Control paused just inside the back door and looked around. He'd been shot there once, and while the chances of it happening in that exact spot again were remote, he wasn't one to take unnecessary chances. Satisfied, he left the building and crossed to the alley to the waiting Mercedes. He opened the driver's door expectantly. Lily sighed and got out. While he adjusted the seat and all the mirrors, she went around and got in the passenger side.
"You know where we're going?" Control asked.
Lily nodded. "I've been there for dinner a couple times."
"You don't have to come, you know."
"I know."
He adjusted the car's heater way down. The spring day had warmed considerably since Lily arrived at the office. "It won't be pleasant."
"Would you rather go alone?"
Control stopped fussing with the car and met her eyes. "No."
Lily nodded. "Jersey. Any way you like."
He drove. When they were clear of the office, Control slid his hand across the seat and caught her fingertips. "So," he said morosely, "alone at last."
"We should have come up with this excuse a long time ago," she agreed sadly.
They fell silent. Traffic was predictably snarly, and Control had to pay a fair amount of attention to driving. He should, he reflected, have called for his limo. Then he could work during the drive. He had a million things to get done, and this whole thing was blowing a major hole in his plans, an hour there, an hour back, who knew how long with the family …
He felt the familiar lurch in his stomach. Oh, yes, he wanted to be doing paperwork, or making phone calls, or planning, or approving expense reports and vacation requests or sitting in traffic or anything but what he was doing.
How many of these visits had he made? There had been a time, years ago, when he knew exactly the number, exactly the names. Now there were too many. Too many to count. Too many to remember, all at once. One at a time, a group at a time, he could think about the men who had died under his orders. But not all at once. It was too many, too much to bear.
Not only men, he reflected, but women, too. Far fewer women, but certainly some, and all of them worthy of remembrance.
His long fingers rested loosely on Lily's. He stretched them out and wrapped them around her warm little hand. Squeezed, probably too hard, but she didn't pull away. Women had died, men had died, but Lily was still here with him. Right here, safe beside him, at least for now.
At least for now.
"How can I help?" she asked quietly.
Quit your job, quit right now, he thought desperately. Let me keep you safe. If he said it aloud, she would do it, without hesitation, not because she wanted to but because he'd asked. Others would live or die at his command. This woman would change her whole life, change everything that she was and give up everything that she wanted, at his simple request.
Control shook his head. "Tell me about the family."
Nancy Campbell could not stop shivering.
She stood under the shower spray with her arms folded around her, her chin in her chest, and let the steaming water blanket her shoulders and back. Her skin was red wherever the water hit; she had it on its hottest setting. But even after ten minutes, she could not stop shivering.
Vince Norris, a small smile, some smart-ass comment on his lips, and then his comfortable brown face simply exploded …
The sound was the worst, the crack and then the splat, the warm wet that seeped immediately through her t-shirt …
Nancy retched, doubling over towards the drain, but nothing came up. Everything she'd eaten that day had long since exited.
She lifted her face to the screaming hot water to rinse it, and shivered violently.
She'd run away. She'd run even before his body hit the sidewalk. If he'd been alive, she'd left him to die alone. But of course he wasn't alive. Not with his brains soaking through her shirt. He never knew he'd been hit, never knew he was falling. Never knew she'd run away before he hit the ground.
And if he'd known, Nancy realized dimly, he would have nodded approvingly and said, "Good girl." Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded patronizing. Coming from Vince, it was a small gift of joy.
He would never call her good girl again.
She closed her eyes and let her chin fall again. She wondered if she still had a job.
James Simms was her boss. She'd met him, but she didn't really know him. He'd been very kind on the telephone. Very soothing. But he hadn't really been much help. That had been Lily. Simms had given her comfort, but Lily had given her concrete instructions, practical help. Put on the windbreaker, cover the brains, and go. Without Lily, Nancy thought, she might be dead on the street right now.
Lily Romanov. Lily who could do the impossible. Everywhere Nancy had been in the Company, people knew Lily. Nancy was Vince's good girl, but Lily was his golden girl. Lily was everybody's friend. Nancy had been fully prepared to hate her. Then she'd met her, and she couldn't. Lily was Control's favorite …
And oh, what did Control think of her now? She had danced with him, had spent three minutes in his arms, looking into those blue eyes – she'd expected them to be hard, serious, but that night they had been gentle, laughing – hearing that deep, resonant voice. God, she had such a crush on that man. Stupid, pointless, no future in it, but there it was. Only now he must think her an idiot, a weakling. Or worse.
