There’s something here I’m not seeing.

The note she left me said I was an arsehole. “You’re a special kind of arsehole,” she’d written. I’m not sure if she thought I wouldn’t get it if she’d written ‘asshole’ or if it got her off to use the British spelling, but either way I’m unsure how I’m the one at fault.

She’s certifiably crazy.

I groan and toss my laptop aside.

“You’re bringing down my chi, bro.” This from Canon. He holds the pizza box open in front of me and I take a slice because combining top-shelf bourbon and shitty pizza is the least of my issues at present.

“You wouldn’t know chi if it was sucking your dick,” I tell him. He really wouldn’t. Canon is not a zen motherfucker.

“Finally!” He tosses the box back onto the table and raises his hands in victory. He’s still holding a beer in one of them and I expect a mess, but he’s apparently well-trained in gesturing with drink, as he doesn’t lose a drop. “I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere. No.” He shakes his head. “No, that’s a lie. I didn’t believe it. But Rhys said you did and I believed him.”

“Thanks,” I say drily. I couldn’t give a fuck if I’m pissing him off with my foul mood.

“What are you working on?” Rhys asks, removing his eyes from the game long enough to side-eye the open laptop. He knows damn well what I’m working on.

“Still looking at that employment file you sent. Trying to make sense of it.”

“Make sense of what?” Canon asks. He’s a nosey bastard on the best of days, which suits his position as head of surveillance, but makes him annoying to deal with.

“My guide last week. Nothing she told me matches with her employment file. I thought perhaps her employment history was falsified, but everything seems in order.”

“That’s a security issue,” Canon replies as he swipes my laptop off the couch and starts scanning through the open document. “Daisy Hayden,” he reads aloud. “For starters, she sounds hot.”

“Be respectful, Canon. He’s still in love with her,” Rhys tells him. I shoot him a dirty look, which he misses as his attention is on the telly.

“All I’m saying is a woman named Daisy is bound to be a good time.”

I rub my temple with my index finger. I think I feel a headache coming on.

“Okay, let’s see what we have to work with.” Canon taps on the touchpad as he scrolls through the documents. I should have asked him to look at this two days ago, come to think of it. His fingers begin flying across the keyboard as he opens programs I’m not sure I have access to. Hell, I’m not sure he’s even using the company database right now.

“How are you accessing that?”

“Don’t ask.”

I don’t. Instead I fill him in on what I do know.

“Her background checks out. No arrest records. No tax issues. Good credit rating.” More rapid typing, then a pause as he turns the computer in my direction. Her employee ID is on the screen. “This is her?”

“Yeah.”

He flips the computer back around and types something else. “Her address checks out. The lease is in her name. One-bedroom apartment in Naperville, Illinois. Looks like a nice place.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, she said she lived there. That part is true, I think.”

“Excellent performance reviews.”

“That part I have an issue with. She was an average guide at best. Nervous. Forgot a few things.”

“Maybe she’s sleeping with her boss,” Canon offers.

“Too soon,” Rhys pipes in from across the couch.

Canon nods and keeps reading. I down the rest of my drink and watch the team on the telly score, though to be honest I’m not paying enough attention to even know who’s playing.

“Who is Violet Hayden?”

“Who?”

“The emergency contact on her employment records is listed as Violet Hayden.”

“Fuck if I know. She never mentioned a Violet. Her sister? Mother maybe?” Who gives a shit?

More typing, then Canon is grinning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so amused. “Certificate of live birth. State of Illinois,” he announces.

“Jesus Christ, did she lie about her age?” An overwhelming sense of dread consumes me. “She’s not underage, is she? I asked. She looked young but not that young. Bloody hell.”

“She’s twenty-six,” Canon confirms, giving me a look like I’m some kind of creep.

“Yeah, she said she was twenty-six. What’s your point?”

“It was a twin birth.” He says this slowly, as if it has meaning.

“Okay.” I stare at him a moment, letting that sink in. So she has a sister. She mentioned a sister. Canon seems to find this more fascinating than I do though, so I feel as though I’m missing something. And perhaps I didn’t need that last drink.

Canon’s typing again. “Penn, degree in urban planning,” he tells me and makes a waving gesture with his hand as if I’m supposed to reply.

“Yes, that’s what she said.”

“Was employed as a junior designer until six months ago when the company she was working for was bought out.” He says this bit slowly, as if—

Holy hell.

They switched places.

I lean forward and brace my elbows on my knees and rub both palms over my face. I wasn’t with Daisy at all. I was with Violet. I run her name through my mind a few times as memories of her flash behind my lids. It all fits, doesn’t it? She was telling me the truth. Sort of.

“Why?” I finally sputter. “Why in the hell would they do such a thing?”

“Hell if I know. That’s your problem, not mine.”

I recall her notebook. How nervous she was during the tour. I don’t know why they did this, but I don’t think they did it often. Why didn’t she just tell me?

If they switched, everything she said to me was true. I recall asking her about the driver, if they were involved. The look of genuine surprise on her face followed by the denial. I recall her pointing at herself and saying no, she was not involved with him.

Her sister was though, wasn’t she? That’s it. It all falls into place. She didn’t tell George about the switch either. No wonder the guy looked confused every time they were in the same room.

I really am a special kind of arsehole.

“Where is she? Violet?” I ask Canon after telling Rhys to sod off. “Do you have an address for her?”

More typing.

“No,” he finally says. “One second. I’ll figure it out. If people realized how easy this was to do they’d shit themselves.” He says it gleefully, like it gets him off a little to cyber-stalk people. I make a note to be less of a dick to him in future.

I stand and pace while Canon searches. She can’t be that hard to find, I reassure myself. I know where her sister is—if nothing else, I can camp out on her doorstep and demand she tells me where Violet is.

“Does she have your address?” Canon asks, his forehead wrinkled as he stares at something on the screen.

“No, I don’t think so. I mentioned what street I live on, but nothing specific. Why?”

“She’s in London.”

Bloody hell.

I’m in the wrong place.

But I don’t think she’s in London for me.

“There was a job opening in the design group I mentioned to her. See if she applied.”

“On it.” Canon types as I pace. “She did. An offer to interview was extended and accepted. It’s scheduled for tomorrow at ten.”

Tomorrow at ten. Before I’m done doing the math Canon is already on it. “There’s a direct flight leaving in two hours and twenty minutes. It’ll get you into Heathrow at ten fifteen tomorrow morning. If there’s no delay you can catch her before her interview is over.”

“That should go over well,” Rhys comments. “Since she still doesn’t know who you are.”

“Tiny insignificant issue,” I tell him.

Rhys and Canon exchange a look.

“Okay. I’ll book your seat while you take a shower,” Canon announces. “Rhys, get the car from the garage. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Violet

London is glorious. Magical. It’s everything I ever imagined and though I’ve been here only a handful of hours, I already feel at home. There’s an instant connection between me and this city, no less than the kind of instant connection you get with some people. Like I had with Jennings.

No. I’m not going to let thinking about him ruin this. I’m not. I’ve only got one afternoon to explore. My interview is tomorrow at ten. I’ve no idea how long it will last, but surely they didn’t fly me across the ocean for a forty-five-minute meeting.

Daisy convinced me I’d be crazy to pass up this interview and she’s right. I still hate it when she’s right, but I’m starting to appreciate that sometimes in life throwing caution to the wind is the best choice.