Page 95 of Locked and Loaded

Angelo led them inside. The interior was cool and dim, the stone floors covered with woven rugs in faded reds and blues. A staircase curved upward to the right. To the left, an archway opened into a sitting room with high ceilings and furniture that managed to be both elegant and comfortable. Through the back windows, Dragan spied a terrace and, beyond it, the sea.

"Two rooms have been prepared," Angelo said. "Upstairs, first and second doors on the left. There is food in the kitchen whenever you're ready. Mister Fontaine will be expecting your call."

"Thank you." Dragan waited until Angelo had retreated back through the front door before he turned to Lennox.

She stood in the center of the entryway, her bag still over her shoulder, her face unreadable as she took in the villa. The stone walls. The high ceilings. The view of the sea. Any other person might have looked impressed. She looked like she was calculating exit routes.

He bit back a sigh. "You should shower," he said. "Rest. I'll have food brought to your room."

Her eyes cut to him. Sharp and cool. "And what will you be doing?"

"Making calls. Coordinating. The things I should have been doing instead of..." He stopped. Didn't finish. Didn't know how to finish without making it worse.

"Instead of telling me the truth," she said.

"Lennox…"

But she was already moving toward the stairs, her sneakers squeaking on the stone. She didn't look back. She didn't say anything else. She just climbed the stairs with her spine straight, and when the door to the second room on the left closed behind her, the click of the latch was the loudest sound in the villa.

Dragan stood in the entryway for a long moment. The olive trees outside rustled in the breeze. The sea glittered in the distance. And somewhere upstairs, the woman he was supposed to be protecting had just made it very clear, once again, that she didn't want his protection. He was not looking forward to the next fight they were going to have. It was going to be ugly, and he did not want any more ugly for Lennox.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, unlocked his tablet, and walked into the sitting room.

The call connected on the third ring.

Fontaine's face appeared on the tablet screen, crisp and clear despite the encrypted connection. He was in a hotel room, the kind of room that cost more per night than most people made in a month. Behind him, through a window, Dragan could see the Valletta skyline, the dome of a basilica and the angular lines of modern buildings crowding against the old stone.

"Dragan." Fontaine wore the easy smile of a man who was always two moves ahead and enjoying the view. "You made it. How was the flight?"

"Uneventful. Thank you for the helicopter. And the villa." Dragan settled into a chair near the window, angling the tablet so the light wasn't behind him. "It's more than we needed."

"Nonsense. You're doing important work. The least I can do is make sure you have a comfortable place to do it from." Fontaine leaned back in his chair, a glass of something amber in his hand. "Besides, we're practically neighbors. The Callahans and I are set up at the Jasmine Door. Not even a block from the Villa Sant’ Elena where this gala is being held. Convenient, no?"

"Very."

"I thought so. Logan and Lacy are here, along with Alex, and they’ve already done a walk-through of the venue. Mitch and Ryker have been chatting with the event staff over security concerns. Villa Sant’ Elena is set on a point on the waterfront, so the views are spectacular, but it does provide certain safety considerations. They are getting all the details that may come in handy.” Armand smiled. “They assure me we will have eyes on every entrance, every exit, and most of the guests." Fontaine took a sip of his drink. "The question now is, how do we get you into the auction? And how do we hide Ms. Crowe in plain sight?"

“What do you mean, hide Lennox in plain sight? I don’t want her anywhere near that place. I would have left her in the desert if I didn’t think she’d bolt on her own the moment I left.” Just the thought of Lennox anywhere near the event made his gut tighten and his heart rate spike.

“Mon ami,” Armand said in a quieter tone. “If the situation were reversed and it was you who had someone important missing, would you be able to stay away?”

“No. But this is what I do,” he reasoned. “She⁠—”

“This is what she’s been doing for weeks before you came along,” he reminded Dragan. “She deserves to be there. She will be in no more danger than the rest of us, and we will keep a special eye on her. Mon ami, she will not forgive herself if she leaves any stone unturned. She needs to be there.”

Dragan wanted to argue, to tell Armand he was wrong. It was too dangerous for Lennox to be there. Because it was. But he knew in his bones Armand was right. Lennox would not forgive herself if she wasn’t there and they found Chloe or, more likely, proof of Chloe’s death. She needed to be there for that, if for no other reason, than she would never truly be at peace with herself if she wasn’t.

“Fine,” Dragan growled. “But there has to be eyes on her the whole time.”

“Bien sûr,” Armand agreed.

“And she’s going to need clothes and well…everything.”

Armand laughed. “Women must always have what they need. How is she?"

"She's angry."

"At you?”