Chapter Four

Returning to His Past

Stevie's neat little beach house was bathed in the morning light. Still parked on the sand below, Kitt watched Stevie cross the terrace. She was carrying used breakfast dishes from the outside table into the kitchen. She walked past Michael, who stopped to give her a long, intimate 'good morning' kiss.

"See you soon…" he whispered before he walked out of the house carrying his morning cup of strong, black coffee.

He crossed the sand to where Kitt was stationed. Reaching the car, he gave him a small salute. "Morning, pal. How you doing?"

"Fine, Michael. But I was just wondering. Do you think the lack of activity and the salt air will corrode my chassis?"

Michael smiled as he hitched one hip onto the side of the car's hood. "Kitt, I have never known you not to cover your backside. But if it'll ease your mind, I can fetch the hose and soap and wash you down."

His smile widened. "It's another fine morning. Might be fun to get Stevie involved…" He turned to look back to the house. "Any excuse to get her back into her bikini…"

From far out to sea, the whining sound of a model plane quickly overcame the voices of the surf and the gulls. The rising noise caught Michael's wandering attention.

He turned back to look out over the water. "That little plane up there. Someone's having their fun early." Still far out to sea, the plane banked and started its descent.

Michael watched it's incoming flight with detached interest. He doubted it had anything to do with him or Stevie.

Up on the clifftop behind the beach, Klus, Stacker and Durant stood on high ground overlooking the ocean and row of beachside cottages below. Durant's eyes were tight and purposeful as he worked the controls of the two-channel, remote-controlled radio.

At the water's edge, Michael's eyes became glued to the direction of the model plane. Puzzled, but not yet alarmed, he said, "Kitt, am I nuts, or is that plane headed right toward us?" He put down his coffee cup.

"Let me see…" Kitt began to scan the model aircraft as it levelled out at about twenty feet above the ocean's surface and set a direct course for Stevie's little house.

"Michael," he said worriedly. "If its course remains set, it will impact directly with the cottage…"

Michael's eyes narrowed as he studied the plane. "Check it out, will you? Give me a scan."

"Michael, I detect explosives on that craft!" Kitt shot back.

Michael's eyes widened with shock as he jumped up. He turned and broke into a full run for the cottage. "Stevie!"

Stevie was standing at the kitchen sink washing the cutlery. She looked up through the open doors at the sea view and smiled at her love. She didn't notice the model plane in flight and its heading.

Michael raced across the sand for the house. Behind him, Kitt was scanning the channels, trying to find the plane's frequency as the model closed in on the shoreline.

Michael took the steps up to the cottage two at a time. "Stevie!" he yelled. "Come on!"

His love turned to stare at him, wide-eyed and totally confused. Michael burst into the room and grabbed her arm, half-dragging her, as he raced them both away from the cottage. "Come on! Come on!"

The plane flew onwards to its target as Michael and Stevie ran beyond Kitt and tumbled down the sandy bank to the beach below. High above, Klus grabbed his boss's arm and pointed down at them.

"Confound them!" Durant snarled.

But it was too late to change the plane's course. It crashed into the beach house with a deafening explosion. The small cottage shattered and burst into a fireball.

On the beach, Michael and Stevie held each other in shock as debris rained down around them. Tears streamed down Stevie's cheeks, and she hid her face in Michael's chest.

Up above, a disgusted Durant tossed the controls to Klus. "What does a man have to do to kill one minor irritant in his life? Knight is nothing compared to me!"

He stalked away. "It looks like, if I want things done properly around here, then I'll have to do it myself! I want to know every move that man makes! Where will he go, now that we've blown up his little dream. I want to know everything!"

He stopped and glared back at his henchmen. "Well, gentlemen? Are you coming? We have plans to make. Intricate plans and time is no longer on our side. Michael Knight knows what I look like, and he must be eliminated. The time for games is at an end."

"Yes, Sir…" Stacker muttered as he and Klus scrambled after him down the far side of the bluff to the road below.

※※※※※

The sun was setting over the ocean and the smouldering, burnt-out remains of Stevie's rented beach cottage. Michael and Stevie were leaning back on Kitt's hood, staring at the chaotic scene. He had his arm around her shoulders.

