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Celik nodded.

‘Good. Because next time I tell it I’m going to add speedboats, aeroplanes, sleepy mice and penguins.’

Rowan stood in front of the stern-faced grey-eyed man and stared down at a picture of what had once been an elegant Amsterdam canal house and was now little more than a pile of rubble, courtesy of some kind of explosion or bomb. The owner of the house—one Cerise Fallon—had not been injured in the explosion, but according to her there had been two others in the house at the time of the incident. A client, whose details had been lost along with her phone, and her seven-year-old son.

The next picture in the pile showed a picture of a beautiful woman standing in darkness, staring up at her burning house, her face lit by the nearby flames. Her tears looked convincing.

‘Two days ago you asked me if you could brief Jared West on a situation involving Antonov’s son,’ said Rowan’s boss. ‘Know anything about this?’

‘No, sir. I know nothing about this.’

‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘I never briefed Jared. I haven’t been able to get hold of him. Have they found any bodies yet? Her son? The body of the client?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then how do we know this isn’t something that the Dutch authorities set up in order to spirit the child away? With the mother’s full co-operation?’

‘We don’t.’

‘Do we know what caused the explosion?’

‘From what we can gather a boat caught fire outside the house. And then someone shot a grenade into a first-floor window. There’s a Dutch forensics and recovery team working on it now.’

‘A grenade?’ Rowan winced.

‘Was it West?’ he asked again.

‘I don’t know.’ Nothing but the truth.

‘You said you hadn’t been able to contact him. How many times did you try?’

‘I called his number immediately after I spoke to you about the case two days ago. My assistant has been trying to get hold of him ever since.’

‘And your inability to reach him didn’t make you suspicious?’

‘He’s just bought a yacht. I thought—’ Rowan stopped. There was no point continuing.

‘You presumed?’

‘Yes, sir, I presumed to know where he was.’

‘Get him in here, Director. Preferably tonight. Make me believe that Jared West had nothing to do with this.’

‘Yes, sir, I’ll try.’

When Rowan still couldn’t raise Jared she called his sister.

‘Rowan!’

Lena sounded pleased to hear from her. Lazy Saturday afternoon drinks down by the river last weekend had a lot to answer for.

‘You’d better make it Director Farringdon, Lena. This isn’t a social call. I’m looking for Jared.’

‘He took the boat out storm-chasing,’ Lena offered, a whole lot more carefully. ‘He does that.’

‘Are you prepared to swear to that in court?’

Silence.

‘If I send the coastguards out looking for him are they going to find him?’

More silence.

‘Is there any chance at all that he can put in an appearance down here before tomorrow morning?’

‘How about I get him to call you?’ said Lena.

And Rowan felt her heart break, just a little bit, because any faint hope she’d had that Jared wasn’t involved in this was rapidly dwindling.

‘That’s really not going to be good enough.’

‘I’m sure he’ll do his best.’

‘Thanks.’ Rowan hung up.

She was pretty sure he’d already done it.

Three days later there were still no bodies and Jared still hadn’t called. On the fourth day the authorities advised that two bodies had been found. One as yet unidentified male and Celik Antonov.

For the first time in her career Rowan stopped all calls, sat back in her fancy leather chair and tried to remember how to breathe.

Sam stood in the doorway, her expression uncertain. ‘Director, shall I send Jared West’s identification details to the Dutch authorities?’

‘No.’ It was barely a croak. ‘Let them do the work. We flag nothing. We have no knowledge of this. And, Sam? Cancel my appointments for the afternoon. I think I’m just going to go … home.’

She felt a sting in her eyes as Sam nodded and shut the door behind her. She wouldn’t let tears fall here, in this place. It wasn’t professional.

Think, Rowan. Think about this. Nothing was certain … even the child’s supposed death.

Theory one: the Dutch authorities had spirited Celik Antonov away somewhere and were misleading them all. Oh, she liked that theory.

Theory two: young Celik had indeed lost his life, but the unidentified body was not Jared’s. Rowan hated this theory, but it was better than the third.

Theory three: Jared was dead. Celik—dead. And a wrong call by her—back when Jared had wanted to go check on the boy—had contributed to their downfall.

If that was indeed Jared lying there in a body bag.

If it was.

So Jared had gone to see the boy—what then? What had gone wrong?’

Rowan wrapped her arms tightly around her middle and tried not to rock back and forth. She couldn’t be this bereft. It wasn’t possible. How could she have fallen so hard and so fast for Jared West when she’d only had the tiniest taste of him? A handful of stolen nights and a couple of meals—that was all. Intense when they were together, but it wasn’t as if they’d been sharing each other’s lives for a dozen years or more.

