by Isadora Hart
“She’ll be okay.” Vikram believed it was true. “Death just takes some time to get over.”
“Yeah.” She took a deep breath and stood at the doors of the elevator. “I’ve got ten minutes until the press are going to be waiting for me. I’ve never done this before.” Her knuckles were white as she clutched her phone in her hand. The clock ticked another minute closer to two. “Archie was always the one who dealt with the journalists. He knew what he was doing. I’ve always hated it.” She chewed her lip until it bled, and Vikram felt helpless as he watched her. “Archie was better at all of this stuff than me. I was just along for the ride. What am I going to do now?”
Tears formed in her eyes and Vikram warred between what he knew he was supposed to do, coldly tell her it was fine, or even just ignore her, and the instinct that screamed at him to just go and give her a hug.
He went for something in between. He placed his hands on her shaking shoulders, and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, voice as soothing as he could make it. “You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think you could do it.” He hoped that was true, and that he wasn’t assuming things about their relationship that weren’t true. He might have been an evil old bastard who tore her down at every available opportunity. He doubted she’d be so upset if that were the case, though.
She sniffled. “I hadn’t finished learning yet. I was supposed to shadow him for another twenty years before I was put here. I can’t do it. I should have let the director send me someone who knew what they were doing.”
He squeezed her shoulders again, soft beneath his hands. “I read your speech. It was good. You only need to be in front of the press for a minute, tops. Don’t answer any questions.” He’d been guard to so many politicians he’d absorbed this information as the facts of life. He sat in on strategy meetings, and unlike most of his colleagues, couldn’t manage the head space where he ignored everything that was actually being said and let his imagination run wild. He was always keyed into the conversation, taking everything in.
“And for the entire conference? What about that?”
“Think about that tomorrow, when you’ve had time to grieve.”
She wiped her eyes even though no tears had fallen. “You’re right. Dammit, see, even you’re better at this than me and it’s not your job.”
“It’s my job to look after you.”
She laughed, shook her head, and straightened her back. “Wow. I think I really needed to hear that. Thank you.”
His smile was small. He’d already breached so many protocols, and he pulled back his hands as if she’d burned him. He checked his watch. “Two minutes to go.”
“Right.” She pulled the speech up on her phone and gave it a last read through. “I’m ready. I’ve got this.” Then she peered out of the glass wall beside the elevator and saw the people gathering below. Panic gripped her face again. “What if someone tries to kill me? This is how it happened last time. This is what happened to Archie.”
“I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It feels strange putting my life in the hands of someone I met a couple of hours ago.”
“It’s my job. I know what I’m doing. No one’s going to get to you.”
She stared him down, as if she could read whether he was telling the truth by looking into the face he’d hidden behind a professional mask of stoicism. “Yeah,” she said eventually, when a shiver of heat had just worked its way down his spine under her scrutiny. “Yeah. I believe you. Let’s do this thing.”
He stood just behind her as they got into the elevator and went down to where the press awaited them. Cameras flashed as soon as the door opened, and microphones were shoved in her face. She ignored them all until she got to the spot Miranda had said, in front of the fountain in the lobby. Plenty of flashes were directed at him, but he wasn’t paying attention. His gaze roamed the sea of faces looking for anyone out of place.
He knew how to read body language, it was what a lot of his training had been. He needed to be able to spot people who were about to do something to his charge, not just intercept them when they were already attacking. It was a game of cat and mouse, about who made the first move.
Now, though, he couldn’t see anyone suspicious in the swathes of people. They were all watching Cassie, a range of sadness to contempt on their faces.
Her speech was good. She was constrained and emotional at the same time. Her voice broke on just one word, her mentor’s name. It was so perfectly done he wondered whether it was an act.
He had to stop himself looking at her as she spoke; even her tone was enough to throw him off balance.
He’d been so cut off from people who freely showed emotions for so long that she was almost overwhelming.
4.
CASSIE
Cassie stalked through the sea of photographers and back to the elevator with what she hoped was a mask on her face. She politely declined to answer any questions and kept her head held high even as people threw her questions like, “What did Mr. Atkinson do to deserve this? Was there a personal motive? Can you shed any light on Mr. Atkinson’s marriage?”
She wanted to turn around and tell them to go fuck themselves, that Archie had been killed by some scum who disagreed with his politics, not his wife.
But it wouldn’t do her any favors, so she clenched her jaw and kept walking. She’d find out who’d really done this to him, and then there would be no more speculation about romantic motives. Everyone would know it was political, and he’d be put back on the pedestal Cassie had him on.
In the elevator, when the doors shut, she slumped against the wall and pressed her hands to her face. “It’s done,” she said, relieved. “Thank God.”
“You can relax now. Take some time before things get hectic tomorrow.” There still hadn’t been any official statements on when the conference would be starting, but it wouldn’t be delayed by more than a day. Likely tomorrow would be for grieving, and it would begin the day after.
