by Ritter Ames
Despite his stutter over dilettante, I began to think he wasn’t as buzzed as he appeared. He couldn’t be truly drunk, or one of the roving bobbies would have moved him through the crowd and out the gates. Was it an act for us? Or had he simply been super-careful until he spotted his old friend, Jack? Just the same, I wondered how much alcohol was actually in that skinny body.
“Is Milli here?” I asked, stretching tall to pretend to look for his pretty wife.
Hamish waved a crazy hand as if brushing something aside. “No crowds for our tight-assed Mills. She’s afraid someone will trod on her fancy shoes.”
She was from money and held the purse strings. Was this a drunk’s loose-tongued revelation, or an admission of trouble in paradise? For Hamish’s sake, I hoped not the latter. His personal paycheck could not provide the lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to with his marriage to Millicent and her daddy’s money.
Suddenly, a raised voice on the loud speakers cried, “One minute, everyone!” The air charged. The crowd shifted. Everyone turned toward the London Eye.
“Forty-nine, forty-eight—”
A half-million voices counted down in unison with the speaker on the PA. I looked at Jack and he grinned at me. I felt eight again—and twenty-eight at the same time. I raised my voice with the others.
Hamish stayed silent beside me. Maybe he was too drunk to be able to count backward. As we hit twelve, I turned and saw he was staring off in the distance. Away from the flashing wheel keeping us on track with the countdown.
“Ten, nine—”
I kept in time with everyone else, smiling up at Jack before watching the lights again.
“Three, two, one—”
The bell in Big Ben gave a decisive first gong as the lights strobed around the Eye. I turned to Jack as he moved toward me.
Then I was whirled around and smashed into the worst slobbery, beery kiss of all time.
Jack roared, “What the bloody hell?”
I tried desperately to escape Hamish’s determined embrace. I finally broke free and pushed away from the intoxicated boor. Jack’s fist was already in play.
He had obviously been aiming for the side of Hamish’s ear. When I pushed the fool, my chin ended up in the trajectory instead. Quick reflexes and a bit of luck allowed Jack to pull back a little, making it a glancing blow. Nonetheless, the brief contact with the side of his fist knocked me off my feet.
“Oh my god, Laurel. I’m sorry. I saw at the last second, but I could only—”
I waved a hand at the distraught almost-white knight kneeling beside me. “I’m alright.” I wiggled my jaw a couple of times to be sure. Yep, I’d be sore, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t experienced before. “At least you didn’t strangle me this time.” I smiled as best I could to show I was teasing, but Jack’s face immediately grew more thunderous at something behind me.
Turning, I realized we had more trouble.
“Laurel, mon dieu, I will call an ambulance.” It was Rollie, the grandson of Devin Moran, the master criminal we presumed was in charge of the premier heist Jack and my team were trying to stop. All of Moran’s confederates were on our most wanted list, and Rollie in particular because he may have been connected with Tony B due to video evidence of a couple of recent events. While we’d been working feverishly since October to find the hole he and everyone else was hiding in, I definitely didn’t need him there. At that moment.
The last time we’d seen Rollie he was walking down an Italian sidewalk with an international felon. Now he was in London, apparently attempting to get Jack to throw another punch as they set me back on my feet. They were more successful at playing tug of war with me as the presumed prize.
“Stop!” I jerked my arms free and pulled my cuffs back down to my wrists. “I’m fine. Thanks, both of you.”
“I saw him hit you.” Rollie got ahead of me and bent down, trying to look closer at my chin. “We will call the gendarme. I will swear—”
“I didn’t mean to hit her,” Jack growled and tried to pull me away. Rollie made another grab for my arm.
A far too interested crowd had formed around us, and the fireworks were proceeding without anyone in our vicinity paying the slightest attention. Why should they when the ground entertainment rivaled any top ten reality show?
Hamish did the smart thing and disappeared. I needed to get Rollie to do the same. Especially once I saw we’d caught the attention of a uniformed bobby. The officer was making his way down from the edge of the crowd. Time to work fast.
“Guys, please.” I smiled at Jack, then turned to Rollie. “I appreciate your help, but Jack’s chivalry simply backfired. It was an accident. Please, go back and join your friends, Rollie, and don’t worry about me.”
“Non, I will stay here, I will—”
“No.” I shook my head and reached up to pat his chest with my hands, effectively pushing Rollie away as my fingers touched the fine leather I recognized from this year’s Versace line. “I’m going to call it a night, and Jack will take me home.”
“This barbarian—”
Jack pushed in closer. “I didn’t—” he started.
I interrupted my Hulks before they rumbled. “It’s all right. Thanks so much for your help, Rollie.” The bobby was close enough to see my smile. I gave him a “don’t worry about it” wave and pulled on Jack’s arm. “Let’s go.”
I didn’t see which direction Rollie headed. I hoped seeing me turn my back on him and going away with Jack would end further discussion.
Roman candles burn at temperatures exceeding twenty-five-hundred degrees centigrade. I’m not sure Jack’s temper wasn’t beyond this range as we worked our way through the crowd. He likely could have talked his way out of any trouble with the constable, but we didn’t need the attention.
