Page 63 of The Scarab's Game
“Stone?” My mother had been the one to give us our aliases, so it must have been linked. “Her maiden name is McCall. Are you sure it’s the right person?”
“He recognized her photo. You didn’t ask me to dig deeper, but I can.”
“No.” We’d eventually talk to her about it. Or get Brie to do the research. “You trust this guy?”
“He’s solid. No reason to lie about it.”
“I don’t understand.” The blip on my phone slowed on the other side of the marina. Were they at Massimo’s yacht now? “Why would she hide it? Why not tell us the truth?”
“Occupational hazard.” Drew shrugged. “When I was in the Agency, I told everyone I was a general government worker. My fiancée at the time figured it out before I told her. Any signs you might have missed with your mother?”
I thought back, memories flooding in. Mum teaching me to pick locks when I was twelve, calling it avaluable life skill. Showing me how to read micro-expressions and body language. All those lessons on controlling my emotions, masking my tells. “Somehow, I think we all knew.”
“Denial?”
I let out a long sigh, my gaze climbing from my phone. “Scarlett always said Mum was overprotective after everything with Dad.”
Drew nodded. “Maybe she gave you the normalcy you needed?”
“Normalcy?” She’d shown my sisters and me how to track people, earn their trust, and get their information. How to hot-wire cars, navigate unfamiliar terrain, and that you always needed an exit strategy. “But with all the secrets we’ve proven we can keep, why wouldn’t she say anything? Why stick to the accountant cover story all these years?”
“Probably started with her thinking you were too young to know. At some point, it would have felt too late to tell the truth.”
“The truth…” Not a Reynolds specialty. “What’s it like? Being CIA, unable to tell anyone in your life what you really do?”
“Honestly? I didn’t have family, and almost all my friends were in the business. My fiancée was the exception, but—”Drew’s jaw tightened, and he leaned more onto the half-wall. “—you know what a shitshow that was.”
His former fiancée had gotten tangled up in our job in Washington, which led us to Monaco. And shitshow was a good word for all of it.
“That’s why we keep Jenn in the dark about Reynolds. And the rest of Scarlett’s close friends.” We wanted to keep them safe.
But as for my friends? Outside of my co-workers, I didn’t have the sort of close circle Scarlett did. When I was a teen, I got into too many fights over other kids taunting me about my father. Rav and Declan had sometimes helped when people targeted Scarlett or Brie, but mostly, I’d been on my own.
“How did I miss it for so long?” My mother had taught me how to avoid the fights and how to defend myself. When I’d asked how she was so good at those things, she’d said it was from movies. “Looking back now, it seems so obvious.”
“I’ve been thinking…” Drew hesitated, finally looking at me. “Your dad worked for CSIS before the Russia incident, right? I suspect there’s more to their story than you know.”
I stared at him. “How did you know about Dad’s CSIS connection?”
Drew frowned, dipping his head, as though surprised—not by the question, but that I’d bothered to ask it. “You think I’d work with your team without doing my homework? We uncovered that tidbit prior to my first contract with Reynolds.”
Footsteps approached from behind us. As we turned, Will smiled and extended a hand toward Drew. As they shook hands, Will said, “Nice to meet you.”
Drew gave Will a quick once-over. He’d only been with us officially for two weeks, although he’d been a constant fixture with the team since the June contract in Washington, so the two men were familiar with each other. “I’m interested to see what you’ve brought.”
“He’ll hate it.” Will grinned at me while pulling a sleek watch box from his backpack. His accent had grown steadily thicker since he’d moved to London, and the smile deepened lines around his eyes that made him look like he’d aged ten years. His mother had declined quickly after his father’s death, and Will had taken the brunt of it.
I accepted the box and opened it, revealing a stunning timepiece inside. The polished metal gleamed in the sunlight. I shook my head ruefully, thickening the tone of faux disappointment. “The modified Patek you made me is already so perfect. I can’t believe you’re making me switch.”
Will held up his hands. “Not forcing anything. It’s just the prototype I had ready. Give me a few weeks, and I can fit the new tech into your usual watch if you prefer.”
Drew tsked at us. “More money down the drain.”
In truth, I had a sizable watch collection and wouldn’t complain about anything Will provided. But I took a swipe at Drew, all the same. “Don’t spies all wear Rolexes for easy bribes?”
He frowned. “Cash is more portable.”
“True. I also have a prototype tracker we can attach to a piece of paper money. However, I haven’t figured out how to incorporate full comms into something so thin.” Will pulled out another small box. “I thought about using something like that for Jenn, but the risk of her misplacing whatever we attached it to was too high. Scarlett and I discussed it—I was originally planning something based on Brie’s preferences, but Scarlett overruled everything I suggested.”