Page 92 of Lars


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“Do I detect the slightest hint of Swedish beneath your American accent?”

“You do.”

“Charming,” he said, and his smile seemed genuine. “How did the two of you meet?”

Before I could answer, Rachel grabbed my arm and said, “Dating app.”

I looked at her in surprise.

“Oh – how long ago?” Alistair asked.

“A while,” Rachel shot back.

Alistair gestured towards the bar section of the restaurant. “Well, if the two of you would like to join us for a drink, I’m here with Reginald Blakely and Patricia Leighton – you know both of them, Rachel.”

She smiled. “Thank you for the invitation, Alistair, but we really must be going.”

“But… you just arrived,” he said, confused.

“Yes, well, we’re late for something.”

“What?”

“Sex. Toodle-oo,” she said as she pulled me towards the door.

“Oh,” Alistair said, a look of shock on his face as he watched us go.

As soon as we were outside in the twilight, I asked, “What was that all about?”

Rachel looked grumpy. “I don’t like mixing my work and private life.”

I laughed incredulously. “If you don’t want to mix your work and private life, telling him we were late for sex was a hell of a way to do it.”

“It was the only way to shut him up.”

“Why did you need to shut him up? Why not have a drink with your co-workers?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“I have drinks with the guys in my unit all the time.”

“Your job and my job are very different.”

I came to an abrupt stop. Rachel was hanging onto my arm, so she got pulled up short, too.

“Do you not want other people to know about me?” I asked, slightly offended.

She sighed. “No, it’s – it’s not like that. It’s Alistair’s job to go poking his nose into things. I don’t want my personal life to be one of them.”

“He was just asking normal questions.”

“When someone works in British Intelligence, there are no normal questions.”

“Is that why you lied about where we met?”

“Yes. He doesn’t need to know that.”

I frowned. “But – ”

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