by Ritter Ames
He checked out both sides, then used his phone to do a scan of the images. “It doesn’t look like much, but I’m often amazed at what I find once I start digging.”
“I’m always amazed at what you find.” I looked to the kitchen but didn’t see Cassie anywhere. “Where did she go?”
“The Tesco on the next block. The nurse suggested soup for you and Jack. Cassie didn’t have any and was determined to follow orders.”
Smiling, I shook my head. I grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and went back into the bedroom to help Jack.
“I don’t know if we’re going to survive our period of recuperation,” I told Jack.
“What do you mean?”
“Cassie is following hospital orders to the letter.”
The trauma team had sutured his wounds and braced his arm to help the muscles recover. “I’m going to cut off your shirt. It’s a goner anyway, and even if it isn’t I never want to see the thing again. Hold still.”
“Don’t like the shirt, or don’t like the memories it brings back?” he asked, barely moving his lips as he spoke. I wanted to laugh, but I was afraid he’d join in and it would have been painful for him.
“I don’t like remembering how dead you looked in the hallway with this shirt getting redder and redder by the second. Plus, it has holes from the damned knife. There.” I pulled out the last strip of fabric and nearly cried when I saw the bandages on his side and back. “I am so grateful the stupid ogre didn’t know anatomy.”
He chuckled. “Ow!”
“They told you not to laugh.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Your muscles won’t find anything even slightly humorous at the current time.” I kissed his forehead. “Try to remain stoic.”
He grabbed my waist and pulled me down to sit on the bed beside him. With a finger, he lifted my chin. “Just before we were attacked, I think I said something that made you…uncomfortable,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no.” I jumped to my feet, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back down again. I waved a hand. “It’s okay. We were just teasing about Danny, I know.”
He used his free hand to trace down my cheek and under my lower lip. I started chewing the corner of my lip, and he leaned in and kissed me, starting softly with that corner, then covering my mouth with his.
When we broke from the kiss, his mesmerizing teal eyes held my gaze, and he said, “What I said wasn’t to pressure you. It was simply a quick quip to reply to what you said. But I do want you to know I’m committed to us. I know we said we were going to try this, see how it went, but you can trust me. Even if I did try to con you a lot at first. I’m not asking for promises, just letting you know I’m willing to put just as much into this relationship as you are.”
I felt tears welling. I looked down and cleared my throat, willing my voice to stay steady, as I said, “That means a lot.” I took a deep breath, then forced a light laugh and patted his thigh. “But no worries. I knew the ‘my girl’ thing was in response to what I said about Danny trying to get your goat. It was the perfect retort.” I stood and waved my arms a bit as I looked down at him and added, “I knew…all this…don’t worry. I understand the Jack you were last fall was the Jack you had to be at that moment in time…and place…all.”
He grabbed one of my flying hands. “But you do understand the Jack I really am, right?”
There had been so many men I couldn’t trust through the years, so many who helped me create the armor I wore against getting too close. He knew that—well, he knew enough to understand it, even if he didn’t know all the particulars. Hell, for a while he was the male I was least convinced about in my life. Until I learned more. In that moment though, I couldn’t speak. I used the hand he wasn’t holding to cover my mouth for a second, then I reached down to grip his hand with both of mine. “I know…it takes me some time…and I don’t forget things easily, I have to be convinced. But I have us in perspective—you in perspective—the real you. I know. It wasn’t anything today…I just hadn’t stopped and thought in that direction yet.”
Which was a load of bull. Anytime Jack talked about us in any kind of steady or future tense I had to stop and recalibrate things in my mind. But those experiences had always been my internal thinking, and I’d believed I was getting better with each evolution. This was the first time we’d actually discussed anything like this, and it wasn’t hard to see I wasn’t as prepared as I might have thought.
He stood and hugged me, and I thanked the heavens again that we’d come out of another deadly situation alive. Once I knew I wasn’t going to start crying, I pulled away and touched his cheek, saying, “This heart-to-heart conversation is over, lover boy. Let’s take off your pants so you can get into bed.”
The smile and soft chuckle my words produced made it all worth it.
“I’ll go get a wet cloth and try to wash off some of that iodine stain.” I moved my hand near the yellowed area I was talking about, and Jack caught my wrist and held it.
“Get pajamas on so you’re presentable for company and get in bed,” he said. “I can wash myself one-handed, or I’ll get Nico to help. You’re three shades paler than you were when we arrived. You have a concussion, remember? Get in bed and rest so Cassie can wake you up every couple of hours.”
“I forgot I have that to look forward to.”
Besides, I couldn’t argue. Once he took my focus off him and his care, my energy level hit the basement. I pulled on pink silk pajamas and nearly crawled to the bed.
I woke when I smelled soup and realized I was starving.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Cassie cried when I wandered into the lounge, tying the belt of my robe around me. Jack was stretched out on most of the sofa wearing just pajama bottoms. I pointed at him and raised an eyebrow.