The fire brigade had quickly arrived to put out the fire and check the ruin for any signs of life or cause. The police took at face value, Michael's statement that he had no idea what had happened to the house. The officers assumed it must have been some sort of gas leak, and he didn't deny it.

No one seemed too interested in probing the scene further since there were no injuries or deaths. It was put down to an accident for now. Of course, Michael did not enlighten them further and looked suitably clueless.

Stevie telephoned her landlord through Kitt's microwave mobile line. The man was not impressed that his house had been totally destroyed but he did reassure her he was fully insured. An insurance loss adjuster would come by the house to see them in the morning.

Michael had then put a call through to Devon. He gave him the bald facts and let Devon do his thing by digging into what happened and why. Of course, they both already knew the who.

Stevie was still deeply emotionally shaken. Tears ran down her face as they both stared at the ruins.

Michael turned to her. "It was meant for me, Stevie. They tried to kill me when I was in the hospital. They tried now and they're gonna try again." He hugged her close.

"And if they kill you, they kill me," Stevie whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks with trembling fingers. "Because I can't live without you. Not again."

Suddenly, Kitt interrupted, "Michael, Devon is calling…"

Michael and Stevie exchanged glances. Then Michael moved to slide off the hood and walked to the driver's door. Stevie followed him and stood outside, looking in through the open door.

On Kitt's monitor, Devon was seated behind his desk at the Foundation. "Michael, I can't tell you how sorry I am. But word just came to us that Martoni let it slip from prison. Durant has put a hold on all activities until Michael Knight is dead."

Michael's eyes widened. "What have I got to do with Durant? Devon, half the agencies in the world are looking for him and he singles me out!"

"Durant thinks you've seen his face. He was with Martoni at the Data Centre. You ripped off his beard. You're the only one who can identify him and tie him into more than one murder."

"Devon, everything came down in a blur. I was too busy being shot at and shot up. I didn't have time to ID him!"

"Yes, we know that. But apparently, Durant is obsessed with the thought that you can identify him. He's a man who hates loose ends."

"You've got Martoni! Let him ID Durant and sew him up for you! I'm retired, remember?"

"Martoni won't talk about Durant. Nobody ever has and lived. There's no way we can form a link. We can't find Durant."

"No one is that hidden!" Michael snapped. He broke the connection and the screen went blank.

"Michael..." Kitt said tentatively.

Michael cut him off. "Not now!" He exited the car and slammed the door shut.

Furiously angry, he stormed to the edge of the sand and glared out. Stevie moved slowly to his side. She stood looking up at him for some time, then said, softly, "Michael… Marry me…"

Jolted by her plea, Michael turned to her. He stared down at her, all his conflicts and emotions exposed in his eyes.

"Marry me as soon as possible..."

"Stevie, we'll be looking over our shoulders the rest of our lives…"

Stevie shook her head. "We're going back to the Foundation. You're going to help Devon get whatever information he needs on that man – that Durant. Then we walk away and leave it all in Devon's hands. It's the only way we can live without having to constantly look behind us."

"Stevie, let me go back alone and finish this. Kitt can take you anywhere you need to go. He'll keep you safe."

"Michael, until that day you're my husband, I'll never be certain that you'll leave the Foundation. Leave me alone this time, Michael, and you're gone again. We'll tell Devon we're coming in together with Kitt. All we need is a time and place."

She stood still and awaited his answer. Her heart contracted as she watched the conflicting emotions at war in his taut expression. A deep sense of need fighting with what he wanted most on this earth. Simply to be left alone to love her.

"I know…" Stevie whispered as she burrowed deep into his embrace. "I feel the same."

She stood back and took a firm grip on his hand. "Come on. We're not safe here anymore. I'm not safe. Let's go back to FLAG."

"Yes…" Michael nodded even as he sighed deeply and long. "We got nowhere else to be right now. At least, you'll be safe there…"

※※※※※

The FLAG Mobile Unit was parked on the side of a road that ran through the quiet solitude of the FLAG headquarters gardens. Inside the semi, Devon, Michael, Stevie and Kitt were all standing behind Bonnie as she sat at the control panel. She was finishing another in-depth data search on Martoni.

"What did you find this time?" Michael demanded to know. "Anything?"

"No…" Bonnie sighed with exasperation as she turned to frown up at him. "Believe me, I've tried data search after data search to tie Martoni in with Durant. It's always comes up with the same result – a big, fat blank."

