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Anne took his arm and wordlessly guided him toward the door.
Chapter Eleven
William would never admit that his hands were shaking, but Anne could tell just from being so close to him. He said nothing as they crossed the floor of the gala and nothing as they headed for the elevators. Once in the elevator, she put her hand on his chest.
“What did Egerton say?” Anne asked.
“It’s not important. It isn’t relevant to the case.” William had finished the champagne in the ballroom, and his hand looked like it was itching for another drink. “It could still be either Egerton or Santiago. The legwork is all up to the PD.”
He looked up at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh.
“Will—”
“Not sharing, love. Not something your partners need to know.”
Anne frowned. Then she reached into the plunging V neckline of her dress and turned off the mic. “They aren’t listening now. What happened?”
William shook his head. When the doors opened, he took her hand and made a determined line into the hallway until they reached room 437. He opened it, took her inside, and flipped the deadbolt.
“Where’s the bloody bar?” William groaned. He shucked off his suit jacket and dropped it on the bed.
“There.” Anne pointed with one hand toward what looked like a large, two-door cabinet made of dark wood, as she slipped out of her heels. She hadn’t minded them as much as William had imagined. All of her boots had a significant heel. She disliked feeling small around the other officers.
William bent over the fridge and pulled out the whiskey. “Cheers, pet.” He poured several fingers, set the bottle down, and knocked the whiskey back.
“Jesus, Will.” Anne came over and took the bottle. “Is that really necessary?”
“It is. You want?” William took the bottle in hand again.
“There is not enough no in the world.” Anne reached into the bar and pulled out a bottle of wine and a Toblerone.
“Good plan,” William said, pouring himself another glass as she poured her wine.
“If you don’t tell me what happened, I’m going to beat you up and take the whiskey from you,” Anne warned him. She hopped on the bed and opened the candy.
“Love it how violent you are when you’re being supportive.” William sunk into a large leather chair and threw his legs over the side.
This time, he savored the whiskey as he recounted what he’d heard from Egerton, what he’d suspected about his father, and exactly what he’d learned from his mother before she’d died. Anne set the candy down and went to sit on the free arm of the chair.
“That’s terrible,” she said.
“Noooo.” William scoffed. “That’s par for the course between the Spencer’s and Egerton’s, right? We’re completely normal.”
“What I mean to say is, that’s completely fucked up. He threatened you even as he was offering you a partnership, and we’re going to nail him to the wall,” Anne clarified.
“There’s that lovely violence again. You must be the best mum.”
Anne stiffened. William rolled his eyes up to her.
“You think I don’t mean that? My mum taught me how to fight with knives. She taught me how to shoot. And if anyone had come at me with a blade when I was alive, she would’ve slit them from neck to navel within five seconds.”
“What, was she training you to be an assassin? I have higher aspirations for Evie.”
“She trained me to take care of myself. But she probably did train a hit man or two. I know she was involved in MI6 back in the day.” William drained his glass and let it rest in his lap for a moment. “Do you…?”
“What? What is it?”
“D’you reckon the ring you found at the scene could’ve been my mum’s? She gave me mine. And she had one that looked like it. She might’ve given it to one of her students before she died.”
Anne sat with that for a moment, carding her fingers through William’s hair while he looked at her in askance. She didn’t know. She only knew that if the intel they’d gained tonight was accurate, they might be one step closer to figuring this tangled web out.
“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Egerton still could’ve been trying to frame you. He could’ve been using your possible arrest to make you want to join him,” Anne said.
“He doesn’t work that way.” William reached for the bottle and filled his glass once more. “Dunno why I care so bloody much that my father probably had me stabbed to teach me a lesson. It’s not exactly new information that he’s a fucking psychopath.”