She hadn’t been witness to his life for very long at all.

She couldn’t be in love with him. She just couldn’t.

Trembling, she picked up the phone and dialled a number that she’d memorised days ago. ‘Lena?’

‘Rowan?’ She sounded uncertain. ‘I mean, Director …’

‘Yes. They’re saying that Celik Antonov is dead and that an unidentified male died with him. They’re saying they have the bodies.’ Rowan barely recognised the sound of her own voice. ‘Tell me that you know where Jared is. Tell me you’ve spoken to him.’

‘I’ve spoken to him,’ Lena said instantly.

Rowan choked on a moan.

‘Rowan? Director Farringdon? Do you hear me? I spoke to Jared not two hours ago. Whoever they have in that body bag, it’s not my brother. I know this.’

Rowan couldn’t speak. Her eyes were on fire and her throat kept trying to close. She couldn’t breathe.

‘Rowan, talk to me.’

‘No one’s—no one can find him.’

‘He does that. I couldn’t find him once for almost two years. I’m going to kill him. I told him to contact you. I told him.’

‘No—it’s—’ She tried to pull herself together and couldn’t.

‘Director—?’

‘I’ll let you go.’ A feeble end to a misguided phone call. ‘I have another call coming in.’

Liar.

Desolation warred with relief as Rowan put the phone gently back in its cradle and then put her head in both hands and dug her fingers into her scalp until it hurt. Lena said she’d spoken to Jared, and Rowan believed her. He was alive.

He just hadn’t seen fit to return her calls.

She made herself small and quiet—found that place deep down inside where she’d retreated so often as a child, that little dark hole where she could put herself back together again, piece by piece, until she was whole again.

Jared was alive. That was a block right there to build upon. Jared was alive and all she had to do now was sort out her private feelings for him and keep them separate from what was required of her professionally.

The Dutch were saying they had bodies. What good was it going to do anyone if she went sleuthing and discovered that this was a fabrication? What good would it do to confront Jared as to his whereabouts these past few days? Did she really want to know? Occasionally it was preferable simply to remain ignorant.

She’d know anyway. The minute she saw him again she’d know whether or not he’d had anything to do with Celik’s demise or disappearance.

She’d send him that report about the two bodies, and if that didn’t get him in here, spitting fire and glaring daggers … if that didn’t get him roaring at her for not letting him go check on the boy two weeks earlier.

As for the rest of her relationship with him …

Deep down inside she started to curl in on herself again—so little spine, so weak and pathetic.

No need to be in love with a man she’d only known a few weeks.

No need to mourn the loss of a connection that had never been there in the first place.

He didn’t trust her, and maybe she didn’t trust him, and without at least some level of trust there was nothing worth having.

She’d needed him to call her this week and share something. His actions, his whereabouts. She’d have even gratefully accepted the briefest of calls just to let her know that he was still breathing.

But no.

He’d offered nothing.

Jared flew into Canberra dead tired but determined to see Rowan. Damon had forwarded him the press release from the Dutch, citing Celik and an unknown male dead, case closed and no more questions.

Celik’s mother had probably told them of his involvement by now, but that was all they knew. Jared had told them nothing, so whatever game they were playing … he wasn’t in on it. No one knew where Celik was now. As far as Jared was concerned no one ever needed to.

He took a taxi to the ASIS building and talked his way past the front desk. His presence had been requested by the director of Section Five after all.

Several days ago now.

Rowan’s trusty assistant sat at the outer desk as usual, headphones on and fingers flying across the keyboard. It made his silent approach easier, and he was almost upon her before she looked up from her work. Her eyes widened at first, and then narrowed alarmingly. No welcome in them whatsoever as she slid her headphones off and stared at him in silence.

‘Hey, Sam. Is she in?’

‘If by she you mean Director Farringdon, then, no. Not in.’

Okay, maybe he should try that again. ‘May I make an appointment to see the director, please?’

‘Sweet manners, but you’ll still have to wait your turn. How about—?’ Sam turned her attention back to her computer screen. ‘Friday week?’

‘Seriously? She left a message saying she wanted to see me.’

‘That was last week, when she was being hauled over the coals for a stunt some fool pulled in Amsterdam. Two dead, apparently.’

Jared scowled. ‘I’ve seen the report.’

‘Have you, now? And yet it still took you three days to put in an appearance? Where have you been, Mr West?’

‘Busy.’

‘Aren’t we all? The director’s not here and she no longer needs to see you. I’ll let her know you’ve been in.’ She slipped her headphones back on, dismissing him. ‘You know the way out. You’ve walked it enough.’

