Damon frowned as he turned to her. “Give me your handbag. Where do you normally put it? Is it locked up while you’re here?”
What the hell was going on? Her brain was racing. “No. I leave it in my desk. Why would anyone try to steal…” The truth hit her squarely in the forehead. “They didn’t try to steal something. They put something on it.”
She picked up her bag. It was a simple thing, large and roomy. She’d bought it on sale at H&M about a month after her mum had passed on. It had been an impulse buy because the pattern was so unlike her. Paisley. It didn’t really go with anything but she’d loved the colors. The pattern was busy, easy to hide something among.
She ran her hand along the material and on the front of the bag, just below the clasp, she felt it. A bug. Small, wireless. She pulled it off and stared at it, thinking about the man on the other end. “I really hate you, you know. I hope your balls shrivel off and die.”
“Penelope!” Damon stood, staring at her with shocked eyes.
“Well, I’m not stupid. Obviously that note has something to do with our physical relationship, and Nigel thinks I’m some schoolgirl who doesn’t know the score and he’s going to try to protect the sad virgin. First off, I would protest and say I’m not a virgin, but lately I’ve been thinking I might as well be because the sexual relations I had before don’t even fall in the same category. Kissing Damon is sexier than full-on intercourse with other men. I don’t want to be protected. I knew what I was getting into. I’m not leaving now that it’s getting a bit deadly.” She held the small device on her fingertip. “He’s trying to break us up, but it won’t work.”
His eyes flared and for the briefest moment, a look of wonder came across his face. It was quickly shut down and he averted his eyes, looking back to the file. “Keep quiet. Get rid of that thing before you say another word.”
Because if he really was still listening, she’d just given away a lot. She’d stood there and pledged to not leave him. She’d given away a weakness.
Tears filled her eyes. She’d just proven how stupid she could be. She’d known he was listening and she’d still talked.
Nigel hit a button on his phone. “Send me someone from tech. And tell our Americans they can come in now if Mr. Smith is through with his debrief. We have a lot to sort through. Unfortunately, this bloody mess has gone international. The Agency is here. You need to read his other demands.”
The CIA had sent someone?
Nigel took the device from her, palming it and closing his hand.
Damon stayed where he was, though she wanted so much for him to cross the distance between them. “Keep your voice down until that thing is gone. I swear I’ll find the mole and I’m going to make whoever it is pay.”
Someone had been listening and watching her every move for days, perhaps months. It made her stomach turn, but she needed to make one thing clear. She moved close to him, her voice low. “I’m staying with you. I don’t care what Nigel says. I’m strong enough for this. I can be good for you.”
Damon shook his head, a dismissal. “Nigel might be right about this.”
“You know I’m right, but I don’t know what we can do about it now.” Nigel’s voice broke through the quiet.
The doors opened and Ian Taggart walked through followed by his wife and a tall, well-built man with brown and gold hair. He was wearing jeans and what looked like a Western shirt and cowboy boots.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Taggart asked. He’d obviously been brought up to speed on the situation, and he wasn’t happy about it.
“Don’t, Tag.” The new guy crossed his arms as he looked around the room. “We’re all getting fucked here. Can we be sure it’s safe to talk now?”
One of the techs walked in, a younger man named Marvin who had never once spoken to her until Friday last. He’d walked up to her and asked her about something trivial that might have been wrong with her computer. It had only been a few moments, but she’d turned.
Where had her bag been?
She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything about the encounter. It had been lunchtime and the rest of her group had gone, but Marvin had shown up. She’d stayed to answer his questions. She’d put her bag on her desk, turned and pulled up the update he’d asked about.
“Don’t give it to him. He’ll destroy it or he’ll fake a report that gives us absolutely nothing. He’s working with Champion.”
Nigel stopped in the act of handing over the camera.
Damon shoved her behind him, as though the man would pull a gun and shoot her right there.
Marvin was a weasel, but she doubted he was a killer.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about. That’s ridiculous,” the tech said, but his hands were shaking slightly.
Taggart stepped up. He was a good foot taller than the tech and had at least seven stone of pure muscle on him. Taggart loomed over the man. “Penny, are you sure?”
Sure? It could be someone else, but the timing worked. If Marvin was supposed to follow Damon Knight’s movements around SIS, then he would have known Damon had requested information on her. Apparently Damon had delved rather violently into almost all aspects of her life. Champion would want to know why Damon was so interested in a translator. “When did you request my files, Damon?”
“Late Thursday night.”
The timing checked out. “And Friday at roughly eleven a.m., he stopped and asked me about my computer. He had access to my bag. I had it out because I was going to lunch. The rest of the time I have it locked in my desk.”
Marvin shook his head. “Anyone could have done it. There are people with keys to the desks.”
But instinct pointed to him. She wouldn’t have been on Champion’s radar before. The minute she’d come into his focus, Marvin had appeared. Sometimes she had to follow her instincts. “Check his computer. He likely has more than one here.”
Nigel hit his button again. “I need security.”
“No, you don’t,” Taggart said, his mouth curling up in a deeply gruesome approximation of a grin. “You just need to give me five minutes with him.”
“Ian, you promised you would stop killing people. I’m tired of getting blood out of your clothes.” Charlotte took Penny’s vacated seat and crossed her legs casually.
“No problem, baby. I’ll put on a raincoat.”
Security showed up. Two large men, much larger than needed to handle a skinny guy like Marvin who just now seemed to realize what kind of trouble he was in.
“I’ll talk.” He tried to back away, but hit the mountain of muscle that was Ian Taggart. He turned and nearly screamed. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I just gave him some files and bugged her bag. God, nothing could be wrong with that. She’s dull as dishwater.”
Penny gasped as she realized that her bag had been tossed in a chair across from the counter in the washroom at her cousin’s wedding. “I made a sex tape.” He’d bugged her bag and now her first orgasm was likely on the Internet. “Mr. Taggart, I don’t have much money, but I will give you everything I have if you would please murder that man and in a deeply painful manner.”
Taggart snorted. “Your girl is vicious, Knight. In a very polite way, of course. And Pen, I’ll do him for free. I haven’t tortured anyone in a long time.”
Charlotte cleared her throat.
Taggart groaned. “Not the same thing, baby.”
“Get him out of here.” Nigel took over, obviously sick of the interruptions. “The Americans can talk to him later. I’ll be down in interrogation in ten minutes. I want him alive, but you can soften him up for me, lads.”
Marvin was dragged out of the room.
“Give me the bug. Let Chelsea and Adam research it. You have no idea how compromised you are.” Taggart held out his hand. Nigel hesitated. “Ten?”