“Damn that bastard Hamish,” Jack cursed. “All the times I saved his bloody arse in school.”
“He was drunk tonight and mad at his wife,” I said. After the awful kiss I knew he’d had his share of alcohol, but I did wonder what he was looking at moments before the big blowup.
Jack growled something under his breath, before saying louder, “Then that arse Rollie shows up and acts like I did it on purpose.”
“Well, you did mean to throw the punch.”
“I didn’t mean to hit you!” He pulled me nearer a street light and looked closely at my jawline. “Laurel, I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
“You certainly will,” I said, trying to keep from wincing when he touched a tender spot. “You’re taking me dancing, buster. Dinner too. That’s how you’ll make it up to me.”
He finally grinned. “Dancing with you doesn’t exactly sound like punishment.”
“You’ve only worked with me a few months. You have no idea how long I can dance.”
He laughed. I’d completed my objective. “Really, I’m okay.” I gave him a hug.
I kept my arms around him but leaned back to see his face, right as another symphony of light splashed across the sky in every imaginable color. The noise was ear-shattering, and I could already smell the gunpowder riding the air currents, but the effect was magnificent. “Oh, my.”
“Let’s stand over there and watch.”
I nodded, and we moved along the fringe. He kept his arm around my shoulders, and I let him. As the music swelled and the heavenly display reached its climax, his body relaxed a little, and I thought everything was back in balance again.
Until he said, “Really, you didn’t have to flirt with the jerk to keep him from reporting me to the police. I do have resources, you know.”
“I do know.” I looked up at him. “So do I. What you thought was me flirting to get him to go quietly away actually served a higher purpose. It allowed me to leave a small remembrance of this evening in the breast pocket of his jacket.
The kind of pocket in leather coats men likely never use. Or look into.”
At Jack’s puzzled expression I held up my left arm, making sure my charm bracelet glowed in the light. The bracelet no longer displaying a tiny silver camera.
“When you straightened your cuffs,” Jack said, wonder filling his voice.
“When I straightened my cuffs.”
“We can track him.”
“You can. I don’t have the app.”
“I could kiss you.”
“First, pull out your phone and start tracking.”
Two
The app told us Rollie was still in the midst of the crowd, but at the other end from where we’d all been at midnight. As we went one way to exit, he’d gone the opposite direction. Deeper into the crowd. How did he happen across us unless it had been with intent? Was he following me, or both of us? Or had he been tipped off by someone who knew our plans this evening?
Standing in a space filled with a hundred thousand other ticketed gawkers, I simply couldn’t believe it coincidence.
“How do you think Hamish and Rollie both lucked into us in the masses of people?” I asked.
Jack looked up from the screen and stared off across the Thames. “I’ve been wondering the very same thing. Have you noticed any shadows lately?”
“I haven’t really been looking.”
“Nor have I.”
Lazy. Both of us. We counted on someone at Interpol or Scotland Yard to notify us if Rollie stepped through any customs points. Hamish Ravensdale, however, had never been a person of interest.
“You know Hamish from years ago. What do you know about him lately?”
He looked me in the eye. “He’s someone who’s always been afraid of any kind of pain. He can be cunning, and in school he stayed one step ahead of everyone else so he could duck behind someone like me when a situation called for caution. What did Nico find out in the background check? Or did you do it?”
Of course he knew. “I outlined my suspicions and Nico looked for verification.”
“What did he find?”
“Hamish needs to stay married or live like a pauper.”
“His family had money—”
“Not anymore.”
“Interesting.” He took my hand and guided me down the sidewalk in the direction of the car, all the while keeping watch over the little dot on his phone screen. He stayed too quiet not to be up to something.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the car.” He picked up his pace as we crossed an intersection. Traffic was lighter than usual, but still busy. People lined the curb hoping to hail a taxi. Several occupied cabs zipped by, never slowing.
I caught a glimpse of Jack’s cell screen and saw the dot moving again. “You think it would be easier for us to follow him in the car?”
“No. I’m going to follow him. You’re going to drive my car back to your hotel.”
“You’ve decided all of this by yourself—”
“I have the app on my phone. It only takes one person to follow the blinking dot.”
I was certain “blinking” wasn’t the word he actually wanted to say. I shoved my fists into my coat pockets and hugged the leather around my body. “I’d be there for backup if necessary.”
“It won’t be necessary.”
He sped up as the crowd opened a bit. I wasn’t wearing heels and had no problem keeping up. When we were stopped by the light at the corner, I glared at him. He glared right back.
Jack knew exactly what he was doing, and my argument sounded weak even to my ears, but I didn’t like him making unilateral decisions. And he knew it. “We’re supposed to be a team.”
He blew out a long breath. The light changed, and he caught my elbow to hurry me through the crosswalk.
“I’m only following him, Laurel. I want to see if he’ll lead to Moran or anyone else we’ve been trying to find. Nothing challenging.”
