Shana Galen by True Spies Read Free Book Online

heard of a man named Foncé?”
    Winn shook his head.
    “You will. This key belongs to him.” Melbourne twirled the key before pocketing it. “He won’t be happy to learn you managed to steal it from him.”
    “I have many enemies.”
    “Not like this one you don’t. Your leave pales in comparison to the damage Foncé and the Maîtriser group have done to this organization in the last few weeks alone. Agents are dead, Baron. I want every available agent assisting this investigation.”
    “It warms my heart to learn how utterly indispensable I am to the Barbican group,” Winn said, finishing the tea. “But I will take my chances.” If he did not take his leave now, Elinor was never going to forgive him. He could not disappoint her yet again or risk disappointing Georgiana too by missing her birthday party.
    He would not become his father.
    “Will you risk the life of your family as well?”
    Winn narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”
    “Your wife and your daughters are in danger as long as this man is free.”
    Baron clenched his fists. “Then why hasn’t anyone caught him? What about Blue or the legendary Wolf? I’m not the only agent you have. What about Saint? He always gets his man.”
    Melbourne smiled thinly. “As it happens, Agent Wolf requested your assistance. I agreed. It is done.”
    “No, it is not,” Winn said. “You know I work alone.”
    Melbourne pressed his palms to his desk, his look stony. “I don’t recall offering you a choice.”
    Winn waved a hand. “No need to apologize.”
    Melbourne’s look might have melted steel, but Winn didn’t look away. He wasn’t working with Wolf. He didn’t need another partner. He didn’t know Wolf, but he wasn’t going to be responsible for the man’s widow.
    “I’m not apologizing,” Melbourne said, “and you are to be partnered with Wolf.” He held up a hand before Winn could argue. “This partnership is only temporary. Wolf is not officially a member of the Barbican group any longer, but he is more knowledgeable about Foncé than any of my agents. I need a Barbican man working with him.”
    “And if I refuse?”
    Melbourne’s lips thinned. “You’ll find yourself in the dungeon filing old cases.” The dungeon was the term Barbican agents used for the warehouse under the offices of the group. It was damp, cold, and dark. The number of files was astronomical. Winn knew his eyes would cross within hours of stepping foot inside. Rumor was agents had become lost amid the files and were never seen again.
    Winn leaned back in his chair. “Wolf or the dungeon? Difficult choice.”
    “No, it isn’t.” Melbourne’s expression softened, and Winn curled his hands into fists. He knew that sad-eyed look, and he didn’t want it directed at him. The last thing he wanted was Melbourne’s pity. “Baron—Winn,” Melbourne began, “what happened was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault. You were cleared of any wrongdoing—”
    “Yes, yes, I know. I should be the one with the code name Saint . Sometimes even I cannot fathom how virtuous I am. Clearly, I should be granted leave. Failing that—and I know how you hate to part from me—I should be given a new assignment working alone.”
    Melbourne held his gaze. “Request denied. Meet Agent Wolf at this address. Lord Smythe will introduce you.” He handed Winn a card. “Ten this evening, or I’ll have your head.”
    ***
    Elinor watched Georgiana glide across the floor with her dance instructor, Mister Winkle. Mister Winkle must have been about sixty; he had been her own dance instructor. He was firm but kind and had a manner that put young ladies at ease. In the corner of their modest ballroom, near the open windows, Caro sat with the girls’ governess and painted. It was a bright, sunny day, and a light breeze wafted through the room, rustling the gauzy curtains.
    Elinor could think of few places she’d rather be than here, with her two girls, on such a lovely day. Not that