“I still have something I want to do before that,” she said. “I want to go and see his body.”
“They might not let you. It will be very hectic down there.”
“I need to see it,” she said. “I’m at least going to go down there and see.”
He nodded.
She couldn’t figure him out. He went hot and cold so fast it gave her whiplash. When he was hot, though, he’d been the only thing that had kept her grounded. When he’d told her he was there to look after her, her insides had turned to mush. She definitely needed to send the director a message thanking him for Vikram.
“I’m not actually sure where his body will be,” she realized when they’d stepped off the elevator back on her floor and she had to pick a direction to walk in. “Probably somewhere in the basement, right?”
“I don’t think walking around the space station while everyone is on high alert is going to be a good idea.”
She had to find it, though. She had to get that memory card before someone else did. “Then I’ll find someone who will tell me.” There were police swarming the place, and they’d know who she was. It wasn’t unreasonable that she’d want to see the body.
Someone would tell her.
She didn’t want to go back down in the same elevator and walk through the lobby, though. There were too many people, too many cameras, and she was done with that kind of attention for the day.
She decided to go back to the hangar instead. There were police at the door like she’d expected, blocking people from entering. There were a couple of stray journalists, too, and a few tried to ask her questions. “I’ve already given a statement today,” she said coldly, turning her back and walking.
The police stood to attention and moved to block her entrance. “No entrance to the hangar,” one said. Both of them eyed Vikram. Cassie felt sure he could have won that fight.
“I don’t want to get in. I want to know where the morgue is.”
They looked at eac
h other. “The morgue is off limits.”
“I’m Archie’s friend,” she said, giving in to some of the emotion that had been welling inside her all day and letting tears fall. “I was right next to him when he was shot. I just want to say goodbye, properly.” She sniffled and wiped her tears, bowing her head and pretending to be embarrassed. Archie’s words echoed in her head: See them as potential boyfriends. Try to woo them.
And it worked.
One rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. A girl shouldn’t ever have to see that kind of violence. I’ll take you to the morgue and see what I can do. I’m sure they can make an exception.”
She smiled even though she wanted to seethe at the patronizing tone. It was what she’d been relying on, but it still put her hackles up. “Thank you so much.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I’m so grateful.”
The police officer led the way and she and Vikram trailed behind. She rolled her eyes to her bodyguard as they did. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t really that pathetic, that it was an act.
He just raised a brow at her and kept his mouth shut. She hoped that meant he knew what she was playing at, rather than a sign of judgment.
The officer had quiet words with the guards at the morgue. They were several floors below the lobby, now, and everything was steel. There were no windows. It felt like a morgue. Cold and uninviting.
The guard frowned at them, but eventually stood aside. “Just a few minutes,” he said. “This isn’t really allowed.”
Cassie gave them a watery smile. “Thank you so much. I just… need to say goodbye. He was very important to me.”
The officer who’d escorted them rested a hand on her shoulder. “Everyone understands, don’t worry. I have to go back to my post. Can you find your way back out?”
She looked to Vikram. She was clearly too upset to have memorized every turn and corridor they’d walked down. He nodded.
“Okay. Have some time with your friend.”
“Thank you.”
The guard waved them in and through a couple of doors into the room where Archie’s body was being kept. Suddenly, her tears were no longer faked or forced. Her mentor lay on the steel slab, eyes open and unseeing, body covered to the neck. She’d always heard people say it looked like they were sleeping, but Archie just looked dead. His skin was pallid and white, his usual grin missing from his lips.
“I’ll give you a couple of minutes alone,” the guard said. “Please don’t touch the body.”
She nodded. As soon as the door was shut, she sprang to action. There was a plastic box on the other side of the room filled with his clothes, and she rifled through them, feeling everything for the small plastic of the memory card. Hers was sewn into her bra and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d gone with a similar tactic. She couldn’t feel anything in the fabric, though. Panicked, she went through the clothes one more time.
Someone would be back any minute to tell her her time was up. She walked over to the body instead. She’d been told not to touch him but she knew for a fact that Archie wouldn’t have put the memory card anywhere but on his person. He was too paranoid about things, especially something this big. It would have been with him at all times.
She glanced around the room, looking for a camera. She was sure there’d be one somewhere, and it was already suspicious that she’d gone straight to rifling around his clothes rather than crying at his side like she was supposed to.
The camera was in the corner of the room, pointing straight at the body. She didn’t want to stare at it, and instead moved so she stood in its path. She put her hand to her head, and looked at Vikram. “I think I might pass out,” she said, too stressed to laugh at the melodrama.
Vikram was immediately at her side, and his huge body blocked most of the access the camera had to the body. She took that time to pat down the bits she had access to. She didn’t know what she’d find, but she had to try it.