Like I hadn’t heard that before. “How are you going to get around?”
“On foot as long as he is. I’ll grab a cab or take the Tube if I need to go faster.”
Two more taxis drove by us, both with their top lights turned off.
“A number of the Tube stations are closed, and some of the trains aren’t running,” I reminded him. “You might have trouble getting a cab.”
We maneuvered around crowds of people who had clustered outside the ticketed area to watch the fireworks display. The show was over, and everyone was leaving en masse. A minute later, we reached the lot where Jack had parked the car. He hit his fob and the black Audi S5 beeped and flashed its lights.
“Everything you say is entirely possible,” he said when we were finally away from the mob. “Until I know how we were stumbled upon in the crowd tonight, you’re getting safely tucked in behind your doorman and your trusted desk clerk. You must understand this makes the most sense.”
I did, but I didn’t have to like it. Or tell him I agreed. Reluctantly.
As he opened the driver’s side door for me, I asked, “What if you were the one tracked with your car?”
Jack stared at me, his eyes widening for a moment. This was something he hadn’t considered. “Bloody hell.”
He turned toward the road, then looked back at me. He scratched his forehead. “We didn’t pass an empty cab the whole way. Not an option.” He ran a hand along the bumpers and into the wheel wells and said, “Take the car. If anyone tries to stop you for any reason, there’s a Walther PPK in a holster attached to the bottom of the driver’s seat. Reach down with your right hand. It has a full clip.”
I swallowed. The idea of my leaving with his gun made me want to repeat the argument we should stay together, but the laser look he shot my way said any idea to the contrary wouldn’t fly. I didn’t have my tracking charm any longer either. If I did go with him and we got separated…
Instead of arguing, I slid into the seat and felt for the gun’s grip. It was right where Jack said. “Do you want me to park on the street and leave your keys with the front desk?”
“You have valet parking, right?”
“Yes. There’s a parking garage.”
He nodded. “Pull up to the front door and use the valet. I’ll get the car tomorrow.”
“Be careful. I don’t like you doing this alone.”
“I’m only going to see where he goes. No heroics, I promise.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No fists either. And don’t look for Hamish. You’re liable to beat any information out of him.”
“It wouldn’t take much.”
“Jack…”
He held up his hands. “I promise. Now go. Be sure to get some ice on your chin.”
“Call me when you get home.”
He looked at his screen. “He’s moving faster. Gotta go. Keep my car in one piece.” He slammed the door and hurried back in the direction we’d come. Doing everything his way, of course.
I’d argued about being sent home, but I was tired. Despite the holiday, I also had a morning appointment with museum officials and didn’t really have time for a scavenger hunt if the objective was to only follow Rollie, rather than have him arrested.
Besides not having the least hope Moran would be discovered during Jack’s reconnaissance, I wanted to follow orders and get ice on my chin. I could feel the tight muscles around my jaw and worried the skin might be several unattractive shades before long. It wasn’t the best practice for the head of the London office of Beacham Ltd. to arrive anywhere looking like she’d just gone a round in the ring.
Life is definitely on a risky path when a person feels gratitude over having the ability to use a Walther PPK—unless it’s trivia night in a bar and the question is what model firearm James Bond employs.
The Audi and I made
it to the hotel without incident. However, I didn’t like the idea of leaving his gun in a car headed for valet parking either. As I pulled up to the front door of the hotel, I slid the gun from the holster and inside my coat. I’d have to remember to give it back to Jack later.
The guys in valet livery were still on duty, and one opened my door before I had the chance. I popped the trunk—okay, the boot—and pulled my big Fendi bag from the dark recesses. Leaving it there earlier to deter pickpockets and purse snatchers during the revelry had seemed the best idea. Given what happened I was glad I’d taken the precaution. The doorman ushered me into the lobby as the valet-driven Audi roared off. On the way to the elevator, I detoured into the hotel bar and got a large cup of ice.
I checked for messages as I entered my room. There were four calls from Cassie, my personal assistant. From the voicemails I learned she’d returned to London early from her Christmas travels to the States and would meet me at the office in the morning. Before she left, I’d had her working on forgeries potentially tied to the bigger heist, and something over the holiday made her think she might have spotted new information. Between her cryptic messages and Rollie reappearing, I hoped it meant an imminent breakthrough on the case.
I texted Nico asking for a new charm to replace the silver camera. He was in Italy for Christmas a few more days, and though I didn’t know what resources he had at his disposal, past experience said he would get on the task as quickly as possible, regardless of the holiday. Business completed at the moment, I put ice into a washcloth and checked my face in the mirror.
A heavier hand with makeup should do the trick, I thought after a careful examination. I finished up my nightly routine and headed for bed. My phone sat charging on the nightstand. If Jack didn’t call, I hoped he would at least text. But he operated under his own counsel and whim, so I counted on nothing.
Next morning, I hadn’t heard from him when I finished my shower. I sent a text telling him I removed the gun from the car. He texted back a minute later: OK, but leave it next time. You are not in the U.S. anymore and can get arrested with it in the U.K.