"Try it once again," Michael muttered in frustration as he turned away.

He looked back. "Try it again. Please…"

Bonnie shot a scathing look to Devon. He nodded and shrugged.

"Very well…" Bonnie sighed as she reinitiated the process.

※※※※※

In Durant's computer room, Klus sat watching the screen before him. As its information was spelled out, he turned to his boss.

"The Foundation is running another series of checks on Martoni through their banks. They're like a dog with a bone. They don't give up easily."

"It doesn't matter what they do. They'll discover nothing," his boss growled. "There are no ties back to me. And Martoni will sit in his cell and do his time quietly. Or he knows what will happen to him."

"You're sure?" Klus asked doubtfully. "I mean you're running on a lot of trust."

Durant's smile was lean and hard. "I'll bet his life on it. No one rats on me and lives to boast about it." He turned and left the room.

※※※※※

Stevie, Devon and Michael were still waiting for any information. Bonnie turned away from the control panel once more.

She sighed as she glanced at Michael and gestured. "Still nothing," she said. "It's like he doesn't even exist. Which I know is madness."

"He exists, all right." Michael had already formed his own conclusion. He gently reached out and touched Stevie's cheek. "Devon, would you please show Stevie the Foundation's gardens…"

"Huh?" Devon looked puzzled. "Oh yes, of course." He straightened up. "Stevie, would you come with me, please?"

Stevie hesitated and looked at Michael. Then, sensing that he wanted her to go, she didn't resist. Devon took her hand and led her away out of the vehicle.

Michael crossed to Bonnie and watched them leave. "Bonnie, I want to see Kitt's view of what happened that day I was shot."

Kitt objected. "Michael, it won't be pleasant. I had hoped you would not ask."

Michael waved a negating hand. "I know, but I wanna see it."

Kitt sighed. "Very well."

Bonnie sat up and pushed some keys on her keyboard. Her blank screen started to flicker. Then it showed a re-enactment, from Kitt's point of view, of the scene at the Data Centre. Once again, Michael reached the blown-away door leading inside. He moved carefully forward, toward the open door.

Abruptly, he met Stacker coming from the building. Michael grappled with him for the rifle and a shot was fired into the air. Then the figure of a white-coated and bearded Durant made a break for it, pushing his way past the struggling pair. He knocked Michael backwards and his fake beard was ripped away to expose his face.

Stacker managed to level his rifle and shoot Michael, hurling him backwards. The gunman shot him again and Michael's limp body was thrown down the concrete steps. Then he rolled to the ground below and lay still.

The screen flickered again. Durant, Martoni and Stacker could be seen standing over Michael's seemingly lifeless body. Martoni was holding the aluminium case to his chest.

The screen froze. Michael leaned closer to study the frame before him. "Kitt, transfer the image of the guy standing directly over me to another channel."

"All right, Michael…"

Bonnie and Michael got up to study the new picture on a wall monitor. The screen displayed the figure of Durant with his face obscured behind the gunman's shoulder who was aiming his weapon down at Michael's recumbent form. He appeared to be waiting for the order to fire and kill Michael.

He looked at this image and then back to the blowup. He studied the blowup closely. "There's an image there. It's a reflection on the front of Martoni's metal case. Kitt, zero me in on this screen." He pointed to a lower screen.

"Yes, Michael…"

The third screen showed the blurred image of Durant's reflected face. Michael studied all three of the screens.

"Okay, Kitt, now I want you to compute the refractory angles and build an image from those two points of view."

"I understand the request. But, Michael, I will need a little time. These are not simple calculations and evaluations."

"Whatever it takes, Buddy. Just get it done in quick time. I want this guy and I'm gonna get him before he tries again."

※※※※※

In the extensive grounds of the Foundation's headquarters, Stevie and Devon were walking among the elegant trees and flowerbeds. To distract her obvious worry, Devon was telling her something of the history of the house and gardens.

"Wilton Knight bought the whole place for a song because the property came with a rather tragic past. It was built as a wedding gift for a very wealthy young couple whose sad lives ended all too soon. Wilton was determined to change that, and he succeeded in making his home here."

"And you, Devon?" Stevie put one hand on his arm as she looked up at him. "How did you come to be here? What did Wilton Knight offer you?"

