Chasing the White Lion, James Hannibal [ebook reader macos .TXT] 📗

open window and blew the rear window of the hatchback to scattered bits. “Can’t get the angle on our man. Little help?”

With a frustrated grunt, she switched into drive and gunned the engine. She hit the rear corner of the killer’s car full force.

The hatchback skidded sideways and knocked the man down. He tried to rise as Talia continued past, but Finn dropped him with the blunderbuss.

“Did you just kill him?”

“Boss wouldn’t like it.” Finn pulled himself back into the car. One of his arms was bleeding, caked with chunks of broken glass. “But I’ll wager that rubber ball Matilda planted in his chest shattered his sternum.”

Talia could only assume Matilda was the blunderbuss. She checked the rearview mirror. The attacker had dragged himself back into the vehicle. Two more cars drove through the intersection as if nothing had happened. Standard Washington, DC.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

GREAT FALLS DRIVE

NEAR WOLF TRAP, VIRGINIA

FINNDIRECTED TALIA and her bullet-ridden Civic onto the Dulles Toll Road. She set the cruise control, thankful it still worked, and shot him a glare. She had to raise her voice over the wind blowing in through the broken window. “What’s going on?”

“That guy had a scope fixed on Langley’s southern gate all morning. He picked you up on your way out and pulled into traffic ahead of you. So I moved in.”

There had to be more to the story. Talia waited for the rest. He didn’t offer it. She ground her teeth. “I need more details. Who was the assassin? Better yet, why were you watching for him in the first place?”

He pointed to a sign over the highway. “Take exit 117. Two miles.”

“I asked you a question.”

“Did you? I must not have heard. Quite loud over here. Window’s broken.”

“Fine.” She pulled out her phone. “If you won’t work with me, I’m calling the Agency. Protocol dictates I call this in anyway.”

“Nope.” He snatched the phone away and tossed it out the window.

A semitruck crunched it under two of its tires. “Finn!”

The exit came up. He gestured at the sign with his gun.

Talia sighed and signaled for the lane change. “Please, talk to me.”

The noise in the car quieted as Talia slowed on the feeder. “All right. Here it is. Tyler worries. With good reason. Did you really think the attempt in Volgograd would be a one-off? And by the way, a thank-you wouldn’t kill you. I did just save your life. Again.”

“Thanks. Okay? Thanks for Volgograd and thanks for today.” She glanced at his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

“Nothing some Neosporin and a few Snoopy bandages won’t cure. Take your next right.”

She made the turn onto a long, tree-lined street and took a breath. “Tyler’s still hovering—”

“Looking out for you.”

“Hovering. And now he’s using you as a proxy?”

“Not me. Mac. Our Scottish friend is following in the Jag.” His eyes went to the rearview mirror, leading Talia’s gaze. She saw a Jaguar F-Type turn onto the road to follow them. Finn gave her a little shrug, almost shy. “I . . . volunteered to ride along.”

“Because you’re that bored?”

There was a flash of heat in his eyes. His features hardened, and he looked out through the broken window. “Yeah. I’m that bored. Take your next right, your highness.”

Her sarcasm had cut him more deeply than she intended. For the rest of the drive, she got nothing out of Finn but directions. One winding road turned to another until a gate swung wide and the trees gave way to a stone manor with a circular drive. Talia couldn’t nail down the period of the house, but a long garage beside the drive showed signs of having once been a stable.

Finn got out. “Go in the house, out of sight. I’ll park the car.”

“Finn, your arm. It needs—”

“I said go.”

Talia gave up on the argument and relinquished the driver’s seat. Mossy steps led to the door and, thankfully, to a friendly face.

“Conrad.” She took the older gentleman’s hand. Officially Tyler’s private chef, Conrad rarely traveled with the team, but he was Talia’s favorite. The sight of him was like a warm hug. She moved in for a real one.

“Oh my,” he said, patting her back. “There, there, child. I’ve missed you too. No one else in this band of misfits has a palate worthy of my creations.”

She released him and passed a finger over the rich velvet breast of his waistcoat. “Plum. I like it. Branching out from the usual tweed, are we?”

“I’m feeling festive.”

“Why?”

“You’re home safe.”

Home. What place qualified as home in their line of work? “What happened to Tyler’s place on Chesapeake Bay?”

“He found it too ostentatious.”

Talia glanced back at the Jag pulling into the drive. “Nothing is too ostentatious for Mr. Tyler.”

“Touché. Perhaps, in truth, the other house was too far away from you.”

Conrad led her inside, pausing beneath the walnut arch of a butler’s pantry. “Can I get you something? Sweet? Savory?”

“Surprise me.”

“I’ll take some o’ them wee sandwiches from last night if there’s leftovers.” Mac walked up behind them, waving a meaty hand. But Conrad had already disappeared into the kitchen.

Wolf Manor, as Mac called it, was a study in wood paneling and dim hallways. Sitting room, great room, dining room, atrium—the Scotsman gave her a tour while they both tried Conrad’s sweet pea and risotto cakes.

“And where is Tyler?”

“Waitin’ for ya in the library. Far end o’ the western wing.”

Mac directed her to a long hall, but he didn’t go with her. Talia found Tyler in a hexagonal room lined with bookshelves, each with a rolling ladder. As she walked through the door, he kept his gaze buried in the heavy text in his lap.

“So you’re not dead.”

“Thanks to you, I guess.”

“You guess? Wait, I’ve heard this one before.” He cracked a smile, eyes bright behind a pair of reading glasses. “You had it handled.”

“Maybe. I didn’t get the chance to try before Finn swooped in.”

Tyler closed his book. “You mean Mac.”

“No, I mean Finn.”

His expression remained steady, as always, but Talia could see he hadn’t known Finn