“Assassin, actually.”
“What?”
“I’m an assassin. This is my first bodyguard assignment.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “This is fucked up, Lucy.”
“Yes, it is. But right now, we need him. And I need you to stop being all Protector Owen, okay?”
He ignores me. Instead, his mossy green eyes stare and search mine until he sees something that he decides not to argue with, and turns back to look out at the passing scenery below.
The sprawls of housing peppered in between parks and industrial estates lead us further into the outskirts of London and into the home counties.
I sigh and turn my gaze to Andrews, who’s watching me with a raised eyebrow. I flip the switch again, so that I’m now communicating with only Andrews.
“Don’t start!” I point, and he laughs, holding his hands up.
“Would I ever?” He’s still grinning, and I pick up a bottle of water from the floor and throw it at him, his chuckle filling the headset.
“Where are we going?” I look out the window, noticing the winding roads below.
“I’ll drop you in Weybridge, Surrey. I’ve got somewhere you can lie low, and we can work out what’s next.”
“No doubt his lordship wants to update his social media accounts.”
“Probably not a bad thing, little one. He has a role to play, responsibilities. How are things between the two of you?”
I lean back and quickly glance out the window, annoyed at how my throat clogs with emotion. The helicopter lurches as it hits a spot of turbulence. I grip the handle above my seat to steady myself.
I sigh, contemplating the best way to answer his question.
“Complicated.”
“You slept with him,” he responds, and my head whips round quickly, my eyes wide.
“Jesus, Andrews.”
He laughs again. “I’m a bloke. I know these things.” He glances over at Owen. “He cares for you a great deal, Kara.”
I look over at him, his body turned away, tense and silently seething.
“I know.”
“Have you told him?”
“Hmm,” I reply, watching him. “Kind of.”
“Which means?”
“I did it in the most inappropriate, untactile way, and made us both feel like shit.”
“Oh, so you were yourself then.”
I hold my middle finger up to scratch my eyebrow, and he lets out a scoff.
“I just…I could have done it better.” I fidget in the seat, regret washing over me, my legs crossing and uncrossing as I acknowledge how shitty I’ve handled things until this point.
“I’ve deflected, I’ve judged, I’ve belittled, and then because he got pissed at me, I declared what had happened outside his apartment building just to hurt him. We haven’t spoken about it since.”