"That's another long story for another time," Devon replied as he shook his head. "Suffice it to say, I also found my place and home here. As Michael did."

He grimaced. "Stevie, I can understand your hostility towards the Foundation and what we do, but I'd like us to remain friends."

Stevie shrugged. "I'm not hostile, Devon. But I am uncomfortable. We're two people fighting for the attention of the same man. We can't go on like that."

Devon looked down at her, questioningly. "Would you care to explain?"

"I'm a woman fighting to have the time to spend the dream with the man she loves. And you're fighting to make him fall back in love with an ideal. Michael can only adhere to one of these."

Devon stared at her. "Very well put, but incomplete. I love Michael as a man would love his own son. I would never willingly endanger his life. Or Kitt's. But there have been times…"

He smiled sadly. "Stevie, I woke up one day and found that my life was bound up in duty. I wanted to quit then, to run away. But then Michael came to us and brought with him, not only his dedication but also his joy of life. His ability to see the best in the worst situation and laugh in the face of danger. I realised then how barren my own life had become. But I didn't want to admit it. Not to him or myself."

"And you can watch him face death every day, caring for him the way you do? I…" She shook her head. "He wants it to end. Can't you see that?"

"Yes, I know. But I find it very hard to let go. But please, believe me, I have. For Michael's happiness. That's all that matters to me now. My time for such happiness has passed. He carries the torch now. He has you and your love."

Stevie sensed the truth of Devon's statement. "I'm glad." She sighed. "But I'm also sad, for you. You deserve to be as happy as Michael and I. Maybe one day…"

Devon shook his head. "I'm afraid that day has long since passed. It was thirty-five years ago and, in another time, and place far away from here."

He inhaled sharply and blew a long breath. "It all ended one cold morning, in a cloud of steam and smoke on a railway station platform…"

"Was she…" Stevie hesitated. "Did you ever see her again?"

"Only in my dreams…" Devon confessed softly. "And in the darkness of my office when I cannot sleep. She haunts me still and she always will. Such a love only comes along once in a man's lifetime. I was foolish enough to let her go when I should have hung on with both hands and damned the consequences."

"Oh, Devon. I'm so very sorry…"

Devon smiled sadly. "Thank you. It was so long ago. But now Michael has you and we –"

"Devon!" Michael's urgent call interrupted their conversation.

They both turned as Michael and Bonnie came hurrying toward them.

"Yes, Michael, what is it?" he asked.

In Michael's hand was a sheet of computer paper. Michael held it up for Devon to see.

"It's a print-out of Durant's face. This is the guy from the data centre."

"I see…" Devon studied the grainy black-and-white image for a moment, then his eyes widened in disbelief. "I thought he was dead. It was confirmed by three different sources."

"You know him?" Bonnie asked.

Devon nodded. "Yes. His name was Kurt Rolands. He was an explosives expert, a double agent, and one of the top European connections. An explosion fifteen years ago was supposed to have killed him and three others. Trust him to not stay dead and buried."

Standing beside them, Stevie looked worriedly from Michael to Devon. Her awareness of Michael's inextricable involvement grew, and she tensed with worry and fear.

Devon continued, "He was licensed to kill by both sides. I think he enjoyed that. Playing God with peoples' lives and laughing at them."

Michael's worried gaze shifted toward Stevie's sorrowful expression. Then he looked back to Devon.

He shook his head as he handed Devon the print-out. "It's your ball game, Devon. Play it to win." He reached out to shake the other man's hand.

He turned to Stevie. "We're getting married." He put his arm around her, and they turned to leave.

Bonnie gasped with surprise and pleasure as she called after them, "Stevie, as a wedding present, I'd like to make all the arrangements. If you'll let me. It'll make a welcome change from oil and grease."

"Well, thank you. I would love that…" Stevie nodded with joy in her eyes. "And I would love it if you were my maid of honour. My parents are long dead and I have no other close family."

"Well, thank you…" Bonnie smiled. "It would be my pleasure. I'll go back inside and get started right away. It'll take a few days to get everything sorted."

"Let me know if I can help with anything…" Stevie turned to Devon. She walked back to him. "And, Devon... Would you do me the honour of giving away the bride?"

"I'd love to…" he replied in a low, strained voice. He leaned down to kiss her. "Thank you, Stevie. It would be my honour."

