“What thesergeant don’t know won’t hurt him,” he said. It was the same line he used anytime Ben got cold feet about breaking protocol.
“I don’t know,” Ben said again.
Lawrence loved his younger brother. He truly did. Ben was the only family he had left. But right at that moment, he would happily have pounded the sad sap’s face.
“Iknow,” Lawrence insisted. “Grab your coat. Grab your gun. Andlet’s go get some answers from this bastard.”
* * *
“Why can’t weallclimb over the rooftops to escape?” Emily asked.
She stood beside the lone attic window as weak spring sunlight tried to break through the rolling cloud cover outside. A storm moved quickly across the bay, headed inland with all the threatening malevolence Mother Nature could muster. Lightning cleaved the sky, maskingthe sound of Angel throwing open the cranky old window. He did a quick scan of the roofline and area below.
“Because, darling, while some of us might be skilled at running stealthily across rooftops, others of us are not.” Christian pulled himself through the hole in the attic floor and quickly picked his way over the uneven pieces of plywood laid haphazardly atop the joists. He handed Angelan aerosol can of something that looked like it might be deodorant.
It annoyed her to no end that he seemed not to inhabit a room so much asfillit. A moment ago, the place had been floor-to-ceiling boxes, plus Ace, Angel, Rusty, and her. Now, it was floor-to-ceilingChristian. Which struck her as particularly odd since Rusty was the one who was built like a tank.
“I’m assuming you’rereferring tome.” She cut Christian a look she hoped clearly conveyed her thoughts. Which was that he’d sprouted a bunch of new assholes, and if he wasn’t careful, he was in danger of becoming onegiantasshole.
“I am,” he admitted. “But besides that, it’s much easier for one person to escape the prying eyes of the press than five people.” When he shrugged, it was the physical equivalent ofduh.
Deciding he was probably right, she changed the subject. “What’s with the deodorant?”
“Not deodorant,” Angel said. He opened his backpack to add the can to the assortment of other items he had already taken from beneath the bathroom sink.
Reading the label on the aerosol can, she begged to differ. “Yes, it is. See?” She pointed to the big, bold letters that read: Beckham InstinctDeodorant Spray.
David Beckham was the undisputed pride of the Land of Hope and Glory. His name or mug was on just about everything.
“For our purposes,” Angel clarified, “it is a bomb.”
“Abomb!” She blinked around the dimly lit attic, dismayed to find all four men staring back at her impassively.
“The ignition for a bomb anyway,” Angel added as if that made everything better.
“And what exactly do you plan to blow up?”
“A car.” Angel slipped the straps of his full backpack over his shoulders.
“A car. Right.” She nodded, then quickly shook her head. “Are you nuts?”
“The explosion has to be big enough to draw the reporters away from the cottage,” Ace explained, proving everyone was on the same page except for her. She was convinced she hadn’t even beengiven a copy of the damn book.
“Yes,” Angel added. If she wasn’t mistaken, the look on his enigmatic facealsosaidduh.
She was getting real tired of that word. Whether it was implied or not.
“Fine. Whatever. Just…make sure the owner has insurance, if you can,” she said at the same time Christian blurted, “Check for proof of insurance, mate.”
Having grown up dirt poor, Emily knewwhat the lack of a vehicle could mean. An inability to get to work meant the loss of a job. The loss of a job meant the loss of a roof over your head, food on your table, and clothes on your back. But Christian? How didheknow?
It occurred to her then that, even after the months they’d been living and working together, she knew hardly anything about his past, about who he was and where he’dbeen before joining BKI. She wasn’t sure if she should be sad about that, or proud of herself. After all, getting to know him, therealhim, would skate precariously close to mixing business with pleasure.
Still, that didn’t stop her from asking,Who are you, Christian?
She didn’t voice the question aloud. Instead, she let her eyes do the talking for her. She and Christian had been doingthat a lot lately. Saying with their eyes and their expressions all the things they refused to speak aloud.
It was disconcerting. But she didn’t know how to stop it, short of refusing to look at him. And considering he was two kilos of uncutjoyto look at, she knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
