Keeper's Reach by Carla Neggers Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t be able to identify a good forgery—and Ted Kavanagh would only have a good forgery.
    “You know how to get on people’s nerves when it suits you,” he said.
    “Sometimes it just works out that way.”
    “It’s not on purpose, you mean?”
    She didn’t respond. She started on her porridge. It was the chewy pinhead kind, and the trickle of warm blackberry compote turned out to be a sweet, delicious pool. In another life, she would do things like make compotes. In this life—her life now, at this moment—she did things like get through surprise breakfasts with FBI agents she didn’t trust and who didn’t trust her.
    “I appreciate that it’s your business to find out things,” he said. “It’s how you make your living. It’s also who you are, though, isn’t it? It’s a control issue. This need to know things.”
    “Psychoanalyzing me? It won’t get you far.” She held up her spoon. “This porridge is incredible, T.K. I never would have thought to add blackberry compote, but it’s a stroke of genius. I’m happy I chose the porridge instead of a full English breakfast, since I don’t like black pudding and have trouble with the idea of baked beans before noon. There’s not much you can do to a blackberry that I wouldn’t like. Without the compote, I can’t imagine how annoyed I’d be with you right now. You can’t just make up stuff about me.”
    “I’m not making up anything, and I don’t care if you’re annoyed.”
    “I’m getting that picture.”
    He fingered a bit of loose-leaf tea that had fallen on the table next to his mug. “I need you to be straight with me, Naomi.”
    “That’s a two-way street.”
    He shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”
    “Now I remember. You never did have a sense of humor. I’m here enjoying a decadent breakfast before my long flight across the Atlantic. I’ll take a good walk, too. I don’t care if it’s cold and rainy.”
    “Rain’s ending. Where will you walk?”
    “Not sure yet.” It wasn’t a flat-out lie but it was close. She knew where she was going. She just hadn’t figured out the route. “What about you? What are your plans for the day, T.K.?”
    “Leaving you to your own devices if you won’t talk to me.”
    “Good.”
    He sucked in a breath and tapped the table with his fingertips, as though he wanted to let her know he was practicing self-restraint. He clearly wanted to throw the table aside and throttle her. “You know you can get into trouble lying to a federal agent, don’t you?”
    “I’m not lying. I do think it’s good for you to leave me to my own devices. I don’t want an FBI agent to waste his time on my account.” Naomi set her spoon next to her porridge bowl. “Anything else I can do for you, Agent Kavanagh?”
    “Why do you have doubts about me, Naomi?”
    She glanced past him at the windows above the buffet table. Sunlight broke through the gray, at least for the moment, shining on puddles and brown, dripping vines. She hadn’t mentioned—and wouldn’t—that before she ventured into St. James’s Park she’d visited an art gallery to have a look at a show by Aoife O’Byrne, an Irish artist. She knew damn well Kavanagh had followed her there and then into the park. Let him admit it.
    She did know how to spot tails, but she hadn’t been thinking about having one when she’d walked from her hotel to the gallery—and she wasn’t sure she’d have spotted an FBI tail. Ted Kavanagh might be on her nerves right now, but he was good.
    The sun seemed to be fading already. Naomi turned back to the FBI agent. “Well, T.K., for one thing, you were in London on your own and now you’re here on your own. Most FBI agents work in pairs. Where’s your partner?”
    He settled back against the cushioned bench. “Feel free to call any FBI office if you want to check up on me.”
    “No, thanks. If you’re on the level, I’d only heap scrutiny on myself. Not that I have anything to hide, but who needs