Ice Storm by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page B

woman—isolated, vulnerable. And she knew all about Killian, the graduate student from
Indiana
, with three sisters, a widowed mother, a small-town doctor for a father, a French girlfriend and a lifelong interest in botany. She knew nothing at all about the Killian who’d grown upon the streets of
L.A.
, with a junkie for a mother and no father at all. No, sweet, innocent Mary Isobel wouldn’t know what a monster she was taking into her bed. With luck she’d never find out. They’d reached a village about twenty miles inland, and he pulled over next to a pay phone. “Shit,” he said.
    She turned to look at him with those blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
    “I forgot to call Marie-Claire.” It had been a twist of black humor on his part; his contact was a mercenary with the unlikely name of Clarence. “She sounded strange last time I talked with her.”
    “Strange?”
He managed the perfect hint of a sigh. Too much would be out of character. “I think she might have found someone else.” he said glumly. “She spent the last three weeks on a photo shoot in
Germany
, and she was going to meet up with me in Marseille. But when I talked to her last night she said she couldn’t make it, and I got pissed off and hung up on her, which is not a smart thing to do with a Frenchwoman. They’re far better at being pissed off than I am.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Mary Isobel anxious, bless her heart, worried about him, when the removal of the fictional Marie-Claire would clear the way for her.
“Maybe,” he said, sliding out of the car and heading for the pay phone. Tonight. Two days before his rendezvous in Marseille. Two days to enjoy her and cement his cover. Before he turned her world upside down.
     
    Now Peter pulled the Saab into the underground parking garage at Heathrow, sliding it into the narrow space reserved for Spence-Pierce Financial Consultants, Ltd. He glanced over at his wife. Genevieve who looked flushed, slightly rumpled and very happy. She smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back, against his will. It was good to see her happy again, at least for the time being. Maybe if he could keep her in bed twenty- four/seven she wouldn’t cry. Maybe if he could keep her in bed twenty-four/seven they’d be able to make a baby, and she wouldn’t greet each new month with silent tears. Trust him to fall in love with a woman with a wicked biological clock.
At least for now she was in a good mood, and he, simple creature that he was, was so well fucked that nothing could depress him. Not even the thought of training one of Takashi O’Brien’s nerdy cousins. Peter wouldn’t have thought Taka could be related to nerds, given his Yakuza background and his admittedly dramatic presence. But Peter had read the dossier on Hiromasa Shinoda until his eyes began to glaze over. First in his class at
Kansei
University
, experienced in software design and engineering, someone whose record was completely spotless. It didn’t augur well for the life of a Committee operative.
But he trusted Taka as much as he trusted anyone, and if Taka thought one of his cousins would make a good recruit, then Peter would give him the benefit of the doubt.
    At least it wasn’t his maniac punk cousin,
Reno
. Genevieve threaded her hand through his as they headed for international arrivals. He could have arranged for a private meeting, but there was no reason to go to so much trouble. There was nothing to point suspicion at young Hiromasa Shinoda, just another studious Japanese salary man arriving in
London
for a little international polish. Except that it would be in the world of death and danger, not banking and commerce.
    “What are we supposed to do with Taka’s cousin?” Genny said. “We don’t have to bring him home with us, do we?”
      “I have an apartment already set up at the office in Kensington. Taka says he’s quite the student—I’ll give him enough research to keep him out of our hair for