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Our pilot was already calling up something on his phone. “Thirty minutes is plenty. I’ve had a contact lined up. We’ll need a touchdown location and to have something waiting at the other end.”
“What about the tour buses?” I asked. “How safe are they going to be if we’re pursued?”
Ben twisted his lips, his gaze holding on me for a second while he reached a conclusion. “From experience, mob mentality dies the minute the horde is disbanded. People get their heads back. This isn’t paparazzi, so if we can get our family to a new location by air, I’d consider that a solid plan. We don’t need to beon the road for any longer than it takes to get to the helicopter, and the bird can take us to a safe house. Our family with one or two of us, however many we can get in the cabin. The rest will need to continue in the cars. Val, go through our list of secure hotels and find one with a helipad up to an hour outside the city. Make sure they have a private suite ready, then rooms for the rest of us when we arrive.”
I didn’t even need to ask whether Leo would still play the Barcelona gig tomorrow. Even if he could prove his record company had shafted him, cancelling would be out of the question.
The most important thing was getting his family out of here.
Jackson left the room, Raphael got on the phone, and I began my search.
In ten minutes, our plan clicked into place with cars waiting to whisk us across town, the helicopter on its way, and the hotel secured. As a team, we’d worked seamlessly.
That didn’t diminish the immediate danger. Leaving the rooms we were in meant entering an alley then crossing a busy square. We couldn’t avoid going on foot.
Ben and Gordain briefed the family. Leo and Viola listened carefully, their expressions muted and the answers quiet. Rapid-fire, we consolidated the single backpacks everyone had brought from the tour buses this evening, and that Raphael had retrieved from the Excelsior while we were hiding out, and the family donned oversized hoodies, hoods up but with no other form of disguise.
Finn sought me out. His hand curled into mine. “I’m scared.”
“All ye need to do is stick by my side until we reach the cars. I’ve got ye.”
“And my da?”
“Nothing will happen to him. I swear it.”
“Okay,” he whispered.
At least he was convinced. Now I just had to deliver on that promise.
Down the darkened stairs, we travelled in single file, exiting swiftly through the portico with its door to the street opposite the Excelsior and into the corridor that led in the other direction—the back route I’d already checked out. The sounds of the crowd outside chased us, though with few windows, we were invisible to prying eyes. At the far exit, a single, windowless door gave way to a small courtyard with a line of high smelling bins, presumably used by one of the surrounding restaurants.
For a beat, Ben waited, then waved us on.
I emerged into the night air, Finn tucked in at my side, the rest of the crew marking their protected family member, Viola concealing her bairn beneath her hoodie.
There were no people out here, thank fuck, but at the end of the high-sided and narrow backstreet ahead, people milled about under streetlights. Beyond that, cars moved along the busy city road.
The square where our transport was waiting.
It seemed impossible that the danger was behind us, and we proceeded with caution, moving swiftly along the medieval street. At best, we had two or three doorways to step into if trouble materialised, but with two hundred yards to go, the sense of urgency to get to our refuge built.
Sweat trickled down my spine. Every sense was heightened, my body primed to fight. This was a risk we took as bodyguards. Another good reason for me not to have anyone at home worried about me.
Momentarily, my mind fixed on Mia.
She’d worried. She’d wanted to know everything. Asked questions like I mattered to her. It was a bad idea to allow that, even if we were friends. I hated the thought of her losing sleep over me.
At the junction of our dark backstreet and the bright, paved square ahead, a large group of people emerged. Ben held up a hand. We all froze. Shrank against the wall.
The all-male group jostled each other, laughing. One carried a long item in his hand. A stick or maybe a crowbar. In the shadows, it was hard to make out.
I prayed the same applied in reverse.
The men didn’t stop, set on a path that led them further down the square, not in our direction. But at the last second, one of the guys swung his gaze our way. The pointy-faced, short dude squinted, lingering for a moment, his gaze travelling down the length of our column. But just as I was ready to do something, somehow try to scare him off, he gave it up and continued after his friends.
I released a breath. Ben got us moving again. I didn’t like it, though. The little rat-faced arsehole had taken a good look.
Close to the end of the street, Gordain and Ben walked ahead and stepped out, standing casually together while the rest of us waited. The open square was our last hurdle. Our two cars were parked illegally across the way, and all we had to do now was reach them.
