Slowly, he shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. Maria. She had to have called him.”
“She had no idea where we were staying.”
Cameron had found them somehow, though. Until they knew how, they wouldn’t be safe.
“Mommy.” Emmy’s tiny voice was hesitant.
“Yes, honey?” Laine twisted to face her.
Tears swam in her daughter’s eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. “I told Maria we were staying across the street from a fancy chocolate store. And that we had a big flower garden in our front yard. Did she tell Daddy?”
Laine sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. She closed her eyes on a breath and forced her facial muscles to stay neutral. None of this was Emmy’s fault. She shouldn’t have left her alone with Maria. Should have known the woman would call her employer to let him know about the conversation she’d had with Laine.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine.”
One thing was for sure—Maria had no idea what she’d done.
Chapter
Eighteen
Roarke’s eyes were gritty with fatigue. What a fucking night. His body hurt from fighting and, hell, from all the tension of seeing Laine standing so close to a shooter. Jesus, that could’ve ended badly.
For now, they didn’t have a tail.
He’d called Striker and Viper to let them know what had happened. Then he’d driven around London for two hours. Other than stopping to check over their bag for a tracking device—which had come up clean—he hadn’t wanted to stop for several reasons. One, Emmy needed to sleep. Two, he didn’t want to give anyone a chance to track them before they made it to the airport.
Their flight departed in three hours.
Enough time to get breakfast to go. The early morning sun sat low on the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant yellow hue.
He pulled into a fast-food drive-thru.
Laine was asleep in her reclined seat, her lips slightly pursed and ripples creasing her brow.
Emmy yawned.
He turned to see her stretching. She blinked sleepily. “Where are we?” she asked, rubbing drool from her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Just getting some food before we head to the airport,” he whispered. “Did you sleep?”
Soft-rock music spilled quietly out of the speakers, hopefully concealing their conversation so Laine could get a few more minutes of sleep.
She nodded, but she looked anything but rested.
“What are you hungry for? Breakfast sandwich?”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and squirmed onto her knees as if just the mention of food gave her an abundance of energy. “Can I have fruit, too? And a smoothie?”
He grimaced. “Aren’t those the same thing?”
She chortled. “No. Youdrinka smoothie, silly.”
“All right. I’ll see what they have.”
Her smile faltered, and she tilted her head. “You’re bleeding.” Her voice was sharp with fear.
He glanced at his gray T-shirt then flipped down the visor and opened the mirror. Sure enough, small splatters of blood covered his neck and disappeared beneath his collar.