Nancy groaned quietly. She wished she could talk to Mark. And hadn't Lily simply plucked her from Control's arms and thrown her into Mark's? Sweet and shy and fascinating Mark, with the scar and the story to go with it, sweet protective Mark. She wished she could see him, she wished she could hide in his arms. At the same time, she dreaded seeing him. Seeing the pity and understanding in his eyes. You ran and left your trainer – your partner – for dead. Well, anyone would, in those circumstances. Nothing you could do for him. Perfectly understandable. Mark would understand. Everybody would understand.
The Germans at the safe house had understood. The great bear of an American who'd come to claim her had understood. The grungy agents roaming the safe house had understood.
What none of them understood, though, was the one thought that Nancy Campbell could not put out of her mind.
If things had been different, she was absolutely certain that Vince Norris would never have left her.
She rested one shoulder against the shower wall and began to weep.
For my sins, Lily thought grimly, my wish has been granted. All the times I wanted to see him in the field. And here we are, together at last.
She felt sick.
Vince Norris' house was just like every other house on the block, modest, with a tiny yard and a bed of daffodils waving cheerfully yellow. Just an ordinary house, basking in the spring sun, waiting for the kids to come home from school, maybe play a little catch on the newly green lawn.
It was all so normal it hurt.
Lily wrapped her arms around herself. We are coming to drop a bomb on this house, she thought sadly. It is a happy house right now. When we leave it will never be the same. These people, this family – we have come to tear them apart. I know these people. I have shared their meals, shared their father. I do not want to destroy their happiness. I want some stranger to come and tell them that their world has been destroyed. Some stranger who can go away and never think about them again. Not me. Not me.
And not him.
She sighed and followed Control across the street.
He glanced at her. "You can wait in the car."
You'd let me off the hook, she thought gratefully. But who lets you off the hook? She shook her head. "I'm okay."
"Just follow my lead."
"I always do."
Control half-smiled. "I know."
It was, Lily knew, a sign of his confidence in her that he'd let her come along. He trusted her at his side in this. He would have trusted her at his back with a gun, but this was harder, in its way.
He paused at the bottom of the porch steps and let her go first. Lily reached for the doorbell. Her hand shook visibly. Control put his hand on her shoulder, firmly, and she could feel his calm run through her. He trusts me. If he believes I can do this, I can do this. She rang the bell.
Irena Norris came to the door. She saw Lily first and smiled, surprised. "Well, hello, honey, I wasn't expecting …"
The smile cut through Lily like quicksilver. Oh, please, don't be glad to see me, don't be. "I'm so sorry," she stammered.
Irena saw Control, and her smile froze. She had never met him, but she knew who he was. "Oh." She glanced at Lily, understanding her words. Understanding everything.
Control shifted. "Mrs. Norris, I'm very sorry …"
"No."
Lily felt sicker still. "Irena …"
"No, no," she answered calmly. "No. You come in this house. You come in and sit down and let me get you some coffee. You've had a long drive. Come in, come in."
They followed her into the living room. It was a neat room, modest and a bit worn, absolutely spotless. "Sit down, sit down," Irena said, still calmly. "I'll put some fresh coffee on."
She went into the kitchen. Lily glanced at Control, bewildered. He sat on the couch and gestured for her to join him. "Wait."
Mrs. Norris came back and perched on the edge of the armchair across from them. "Vince is dead," she said flatly.
"Yes," Control answered. "We're very sorry."
She nodded vacantly. "His little gal. She's okay?"
"She's not hurt," Control answered. "She's pretty shaken up."
"I imagine she is. Poor little thing. Vince's gals always get so attached to him. Well, you know," she said, gesturing to Lily.
"I know," Lily agreed. She wanted to move, to put her arms around her friend's new widow. But Irena was stiff. She didn't want comfort. Not yet.
"I was just washing the dishes," Irena explained, as if she'd been talking about that all along. "I need to get them finished up. Once the kids get home, they just trash the kitchen all over again with their snacks. The only way I can keep ahead of them is to have it done before they get here. So I can start again." And then she went on, "He looks after them just like they were his own. Every one of them. All these pretty girls, like his own." She looked to Control. "You give him all the pretty ones on purpose, don't you?"
Control did not, Lily noted, correct her assumption that he made the training assignments; in her mind Control and the Company at large were the same. Close enough for government work. "We know we can trust him with them," he answered.