Yes, he should have called her. He’d been somewhere in Poland when Damon had relayed her first message. He’d thought about calling her and lying outright, but that hadn’t sat well with him. He’d thought about calling her and coming clean, but he honestly hadn’t known what she would do with the information.

She was a director for the Australian Secret Intelligence Service. She’d have been obliged to hand that information over to them. She couldn’t tell them what she didn’t know.

Surely she would know that he’d been protecting her?

Surely she could see that a new start had been imperative for Celik and that someone had to organise it and that the best man for the job had been him?

Surely …

And even if they did have differences of opinion when it came to the way he’d handled the situation, surely she’d hear him out?

Wouldn’t she?

He had every confidence in her ability to bring a thoughtful, rational approach with her to their current predicament. That was why he was currently pacing the pavement outside her apartment block like a downtrodden preacher without an audience.

He saw her drive past and into the car park beneath the building. He knew he was in trouble when she walked back out of the driveway and started towards him. She looked older tonight, in the shadows of the evening. As if her own light had dimmed in the week since he’d last seen her.

It had only been a week.

Okay, a week and a half—and he’d got here as soon as he could.

She stopped in front of him and simply stood there and looked at him—and the tilt of her lips might have been a smile but for the complete lack of a smile behind them.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and tried not to worry.

‘You’re looking good,’ she said. ‘You always do.’

Okay, he had no idea where she was going with this. Nowhere good. ‘I got here as soon as I could.’

‘You heard about Celik Antonov’s death?’

‘I heard about his supposed death. Not sure I believe it,’ he offered carefully, and watched as what little light she had left went out altogether.

‘I tried to call you,’ she said quietly. ‘I was hoping to bring you in on the case before the situation worsened. I thought you’d want in on it. Did you not get my messages?’

‘They caught up with me a couple of days back.’ He opted for the half-truth, knowing as the words spilled from his lips that his explanation wouldn’t satisfy her.

‘And the reason they didn’t catch up with you before then …?’

‘I switched phones and left the old phone at home.’

At least that was the truth. He hadn’t known that Rowan had been trying to contact him practically from the moment he’d left for Europe.

‘I should have called you sooner, though. I just wasn’t altogether sure who I’d get. The woman I have a relationship with or the ASIS director.’

‘Something we might have discussed had you rung,’ she said bleakly. ‘Why couldn’t you have given me that opportunity? Do you trust me that little?’

‘I was trying to protect you.’

‘In that case, keep up the good work. Go home, Jared. And if you don’t have one of those go wherever it is that you go when you don’t want to be found.’

‘Rowan, please. Hear me out.’

‘No. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Not in relation to any case that has just been closed. Not in relation to anything else.’

‘We have a relationship,’ he insisted.

‘No. A relationship requires some small measure of trust and respect for the other person’s feelings. We had sex.’

‘We had more than that.’

‘I thought you were dead.’

Okay, so there was that …

‘I go into work and have a report come in on Celik Antonov’s situation. I immediately ask for permission to bring you in on it. I call and you don’t answer. Two days later I get hauled over the coals for a situation that I know nothing about and I try to call you again. Still no answer. And then it gets worse. I get a report over my desk that Celik and an unidentified man are dead. I sit there and I wonder, and I try not to fall apart. Finally I call your sister and tell her that I haven’t heard from you, that I have this report on my desk. And she knows what I’m thinking without me having to say a word and she throws me a bone. She tells me that you’re not dead—and at least that’s something, right? You’re alive.’ Her voice cracked. ‘That was two days ago.’

‘Ro—

‘No! Do you have any idea how I felt? One phone call, Jared. You could have told me you were in Antarctica and I wouldn’t have pushed you for anything else. But you never made the call. You didn’t trust me with any information at all. How do you think that made me feel?’

‘Rowan, let’s take this inside.’ He was shaking. ‘Let me explain.’

But she went toe to toe with him instead. ‘What’s to explain? You don’t trust me. You left me and I didn’t even know where you’d gone. Where—in any of this—is your consideration for my feelings for you? Anywhere? Because I can’t see it.’

‘I can do better. I will. There won’t be another situation like the one we were just in. We can do this, Rowan—please. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m sorry too. Because I so badly wanted to believe in us. But you don’t get to diminish me like that—make me feel as if I barely exist.’

The tears that spilled down her cheeks gutted him.

‘I won’t let you.’

‘Rowan, don’t—

‘No! Go away, Jared. I don’t want to hear it. I’m sorry, but we’re done.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RIGHTEOUS ANGER MIGHT have helped Rowan hang together long enough to do what had had to be done, but it didn’t make for good company. She spent one night locked in misery and the next day and night functioning on autopilot, wishing Jared West would disappear from her memory—only it wasn’t happening.

