“And I will. They just...fell out of the rucksack.” He swept together the drugs and dumped them in the kit. “When have I had time? I can’t leave them in a public rubbish bin where any homeless bugger could pick them out.”
Her forehead wrinkled. She thought he was lying—and why shouldn’t she?The truth I can deal with. It’s lies and deception I have a problem with.
“Jamie, have you taken any more since the cottage?”
“No.”
She dropped eye contact, blinking fast.
“But of course you don’t believe me.” He clicked the lid back on, shaking his head. “And why should you? That’s the problem. That’s always going to be the problem. You can’t trust me anymore. If I’m jumpy, you’ll suspect drugs. If I sleep too heavily, you’ll suspect drugs. If I’m too quiet, if I’m on edge, if I’m too chilled, if I’m wired, if I’m tired, if I’m happy, if I go out to meet somebody without telling you every detail, if I spend too long in the bathroom, if my eyes look different... You’ll be searching the rubbish and checking my fucking phone log. You see? This is one of the many reasons we could never work, you and I.”
“You keep talking as if I’m asking for a relationship,” she said quietly. “I’m not, okay? I’ve asked for nothing from you and I’m not going to. I’m not...ready for any of this and neither are you.”
He stood, abruptly, his head protesting at the rush of movement. “Shite. I know you’re not. I really don’t know why I said all of that.”
Yes, he did. Because he’d found somebody he’d actually like to go there with but that would mean facing up to things he didn’t want to face up to. And he’d screwed everything up before they could get started, anyway. He couldn’t be with somebody who didn’t trust him any more than she could be with somebody she didn’t trust.
She stood, slowly, quickly stepping backward when she realized how close they were. “I have to...disable Laura’s social media. We have to...go.” She turned away, and froze. “You’re not answerable to me, Jamie. Just to yourself.”
She left, closing the door behind her. He stared at the box in his hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FROMTHEHIREDPRIUS, the hotel loomed into the heavy sky like a medieval prison. Hidden downlights cast shadows under its architraves, as if it were frowning down on Samira.I’m watching you.Along the road, streetlamps lit silvery blades of rain.
Thank God she’d be waiting out the break-in in the basement, hidden behind the windows Rafe had blacked out to match those of Laura’s car. She clutched the laptop. Holly had begged the hotel’s Wi-Fi password from the guy she’d stolen the keycard from, pretending to be a fellow guest who’d forgotten it.
They slowed as they passed through the valet parking bay. Holly lowered her window and a parking attendant approached. Beyond him the roller door was guarded by a police officer in a heavy coat. She raised her hand as if to shield her face from the drizzle. Samira opened the laptop with shaking fingers, swiped the mouse pad to bring it out of hibernation and hunkered down over the screen, pulling tendrils of the brown wig over her shoulders, to more closely resemble Laura’s brunette assistant.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry,” Holly called to the attendant, in a slightly different accent, loud enough for the cop to hear. “I forgot something. We need to pop back in real quick. Do you mind opening the...?” She gestured at the roller door.
If the attendant or cop thought it odd that Laura was doing the talking and not her staff they said nothing. Samira opened a blank document and furiously typed nonsense, her ears and peripheral vision working overtime. A clunk and rattle. Ahead, the door was lifting. They passed into the gloomy interior, and she practiced exhaling with a whoosh and then letting her chest fill with new oxygen all by itself, as if breathing were a thoroughly normal bodily function. From the driver’s seat, Jamie glanced back and gave a somber smile.
She directed him to a security camera black spot in a corner, from where “Laura” and her bodyguard could catch an elevator to the lobby. Rafe would accompany Holly, as he more closely resembled one of Laura’s detail, while Jamie stayed with Samira. That too was a comfort, even if the air between them had thickened.
I’m not ready for any of this and neither are you.
A small irrational part of her had hoped he would challenge her, as he had with so many of her fears and doubts, declare that actually hewasready. But he’d backed right off. This man who was so willing to fight for what he believed in, for the people he believed in, wasn’t prepared to fight for a future for the two of them. But who was she to judge? She wasn’t fighting either. Always easier not to take the risk.
Holly grabbed her clutch purse from the seat beside her and, with a wink and grin at Samira, let herself out. Only Rafe seemed to share Samira’s doubts, his face steelier by the minute. No need to fake the vigilant glower of a bodyguard. Samira’s stomach flip-flopped as she watched them walk to the lift, Holly’s head bent over a cell phone in her hand, averting her face from the security camera there. Her new cream coat hung open and a sliver of her red scarf trailed out.
As they disappeared into the elevator, Jamie twisted to face Samira. There’d be no talking about where they’d left things, thank God. They needed to listen to Rafe and Holly’s progress over the comms. Rafe had his set to continuous broadcast, for now. Enforced silence—that was something well within Samira’s comfort zone. It was bad enough that Rafe and Holly had heard the argument in the bedroom—not that they’d said anything but Samira had noted their sideways glances afterward. She winced at the thought. Jamie frowned, tipping his head in a question. She shook her head.
An elevator bell chimed, through the earpiece. “About to step into the lobby,” Rafe murmured. “Wish us luck.”
Samira forced her breath to remain even and quiet as Holly’s stilettos clicked on the marble floor of the reception atrium. Holly would hang back, in view of the concierge but still apparently absorbed by the phone, while Rafe approached the desk.
“Miss Hyland’s keycard has stopped working,” Rafe said, in a passable American accent. Samira pictured him raising the wiped card. The connection glitched a moment, and then his voice returned. “...a new card?”
Samira closed her eyes. Rafe was armed with one of the handguns Jamie had stolen from the goons in the forest but that wouldn’t get him far. Holly had refused to carry a weapon. A woman’s voice filtered in, too distant to make out words. After that, only the slight buzz of white noise, Samira’s own quickening breath and an echoing drip, drip, drip from somewhere in the basement.
She opened her eyes. Jamie’s eyes were gray again, looking over her shoulder to scan the garage, blinking calmly, his jaw set. Was this Jamie the soldier? He didn’t have the jumpiness of earlier, so maybe he wasn’t on anything. Or maybe that was why he appeared calm.
That’s always going to be the problem. You can’t trust me anymore.
True, he wasn’t the infallible hero she’d thought him to be, but somehow that made him more attractive, not less. Right now, the attraction was physical—a pull in her gut, a craving to reach out and cup his smooth jaw. It’d been hell to fix his earpiece in place and tape the cords to his neck and back when all she’d wanted was to tiptoe up and kiss him.
Rafe muttered something. Jamie’s gaze met hers, his forehead wrinkling. She shrugged. After half a minute the heels clicked again. The ping of an arriving elevator. More clicking. Jamie tapped a hand on the back of his seat.