"Vince comes home," the woman went on, "he says, Irena, I've got a new one. And I ask him, is she pretty? And he says, prettier than the last one, but not as pretty as you. Every time. Every time." She paused, reality piercing her calm again. "Did he … did he suffer?"
"No," Control answered. "He was killed instantly." It was the truth, in this case, but Lily knew he would have lied if he'd needed to. "He never even knew he was in danger."
Irena nodded, sprang to her feet. "I'll see if the coffee's ready."
Lily looked to Control again. "Uhhhhh …"
He shook his head. "She's trying not to know. Give it time."
She sat back and took a deep breath. The whole situation was surreal. The quiet, tidy house. Vince's wife, so concerned about the house, grief barely touching her smooth brown features. The tiny flashes when she knew everything, and then drowned her knowledge again in the mundane. Make coffee. Finish the dishes.
And Control. Impossibly still, calm. Answering the questions briefly as they arose. Waiting.
Lily wanted to grab the woman by both arms and shake her, to scream into her face, 'Don't you understand? Vince is dead!' To shake some reaction onto that that serene face.
His blue eyes turned to her, studied her, and he read her every thought. "I know," he said. His voice was flat, calm – and she heard the torrent of emotion he did not reveal.
Irena came back with two fine china cups, balanced on saucers. "I know you take yours black," she said to Lily. She looked to Control, hesitated. "But I wasn't sure …"
"Black's fine," he assured her, taking the cup.
The woman perched on the edge of the chair again. "The kids will be home from school soon."
"Do you want me to go pick them up?" Lily offered.
"No, no. Let them walk. Let them …" She hesitated, and for the first time her pain showed in her eyes. "Let them have a few more minutes." Irena popped to her feet again. "I have to finish the dishes. I have to …" She gestured around the room. "I always keep the house clean when Vince is out of the country. Always keep it spotless. Just in case, you know? If I have a lot of visitors unexpectedly, I don't want them thinking … that I'm not much of a housekeeper …" She put her hand up and patted her hair absently. "And now I don't give a damn what they think about my housekeeping!"
Control rose smoothly to his feet. "Is there anyone I can call for you?"
She looked at him for a long moment. "What … what do I tell them? What do I say?"
"That he was killed in a car accident on a business trip."
"A car accident."
"Yes."
She blinked. "How did he die?" she asked firmly.
"He was shot."
"He didn't suffer."
"No."
Irena considered for a long moment. She looked at Lily for another moment. "I have to finish the dishes." She went out again.
Lily reached for Control's cup, set it on the coffee table. "Is it always like this?" she asked quietly.
"No. Sometimes the screaming starts right away." He held his hand out to her, helped her to her feet. Held her hand for one moment more.
They went into the kitchen. Irena Norris was standing in front of the sink, her hands flat on the counter, weeping silently. The tears were a perverse relief to Lily. She put her arm around the woman, and Irena turned into her embrace. "It can't be," she muttered through her tears. "It just can't be."
"I'm so sorry," Lily murmured back. "I'm so sorry." She looked over Irena's shoulder to Control. This pain, she knew, he recognized, he shared. He would rather not have shared with her, and he was uniquely grateful she was there to help him carry it.
Irena straightened up, brushed her eyes impatiently. "I've got to get these dishes done," she said firmly. "I won't have people think I don't keep a good house."
"Lily will wash dishes," Control declared. Before the woman could protest, he went on. "I'll dry. You put away, you know where things go."
The woman studied him again. She clearly didn't know what to make of him, this man with the fearsome reputation and the kind voice. This spymaster who was already drying her smallest sauce pan. "All right," she agreed. She took the pot from him and put it away.
Control glanced at Lily and she moved to the sink. She understood everything from the glance. The dishes were insignificant. But they were, at that moment, the most important thing in Irena's world. The one thing she could still control, as her world slid out from under her.
A few minutes passed in silence. "I feel as if I should have a million questions," Irena said quietly.
"You will," Control assured her. "I'll leave you my card. In a few days, or a few months, when you have questions, you can call me. Or Lily, if you'd prefer. If she doesn't have the answers, she always has my ear."
Irena nodded slowly. She looked at the young woman. "You're all grown up now, aren't you? You were such a wild little thing, and now look at you. All grown up. Vince was so proud of you."
The unexpected warmth of the words cut through Lily yet again. She closed her eyes very tightly, waiting for the tears to drain away. She was not going to cry, not here, not now. Vince was not hers to cry over.
"He had some pictures on his desk," Irena continued. "Can you get them for me?"
