The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,15

isn’t how it works,” Laird said. “I’m your partner. If we go down, we go down together.”

Francesca sighed. “You’re a good partner, you know that, Matt?”

“You would do the same thing for me,” he said.

It was true. She would have.

“Do you want me to give this up?” she asked. “If you really want me to, I’ll come back now.”

He sighed. “No,” he said. “I guess you’d better go for it. It sounds like you have a good plan. Just…don’t get yourself arrested, all right?”

“I won’t,” she said.

“And you’ll contact me in an hour? I’m coming out after you if you don’t.”

“You can’t come out after me,” she said. “I’ve got the car.”

“Then I’ll get in a taxi. I’ll take the damn bus. I don’t care. You’re going to be dealing with an angry pickup if I don’t hear something from you.”

“I’ll call you,” she said. “As soon as I hang up the phone, I’ll put it in my pocket.”

“Maybe you should keep me on speaker while you go in there, just in case there’s some kind of altercation.”

“I really don’t have time to debate,” Francesca said. The housekeeper had finished pulling supplies out of the back of the van and was heading toward the front door of Lindström’s house. “I need to move now.”

“Okay,” Laird said. “I’d say don’t take any unnecessary risks, but I think we’re already past that.”

She smiled. “I won’t.”

“Good luck,” he said and hung up.

Francesca tucked her phone into one of the Velcro pockets on the side of her cargo pant leg. She put the keys to the rental car into another pocket, knowing she might need to make a quick getaway.

She glanced at the windshield. Snow was starting to come down, just a few light flakes. It was lovely. It was almost enough to make her forget the biting cold that awaited her just outside her rented car.

The housekeeper was almost at the front door. Francesca knew that she had to go now.

She stepped out of the car, locking the door manually so that it wouldn’t let out a beep and alert anyone who might be paying attention to her presence. Stealth was of the essence. She jogged over to the housekeeper’s van and then approached Lindström’s house from the same direction the woman had come.

The housekeeper was raising her hand to the door, and Francesca saw the glint of something silver in her hand. Keys! Perfect. The woman was planning to let herself in.

“Excuse me,” Francesca called out, in a voice she knew was low and authoritative. She knew because she had practiced with her phone on record at home. Many times. She wanted to know exactly how she sounded in the field. Men could sound so ominous without even trying. For women, it was harder.

The housekeeper turned to look at her.

“I need you to give me those keys, ma’am,” Francesca said, holding out a hand.

The housekeeper clutched the keys more tightly and stepped back.

Francesca reached into her pocket, pulled out her badge, and held it up.

“I’m Special Agent Francesca Bellucci with the FBI,” she said. “I need you to hand over those keys at once.”

Chapter 6

The housekeeper stared at her.

A suspicion occurred to Francesca. “Do you speak English?” she asked, wondering what the hell she was going to do if the woman didn’t. She knew from the research she’d been able to do on the way over that citizens of Konäs spoke both English and Swedish, but of course she hadn’t had time to learn any Swedish.

The housekeeper looked affronted. “Of course I speak English,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Francesca said. “I didn’t know. You didn’t respond.”

“Are you a burglar?” the housekeeper asked.

“No,” Francesca said, inclining her head toward her badge. “I’m with the FBI.” She hesitated. “That’s the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“I know what the FBI is,” the housekeeper said dryly. “You’re new to Konäs, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Francesca said.

This was already going badly. She had hoped that the sight of the badge might intimidate the housekeeper into handing over the keys without asking any questions. It was something that had worked before. But this woman seemed savvy enough to know that Francesca didn’t have the right to take whatever she wanted just because she was holding a badge.

“I need you to give me those keys,” she tried again.

“Why should I do that?” the housekeeper asked.

“The gentleman who owns this house is a suspect in a criminal investigation,” Francesca said. She sensed that she was going to have to be a little