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“Rachel?”
Instead, I got the best-case scenario.
“Alistair!” she sobbed. “They k-killed Lars and now they’re after ME!”
My heart soared again.
I was off the hook…
And she had no idea who had really killed her Swedish fuckboy.
Still, I played my part to a ‘T.’
“Slow down, slow down – what are you talking about?”
“I… after I left MI6, I did a j-job for the mafia – ”
Which I already knew. I’d kept tabs on her, after all.
But I acted shocked nonetheless.
“Rachel!”
“I needed the money! But I missed the target, and now they’ve sent someone after me!”
“But how is Lars involved?”
His name was like vomit on my tongue. At least the bastard was dead.
“He’s in the mafia – WAS in the mafia – oh God!”
She broke down crying again.
“Was he the one who tried to kill you?!” I asked, doing my best to sound outraged.
I thought it was a nice touch.
“No, he – it’s complicated – PLEASE, Alistair, I need your help! I know I don’t have any right to ask, but they’re going to KILL me!”
She was in no danger whatsoever…
But she didn’t need to know that.
“Of course, darling, of course,” I said soothingly. “I’ll meet you at your house in – ”
“No – we need to meet at MI6.”
I froze. “Why?”
“These people are animals – if they track me to my house, they’ll kill us both! But we’ll be safe at MI6 – they wouldn’t DARE come after me there!”
If the mafia were actually after her, she might have a point.
However…
“Rachel,” I said gently, “you’re persona non grata around here.”
“PLEASE, Alistair, I’m BEGGING you! MI6 is the only place we’ll be safe!”
