“What about the Russians?”
“No sign of them,” he said. “Quinn, get here as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
Quinn hung up, then looked in the mirror and ran his hands across his face.
Professionally, he was in the wrong, and he knew it. He
He should have, but instead he was in Paris, two hundred miles away.
A job had been offered, and Quinn had agreed to do it. In his world, commitment, reliability, and trust were the true currencies. Without them, you quickly fell out of favor, and soon found yourself doing little check-and-reports like Julien just to stay afloat, or futilely scratching from the outside to get back in, or lying in an unmarked grave with a bullet in your skull because your unreliability came at a cost too high for your employer to ignore.
He eased the bathroom door open and stepped across the threshold, but then stopped. From down the hall, he could hear Liz and Nate. They were talking. Pleasantly.
In fact, they seemed almost friendly.
The minute Quinn stepped out of the living room, Nate said, “About earlier, I apologize.”
Liz shook her head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She was more relaxed now that her brother was gone.
“So what are you studying? I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.” He was playing the disarming, interested male. A role he slid into naturally.
“It’s fine to ask,” Liz said. “I’m working on a doctorate from the Archaeology and Art History Department. Specifically, I’m interested in the influence of Flemish painters on French society in the Renaissance period.” She gave him a sideways look. “Did your brain just freeze? It happens to all my friends when I tell them that.”
“It might have. Painters like Jean Clouet, right?”
She stared at him, her surprise evident.
“I have a B.A. in history,” he said, smiling, “and am working on a master’s in European history at UCLA. Well, will be working on it when I go back to school in January.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Okay, so maybe I won’t be going back until next fall. But don’t say anything to your brother. If he tells my dad, I’m screwed.”
From her throat came a sound that was half grunt, half laugh. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Nate hesitated. “Yeah, I got the impression you guys don’t get along too well.” He paused. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like we were hiding it. What are you doing with him, anyway?”
“My dad again. He found out your brother was in Paris, and he knew I was headed here. So he asked him to check on me. I’m only hanging out with him because he might buy me lunch, and if I play my cards right he might spring for dinner, too.” A sheepish smile. “You know how it is. Student salary and all.”
“Totally get it,” she said. “So you’re traveling around?”
“Yeah. Doing the Europe thing. But wanted to come when it was quieter.”
“Where have you been so far?”
“Copenhagen, Berlin, Amsterdam, Brussels. And now here. Thought I’d hang around a week or so, then maybe head south for Spain.”
“I love Spain.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Nate said. From down the hall, he thought he heard the bathroom door open. “I’m thinking I want to hit Barcelona and Madrid for sure. Then maybe pop over to Portugal. I hear the coast is beautiful.”
“I still need to get there.” Liz’s enthusiasm was genuine. She seemed caught up in the idea of his trip. “When you’re in Spain, you’ve got to check out the Alhambra. You’re planning on that, right?”
“Definitely. I’m visiting as many historic sites as possible.” He leaned toward her and said in a faux whisper, “It’s how I talked my dad into funding the trip. ‘Seeing the actual locations will help me with my studies.’ ”
She laughed. “And he bought that?”
“I don’t know if he did or not, but he pretended to. Funny thing is, it’s kind of turned out to be true.”
“When did you get to Paris?” she asked.
“Just this morning. Your brother was waiting for me at Paris Nord. I was going to stay in Brussels a few more days, but my father wanted me to come here to meet Jake. He’s paying the bills, so I said okay.”
“You’re going to love Paris,” she said. “History everywhere. You could spend months here and not see it all.”
“I can’t afford to spend months,” Nate said. “I think I can barely afford to spend a week. Kind of why I’m heading to Spain. I hear it’s cheaper.”
“If you play it right, you can stretch your euro here. Are you staying in a hostel?”
“Don’t know where I’m staying yet. Haven’t had time to look.” Nate decided it was time to take a chance. “Any recommendations?”
She looked like she was about to say something, but then stopped. She shook her head. “I’ve always had a
