“What the fuck is he doing here?” His Scottish accent is thick, Glaswegian and proud.
“He stayed with me and Ben.”
Micky stares at me. Smiles. It isn’t a kind smile.
“I’ve seen you before when you haven’t been on duty.” His eyes narrow. “You go to the same fucked up places I do.”
Clubs. Ones where no one has a true identity and every name is just for the night. Where I first saw Blair in the flesh while she was on her knees in front of another man, his cock in her mouth, her face covered with a feathered mask.
“I do.”
Micky raises his brows.
“Why’s he in here, Blair?” He looks at her.
“Because we want to know where Ben is.”
The man frowns.
“I saw him leave before sunrise.”
Knuckles are cracked, Micky looks at Blair, then at me. “You have a row or something?”
“No.” She doesn’t give details. “Has he had to leave?”
Micky’s fingers move rapidly across the keyboard. “Not as far as I’m aware and I’m aware of fucking everything. What time and from which room did you see him?”
“About four. From the window of his room. He was wearing his thick coat and boots. His hood was up. He looked prepared for outdoors.”
The tapping of keys stops and Micky stares at the screen. “He headed north. I can pick him up until the trees and then he’s gone but he knows where the cameras are and the times the drone flies over.” He watches some more. “Blair, Ben has secrets. You know that. He’s probably just gone to sort something out.”
“What are his secrets, because you know them?” Her voice is quiet, almost light, as if she’s merely asking to know what happened last night.
Micky doesn’t respond and I don’t wonder why. He will know every little thing about Ben and his sister and the whole threat she poses, could pose. Has posed. Because Micky knows as well as I do, as well as Ben does, that you keep your enemies close and you watch their every fucking movement. I’ve done it since I was fifteen and learned that enemies were sometimes exactly who you thought they could never be.
“Sometimes you need to try something to find out if you like it.” Micky glances over at Blair. “And hear it for yourself.”
“When do we start to look for him?”
“When we know he’s gone and he wants to be found.”
I watch as her expression hardens and the princess appears. She snaps her head round and glares.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because you look like a spoilt duchess.”
Micky laughs. “I like him. He can stay if he calls you out on your shit like that.”
Something inside me burns, a ferocious little flame that’s been getting stronger and more toxic for months, maybe years.
Now it blisters.
“Where does Ben go?” Because he’s the missing piece right now.
“Stables. The gardener’s cabin.” Micky pushes his chair back. “Sometimes he needs to think. Give him a few hours. If he’s not back for midnight we’ll look. He can’t have gone far in this weather. Roads are closed.” Micky’s looking at me rather than Blair and there’s something he can’t say in his eyes.
I know what it is. I can read it.
