There. She saw what must have tipped off her asset.
A black car on the other side of the street, with a silhouette sitting inside of it, facing her direction.
Sydney didn’t look again. But the single glance told her enough. Someone was watching her, after all.
Inwardly, she cursed. Drop aborted. They would have to try again within the next twenty-four hours, before Winter’s concert began. But at least this little failed trip told her without a doubt that Eli Morrison was watching her movements. He’d probably have eyes on dozens of people in the city over the next few days.
Her goal was to make herself look as boring as possible. A bodyguard, nothing more.
She turned away from the mailbox without a second look and adjusted the two coffees in her hands. Then she turned to head back to the house.
Only now did the full enormity of their mission settle in. Eli Morrison was no fool. He was a man who indulged in brutality. If they were caught, she knew there was nothing Sauda and Niall would—or could—do to save them. That was part of this gig, after all.
London would be an interesting place to die. Would it happen here?
Sydney had never been afraid of death, simply because she didn’t think dead people felt anything. Butdying? A different matter entirely. She’d experienced that moment many times before, whether during a mission where she’d escaped by a hairsbreadth or when she was still a child trapped in a home she hated. So this was a familiar question to her, something that appeared in her mind at the start of every mission.
Where would she die? Would it be here?
She didn’t know the answer, of course—only that when it did happen, she would be alone somewhere, with no one to rescue her but herself. That realization had been with her all her life. Maybe that was why she’d fallen so easily into this line of work. Everyone died alone. Her mother had, after all.
The thought reminded her of her lungs, and as if on cue, a spasm of pain rippled uncomfortably through her chest.
She sucked in her breath instinctively, then let the air out in a slow exercise and quickened her walk. Like hell she was going to die here, her last mission being stuck with an annoying superstar.
And with that thought lodged firmly in her mind, she hurried down the street, not bothering to wonder whether anyone else was watching her.
12
Suspicions
The indoor pool in Winter’s house was cool and soothing, the sound of its lapping blending with the patter of rain against the windows and the steady rhythm of nearby voices. Winter lay back in the water and stared at the staircase curling up to the top floor. Several feet away, Leo and Dameon lounged on the couches, picking at a pile of chocolate bars that Claire had dropped off for them.
“We won’t see you because there won’t be a break,” Leo told Winter now as he peeled off the wrapper to a Cadbury Twirl. “Claire said you’ll go straight from the concert to the after-party as Penelope’s guest of honor.”
“Where are you headed?” Winter said to them.
“The clubs,” Dameon answered with a shrug. “So don’t get into trouble.”
“I never get into trouble,” Winter protested.
“He means, don’t get into troublewithout us,” Leo clarified with a grin.
Now that evening had settled into the corners of the house, the space seemed more sinister than elegant. Winter thought he could see shadows flickering in his peripheral vision, shapes in the silhouettes of trees out in the garden that swayed in the breeze. Now and then came the low rumble of distant thunder. The uneasy electricity in the air suited his mood, and he found himself composing melodies in his head to match the energy, as if trying to distract himself from his real reason for being here.
“Did Claire say if she’s allowed inside the party?” Winter asked.
“She’s not, either,” Dameon replied. “Just you and Ashley.”
Winter already knew this, although he also knew they’d expect him to ask. He sat up in the water and leaned his arms against the edge of the pool. “Great,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry.” Dameon smiled, adjusting the large bun of dreadlocks secured high on his head. “You’ll feel like Claire’s there even if she’s not.”
As if on cue, Winter’s phone pinged against the pool’s ledge, and the screen lit up to show a long message from Claire.
Confirmed your car for tomorrow night! It’ll be waiting right outside the main entrance, not the side. So brace yourself for a crowd. If you leave in anything other than that car, with anyone I don’t know, don’t forget to TELL ME, do you understand? No answer means yes!
He wondered what Claire would think of Sydney’s three-to-five-letter texts.