Lily nodded, opening her eyes. "Of course. I'll bring his personal things to you."
The woman nodded. "I should call his sister," she said. She took a cookie sheet from Control's hands, thunked it onto the table. "I should call her."
"All right."
She went to the little yellow princess phone in its neat nook, next to the memo pads and the sharpened pencils. She dialed the number from memory and listened. Lily could hear the other end ring. Two, then three rings, and then a breathless female voice, "Hello?"
"It's Irena. I … I …"
She crumbled.
Control strode to her side, supported her fainting form with one arm and took the phone with his free hand. "Hello? You've Vince's sister? I'm an associate of his. There's been an accident. Yes, on his business trip. I'm afraid he's been killed."
Irena Norris began to wail. Lily wiped her hands on her pants and put her arms around the woman, slid her out of Control's grasp, half-carried her into the living room and huddled with her on the couch. Irena continued to wail, her cries growing to screams of grief. It was a grief Lily was more familiar with, and yet there was nothing she could do to help. She kept one hand on Irena's arm, the other around her back, held her and rocked her, but there was nothing more to do.
"We're here, Irena," Control said soothingly. Lily looked up. He was on the couch on the far side of the new widow, and his hand met hers on the woman's back. "We're here. You're not alone. You're not going to be alone."
"My Vince! My Vince! It can't be! It can't be!"
"Irena," Lily began, "I'm so sorry …"
"No, no, you don't understand." The woman sat up suddenly, pulling away from both of them. She wiped her eyes impatiently. "When Rochelle was born, when our oldest was born, Vince promised, he promised. He got out of the field, he went to Training, he promised. He said he'd be home every night. Every night. He said he'd see our children grow up. He promised. He promised me. And Vince never broke a promise in his whole life. Not to me."
She pushed away from them and stood up. "So you see," she said logically, "you see, you're just wrong. You're wrong. Vince can't be dead. He can't be."
"Irena …" Lily began.
Control stood up. "Mrs. Norris …"
Irena held her hands up. "You should go." She wiped her eyes, pushed her hair into place again. "The children will be home soon. If they see you … if they see you … no. I want to tell them. I should tell them. You need to go. You need to go now."
"Irena …" Lily began again.
Control stopped her with a touch on her arm. He brought a card out of his jacket pocket. "You can call me, or you can call Lily. Any time. Understand? Any time at all."
Irena took the card with trembling fingers. "Wh-when can I have him? His – his body?"
"It will take a few days to bring him home. We'll let you know as soon as we can."
She took a deep breath. "I don't … mean to be … you should go."
She showed them to the door abruptly, and all but slammed it behind them.
Lily hesitated on the front steps. "Shouldn't we …"
"No," Control said. "Get in the car."
Lily followed him across the street and slid into the passenger seat of the Mercedes.
"I don't think we should leave her alone."
Control nodded, started the car, and gunned it out of its parking space. "I agree."
"Oh."
He squealed the car around the first turn to the right and hit the accelerator again. At the next corner, he turned right again.
Lily cleared her throat after the third two-wheeled corner. "They probably have speed limits here in the provinces."
"Uh-huh." He reached the fourth corner, slid around it, and then stood on the brakes. The car left three feet of rubber on the road, but it stopped in a perfectly straight line. A band of pedestrian teenagers moseyed across the street in front of them. When the students cleared, Control nudged around into the first parallel packing spot. They were back on the street where Vince Norris had lived, eight doors down from the agent's home. He turned the car off again. "The sister said she'd be right over."
"Ahh." Lily settled deeper into the leather seat. "Is it wrong to feel this relieved?" she asked.
"No," he answered briskly. "Well, probably yes." He looked at her, his blue eyes undeniably relieved as well. "You did well. Thank you for coming with me."
"Is it always like this?"
"It's always different," Control answered. "You can never tell which ones will cry quietly, which ones will go for your throat – or for your gun. But this one isn't prone to suicide, not with the children coming home." He shook his head. "I wish I couldn't see both sides of that."
"Of having a family?"
He rested his wrists on top of the steering wheel, gestured with his long fingers. "She's not alone. Vince is gone, but she still has a family. Someone to lean on, and someone who needs her."
"What's the down side?" Lily asked.
"He lied to those children every day of their lives. They have no idea who their father really was, what he did. And if they ever find out, they'll resent the lies far longer than they'll respect the work he did." He sighed, rolled his head to ease the tension in his neck. "Vince Norris served his country well and long, and died for it, and no one will ever even know."