His lips twisted wryly. "And the Foundation will provide the venue and pay for all the arrangements. It's about time they did something romantic with some of Wilton's money."

"Only if you're sure…" Stevie whispered.

"Oh, I'm sure…" Devon replied.

He stared down at her fresh beauty and felt again the sharp pull of his past. He too had once loved a woman as beautiful and brave as Stevie. He swallowed tightly. For one of the rare times in his busy and complicated life, he almost lost his firm hold on his composure.

※※※※※

A week later, Devon had been kept busy for a great deal of the morning in town at the lawyer's office. The Foundation was determined to cross all their Ts and dot all their Is on Michael's termination agreement. They wanted nothing left to chance and no loophole for him to wriggle through. Devon was made to feel every inch of their displeasure.

"And what are you doing about finding a replacement driver for that car?" Maggie Flynn had demanded to know. "That thing can't just sit there idle, gathering dust while you dither about. There's been far too much money expended on it now." Of course, the hard-nosed businesswoman and senator had demanded she sit in on the meeting so she could report back to her fellows.

"I'm working on it…" Devon set his teeth as he continued to reply to each and every one of her demands in a cold, even tone.

It was late morning before he finally managed to escape. At least, he still had some of his dignity intact. But only barely…

"Blast the board…" He pulled his sunglasses from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pushed them up over the bridge of his nose against the hot glare of the sunlight.

He had been about to walk down the street to his car, when the display in the window of a nearby florist shop caught his eye. A vase full of perfect yellow roses tempted him to linger for a moment and snatch a much-needed breath. He knew he shouldn't let the board and Maggie Flynn to ruffle him.

He was also aware Stevie was already having pre-wedding jitters. She hadn't been sleeping well.

"Nor have I…" Devon smiled as he turned and entered the shop on impulse.

The place was filled with sweet floral fragrance and the young woman behind the counter greeted him like a long-lost friend. Devon asked for the yellow roses and pulled out his wallet.

She took his credit card and made the payment. "She is one very lucky lady," the woman said enviously as she wrapped the dozen yellow roses in cellophane and tied them with a red bow before she handed them across the counter to him. "You have a really nice day, now…"

"Thank you…" Devon nodded as he took the flowers and quickly left the shop.

Outside in the bright sunlight, he glanced impatiently at his wristwatch. "Damn…" he muttered, seeing he was already late enough.

His hand clenched around the roses as he set off down the street with impatient strides. Five more minutes and he would be in his car, gunning it down the street to be in time for his next, very important meeting back at the Foundation HQ. He didn't look right or left as he strode toward his goal.

"Edward?" Devon frowned at the sound of the woman's soft query. He stopped walking.'No, it couldn't be…'

She came closer. "Edward? Is that really you?"

Unbidden memory tugged at the edges of his distracted mind. He didn't want to remember. It was too painful. Of course, it was better to keep walking in the overly warm L.A. morning, feigning ignorance and keeping the past firmly behind him where it belonged.

He decided to ignore the woman's tentative inquiry. Pretend he didn't hear her.

Of course, Schrödinger's blasted cat came into his mind, then. How would he know if she was truly alive, and not dead as he'd been told, unless he turned to look? Unless he opened the box in Schrödinger's experiment in quantum mechanics and peered inside.

He shook his head as he began to walk again, picking up his pace. He was better off losing himself in the faceless throngs of bustling humanity and not looking back. He could do that. He was already late for that important appointment back at FLAG HQ.

"Edward?" The soft, crisp English tones of the woman's voice washed over him. It seemed she was losing hope. Doubt had crept in, making her hesitate.

Devon increased his pace. As always, reality must resolve itself into one possibility or the other. He moved further away from her with every furious stride. He decided the devil could take Schrödinger'sblastedcat!

He hunched his shoulders as he hurried on, down the street and around the corner. Fifty more steps and he would reach his car, unlock it, get in and drive away.

He shook his head. 'If I hadn't stopped to buy the roses as a gift for Stevie…'

Behind him, the clicking of feminine heels began to sound frantic now. Devon remembered that her strides had always been so much shorter than his.

Against his will, against all that wanted to deny him one glance, he stopped, inhaling deeply as he turned his head and looked. He couldn't help it.

He opened Schrödinger's confounded box… and became lost all over again in the translucent, sea-green colour of her beautiful eyes. The singular feature about her lovely face that wasn't small.

