“If anyone followed us from the hotel, we’ve lost them by now.” Garrett pulled out his phone. “Jean, it’s Garrett.”
I leaned against the door and let my eyes close for a moment.
Garrett kept his voice low, angled away from the driver. “We’re on our way to St. Pancras. Should be arriving at Gare du Nord around midnight.” He paused, making little noises of assent as he listened. “Just a situation that required us to move faster than planned.”
A situation? Yeah, that was me. I was the situation.
“Yes, she’s fine.”
She’s fine.Like I was cargo. Nothing more than a package being delivered.
“I’ll text you when we’re on the train.”
Maybe we really were heading for the train this time. He’d told one of the drivers we were on our way to the airport. Another that we were on our way to our hotel.
“Right. See you in the morning.” He hung up and pocketed the phone without looking at me.
I stared out the window. “We should call Dr. Caulfield and tell him we won’t make the appointment tomorrow morning.”
“No. He might be the leak.”
The leak?
Leak?
What did that mean? He thought the man I’d flown all this way to meet with sent a guy to threaten me in Brenton, then to pick my pocket in London?
I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, let alone question him.
Three hours of driving through London, and what did I have to show for it? Glimpses. Fragments. We’d driven across the real London Bridge first, and he’d been right: it was a regular bridge, nothing special. We’d made our way past Buckingham Palace sometime afterward—I’d craned my neck to see the gates, the guards, the golden statue out front surrounded by at least a couple hundred people. Garrett hadn’t even looked. Then the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament standing tall over the black water of the Thames.
All the places Didi had promised to show me someday. I’d seen every single one of them through a cab window, too fast to stop, too tired to care anymore.
The city slid past, and I tried letting it go. What else was I going to do? Cry? Beg Garrett to let me step out for a few minutes and absorb the moment? Not like there was a point. He’d barelytalked to me since we left the hotel. There was no way he’d indulge me now.
Ten or fifty minutes later—I wasn’t sure anymore—the cab pulled up to St. Pancras. The station arched above us, all Victorian and Gothic stonework. Even after nine o’clock, people streamed past in every direction. Somewhere in the middle of the concourse, someone was playing the piano, a classical piece that echoed off the high glass ceiling, making me want to sit and listen.
Garrett moved through it like none of it existed, with his duffel over one shoulder and my suitcase in his other hand. He bought tickets at a machine and guided me through security with a hand on my elbow when I didn’t move fast enough. He marched us straight to the right platform without hesitating once. I stayed close, too exhausted to do anything else.
The train was sleek and modern, nothing like the old-fashioned station around it. Garrett checked our car number against the tickets and led me down the platform to the far end.
“Back of the train,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Fewer people passing through.”
We boarded. The car was half-empty, rows of paired seats on one side and singles on the other. Sort of like the jet. Nowhere near as luxurious, but it would keep us moving. Garrett stowed our suitcases and found our seats. He stepped aside to let me into the window seat.
I slid past him and sat, tucking my purse between my feet. He took the aisle, settling in with the same watchfulness he’d had all night. Eyes always on the move. Shoulders square. Ready for something.
Always ready for something.
The platform outside was busy. Last-minute passengers hurrying aboard, staff checking doors, a woman running with arolling bag that kept tipping over. A departure announcement played in English, then in French.
Was this how he lived his life? Or were his protection details normally calmer? Calmer? Maybe more predictable would be a better question.
He leaned into the aisle, watching as a couple took their seats three rows ahead of us.
“You said something earlier.” The words came out before I’d decided to say them. “This afternoon, after our meeting at the pub.”
Garrett’s head turned slightly. Not toward me. Just... acknowledging my existence.
