibly hide a camera. Finding electronic bugs would be much harder . . .
The memory flashed in her mind. She had stored a secured laptop as well as a variety of devices used to detect audio or video surveillance.
She remembered wrapping them in protective pouches and placing in the cabinet that sat in the corner.
Sitting down on the bed, she pulled her boots off, careful to keep her demeanor cool.
Something warned her that her bedroom was indeed bugged in some manner. She was more prone to suspect the audio versus the video, though. Not that video bothered her over much.
She almost laughed at the thought. She had visited the French Riviera more than once and made use of the nude beaches there. She had never been particularly shy about her body, just rather picky about sharing it.
She would slip out tonight and get the items she needed. She could manage a few hours without getting caught, just not another all-nighter.
Strange, she felt no sense of trepidation about spying into her family’s finances. A part of her was too determined, too intent on finding whoever had murdered Father and was now determined to kill her.
She was a threat to someone. Enough of a threat that they hadn’t been convinced she had died in that car crash. They had gone looking for her, and somehow, they had managed to find her.
That had been yet another mistake on their part.
The first had been in killing her father.
The second in forcing her back here to the life she had obviously walked away from.
As she headed for the bathroom and a shower, a low knock sounded on the door.
“Yes?” Turning, she watched the door as it opened slowly.
“Fresh towels, ma’am.” The petite housemaid entered the room, her arms laden with towels as she moved for the bathroom.
Lilly stepped back as the young woman moved into the bathroom. Dressed in the customary gray skirt and white blouse her mother insisted on for the house servants, she moved quietly and as unobtrusively as possible.
Servants were forced to just about tiptoe around her mother. Her mother believed that servants shouldn’t be seen or heard unless there was no other choice.
“Thank you.” Lilly stood back as the young girl moved from the bathroom once again.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.” A shy smile and the maid scurried from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Lilly shook her head at the girl’s skittishness before entering the bathroom herself.
She laid out a towel and clothes before turning to the shower and adjusting the water.
Stripping her clothes, she tossed them to the counter before pulling open a drawer for a hair clip to hold her hair out of the water.
The folded piece of paper lying on top of the clips had her pausing and staring at it suspiciously.
Pulling it free, she unfolded it carefully and stared at the words printed there.
Discretion is the better part of valor in any game.
Remember who you are, but never forget what you were, because that will be the only way to survive. Now, please, be kind enough to flush.
Her eyes narrowed on the last line before she glanced at the toilet and sighed heavily before crumpling the paper to a small ball and doing as requested.
It wasn’t as though the note held surprising information. She was well aware that she needed to play a more subtle game than she was currently playing—that of learning who she was while keeping her family unaware. She hadn’t been doing a very good job thus far.
For the rest, she just might be screwed. She remembered well who she had been before the past six years; it was after that that she had a bit of a problem. If her survival depended on remembering who she had been during those six years, then she was definitely screwed.
Now, if she could just find a way to force those lost memories free, then perhaps the answer to finding who had killed her father, and who was trying to kill her, might lie there.
One thing was for certain, she was going to have to remember soon, or she would end up truly dead, rather than simply pretending to be.
Chapter 9
two days later Travis rode his Harley into a deserted warehouse lot and eased into the old brick building with its cracked and shattered windows and decaying wood doors.
The team was waiting for him. Noah, John, Micah, and Nik were lounging on their cycles while Jordan waited in the black SUV, the passenger’s side door open as he watched the entrance with narrowed, neon-blue eyes.
His driver was the red-haired little hellion who seemed to drive the commander insane on the best of days. Tehya was the jokester of the unit, the agent that wasn’t really an agent but an integral part of the unit nonetheless.
As Travis pulled the bike to a stop amid the semicircle created around the SUV and swung off the seat, he wasn’t surprised by the air of speculation that seemed to emanate from the group.
The three married agents, Noah, Micah, and John, were watching him warningly. They had tried to warn him over the past days about the deepening involvement between him and Lilly, but it wasn’t something he wanted to hear. Warnings weren’t what he needed. What he needed were solutions, and he hadn’t found any yet.
“I have to get back by evening,” he informed Jordan as he approached the men, who were now standing by the open door. “I’ve been invited to the Harringtons’ estate by Lilly for a little get-together they’re having.”
“The French ambassador.” Jordan nodded. “He’s a good friend of the Harrington family.
Desmond and the deceased Harold Harrington were classmates of his for several years at Eton. The party is an excuse to discuss business with their American counterparts in a setting where their wives can also participate.”
“A dress-up party,” Nik snorted.
The Russian knew well the type of parties the Harringtons frequented. Like Travis, he’d been to several get-togethers hosted by the Harringtons or those of their social set before his induction into the Ops.
Nik had been a member of Russia’s political and social elite. He’d been a husband, a father, and a man on the fast track to a leadership position until he had pissed off the wrong political group.