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Their room was just as they’d left it, and Asher was quick to retrieve their bags from the hole in the ceiling. There were no jokes or innuendos now. Asher’s smile was gone. Obviously the memories about his childhood hadn’t been particularly pleasant, but none of their lives had been pleasant. Death and fucking misery lurked in every corner, in every memory.
The room felt too small. Not just with them both in it, but also with what was left unsaid. Tension and frustration took up most of the space between them. Two loners, with a penchant for killing people, forced to be together in a tiny apartment was asking for trouble. Especially when they were both exhausted.
Harry washed up the best he could in the small basin, scrubbing his face and brushing his teeth, to feel half human, at least. He pulled the small table in front of the door before he laid his tired and sore body down on the hard floor, pulled his backpack under his head, and closed his eyes.
“You can share the bed,” Asher said.
Harry was almost too tired to answer. “You take it tonight. I’ll take it tomorrow night. Or I’ll take the floor again. I don’t care. And if someone tries to come through the front door, I can just shoot them from here.”
There was silence for a long moment, and before Harry drifted off, he remembered to ask, “What time are we meeting this woman?”
“Midday.”
* * *
Gibson kepthis face to the wind as the ferry cut across the strait. The sea air was cool despite the sun. He pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for Parrish to answer. He picked up on the fifth ring. “Yes.”
“We’re crossing to Morocco. The black Jaguar spotted leaving Madrid is now in the possession of a fisherman, who was kind enough to identify Harrigan in a photo. He made a special trip to Tangiers five nights ago, two men. Harrigan was one of them.”
“And the other?”
“Can’t say for certain but I’d bet money he’s travelling with Garin.”
Parrish made a growl of disgust. “Fuck.”
Gibson gave him a few long seconds to regroup and reconsider their plans, waited for him to elaborate further instructions. None were forthcoming. “Boss?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“We’ll start in Tangiers,” Gibson added, though Parrish’s only response was a dial tone.