"We know."
"Yes. And we can hardly bear to remember. And the ones who went before him, we can't remember at all."
Lily reached across and put her hand on his thigh, squeezed warmly. "Kedves."
He put his hand down to cover hers. "I hate this. I hate this."
"I know, love." And then, "There."
A bright blue mini-van pulled into the driveway of the Norris house. A black woman got out and rushed to the door; Irena threw herself into her arms there on the porch and they disappeared inside.
Control sighed. "Let's get out of here."
"Um … can I drive?" Lily asked timidly.
"No." He put the car in gear and pulled onto the street again, this time at a nearly reasonable speed. "Call Simms."
Lily dialed the car phone. When she had Simms on the line, she put him on the speaker.
"What've you got?" Control demanded without preamble.
"There's a sniper in a church tower in the center of the city."
"Yes, we knew that," Control snarled.
"So far he's killed three and wounded seven. Various ages, various nationalities – all of them people of color." Simms cleared his throat. "The police have a strike team closing in on him. He's already shot two of them. They're bringing in his mother and a priest to try to talk him down."
Control squinted. "You're telling me that a Czech national has gone insane with a sniper rifle and is killing foreigners?"
"That's what it looks like."
"And that Vince Norris was shot because he's black, not because he works for us?"
"Based on the information I have at this time," Simms hedged.
"Bullshit."
"We're still working it," Simms assured him. "Looking for connections between the victims, maybe Vince was the target and the rest are cover – we're looking, Control. But until they identify the shooter …"
"Keep me posted," Control snapped. He punched the speaker and cut off the call.
"It is possible," Lily ventured, five miles later.
"Possible," Control conceded. "But I don't want anybody jumping at the easiest explanation. I want the truth." He threaded the Mercedes onto the freeway and glanced at his watch. "Oh, look, we'll be back just in time for afternoon rush hour."
"Joy." Lily settled back and looked out her window.
Two exits later, he said, "Are you hungry?"
"I feel like I shouldn't be."
"Yes, but are you?"
"Yes."
"Good." He exited the freeway and looked for a restaurant.
"You can't take me out to dinner," Lily murmured as they followed the hostess to a table by the window.
"I can and I am," Control answered. "And I'm going to expense it, too. Legitimate Company business."
"There's an oxymoron."
He held her chair, then took his own. "Wine?"
Lily shook her head. "I don't think I'd better even start drinking today."
Control nodded his agreement, ordered iced tea for both of them, and studied the menu.
"I feel like we should have done more for her," Lily said quietly. "We just sorta … left her."
"There's a packet," Control said. "Information about insurance, survivor benefits, support groups. You can take it out to her when you take Vince's pictures. But that's not what she wants today." Lily looked at him quizzically. "She wants her husband to be alive, Lily. That's all she wants. We can't give her that. And all the kind words and casseroles in the world won't even blunt the edge."
Lily nodded solemnly. She glanced over the menu as well. "Something starchy and comforting."
"Something soft and filling," Control agreed.
They both ordered the turkey dinner – stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy. Comfort food. The waitress brought them a basket of warm sour-dough bread.
"I wish I could have stayed to help tell the kids," Lily said.
"Better this way," Control countered. To her questioning look, he explained, "This way you can still be their father's friend, the Lily they knew. Not the one who told them he was dead. It's better, believe me."
She sighed, unsatisfied, and reached for another piece of the bread.
"We live by the word and by the gun," Control said quietly. "And when words fail and guns won't help, we are lost."
"Robert McCall?"
"Yes." He reached for his own bread, picked a bite precisely off the crust. "This is the worst part. Even when you're telling them, at least you're doing something. It's afterwards, when there's nothing to be done, that's hard. You don't want to transition back to your normal life, it feels disrespectful to eat dinner, but there is nothing else to do. No task at hand. Just – going on."
Lily nodded. "You've had too much practice at this."
"Yes, I have."
"Thank you for letting me come."
He shrugged. "I am shamefully glad to have you with me."
The waitress brought salads and replaced the empty bread basket with a full one.
"The first time I ever did this," Control said, "I was with Joseph Kiplinger. He was dead when you were still in diapers, I'm sure. He'd been a colonel, regular army. He did funeral details during Vietnam. He said the first thing he did was find the youngest child in the family. And when he went to give the flag to the widow or the mother, if it even looked like she was going to refuse it – they did that a lot then – he'd turn around and hand it to the child." He shrugged some of the tension out of his shoulders. "I haven't thought about Joe K in years."