Of course, he knew itwasher. He knew that from the very moment she said his name. Or what had been his cover name before he'd surrendered it, along with his clandestine work for the British Secret Service.

He'd moved quickly and quietly into the private sector and never looked back. There was nothing to see there anymore. Nothing beyond a train platform and a woman's slender figure disappearing into a cloud of steam and smoke. As he'd told Stevie three days ago when they'd walked the Foundation gardens, he'd lived with that torturous image for the last thirty-five years.

The intervening years had treated her very kindly. She looked almost as fresh and young as that long-ago day. Her high cheekbones were more prominent than before and there were a few more lines denoting laughter around her eyes. But then she used to laugh a lot with him and at him. She had a thirst for life that was unquenchable.

It was the generous curve of her mouth that now showed signs of some dissatisfaction in life. Her lips were turned down slightly at the corners, lending her sweet face a more solemn look that matched the sadness in her eyes.

Devon couldn't help but stare. He was glad for the concealment of his reflective sunglasses. He knew his eyes would give him away. He wanted her still. He always would.

"Lucy?" he whispered.

That had been her cover name. A suitable diminutive for a petite woman. If he'd been in a teasing mood, Devon called her 'my Luciana.' The name meant light. She had always been as light as gossamer and just as fragile. The soft glow of her unquenchable spirit warmed his deeply cynical soul.

Of course, that name was as fake as the one she'd just called out to him. He never knew her real one in case he blurted it out by mistake at the wrong moment. Like in the throes of passion or under the threat of danger. But to him, she would always live on in his memory as Lucy.

'My Luciana…'

His heart squeezed tightly. "Hi…" he said and inwardly cringed.

"Sorry…" He shook his head.'Worse…'

"Oh, Edward…" Tears sparkled on her lashes. "They all told me you were dead. They even showed me your body. But I never truly believed it was you. I just couldn't…" Her beautiful eyes flickered to the large bunch of a dozen perfect yellow roses in his hand.

Devon wanted to shove them behind his back. Pretend they didn't exist. He could see it in her frown. She'd deduced that he'd bought them for a woman. Of course, he had. But not in any romantic way. But he couldn't explain. It was too complicated, and he was already late.

"They told me you died in a car crash…" He struggled with reality, belatedly realising they were standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk staring at each other.

Her mouth turned up at one corner in a wry grimace. "That's what they told me about you. Not very original."

"The Secret Service's ideas never were. They used what worked. Look, we can't do this here…" He shook his head, trying to clear its confusion and think rationally.Logically…"My car. It's just around the corner. We can talk there."

He turned sideways, using his free hand to indicate she should walk with him. Lucy hesitated, looking him over with eyes that contained an unfathomable hunger.

"Luciana… please?"

"Yes…" Her sad lips quirked at the remembered pet name. "All right…" She shook her head even as she slipped her left hand into the crook of his elbow.

He reached for the inane again. It was all he had. "You're… looking well…"

"For a dead woman, you mean?" Lucy shivered against him. "I have missed you so much, Edward. I just knew you weren't dead."

Devon didn't reply as they reached his red sports car. He released her to unlock and open the passenger door. She tucked herself neatly inside and he closed the door behind her. He circled the hood and got in, shutting them both into the warm, leather-scented interior. He turned to place the roses on the back seat.

Lucy watched him closely. "She's a very lucky woman," she said, nodding to the flowers and making all the wrong assumptions.

Her quick glance checked the fingers of his left hand for any sign of a wedding ring. She noted the antique gold signet on the little finger of his right hand.

"Oh, they're not…" He inhaled as he caught himself in time. "Ah, yes, she is. Very lucky, indeed." He smiled as he pictured Stevie and how much in love she was with Michael.

"I see you still like driving European sports cars…" Lucy grimaced, giving a small, embarrassed laugh. "This is all rather awkward, isn't it?"

Her fingers tangled in the strap of the handbag in her lap. "I just never expected to ever see you again. I couldn't believe it when I saw you walk right past me. I almost didn't follow you. I thought I was only dreaming."

"That makes two of us," Devon muttered as he pulled the sunglasses down from the bridge of his nose and tossed them onto the dashboard.