“I know,” she said. “I’ve been trying to get him to go to bed too, but he said he didn’t want to wake you.” She clapped her hands. “You’re both awake now. Go to bed. I’ll bring you soup in a few minutes.”
“She’s not going to feed us if we don’t follow orders,” I said. “And I’m hungry.”
“Fine. Lead the way.”
She swooped in minutes later, with a tray for each of us. Nico brought in a chair and sat working his phone. A second later the doorbell rang, and Cassie left to let Danny in.
“Get well soon,” Danny called out, as he entered the room with a huge bouquet of Mylar balloons.
“Danny, this is so sweet, but you shouldn’t have,” I said, stopping my spoonful in mid-taste. I shook my head. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“I can’t stay long, so this is kind of a get well and peace offering,” he said. “I have to do a double shift to try and catch up on requests. But I have some time slotted to find your redhead, don’t worry.”
Jack waved his good hand. “You can forget that. Laurel learned it was a misunderstanding. We don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
“I know I didn’t alert you about the Colle muscle getting out of the nick, but—”
“Danny, this is no reflection on you,” I said. “It really was a big misunderstanding. She learned about what happened at the National Gallery and wanted to protect me.”
“But the redhead broke in.” His light brown brows furrowed together.
“She does that,” I said. “Bad people skills.”
“You know I’m not completely buying this,” he said. He took the chair Cassie handed him and placed it near the foot of the bed, letting go of the balloons so they wafted along the ceiling.
“Can you accept at least half of it?” Jack asked. “With a promise you’ll hear the rest as soon as we’re able to tell you?”
He rubbed his chin. “Okay, yeah, I can agree to a partial explanation on those conditions. Especially, since it cuts down on my workload tonight. However, I’m
assuming Inspector Timms isn’t going to get this same deal.”
Jack grinned and shook his head. “This is one of those ‘by invitation only’ explanations. Consider yourself part of our inner circle.”
“At least halfway,” Danny clarified.
“At least that,” I seconded. I pointed to my Italian geek. “Have you met Nico? He’s the only one of us not based in London, but we try to keep him here as much as possible.”
Nico set his phone aside for a moment and shook hands with Danny. Cassie came back then with a tray of cheese and crackers, beers, wine and water, and set it on the blanket chest at the end of the bed.
“Snacks,” she said. “We’re set to hear the whole story.”
“I’ll take a beer,” Jack said.
“You’ll take water,” she said.
“I don’t have the concussion.” He jerked his thumb at me. “Laurel does.”
“But you’re on pain meds, so no alcohol.”
“Remember what I said when I first walked in,” I reminded him.
“I’m starting to understand,” he replied, taking another spoonful of soup.
“Hey, Laurel, Jack.” Nico hurried over and held up his phone screen.
“Jack, you look,” I said. “My eyes still hurt when I try to read anything.”
He looked up at Nico. “This is great. I can’t believe you already found something.”
“What is it?” I asked, getting seriously peeved.
“Looks like we’re heading for Italy by the end of summer,” Jack said.
“Do you mean—?”
“Auction on the Amalfi Coast,” he said. “No date yet or location…?” He raised eyebrows at Nico, who nodded in return, then added, “Yet we know we’re a bit ahead of the game for once, and that’s something.”
I’d never seen his smile so wide, but I understood completely. This was worth any amount of recuperation tedium. A chance to recover Juliana.
Seeing Nico’s phone reminded me mine was still DOA at the bottom of the stairwell. “Cassie, when you get a chance, I need another phone…”
“Nico’s already working on that,” she said.
“I have some programming to do on it to shield your location,” he replied. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow. Along with another bracelet with a GPS charm.”
“You guys are the best. Thank you.” I rubbed my eyes. “Not that I’ll be doing any texting for the night anyway.”
“The doctor suggested you avoid reading and doing close work for several days,” Cassie added.
“No argument,” I said. At least not until morning.
Jack’s phone erupted then with a cacophonous ring. “It’s your pet reporter.” He handed the phone to me. “No doubt he’s found your number is out of order.”
I sighed. “Hello, Linc.”
“Hallo, Laurel. You sound awful. How are you?”
“I’m sure you already got a detailed report from your hospital Deep Throat.”
He chuckled. “I heard a little about yours and Hawkes’s condition. But you’re okay? Just a concussion.”
“Yeah, just a concussion.” I started to roll my eyes, but it hurt, and I quit. “And a headache as a bonus, so please don’t make it worse.”
“I would never—”
“Can the puffery, Linc. What do you need?”
“Are you pursuing inquiries into the Met police about their release of the man who attacked you again after first trying to kidnap you in the National Gallery?”
Great, I thought, he put that together already. Not that it really surprised me. Lincoln Ferguson never came off as a slacker. “No, I’m not pushing for any inquiries.”
“It was obviously an egregious slip on their part,” he argued. “Are they pursuing inquiries internally? This is the second time someone who attacked you was released by the police.”
