Chapter 33

But not before we talked about Deirdre and the puzzle that was her possible involvement in the plots against me. “Lord Terrance,” she started to use my title, but it wasn’t happening.

“Joan, I want you to use my name like you would with any other man that you date.”

She snickered, which got me wondering. “Lord ... I mean, Terry, I don’t date. You’re the first man I’ve spent non-working hours with since ... well ... Tony Blair was PM when I last dated, and that didn’t work out at all.” She laughed at her admission, but it was a sad laugh, and I decided to let her decide when, or if she would share more.

“Here is what we know...” She talked for almost an hour, going over every shred of evidence that connected Deirdre to the actions of her husband. The details were impressive. MI6 had kept close track of us; Much closer than I realized. When she finished going over a chronological order of Deirdre’s trips, meetings, phone calls and other connections between her and those responsible for Cathay’s murder, I was completely convinced.

Deirdre had my beloved killed.

Joan gazed sadly at me as the realization that it was impossible to ignore Deirdre’s guilt in connection to the terror attack in Australia.

Before allowing me to sink completely into a funk about it, she dropped the real bomb on me. “This is going to hurt you very badly. Deirdre likely poisoned Sheldon.

The ugly truth about Sheldon’s premature demise took another hour to digest and accept. After hearing all the evidence I knew two things for certain. There was no way Deirdre didn’t do it, and it was going to be virtually impossible to prove. “Deirdre has had scores of operatives killed to cover her tracks. Whoever is leading her gang is a master at covering their tracks.

“We wouldn’t have half of what we do know if your people hadn’t taken out the entire attack force Deirdre sent to kill you. We were able to follow their back trial because the leaders had a devil of a time figuring out what happened when their entire operation stopped communicating. Their anxious inquiries and unscrambled phone calls led right back to her.”

She smiled so sadly when she concluded her briefing, “I’m sorry, Terry. She did it and we’re never going to be able to prove it.” She wouldn’t have to. One way, or another, Deirdre wasn’t going to live through the year.

We finally slept. We really slept.

I slept the sleep of the righteous because I finally knew what had to be done, and had total confidence in my ability to do so. Joan might have slept out of exhaustion, and an inherent sense of self-preservation, knowing what rigors were in store for her after we were both rested.

For hours and hours I knew nothing at all, and then Joan jerked in her sleep which reminded me that there was a sexy, desirable and very naked woman beside in my great-big bed.

We’d slept soundly until our bodies recovered from their work.

And then she woke up and we had sex.

Wake up sex is often better than make up sex. I’ve had both, so I know what I’m talking about.

I like women. I like sex. Joan was a woman. She was built for sex and once Mr. Johnson showed her what she had been missing, she was as convinced as I was that we should investigate our commonality of purpose a little more thoroughly.

Joan spent the night with her head buried against my neck. Her steady, untroubled breathing was like a sleeping balm for me, and I slept better than I had slept since Cathay was killed. Somewhere along the line I developed a habit of waking without moving around. I think Baby Girl taught me to wake up like that, because she was so darn cute when she slept that I liked to awaken and watch her until she stirred.

I enjoyed watching Joan. She was on her side facing me. And as she slept her hair fanned out around the pillow, with her nearest arm landing on my chest. Joan’s fingers just touched my throat. Her one leg was atop my hip, and that knee just barely brushed Mr. Johnson. That soft contact caused me to spend considerable energy trying not to have my wake-up erection wake her. We’d been pretty active before settling down to sleep, and if she was tired when she got here, I was certain that she was exhausted now.