The idea that someone had beaten her to it, that their plans were completely foiled, was too much to handle on top of everything else.
It made her stomach churn to touch his ice cold, unresponsive skin, but she swallowed the nausea and persevered. When her hand skimmed over his wrist and she felt a bump, her heart pounded.
This was it.
She lifted the edge of the sheet and saw what looked like a staple on his skin. It was attached to a tiny memory card buried underneath.
He was dead—he wasn’t going to feel it—but she still cringed as she held his wrist with one hand and used the other to pull the card out. It was harder than she’d been expecting, and she almost stumbled when it pulled free. She shoved it into her pocket and saw the ugly mark it had left on the wrist. They were going to see it when they did the postmortem and they were going to know someone had done it after he was dead; it hadn’t bled at all.
She’d deal with that later if they came asking.
Right now she replaced the sheet and scrubbed at her eyes until they looked red and sore. “I can’t stay here any longer,” she said for the benefit of any microphone that might be attached to the camera. She took one final look at Archie and his haunted expression. “Let’s go.”
Vikram nodded, his face as stoic as ever even as he’d watched her deface a body and steal evidence.
The guard at the entrance to the morgue gave her a pitying look as she walked out with hunched shoulders and an over-the-top sniff.
It wasn’t until they were back in her room that she allowed herself to breathe properly.
She’d done it. She’d gotten the memory card, and it hadn’t fallen into the hands of someone who could foil her plans. Everything was going as she’d hoped it would.
Vikram didn’t ask her about the memory card, even after she took it out of her pocket and wiped it clean, then placed it in her bra along with the other one. She knew it wasn’t ideal to keep them both together, but she’d think about that tomorrow, when she’d had some rest.
He’d watched her hand warily the whole time, obviously on the verge of asking her, but resisting every time.
Eventually she couldn’t keep it in. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked what all that was about.”
“It’s none of my business.” Even now he was standing by the window observing everything as she poured herself a small glass of whiskey. He looked tense.
“Still, it must be tempting.”
“Unbelievably tempting.”
“I feel bad that I have no intention of telling you what it was all about, now.” She scratched the back of her head. “Did you want a drink?”
He laughed. “I’m very used to having hints at people’s secrets and never knowing the truth of them. Don’t feel bad. And I don’t drink on the job.”
“You’ll find out eventually, all going to plan. At least it won’t be a secret you have to agonize over forever.”
“What makes you think I agonize?”
“Huh. I guess I just know that I would. I wouldn’t be a very good bodyguard.”
“After you’d trained for five years, you would be.”
“Wow. Five years? Really?” She felt bad watching him stand and patted the seat beside her on the couch. “Sit down at least.”
“Actually it took me seven.” He hesitated, but then came to take the seat beside her. He was so big that her feet brushed against his thigh where they were tucked under herself. “It didn’t look like I was going to be a very good bodyguard either.”
“Reassuring,” she teased.
He laughed again, and it lit up his face. It was so much better than the mask of indifference he wore most of the time. He had a small dimple in his right cheek when he smiled, and she thought he was gorgeous. It was a good job he was professional, because a few more glasses of whiskey and she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself flirting with him.
She rested her head back against the couch and shut her eyes, resisting the temptation to just observe him. “I should get some rest,” she said. Her body
was finally shutting down. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
“The conference won’t be starting until the day after.” They’d had the official memo letting them know the updated agenda.
“Which gives me some time to start figuring out which asshole thought it was acceptable to kill my friend.”
“The police will get to the bottom of it.”
“That’s not going to stop me doing everything I can to find out the truth.”
He opened his mouth then shut it again.
She scowled. “If you’re thinking something, say it. I’m not interested in your passive aggressive I’m being a professional bullshit.”
“I think you should focus on the conference.”
She ran hands through her hair and downed her glass of whiskey. “Sorry for snapping. I’m exhausted.”
“I don’t mean to be passive aggressive. Like I said, seven years of training. I’m not meant to speak my mind.”
“With me, I’d rather you did.”
“I’ll do my best. Breaking the habit is hard, though.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I’m being selfish because I like the idea of having someone I can talk to around, but I get that you’re here to do your job, not be my replacement Archie.” She sighed and dragged her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
His hand twitched at his side like he was going to touch her, but he didn’t. She didn’t call him out on it. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“My head is a mess right now. I’m talking shit. I can apologize for that, at least.” She laughed, stood up, and poured herself another glass of whiskey. “It’s definitely time for me to just pass out. I’ll give you a buzz when I’m up tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget to keep the panic button close by,” he reminded, standing up himself. “I’ll just be down the corridor in Room 912.”
There was a pause and, finally getting overwhelmed by everything that had happened, Cassie resisted the urge to throw herself at Vikram—the only person she’d been able to rely on all day—and ask for a hug. “Okay,” she said instead. “Goodnight.”