“You said this is how all your protection details go. Scouting locations and stuff.” I pulled my knees up, tucking my feet onto the seat. Childish, maybe, but I didn’t care. “Was that all true?”
“Yes.”
The train jolted and began to move. Slow at first, then faster, as we left the station.
“Why does it feel like more?”
He didn’t answer.
London was disappearing outside my window. The station, the tracks, buildings I didn’t recognize. Dark shapes against a darker sky. I watched them go and tried not to think about everything I’d missed. “I guess it felt real when you said it, because you wanted to scout out the Tower. But, when I called you, you were rattling off street names so fast, it was like you were from here.”
Still no answer.
“So if you know the city so well, why would you have to figure out the escape routes from one of the most popular tourist destinations in the city?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. At least he was listening.
Not that any of it mattered. He didn’t owe me an explanation. I should have opened my book on my phone and read in silence. But he was right there, next to me. And all I really needed was for him to say something—anything—that would help me hold on for the next couple of hours. I needed a person, not a walking, talking weapon. “I just…”
Just what, Grace?
“There was someone else.” Garrett’s voice was rough, like the words had been dragged up from the depths of his soul. His eyes finally stopped scanning everything, and he stared straight ahead, at the seat in front of him. “Someone who didn’t take my warnings seriously.”
I didn’t budge. If I moved, he might stop.
“She kept saying everything would be fine. That things would work out.” He sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, and his lip curled. “She was so fucking wrong.”
“What happened to her?”
Nothing. No response. No movement beyond a tic in his jaw.
I wanted to push. I wanted to know who, and when, and what had gone so wrong that he carried it years later. But something in the way he was holding himself—like he’d shatter if I pressed too hard—stopped me. Instead, I said, “I’m sorry for whatever happened.”
He shook his head once. Sharp. Maybe at me, maybe at himself and whatever he’d let slip. “And I was rattling off street names because I used a map.”
Oh.
The train picked up speed. It swayed gently as we sped through the darkness, heading for the tunnel, for France, for a safe haven outside of Paris where someone Garrett trusted was waiting.
Chapter 16
Galahad
The train left St.Pancras at 22:01, right on schedule. Grace had the window seat. I’d positioned us at the back of the Premier car: last row, clear view of anyone approaching from the forward compartments. The car was one-third full. A handful of tourists, a few couples, one family with a toddler already asleep in his mother’s arms.
The man who’d followed her was nowhere to be seen.
Grace stared out the window as London disappeared. She hadn’t said anything since I’d told her a bunch of random shit about my mother. Stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have let whatever I’d been feeling when she called—when I’d heard her voice tight with fear and realized she was alone and being followed—shouldn’t have let that bleed into words.
It wasn’t panic. I didn’t panic. I was a professional, and this was a job, and jobs didn’t involve panic or relief, because getting emotional never saved anyone.
Never, Garrett.
The egg sat in my travel pack, strapped across my chest. Tens of millions of dollars, and no idea how many untilthe authentication was complete. But our authenticator was obviously the one who called the man who was after Grace. What did he mean when he implied he was shifting to the hard way? How was terrifying her in her café and pickpocketing her in London notalreadythe hard way?
I pulled out my phone and texted Jean our arrival time. Then Arthur, with a brief situation report. Next, Tristan, asking him to go to the café and get whatever pictures he could of the second man. Maybe Morganna could use her resources at White Spring to find him. Finally, Merlin, to gather intel on Brandon Caulfield.
When I glanced over, Grace had her phone out too. From the screen full of text and the way she swiped to another screen full of text, it must have been a book.
