The Twelfth Ring (Noah Larsson Book 1)

by Sam Clarke

  We were in the departures area of Nassau International. Isabelle and Miguel were due to board an Air France flight and I had been booked on the British Airways door-to-door-prisoner-service again. My father entrusted me to a steward named James. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of months,’ he said, waving me off.

  ‘Say bye to Viggo for me,’ I replied.

  My father checked his watch. ‘He said he’d be here…’

  ‘He is,’ said Viggo’s voice. He was jogging in our direction. He joined us and gave me a slap on the back that nearly dislodged my shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Keep in touch, dude.’

  I gave him a fist bump. ‘I will.’

  He grabbed Isabelle and kissed her on both cheeks, continental style. ‘Bye Princess, don’t spend too much on the Champs Elysees.’

  She produced an unintelligent giggle and pushed every hair she could find behind her ears. Suddenly, Viggo bent forward and covered the side of his face. ‘Who are you hiding from?’ I asked, bewildered.

  ‘I think I just saw Ursula,’ he muttered, keeping his hand firmly in place. ‘She’s coming this way.’

  ‘Relax, that’s not Ursula,’ said my father, as a platinum-blond woman walked past us. He then gave Viggo a curious look. ‘How do you know Ursula?’

  Viggo straightened, hands on his hips. ‘How do you know Ursula?’

  My father’s expression was one of pained embarrassment. ‘We… I… I met her in Syracuse.’

  My jaw dropped. ‘Oh my God! When you kept a low profile after the shooting, did you… spend the night with Ursula?’

  He opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but his face told us all we needed to know. Viggo and I exploded in fits of laughter.

  I was still laughing when James led me through the security checks. I was about to enter the British Airways lounge when Isabelle called after me. I waited for her to catch up. ‘I hope all goes well with Cressida,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘I hope so too. And I’m sorry about the way things turned out with Viggo.’

  ‘He accepted my friendship on Facebook,’ she squeaked, as if she had won the lottery. ‘And I’ll see him again soon. Are you coming back for the Easter holidays?’

  ‘Don’t know yet.’

  ‘Alright, well, until then, bon voyage.’

  I smiled. ‘You have a safe trip too.’

  James nudged my arm. ‘We must go.’

  It was goodbye kiss time, one as in England or two as in France? I had no idea what etiquette dictated on these occasions, I leaned forward to kiss her left cheek and she headed for the right side of my face. A collision was inevitable and our lips accidentally brushed. Not again! She quickly retracted, mumbled something about being late for boarding and disappeared without making eye contact. Had we just kissed?

  THE END

  I hope you enjoyed The Twelfth Ring, the first book of the Noah Larsson series. If you have a few minutes, I’d really appreciate a review on Amazon, Goodreads or both. Even a line or two makes a tremendous difference, so thanks in advance for your help.

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