and desperation. Vance was partially at fault, but I blamed myself for all of it, including what I’d just witnessed.
“You’re still not speaking to him.” Vance had lied to me.
He chuckled. “I speak to him, darling. He just doesn’t answer.”
“You lied,” I accused. “When I first saw you in London, I asked after him, and you said he was fine.”
Vance stood and adjusted the cuffs of his custom-made shirt. “And he is.” He smiled without warmth. “You saw for yourself.” He glanced at Adam. “Are you coming with us to the hotel?”
His ankle resting on his knee, his suit pressed despite him also having flown here, Adam Trefor focused piercing ice-blue eyes on me. Looking every bit as imposing as he did when I first met him in a sterile office on a dreary English day, he spoke with a calmness that never touched his eyes. “Miss Narine, we need to speak about the very real possibility that this plan won’t work.”
The plan.
Hastily concocted, rushed to put into play, and wedged between two ticking time bombs. It wasn’t a plan. It was a fool’s mission.
Barely more than twenty-four hours ago, I’d given my second-to-last concert on the tour. In seven days, I would play the stadium where I’d started the tour. Unbeknownst to my fans, it was going to be my last live performance. I couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong.
“The plan’s going to work,” Vance reassured.
Adam tapped his fingers together in a repetitive pattern. “Assuming the person behind this follows us here, assuming he decides to plant another bomb, and assuming we find it before he detonates it, is a lot of assumptions.” His focus unwavering, he paused for a moment. “The prudent move would be to alert authorities in London, hand this over to them, and take their advice on safety protocols before proceeding with the concert. Then we do our job and keep you protected.”
“Protecting me doesn’t protect my fans.” The placement of the third bomb proved that.
Barely lifting his right shoulder, Adam shrugged. “If you’re not on stage, there’s no audience.”
“She’s still under threat whether or not she’s performing,” Vance interjected.
Adam stood. Addressing Vance, he tipped his chin toward me. “Her, we can protect.”
Even though Vance met my gaze with a locked expression, I could still surmise what he was thinking. They could protect me, but I wasn’t the only one at risk. Which was why Vance wanted us on US soil, why he’d come up with this plan, and why we were here. Vance suspected who it was.
I didn’t suspect, I knew.
The moment I read the first note, I knew. But Vance had wanted more information, so he’d done his due diligence over the past couple months. Now he had all of his intel neatly stacked up and pointing toward the suspect, but we had one problem.
We couldn’t find him.
So Vance wanted to give the bomber another target, one he thought the sick bastard wouldn’t be able to resist.
One that looked exactly like him.
“You know what I don’t like?” His arms crossed, Luna stared at the wall of monitors in the control room at base. Scanning all the feeds for the clients we surveilled, he seemed distracted.
I didn’t answer.
We’d been back at Luna and Associates headquarters for thirty minutes, and I was waiting for him to say something about the meet at the airport. I knew he wouldn’t be able to drop it. Luna didn’t turn his back on people who needed help.
He glanced at me. “Trefor isn’t sloppy.”
How Trefor operated was irrelevant if my brother was running this. “You don’t know that Vance isn’t. He could be running this solo.” Which would not only fit his MO and ego, but dragging out something like this only extended his time with her.
Luna scrubbed his hand over his chin. “Maybe, maybe not, but Trefor’s name, his resources, they’re behind this, and I don’t buy it for a single second that he doesn’t know who they’re dealing with.” His dark eyes met mine. “Trefor’s thorough.”
“I know.”
“So which one of them’s lying?”
“Vance.” Lying or withholding information.
“Because?”
“He’s up to something.” Or he has ulterior motives.
Luna nodded slowly. “You curious?”
“No.”
Luna studied me a long moment. “I am.”
“No, you’re not.” At least not about Vance. “You want to help Sanaa.”
Luna grinned. “Sanaa, huh?”
I didn’t bite. I knew what he was getting at.
He chuckled. “Okay, I admit it.” His expression turned Marine lethal. “If there’s a bomber in my city and that woman is in trouble, I wouldn’t be a Marine