City of Spies by Nina Berry Page B

know, but I need to.”
    Two sharp knocks on the front door made her pivot.
    â€œProbably your steak,” Devin said. “You still up to eating?”
    â€œMaybe in a bit,” she said, starting to move to the door.
    â€œI’ll get it,” he said, and was at the door in one swift move, tipping the server right at the doorway and wheeling in the cart himself, pausing to knock on Mercedes’s door. “Steak’s here.”
    Mercedes poked her head out. “Thanks.” She grabbed her plate and utensils off the tray. “Hey, do you know if they sell American comics here? I’m missing the second issue of Fantastic Four because Pagan’s a spy.”
    Devin let out a surprised laugh.
    Pagan smiled in spite of herself. “You can get it when you go home next week!”
    â€œMight be sold out,” Mercedes said, raising her eyebrows. “It’s a whole new thing for Marvel, you know.”
    â€œSo you keep saying,” Pagan said.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do,” Devin said. “No promises.”
    â€œThank you,” Mercedes said with a sly grin, and vanished once more into her room with her food.
    â€œYou do not have to get her a comic book,” Pagan said. “You’re not her butler.”
    â€œI don’t mind asking,” he said, picking up a covered dish and a cold bottle of Coke off the tray.
    Pagan walked up, hands out to take the food from him. “She is obsessed! Thanks.”
    â€œSit down,” he said, his lips softening. “I’ll serve.”
    She bit down a smile and sat down in the chair by the suite’s desk as Devin set the plate down and opened the Coke bottle. He handed it to her. Her fingers slipped on the outside condensation and touched his. A brief touch, then his hand was gone.
    â€œThey don’t call it Her Majesty’s Secret Service for nothing,” he said, and lifted the cover off her plate with a flourish.
    A cloud of fragrant steam rose from the large, beautiful steak lying there. Pagan leaned in to inhale, as Devin unfurled her napkin and laid it on her lap.
    He leaned over her as he did it, and her shoulder brushed his chest. For a moment the heat from his skin enveloped her reassuringly. A whisper of his breath touched her temple.
    She turned to him and looked up. He was looking down at her. Their lips were inches apart. Any moment now he’d close the gap to kiss her, pull her close.
    Then he stepped back.
    â€œYou don’t have to do this for us.” Devin walked over to stare out the window, his back to her. “I know you want to, but maybe it’s best.”
    So they weren’t going to make out. Fine.
    â€œI’m going to do this,” she said, and took a fizzy sip of Coke to settle her nerves.
    â€œYou’re not responsible for what your mother did,” he said. “You don’t have anything to prove.”
    â€œMercedes said that, too, but neither of you grew up loving your mother only to find out later she hobnobbed with war criminals. She helped them.” Pagan took another sip of Coke. The saturated sweetness coated her tongue, a memory of hot summer days playing tag with Ava in their terraced backyard while Mama yelled at them not to get too dirty before dinner. How could that woman be the same one who welcomed Dr. Someone into their home, who helped him escape?
    â€œDo you think she regretted it?” Pagan asked suddenly.
    â€œYour mother?” Devin turned from the window, puzzled, until realization eased the line between his brows. “You’re thinking that’s maybe why she committed suicide.”
    â€œIs it strange that’s the answer I’m hoping for?” she said.
    â€œNo.” Devin’s voice was gentle. “But whatever else she did doesn’t cancel out the fact that she really did love you. And Ava.”
    â€œWhy do people have to be so complicated?” She didn’t expect an answer.