"What did he die of?"
Control frowned, thinking. "He died in bed. With his nineteen-year-old wife and her twin sister."
"That's not so bad."
"No," he agreed. "But I don't imagine I'll die that way."
"Kedves, if I catch you in bed with nineteen-year-old twins, you can pretty much plan on dying there."
"I'll keep that in mind." He smirked. "That does kind of change my plans for the weekend, though."
"Rat."
He nodded, a familiar twinkle back in his eyes. It faded swiftly. "I suppose I should do something about getting Miss Campbell back here. If the situation is really as presented, there's no point in having Szabo debrief her."
Lily chewed thoughtfully. "I'd like to repeat that I'm completely unqualified to take over this child's training."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. And I don't want to."
"Not wanting to and not being qualified to are different issues." Control took a bite of his salad, chewed and swallowed. "Besides, her training is essentially complete. All you need to do is decide if she's got the stones for the job."
"She went to pieces in the field."
"Under those circumstances, you might have done the same." He considered, then amended, "Well, not you, of course, but anyone else."
"Thank you. I think."
"Besides, the point may be moot. She may have already decided this job isn't for her. That she's not going back out there. I wouldn't be at all surprised."
"Then what happens?"
"Then we find her a nice desk, in some field office. Analyzing, documentation, maybe translation. Something safe, nine to five, no weekends or holidays."
"Hmmm," Lily mused. "Sounds pleasant. Could you find a job like that for me?"
"In a heartbeat," Control answered quickly. "All you have to do is ask."
She studied him for a long moment, then looked away as the waitress brought their turkey. "You know," she said as the woman left, "some day I'm going to take you up on that."
"I hope so."
"Really?"
"I promised, didn't I?"
"Yes, but … in extremis."
His eyes never left hers. "I meant every word. I still do."
Lily nodded slowly. "I … I'm not there yet."
"Tell me when you are."
The warmth in his eyes brought tears to hers. She swallowed, hard, and studied her dinner for a moment. Then she changed the subject. "Assuming she wants to stay in the field, then what?"
"Then you have to decide if she's going to come apart again."
"How?"
"You'll figure something out."
Lily scowled. "Can I take her out in the field and see if she gets me killed?"
"No. You can't take her into the field at all. She's off active until this matter is resolved."
"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"
"No." Control cut his turkey thoughtfully. "I would approach it by figuring out how Vince would have handled it."
She sighed. "I don't think Vince ever washed anybody out."
"Yes, he did. I remember a few."
"Can I see those files?" Lily asked. "Find out what he thought the fatal weakness was?"
"I don't see why not. I'll have Sue pull them in the morning."
"Thanks."
They ate in silence. The waitress came and refilled their glasses.
"He didn't look for flaws," Control said.
"Hmm?"
"Vince Norris didn't look for flaws. He looked for strengths. For what his trainees thought was their greatest strength. And then he tested that strength." He considered. "He said if an agent had confidence in herself – or himself – everything else would follow. If they believed in their greatest strength absolutely, they could learn all the rest. If they didn't, there was no hope."
Lily frowned. "I didn't know that."
Control shrugged.
"So what did he think my greatest strength was?"
"I … don't know."
"Yes, you do. You've been through my file backwards and forwards and we both know it. Give."
He considered, his eyes narrowing. Then he looked aside. "Your ability to get whatever you wanted from men."
Lily laughed out loud. "You're kidding."
"I'm not," Control answered ruefully. "And if I'd seen your training report before we started, I might have been more … wary."
"Vince really thought that?"
"Yes."
"Interesting." She sat back, toyed with her stuffing. "But I don't recall any kind of testing on that premise. God knows I couldn't seduce him. I didn't even try."
Control focused intently on his meal.
"Kedves," Lily prompted. "What was the test?"
"I don't recall."
Under the table, her stocking toes eased up his pant leg and caressed his calf. "You will tell me, you know."
"I'd like to see you make me."
"All right." The toes pushed higher, brushed against his knee. "Out to the car."
Control chuckled. "You won't like it."
"In the car?" She shrugged. "A little cramped, but I'll manage."
"The test," he corrected.
"Tell me anyhow."
He sighed. "Who was it," he asked carefully, "who introduced you to Harley Gage?"
Lily stared at him, dumbstruck. Her toes slid back down his leg. "Oh, fuck."
Control nodded thoughtfully. "Later," he promised.
