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We need to get ready to go.
CHAPTER 25
IVY
After spending the rest of our day preparing and persuading Torean to let us use two of the cars in his fleet, we’re finally on the move. We’ve been on the road for hours and have traded beautiful Scottish landscapes for dull stretches of motorway.
We’re travelling in a convoy—Freddie and I up front in the Jag, while Seb drives Callen and Bram in the Land Rover behind us. Bram’s still recovering but has repeatedly reassured everyone that he’s well enough to travel, not that he has much choice.
Apart from stopping a few times for toilet breaks and grunting a few words at each other, Freddie and I haven’t spoken. In fact, I haven’t seen much of him since we made our deal. Reading and trying to avoid eye contact with the Dukes has been the best way to pass time.
Signs to London are starting to appear more regularly, but the miles don’t seem to be going down. I huff in frustration, crossing my arms over my chest as we get caught in yet another traffic jam.
I lower the window to feel the breeze on my face.
“What are you doing?” Freddie snaps. “Close it!”
“Jesus, I’m only getting some air,” I reply. “Or did you expect me to vault out of the window and cause a pile-up that’ll kill us all? I’m good at what I do, but I’m not that good.”
Freddie smirks but keeps his eyes on the road ahead. He’s rocking a sunglasses-black suit combo that makes him look like he’s on his way to a modelling shoot. Eurgh, why does he have to have such perfectly chiselled cheekbones too? Some people get all the luck.
“I’ve been thinking about our deal…” I say, daring to broach the subject again.
It’s not like he can run. Besides, discussing business matters will take my mind off his annoyingly flawless features. Freddie agreed to work through my hit list in exchange for my help, but how do I know he won’t use me like Alaric did? He could use me and cut me loose. I need to take care of myself.
“We’ve already made the deal,” he replies, ending the conversation. “There’s nothing left to say.”
A car horn beeps to our right, and Seb starts overtaking us. As they speed past, Callen sticks up his middle finger and makes the ‘wanker’ hand motion. I roll my eyes. He’s a fucking child.
“You want me to help you take down a group of assassins. How do I know you’re not going to screw me over?” I ask. “I waited years for Alaric to give me permission to start ticking names off my list. I want to kill them first.”
“If I give you what you want, you’ll have no incentive to help us,” he points out.
“How about we strike a compromise?” I say, putting the window up as we start to gain speed before my hair resembles Hagrid’s. “Let me kill Trout as an act of good faith, then I’ll help you.”
Freddie raises his eyebrows. “You’re getting awfully good at forgetting you're our prisoner.”
“I’m your colleague,” I correct, admiring my nails. It’s strange to see them without polish; I’ll need to change that. I do my best work when I’m dressed to kill. “We’re working together, remember?”
“I’ll think about your offer.”
“And one more thing…” I say, knowing we’ll soon be passing a giant shopping centre. “I need you to buy me new clothes.”
His eyes bulge. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” I reply mockingly. “Don’t you think I’ll draw attention wearing guy’s shirts wherever I go?”
“Unbelievable,” Freddie mutters.
I point at a sign. “We can go there.” I flick my hair over my shoulder. “It’ll be safer than waiting until we’re back in the capital.”
He scowls, then taps a few buttons on the screen built into the dashboard.
Seb’s voice fills the car. “Is everything okay back there?”
“See you later, losers!” Callen chips in, closely followed by, “Ouch!”
Hopefully, Bram punched him in the shoulder. I’m relieved to have avoided being stuck in the car with that arsehole for hours. I’d take an awkward silence over Callen’s theatrics any day.
