“Already?”
Isaac nods. “The shooter made a statement after. Made no attempt to get away from the police.”
“Who was he?” Blair turns round, looks at Isaac. The attraction I’ve seen before from her isn’t there right now.
Isaac shrugs. “I don’t know a great deal yet. No one’s claimed him as being part of their group.”
I see her clench her jaw.
“In about thirty minutes we’ll even know his favourite brand of toilet paper.” Isaac isn’t joking. It’ll probably be less than that and we’ll probably know how many sheets he uses when he’s had a shit.
And we probably won’t find out the truth because there are too many people who wanted Lennox Stewart dead and they all have the power to pay people with spades to keep that truth buried.
Blair glances out the window again and then moves out of the room. I follow her to the suite we were all in just minutes ago and watch as she pulls off what she’s wearing and throws sweatpants and a hoodie onto the creased sheets of the bed, then unties her hair so it flies lose.
It’s intimate, watching someone change. I’ve fucked her six ways to heaven but this is raw.
Isaac watches too; I catch him, his eyes feasting on her lace bra, her dark nipples visible. I want to tell him that now’s not the time except I’m doing the same.
“How long will it take us to get home?” If she’s aware of our eyes, she doesn’t show it.
“Four hours. Maybe a wee more.”
“Let’s go.”
She slips her feet into old trainers, looking nothing like a princess.
Isaac straightens, puts his hands in his pockets, his habit. His jaw is dark with stubble that’s less than a day old and when it thickens it makes his eyes look even more like jewels that don’t belong in a face that belongs to a pirate.
Or maybe they do.
“Blair,” Isaac sounds urgent.
Her face is expressionless. “I’m okay.”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather come back with you. But…”
“I know. You need to sort things out in your own country. I’ll see you whenever we next need to meet.”
The bullet she fires isn’t made of steel and there is no bang, but Isaac has been hit anyway.
“I’ll call you when we get there.” I press my hand to his back as I walk past him. “Have you heard from Goldsmith?”
Isaac nods. “He’s on his way to a safe house as we speak.”
“Good.” I’m not sure I mean it.
* * *
We have cars surrounding us as we drive away from a city that’s been silenced once again. As we join the first motorway, eerily quiet as movement has been frozen, rain starts to hammer down, scarring the windscreen and lowering visibility.
I’ve driven through worse.
“I fucking hate this.” They’re the first words Blair’s spoken since we left the hotel.
“The weather or what’s happened?”
“Both.”