He’d put in another appearance at Section and she’d immediately kicked him over to Corbin, who’d questioned him about the Amsterdam incident.

Not surprisingly, Jared had denied all involvement.

She’d watched the interview from behind a one-way mirror, along with the steely-eyed man who oversaw all the sections, and at the end of the interview he’d turned to her and asked if she believed the story West was spinning.

‘Do you?’ she’d asked quietly, but hadn’t waited for his answer.

She cut her work-day short and went to see her grandfather.

He was in his garden, as usual, pampering runner beans, dahlias, and his fifty-year-old tortoise, Veronica. He smiled when he saw her.

‘Granddaughter.’ The smile dimmed somewhat when he got a good look at her. ‘What gives? Because you are three hours and one day early for our dinner date.’

‘It’s been a hard week. I wanted to touch base with my favourite tortoise.’

She spared a glance for her grandfather’s pond. Yep, there she was. Half out of the pond, neck at full stretch, and beady eyes trained on the latest goings-on. Nothing escaped Veronica.

‘Problem at work?’

‘There was. But it’s been resolved.’

‘To your satisfaction?’

‘To the satisfaction of some.’

‘But not you?’

‘Can’t have everything.’ She’d learned that as a child. ‘Do you think I have abandonment issues?’

Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s quite a question …’

‘Are you likely to need tea, coffee or any other fortifying beverage before giving me an answer?’

‘Tea and cake might help it along some.’

He gathered up his walking stick and headed inside and Rowan followed. Not until they were both settled at the little kitchen table by the window did he return to the question.

‘Who let you down?’

‘A man. A young, impulsive one.’

‘A good man?’

‘Yes.’ It was true, even though the word burned on her tongue. ‘In many ways … yes. He’s a little reckless.’

‘You’re a little cautious.’

‘I’m not cautious at all. I just like to plan ahead and cover my bases.’

He smiled slightly. ‘And everyone else’s.’

Okay, maybe he had a point. ‘Remember how I mentioned that we were bringing someone in from deep undercover? His name’s Jared West and he’s the one I’m having trouble with.’

‘In a personal sense or a professional one?’

Rowan sipped at her coffee. ‘Both. Although he no longer works for ASIS. He finished up a couple of weeks ago—as soon as his debrief was done.’

‘How long was he undercover for?’

‘Two years. He was in the employ of an international arms dealer.’

‘Antonov?’ Her grandfather huffed a dry laugh. ‘He brought down the Antonov operation?’

‘Yes. And left Antonov’s son exposed. The boy was placed with his mother, but she couldn’t cope with the legacy Antonov left behind. I think Jared relocated the child. Put him somewhere safe. That’s what I’d like to think. But I don’t know.’

Rowan shrugged and traced doodles on the tablecloth with her fingertip.

‘I got too close to him, Grandfather. I let myself care for the man and then he went no contact. He just … disappeared without a word and I didn’t know where he was.’ Her heart thumped hard. ‘I hate that.’

‘I know you do. Did Jared West have a reason for going no contact?’

‘You mean besides not wanting anyone to know what he was up to?’

‘Plausible deniability, Rowan. You know how it’s done. This way you know nothing. And you continue to know nothing.’

‘And then there’s what would be best for the child. I know it was playing on his mind. The child needed witness protection. A new life. We could have arranged it.’

‘Although possibly not to Jared West’s satisfaction,’ her grandfather said dryly.

‘Possibly not.’

Her grandfather regarded her solemnly. ‘Did he know that you might react badly to not knowing where he was? Did you tell him about your upbringing in those early years?’

‘I— No. I don’t really talk about that.’

‘Maybe you should.’

Rowan picked up her coffee mug and took a deep gulp. ‘So I’m asking again,’ she continued doggedly. ‘In this case, given what I’ve told you, do you think I have abandonment issues?’

‘Yes. You developed them as a child and for a time you let them rule you. But you’re not a child now.’

‘I sent him away.’

‘So get him back.’

‘I suggested he stay away.’

‘Can a person not admit that they were wrong?’

‘Was I wrong?’

‘Rowan. I’m not all-knowing and all-seeing, no matter how wise I like to think I am. Only you can answer that one.’

Jared hadn’t given up. He never gave up when he wanted something badly enough. He figured it would come as no surprise to the director that he would give her a couple of days to cool off and then he’d be back. With food that might tempt her to stop and take a bite. With another apology—a bigger one—and an explanation if she wanted it. With promises if she wanted those, and every intention of keeping them.

He kept his word.