He turned to face her, careful to maintain some distance between us. An awkward task in the small confines of his favourite vehicle of all to drive. He remembered that the riddle of Schrödinger's cat remained an unsolved problem in physics. Now he was faced with another problem that he was at a total loss to resolve.

"You used to call me the pulse of your heart," Lucy whispered, not looking at me. "I loved hearing you say that."

"Cuisle mo chroí…"Devon nodded. "Yes, I remember…"

His grim childhood had been spent growing up in Cork. He'd been taught to speak, think, write and understand the Irish language in all its beauty and lyrical magic. He'd slipped back into the way of it with the ease of a loved piece of old clothing.

"I loved you…" Lucy went on, still working the strap of her bag between her restless fingers. "I know I was never supposed to. I would have died for you in truth. But it was never enough, was it?"

Her tremulous smile was filled with sadness. "You moved on to your next assignment and left me behind."

"Yes…" Devon's breath left him in a rush. "I'm so very sorry, Luciana."

What else could he say? That he had his orders? He knew he'd betrayed her trust and love. But he wasn't free to say no to his British masters. 'Not then.' They wanted their enforced break to be clean and irrevocable. They said they'd become too close, endangering the mission.

"Are you now living here, in LA?" she asked softly. "I last saw you on the platform for the Piccadilly underground. You said you had a train to catch. You were leaving for Paris."

Devon froze. "I… left the service. Or, more rightly, it left me after we disagreed. I've lived here in the US for the last thirty years." He looked pointedly at the rings on her finger. "And you?"

"I came here with my husband," she admitted quietly. "He's the CEO of a computer software company. He wants to relocate everything from New Mexico and expand the business to a nationwide enterprise."

"New Mexico?" Devon's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "How long have you been living in the US?"

"After they told me you'd… died, I resigned from the service. I'd had enough of pretending to be someone I wasn't. I… took that same train to Paris. I'd just found work as a concierge in a small hotel when I first met Ian. He swept me off my feet and proposed after a whirlwind romance. He said he loved me and promised me the world."

Her slim shoulders lifted. "And a free pass to live in this country. So, I accepted. Without you, I had nothing more to lose. I didn't want to die… all alone."

She turned to stare at him. "You look as if you've done very well for yourself." She studied his expensive suit that fairly shouted Saville Row. The car was another giveaway that he wasn't short of a dollar. "I'm truly happy for you."

"You don't love your husband," Devon guessed softly.

"No…" Lucy shook her head. "How could I? He wasn't you." She shrugged as her sad eyes lifted to his. "Ian is the father of my three children whom I love with all my heart. They've all grown up and left home now."

She glanced at the flowers in the back seat. "And you? Did you find that elusive one you were searching for after I… died?" She frowned at his bare left hand again.

"No," he said flatly, then shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm still married to my work. It doesn't allow for any… extras."

Her brows rose. "I see. Which is?"

"In a way, you could say I work… for the US government," Devon hedged, unable to tell her the whole truth.

Lucy smiled sadly. "Ah, once a spy, always a spy. I knew it was in your blood. You were always so good at it."

"Something like that," he replied evasively. "But I'm now my own master and in charge of a large corporation. I'm truly sorry how it ended between us. It should have been handled better by our masters. But I was given no choice in my reassignment."

"I know…" Lucy sighed. "We had something, didn't we? It wasn't all for show."

"No, it wasn't all for show." Devon closed his hands on the steering wheel.

She looked so lost and alone suddenly. Like her best friend had died. Which he had all those years ago. He reminded himself she was a married woman. He would never threaten what she had by trying to reclaim the past.

"Were you going somewhere?" he asked. "Can I drive you anywhere?"

"Were you ever truly Irish?" she asked, ignoring his question. "I mean, I know Edward wasn't your real name. But I knew so little about you. Your face has always haunted my dreams. I was even foolish enough to look for you in Paris."

She didn't wait for him to answer as she held out her hand between us. "Hello, whoever you are now. My real name is Carolyn. Mrs Carolyn Bridges. I'm very pleased to meet you…" She opened her green eyes wide at him in encouraging inquiry.

Devon didn't want to touch her. He feared he might never let her go again. He knew he didn't have any time or room in my life for her. She was a sweet distraction he couldn't afford. But he couldn't leave her small hand hanging between us like an orphaned child.

"Devon…" he supplied in a troubled rush of breath. "Devon Miles."

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