Chapter Seven
The window overlooks the loch, probably the closest room to the actual banks and when the place is quiet I can hear the lapping of the water against the shore. Today the place is pretty much silent. Blair is away for three nights in Paris, meeting the French president, and for this occasion, I haven’t gone with her. There’s a continuum of information that comes in and some of it seemed pertinent, stuff that only me and Micky need to deal with at first. More important than me going to Paris with her.
I wouldn’t know what to do with Blair in Paris. I heard her mother joke about it being a city of romance and love, and the thought of her having that with anyone but me rankles and cuts. But I have no fucking clue how to do that. Romance has never been part of my repertoire. It’s been as scarce as a relationship with anything other than my right hand.
I run a check through a database I’m probably not meant to access and wait for the list of names to fill a screen so I can cross reference them with information I already have and what’s in my head. I’m already three black coffees in and it’s not past nine o’clock.
The door to the study creaks open and I turn and stand automatically. Blair’s father, the King, stands there, both his hands on walking sticks and I stride over to make sure he doesn’t fall.
“How the fu… devil have you got down here?” He doesn’t resist the grip I place round his frail shoulders and the guide I offer to the beat up leather chair that Micky won’t fucking part with.
He shrugs, searching for breath.
“I’m going out on a limb and suggesting that you pretended to be asleep and made your way here.”
There’s a nod and he won’t meet my eye. The man’s dying and he knows it. He also knows that this is the worst possible time, for his family on a personal level and where the country is now.
“Do I need to call your doctor?”
He shakes his head.
“Water?”
Another shake.
“Whisky?”
He looks up and I see the spark in his eyes I remembered from when I was a boy.
I laugh and get up, find one of the bottles Micky has stashed for emergencies that occur on a regular basis, depending on what today’s definition of an emergency is. I pick the best because fuck knows whether he’ll get another taste of it.
“Micky’ll kill you for opening that.” He takes the glass with a shaking hand.
“Micky’d have to catch me first and we both know that’s not going to happen.” I sit back down in the green leather captain’s chair I rescued from a house that was left abandoned and pick up coffee number four. “What’s made you almost kill yourself getting down here?”
“My daughter.”
Shit.
“She’s safe. The team looking after her know exactly what they’re doing.”
His eyes don’t leave mine as he drains the glass.
“I know. I know a lot more than you think, Ben.”
I don’t speak. I fold my arms and wait for him.
“I know you spend time with my daughter when you’re off duty.”
I should deny it. I should seriously think about what the fuck I’m doing because I shouldn’t be sleeping with his daughter most nights.
“Ben, if I was pissed at the idea, you wouldn’t still be here.” He reminds me of the power he wields.
“I’ve been friends with Blair for a long time…”
His laugh interrupts me.
“Friends?Pull the other one.” He lifts the glass, now empty.
