Page 5 of The Society (Spy Girl 3)
"We're leaving before you get this sign," he states.
"You don't think I should run away and marry Daniel?" I tease.
He slips his hand into mine, bringing it to his mouth, his lips sliding across my knuckles.
"I do not." The look of seriousness on his face tells me this is no laughing matter. "If you were to elope, I hope it would be with me."
I crack a smile to lighten the mood because things just got very real. I know that he's serious while Daniel was just messing around. And, sometimes, that makes Daniel more attractive. He's easy. Lorenzo makes my life feel complicated.
"I can tell you are not taking me seriously," he says, looking concerned.
"That is because I know you are not serious." He narrows his eyes at me in question, so I explain, "I suspect a proposal from you would be a much more romantic gesture than suggesting we should elope during the middle of a horse race."
"The horses aren't racing, my darling," he says, staring into my eyes as his hand glides across my jaw.
"Whatever. You know what I mean. It all smells of manure."
His eyes dance playfully across my face, and the smirk is back. "This is why I desire to know every detail about you. My plan to ask for your hand during today's trophy celebration has officially been foiled. If you will excuse me, I must let the queen of England know."
He turns, like he's going to walk away.
And I find myself not wanting him to go. I take a step forward to follow him when he surprises me by flipping back around, pulling me into his arms, and giving me a deep kiss.
"You become quite passionate when you get a little jealous," I tease. "That might be one of my favorite kisses. While you go speak with the queen, I'm going to find someone else to flirt with."
"Toying with my affection?" he says, pretending to be aghast. "You are incorrigible."
"Or you could take me with you," I suggest, slipping my hand into his.
"That sounds like an extraordinary proposition. Come, my dear, I want to teach you about the game of polo."
He takes me to the Royal Box where we are actually seated with royalty from multiple countries along with a few movie and rock stars. Although I guess it shouldn't be a surprise. It's just that, sometimes, I forget Lorenzo is a king.
I survey the room and then the surrounding area, thinking, if someone wanted to take out all these important people, it wouldn't be that hard. A bomb planted under the bleachers. An assault team in a couple of helicopters, like the ones who came after The Priest. A single long-range sniper situated across the way. The poisoning of a few bottles of champagne.
"Would you like some?" Lorenzo asks me later, taking a flute filled with champagne from a silver tray.
The match is nearly over, the time clicking down to zero.
"Uh, no, thank you."
"You seem distracted, my sweet," he whispers.
"I have a lot on my mind."
"You shouldn't, birthday girl."
"It's Ari's birthday today, too," I whisper. He looks as confused as I feel. "We believe what we thought were our covers are true. And that we are twins."
Everyone--including Ari, who is sitting on the other side of Lorenzo--stands up to cheer for the victorious team, but we stay in our seats, barely aware of what is going on around us. The depth of concern in Lorenzo's eyes is apparent. When everyone else sits down, he suddenly pulls me up and leads me out to his limo, causing his security to scramble.
He opens the door for me, says a few words to someone, and then gets inside with me. "I assume this is not something you should be talking about in public," he says seriously.
"Probably not, but I had to tell you."
"I'm still trying to comprehend. Your mother was killed, and you were trained as a spy and assassin and pulled out of training with me as your mission. Your cover story is that you and Ari are the long-lost children of Ares Von Allister. How could you possibly be twins?"
"It's hard to know what is real and what is fake, but one of the things that I never understood is why they would train me for so long and then, on my first mission, put me in such a high-profile position that would never allow me to go undercover again. I believe the reason is that it's not my cover. It's real."
"You really are Huntley Von Allister?"
"Yes. I think, up until now, I've been living under an alias. My mother's real name is Kelley Bond. She went to high school with Ares Von Allister, and I saw a photo of her. Her nose and cheekbones were different, but it was her, based on her eyes and a very unique gesture. Also, she told me I was a twin and that my brother died at birth. It was a sorrow she carried with her. I don't know what happened in the hospital, but on Ari's adoption papers, her last name was spelled incorrectly with an E on the end. Or maybe it was on purpose. We're doing a DNA test to be sure, but we know it's true."
"You used to think you were alone in this world, Lee. How do you feel now?"
"Worried."
He gently cradles my face in his hands. "Why, my dear?"
"It all feels deliberate. At the same time, I don't understand. Ares Von Allister was alive when my mother was killed. Why was I sent to Blackwood? Why did they practically brainwash me into believing that I shouldn't have emotional attachments? Why teach me to survive on my own, only to bring my twin brother back into my life on my first mission? And why not tell me the truth about him when they did? And, even worse, why did they kill everyone who knew about me at Blackwood if I'm really me?" I roll my eyes and laugh at myself. "It appears I'm having an identity crisis."
"You're right. It makes no sense."
"And you are in the middle of this mess."
"Why do you believe that?"
"Because the reason William Gallagher originally came to your country is because his intelligence had picked up a message that said, It starts in Montrovia."
"What starts?"
"No one knows. But the fact of the matter is, in the last year, four of the heirs to the throne of Montrovia have died--three murdered--and there have been numerous attempts on your life."
"Three murdered?"
"The circumstances around your uncle's death are suspicious."
"But it's over now." He shrugs. "You took care of it. Ophelia is dead."
"I'm afraid it's not over yet. And this is horrible of me to even ask, but was there an autopsy done on your father?"
"What? Are you suggesting that my father was killed? That's ludicrous. He'd been ill."
"With what?"
"Some sort of autoimmune virus that they couldn't determine the cause of. It was resistant to antibiotics. They tried all sorts of concoctions, but nothing seemed to work. He just kept getting weaker. Honestly, they were surprised he'd made it that long."
"How long had he been ill?"
"About six months, I guess."
"Did he get sick before or after your uncle died?"
Lorenzo starts to protest but then stops. "They were together on a hunting trip in Britain. That's when my father took ill. It's also why my father wasn't with my uncle on the day of the accident. He was in bed, sick."
"Who was with your uncle that day?"
"His normal guide was also ill--food poisoning. He went out with someone new. Publicly, it was called an accident. But, in reality, it appeared he'd committed suicide."
I don't say anything. I just stare at him and watch as the realization creeps in. He closes his eyes and roughly runs his hand through his hair.
"Did they question his guide?"
"No one has been able to find him."
I nod in understanding, his remarks only confirming what I suspected.
"What's supposed to start in Montrovia?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out, Lorenzo. It's also hard to know who to trust. Any chance your country is good friends with Israeli's intelligence service?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Mossad has a reputation of being the best in the world. Maybe you should ask for their help. Discreetly, of course."
"Would you like to take a trip with me? Ever been to Israel?"
"I can't leave London."
"Another mission?"
I nod in affirmation.
"Can you tell me?"
"I've told you everything else, so I guess I might as well. We're following the money trail."
"Don't you have enough money, especially if you really are a Von Allister?"
"Not money for me, silly," I say with a laugh. "The Priest was paid to do three hits. The president of the United States was the first. Clarice was the second. I fear you could be the third."
"I'm taking care of his son!"
"Unless he specifically cases the London house for a period of time, he won't know Chauncey is there. He was hired to do a job, and he wants his payout. Once he gets that, he'll find me, get his son back, and go into hiding. We know the money trail; we just have to figure out how to get to the money man. If things go well, we'll get the money man to tell us who he was playing middle man for. Ultimately, we need to know who hired The Priest."
"Any leads?"
"Not that I know of. All I really know about him came from Gallagher. And all he said was that he was a nasty man from his home turf. I assume that's why our missions said to come to London."
"And here I thought, you came for me."
