To Catch a Thief by Christina Skye Page B

promise.”
    The line went dead.

    S HE ORDERED another cup of tea, thumbed blindly through two glossy art magazines and called her father four times.
    No answer.
    Sliding down in her chair, she watched the clock, expecting Dakota to loom down one of the aisles at any moment, but no one bothered her.
    Exactly eighteen minutes after Nicholas Draycott had ended her call, she looked up to see his lean, handsome features. He had an old Burberry trench coat folded over his arm, and water glinted in his dark hair.
    â€œThank heavens, I was afraid you’d left.” Nicholas looked at her in concern as he slid into the chair beside her. “Are you okay, Nell? Your arm is bandaged.” He leaned forward, frowning. “Is that a cut on your face?”
    â€œNothing serious. Just…climbing stuff. But I’m tired and confused. Have you heard from my father lately? There’s something going on, but he isn’t making any sense.”
    â€œWhat has he told you?”
    Nell shrugged. “Something about numbers and promises.” She frowned at an employee carrying a tray with pastries for a nearby customer.
    The twelfth viscount Draycott drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. Nell realized several people in the café were studying him discreetly, wondering if he was someone important. “Your father gave you a number? Did he say why, Nell?”
    A movement to her left, down an aisle with children’s books, caught her eye. She flinched.
    Dakota Smith walked silently down the aisle and sank into the seat beside her. Another man, the mirror image of Denzel Washington, emerged from the opposite aisle.
    â€œNo,” Nell whispered.
    â€œWho are you ?” The Englishman fixed his cold stare on Dakota. When the Denzel Washington look-alike sat down beside him, Nicholas drew a sharp breath. “Don’t tell me you’re part of this, Teague.”
    Nicholas knew this man?
    â€œYou have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Draycott,” the man called Teague said curtly. “Let’s go outside and get started.”
    Nell closed her eyes, hit by weariness and panic.
    Trust no one.
    She’d remembered her rule too late.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    R AIN HAMMERED at the windshield as the black SUV cut through the sluggish traffic.
    So far none of the three men were talking to Nell. Nicholas had spoken quietly on his cell phone for the past five minutes, but Nell had only caught one word in five.
    She watched her father’s friend put away his phone. When he turned around, his face was grim. “She’s not involved. I want that absolutely clear.”
    Neither Dakota nor his friend responded.
    â€œWhat agency do you represent?”
    The man called Teague flashed a badge that only Nicholas Draycott could see. Apparently it was enough to satisfy the Englishman.
    â€œI see. In that case your people messed up. That’s why Nell’s father contacted me. He knew what was going to happen because he was approached before he left prison.”
    â€œApproached by who?” Dakota’s gaze didn’t leave the road.
    â€œAn inmate who wanted help to sell a major piece of stolen art. He wanted Jordan’s contacts. When Jordan refused, the man threatened him. He threatened to hurt Nell, too.”
    Nell looked out at the rain, breathing hard. Now she understood. They had tried to pull her father back in, and he’d gone to the only person he could trust, his old friend from British intelligence. “So my father is working with you undercover?”
    Draycott nodded. “Only one person over here knows what Jordan’s doing. We had to keep the loop closed.”
    â€œWhy?” Things had changed again, and Nell was struggling to keep up. “If my father agreed to help, why weren’t the officials here notified?” Then the answer came to her, awful in its implications. “Someone here is involved. That’s the only possible