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We both freeze.
“I thought you said we’d be safe here!” I whisper. “What if it’s the police? What if someone saw you – saw us!”
St. Clair moves swiftly to the window and looks down. “It’s Le
My heart actually stops for a second before it starts pounding, pumping blood with Niagara-falls force through my veins. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
St. Clair moves over to me and takes my hands. “Grace? Grace, look at me.” All I can think is that I’m going to jail. I’m going to die in prison because I was bamboozled by a beautiful face and a hot ass.
“How could you do this to me?” I say.
“I’ll explain everything later,” he says calmly. “But for now, I need you to cover for me with Le
I’m having trouble breathing and my heart is roaring in my ears. The doorbell rings again and someone pounds loudly on the door. I jump.
“Grace?” St. Clair says again. There’s no time to think, no time to weigh the consequences. “Please, trust me,” he whispers. “I promise it will all be okay.”
I nod. Even after everything, I want to believe him.
CHAPTER 2
The doorbell doesn’t let up. St. Clair strips off his coat and the clothing underneath, until he’s just wearing boxer briefs. He pulls on a bathrobe.
“Get undressed,” he tells me, and tosses over another robe. “We’ve been here all night, in bed, together, okay?”
I stand, frozen, still in a panic.
“Grace?” St. Clair comes closer. He cups my cheek with his hand, so gentle, and looks into my eyes. “This is important. I know you’re scared, but we have to be clear on our alibi. We’ve been together all night. Right here, at home. Can you do this?”
From the hammering on the door and the flashing police lights outside, it’s obvious I don’t have a choice.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice coming out stronger than I feel.
“That’s my girl.” St. Clair kisses my forehead, then hurries out, down the stairs.
I hear him open the door. “What’s going on?” St. Clair’s voice echoes up. “Agent Le
I’m impressed, even in my panic. St. Clair sounds sleepy and confused, like he was fast asleep when the commotion started, and not fresh from a major heist.
“I need to ask you some questions,” Le
“Of course,” St. Clair agrees. “But can’t it wait until morning?”
Le
“I meant, when the sun is up. A more civilized hour?”
“We can do this now, or you can come with me to the station.” Le
My heart stops. If Le
“Of course, come in.” St. Clair finally says. I cringe.
I slip out of the bedroom and creep to the top of the stairs so I can hear better over my pounding heart. I peek over the landing and see Le
“Just you,” St. Clair says calmly. “That is, unless you have a search warrant?”
There’s a pause, and then I see Le
St. Clair closes the door behind them, and asks more casually than I could have managed, “Can I get you a tea? Coffee?” St Clair yawns, tightening the belt on his robe. “Sorry, I’m still half-asleep.”
The alibi. Right. I quickly duck back to the bedroom and strip off my black jeans and sweatshirt. I remember to kick them under the bed before pulling on a fancy negligee nightgown. I picked it out for St. Clair, and it makes me feel ill to think of using it now as part of this big performance. But I don’t have any other choice.
St. Clair said to trust him. Am I foolish to give him one last chance?
Not foolish, I correct myself. This is self-preservation. If Le
For my own sake, I have to make sure this alibi sticks.
By the time I get back to the top of the stairs, the men are further down the hallway, out of earshot. I slowly creep down the steps until I hear Le
“So, how about you tell me where you’ve been tonight?” Le
“Any reason in particular, or do you just love keeping tabs on me?” St. Clair is smooth, but I’m begi
What if there’s security camera footage showing St. Clair at the scene – or both of us? No alibi in the world would get us out of that one.
“Call me curious.” Le
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but there’s been no jet-setting tonight,” St. Clair says as he casually pours water from the kettle into two mugs. “I attended an art gala at the London College of Art earlier, and then returned home.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
St. Clair smiles. “Oh, about two hundred guests, and the college trustees. A handful of journalists, too. I think there might even be footage on YouTube of my speech. Not one of my best,” he adds, “But it seemed to do the trick.”
Le
“My mistake.” St. Clair gives him another charming smile. “Yes, my girlfriend will attest to my location, won’t you, Grace?”
He glances past Le
I jump, then swallow the strangled sound I want to make and instead force my voice to come out as steadily as possible. “What’s going on, Charles? It’s so early.”
I wrap my robe tighter and attempt a fake yawn like St. Clair did. I look at Le
“That depends.” Le
“Where? Here, of course.” Easy. Done. Except my whole body is sweating under my robe. Thank God he can’t see. What is the penalty for lying to the police?
“You didn’t attend an art party?”
Crap! “Oh. I did. I meant, after that.”
“Tea, sweetheart?” St. Clair interrupts, holding out a mug. Le
“Thanks,” I whisper, taking a hot sip.
Le
“Yes.” My voice is steadier now. “What’s all this about?”
Le
“Of course. We were in bed.”
“How can you be sure of where he was while you were asleep?” he shoots back.
“I, uh…” My mind goes blank, but St. Clair doesn’t miss a beat. He chuckles, and slips his arm around me.
“Now, now, Agent Le
My cheeks flush, but at least it makes Le
“Oh, don’t be shy.” He kisses my cheek. “Agent Le
This, at least, isn’t a lie. Technically, St. Clair didn’t leave my sight – I followed him from the house. “That’s right,” I tell Le
Le