Another landmine to tiptoe through. Rollie was spirited away after getting arrested in February and, unfortunately, Linc was on hand during the capture, filming the entire event. Now the giant was added to Linc’s repertoire of questionable evidence that I didn’t want to explain. “I can only assume all protocols were followed, and if there is a need for internal questioning, I’m sure the Met police is completely capable of making departmental changes. I don’t feel I need to be involved in anything of the sort.”
He was silent for a moment. I didn’t know if he was making notes or figuring out a new tactic to get on my good side. Fat chance of that. “I would like to add, Linc, if you’re taking notes of this conversation, please be sure to quote me accurately, as I’ve appreciated all protection I’ve received from all avenues of London law enforcement, and I don’t have a desire to criticize anyone or any department at this time. We’re clear on this, correct?”
“Crystal. And I’d like to offer you a means of saying exactly that on air. Tell the public what happened and—”
I started shaking my head, but it made me dizzy again. “No. Stop.”
“Laurel, you’ve been quite the sensation lately, all over social media. Our audience is clamoring for more information about the gorgeous blonde art recovery expert. To know you’ve come through things in one piece.”
“Going overboard on the flattery, Linc.”
“Is it working?”
“Not even a little.”
Jack chuckled beside me.
“Just one on-air interview,” Linc almost pleaded. “I have no problem if you want to make it a one-off exclusive interview. No qualms—”
I laughed. “Like an exclusive is a bad thing for you?”
“What I mean is, I won’t come back for a follow-up.”
“But others will, Linc. If I give you an exclusive, it would fuel other reporters to see me as fair game. I prefer ultra-exclusive.”
“As in no interview?”
“Exactly.”
He tried again. “Your pictures have been ahead of breaking news for days on all social media, and yours and Hawkes’s attack today is—”
“No, Linc. No. The fact I’m still trending on social media is exactly why I don’t want any new exposure.”
“The public wants to hear your story.”
“The public will just have to get over it.”
“You’re currently a media sensation—”
“Linc, you aren’t listening.” I blew out a long breath. Getting mad wasn’t going to help, but the guy simply wasn’t backing down. “The last thing common sense says for me to do is agree to give interviews and see my face plastered all over television and print media, when what I really want is for the social media furor to die down. You have to see that.”
He began saying something more, but I felt a sudden wave of utter fatigue and interrupted him. “Thanks so much for the offer, and for calling to check on Jack and me. But this isn’t a good time to talk to either of us. If you need any more information, please coordinate with DI Timms or his DS at the Met police. Goodbye.”
I could hear him still talking as I ended the call.
Twenty-Six
Two days later a flurry of messages began a back and forth journey across the Channel. Despite still being out on doctor’s orders, Jack was called in for a few hours, and when he returned, he said, “I think the French have Colle, but no one is naming names yet. Just a person the French government is holding in connection with long ago murders.”
“They didn’t mention art crimes?”
“They wouldn’t if the perpetrator came to them via Moran.”
“Did they mention anything about Swiss authorities?” I asked.
“Only that another country’s law enforcement arm is also an interested party.”
“They’re sending out feelers to see who’ll bite?”
“Possibly. Or they’re trying to determine exactly what kind of fish they’ve landed. I
’m thinking Moran is pulling strings on this thing, given the way they seem to be working in the dark.”
“If you and your Home Office buddies can follow any of this communication trail, it could help you ferret out who is a Moran mole in your organization. As little as it seems like they know, it’s surprising they would reach out otherwise.”
Jack nodded. “Cecil is already on it. He agrees it’s important to see who is particularly interested on the British law enforcement side—and who might be trying to act uninterested. He also understood when I suggested this apprehension is quite possibly based on the quiet feelers he’s put out about Colle. He asked the French to get a DNA sample and will have the tests expedited.”
Which reminded me about my own DNA comparison. I steeled myself to the fact I would have to decide whether or not to open the results when they arrived.
Jack did that mind-reading thing he was so good at and said, “You’ll get an initial summary of your results via email. A lengthier analysis will arrive by post.”
“I know, I’m fine.”
“I know.” He hugged me. Then his phone dinged another text. “Need to run. Have to make a report.”
“They do know you’re supposed to be resting. Doctor’s orders.”
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Be here when I get back and we’ll play a round of doctor and patient.”
“Sorry.” I grabbed the Prada from the table and slipped the strap up my shoulder. “I’m leaving with you. Cassie and I are meeting an estate agent to tour some open listings.”
Jack slipped on his leather coat. “She’s probably rather sick of roommates.”
“Speak for yourself, buster. She loves having me here.” I laughed at his expression. “I’m just kidding. But one bathroom for three adults is getting a bit much.”
“I guess I could go back to my own flat,” he said.
“She’ll never go for that until the doctor says so. She’d be running to your flat every hour to make sure you weren’t passed out and unresponsive.”
“But she’s okay with helping you find a flat of your own?”