She saw him the minute she walked away from the ASIS building at nine p.m. Hard not to, given that he was standing there leaning against his car. She’d agreed to give him five minutes of her time. Or Sam had agreed on Rowan’s behalf. Either way, she headed towards him without hesitation.

‘I probably have half an hour left in me before my brain gives up in exhaustion,’ she said quietly. ‘Would you like to join me at the Marble Bar?’

It was a white-collar work haunt, connected to an international hotel chain, and it was just around the corner. The booths were private and the lights were low. They could have a relatively private conversation there—of a sort.

‘Sure.’

He opened the car door for her, wanting nothing more than to gather her up, wrap his arms around her and bury his head in the curve of her neck and stay there until she softened. Her body would remember him. He could coax capitulation from her, he was sure.

Instead he kept his manners in place and tried to ignore the silent simmer between them as they made their way to the bar and found a booth and placed their drinks order. Decaf coffee for them both. He added a couple of side dishes for good measure. Lamb pieces in a yoghurt sauce. Rice balls.

‘I made a promise,’ he began. ‘To a seven-year-old. When the world around us was burning I promised that I would look out for him and I have. I will continue to look out for him from afar. I’d rather you didn’t ask, but if you do I will tell you everything.’

‘I’m not asking.’ She held his gaze. ‘The case is closed.’

‘Which kind of just leaves the promises I want to make to you going forward.’

He watched as tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to fall. She looked utterly miserable, and so far away from him in that moment that she broke his heart.

‘Don’t cry. Don’t. I can’t stand it.’

‘Talk,’ she said raggedly. ‘I’m listening now. I wasn’t the last time I saw you.’

Where to start?

‘I should have told you I was heading off and wouldn’t be in contact for a while. I thought the less you knew of my movements last week the better, but clearly that isn’t going to work for us.’

‘I used to wake up all the time when I was small. New country, big house with staff, and my parents would be gone. No one ever told me anything. I used to feel so invisible. I still react badly to feeling invisible.’

‘I have never thought of you as invisible. I walk into a room and you’re the one I look for. As for those bodies that the Dutch claim exist … That was never part of my plan. I knew you’d be wondering what had gone on with the boy and I thought to protect you by telling you nothing. I knew you were looking for me and I still didn’t call. I would have called had I known what I know now. If ever there’s a next time, I will call. There can be ground rules. Never leave without saying goodbye. Never stay away without getting in touch. Never let you think that I don’t love you. Because I love you so much.’

He’d always thought that those simple little words of love would be hard for him to say.

They weren’t.

‘I love you.’

‘You do?’ She curled her hand around her coffee cup and wouldn’t look at him. ‘You could have anyone.’

‘Good—because I choose you.’

‘Someone beautiful.’

‘You are beautiful. And don’t say I could have someone young, who’d want to give me a family. I know what I want. From the moment I saw you that was me gone. Please, Rowan. Give me another chance.’

‘Okay.’

He could barely hear her.

‘You kind of had me at I made a promise to a seven-year-old. And you kept it.’

Finally she looked up at him and he allowed himself to hope.

‘Would you like to take this somewhere more private? My place?’

‘Or my place here? You haven’t seen that one yet. Or the apartment? Wherever you feel the most comfortable.’

‘My place. Or— No. There’s no food in the fridge.’

‘Do we care? Are we caring about that?’

‘Not even ice cream. I ate it in one sitting. When I thought you were dead.’

‘Perfectly reasonable.’ He had sisters. He could handle this.

‘I cursed you to straight to hell.’

‘Harsh, but fair.’

‘You do realise the power balance will tumble back and forward between us all the time?’

He smiled at that. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘And my work—we’re going to need some ground rules when it comes to what I can discuss.’

‘I can understand that. I’m good with that. I have a couple of ongoing projects that I won’t discuss either. We can do this. We just need to keep the communication lines open when it comes to what we can’t discuss. I can tell you I’m off to visit the penguins in Antarctica every now and then. Call you from an iceberg.’

He spun some money on the table, more than enough to cover the drinks they’d ordered, and stood.

‘I really need to hold you now. And we need to take it somewhere private, because my self-control is all but shot.’

She came around to his side and pressed up against him.

He’d never known a woman’s touch that could both soothe and inflame him until this touch. He never wanted any other woman at his side but this one.

‘My place is closest,’ she whispered. ‘We could go there, and I could gather the courage to stand naked before you and tell you that I love you right back.’

‘Good plan.’

They made it outside and to the car door before he gave in to temptation and kissed her.

‘You have no idea how much I admire your forward-thinking right now.’

‘And then you can get naked too—I can help you with that—and then you can tell me you love me again.’ She smiled dulcetly. ‘And make me believe it.’