She sputtered and punched her fist into his belly. “That’s all you have to say after I spilled my innards to you?”
He wasn’t ready and it hurt. He tried to grab her arms, but Hurley had taught her well. She hooked her foot behind his calf, jerked him off balance, and sent him on his back on the ancient threadbare carpet. He grinned up at her, brought his own leg up, and tapped her behind her knee. She flew forward, and he grabbed her arms when she landed on top of him. He flipped her onto her back, grinned down at her. “Don’t try to outsmart the master. You wanted me to agree with you that you acted like a selfish twit? Well, maybe, but that was then and now you’re someone else, the person you were always meant to be.”
“What does that mean? Let me go, you idiot!”
Time slowed. He looked down at her face. “I mean the person I want to be with for the rest of my life.”
She licked her lips, gave him a mad grin. “Well, then. That’s better.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Tommy’s flat
Carberry Street, near the Thames, London
Tuesday
Rome found a parking space a half block away from the Corinthian. He looked around as he closed Elizabeth’s door. “Some neighborhood. Your mother told you your brother lives in that building? It looks like it belongs on Park Avenue in New York. Elizabeth, stop worrying. You know your brother. You’ll know the truth about whether he’s still using, maybe even before I will.”
Elizabeth felt hopeful and frightened at the same time. They walked past an old gentleman dressed in dark blue and gold who doffed his hat and bowed Elizabeth into an exquisite art deco lobby, all geometric shapes and clean symmetrical lines, except for two large palm trees sitting healthy and proud in art deco square pots. The doorman pointed them to an ancient elevator that clanged them to the sixth floor. They walked down the wide carpeted hallway to the end flat, with a glossy black door and a lion-head knocker.
Elizabeth’s heart was pounding as she pressed the bell beside the knocker.
They heard faint voices, then a man’s heavy step. The door opened and there stood a fit-looking stranger about her ownage, dark skinned, dark eyed, clean shaven. He wore a slouchy gray sweatshirt, black jeans, and high-top sneakers on long narrow feet.
He stared at her a moment, and at Rome, turned his head back into the flat, and said, “I’m late, Tommy, I’ve got to go. You’ve got visitors.” He turned back to them and said, “Sorry, I was just leaving,” squeezed around them, and hurried down the hallway to the elevator.
Tommy came into the entryway. He gave a start, stared, and smiled. “Elizabeth? Is it really you? I hoped you’d come. It’s so good to see you.” He held out his arms and Elizabeth ran to him, pulled him close and kissed his face, mussed his beautifully cut hair.
“Oh, Tommy, it’s so lovely to see you too.” She pulled back from him. “And look at you. Goodness, you’re the image of Father. All big and handsome.” She hugged him again.
Tommy closed his eyes a moment, seemed to breathe her in. He looked up at Rome, cocked his head. “You’re the Yank guarding my sister?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Rome said.
Elizabeth introduced them. “Rome’s a special agent with the American FBI. And yes, I suppose he’s something like my bodyguard.”
Tommy didn’t let her go, merely stuck out a hand and shook Rome’s. “It’s great to meet you. You have my thanks, forever. Imagine, the FBI. Come in, come in.”
Elizabeth and Rome followed Tommy down a short hallway paved with lovely parquet into a long, narrow living room with large windows framing the Thames and the London Eye, an exquisite, dramatic view. Boats of all sizes plied the water, from barges to a boat filled with tourists.
Tommy grinned, waved his arms around. “My flat’s something, isn’t it? Mother picked it out, moved me in. When she visits she loves to sit by the window while we talk, look out overthe Thames, and people-watch, I believe you say in the States. Please, sit down.”
Tommy Palmer was beautifully dressed in a pale green cashmere sweater and pressed chinos, black alligator shoes on his feet. He looked clean, healthy, his color good, though he was on the thin side. He and Elizabeth shared the same vibrant blue eyes, slightly uptilted like their mother’s, but Rome was struck more by how much he resembled his father when he smiled. Before Elizabeth could sit down on his burgundy leather sofa, her brother pulled her close again, squeezed her until she squeaked.
Elizabeth, Rome thought, looked thrilled. She leaned back in the circle of his arms. “You look amazing, Tommy, just perfect.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, made her laugh.
Rome said, “We met a man at the front door who nearly ran past us.”
Tommy said, “That was a friend of mine, Alberto Albi, goes by Al. His parents are from Marsala, Sicily. He spent his childhood there, claims he still misses baking in the hot Sicilian sun.”
A drug dealer? Rome asked, “How did you meet him?”
Tommy sat forward in his chair, clasped his hands between his knees. “Happenstance, really. About a month ago I’d just finished my daily long walk and stood outside the Grenadier, a pub in Wilton Mews, and decided it wasn’t too early for a Guinness. Al was at the bar drinking a pint and we got to talking. I ended up telling him I was a recovering addict. He listened, then told me straight up he understood because he’d been through recovery too, and from that beginning we became friends.” He shot a look at Rome. “He dresses like an oddball, doesn’t he? Actually, Al’s a successful game developer. I’m not surprised he had to run. Al’s always late. He had a meeting with one of his people.”
He suddenly frowned. “How is Mother? Since I’m not welcome at Darlington Hall, I’ve only been able to speak with her on the phone. I haven’t seen her since Saturday night. She’s been too shaken up to drive back to London, and I doubt too Father would even consider letting her.”
