“I’m good,” she beamed. “Got one of them through a passenger window.”
“You ally bastard,” one of the guards grinned. Jane Cook recognized the army slang for “cool.”
“We need to see the Princess,” Lewis followed up. “Like, now.”
“She’s not here, mate.” The evident soldier shook his head. “Chopper took her out earlier. Got an event on in London.”
“Opening a school, I think it was,” his partner added.
“Shit,” Lewis sighed.
Jack Morgan was not so deflated—Princess Caroline wasn’t the only one with access to helicopters, and on Morgan’s instructions, Private dispatched one to Wales.
“Go on up,” one of the armed men told Lewis. “And enjoy your paperwork.”
“Piss off.” She laughed as Morgan put the vehicle into gear, and they wound their way up to the royal residence.
“He’s right though.” The police officer shook her head. “If you survive a shooting they just try and drown you in paperwork instead. I’d better get inside and put in an after-action report. I’m afraid I’ll be no use to you now, either.”
“What do you mean?” Morgan asked.
“I mean I’ve got to hand in my weapon once I report this shooting. Then I’ll be placed on leave, pending the results of the investigation.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the American gasped.
“That’s ridiculous!” Cook exclaimed from the back seat.
Lewis shrugged her shoulders. “Well, there it is. I got to do what I always wanted to do. Now I’ve got to take it in the arse from the desk jockeys.” She gathered her few possessions from the Range Rover and made to leave. “I enjoyed working with you guys.”
Morgan smiled. He knew that sentiment was a lie, at least for the most part, but there was nothing like the shared danger of being shot at to bring a team together.
“Thank you, Lewis.” Cook put out her hand. “Without you we’d be dead.”
“We would,” Morgan agreed. “You ever need anything, you call me.”
“We’ll see each other again,” Lewis promised. “In court, probably.”
“Goodbye, Lewis.” Morgan watched the brave woman he’d once suspected as his would-be assassin walk through the rain and into the residence.
“I got to like her,” Cook admitted. “Some balls on her.”
“Brass ones,” Morgan agreed.
“So we’ll go back to London?” she asked.
There was a second’s delay before Morgan replied, “I will.” He saw the slightest slump in Cook’s shoulders, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Lewis is right,” he explained. “There’s going to be a paperwork circus after today. I’ve sent for our legal team, but until they get here, I need you to hold the fort. Make sure the transition to the police goes smoothly.”
“I can do that,” she told him, professionalism overcoming her desire to be close to Jack Morgan. “Will I see you back in London?” she asked.
Something in her eyes, something in her words, made the investigator in Morgan question what he had been told.
“You’re not in a relationship, are you, Jane?” he asked her.
“I’m not,” she confessed.
“Then why—”
“Because I didn’t want to be the woman sleeping with the boss,” Cook blurted out. “I didn’t want people talking behind my back. But more than that, I needed to know how Jack Morgan would treat me if we were colleagues, and not lovers.”
Morgan let the words sink in. “Well, now you know.” He stepped in closer, less than a foot between the two of them as the rain pattered against Cook’s upturned face.
“Now I know,” she agreed.
He put out his hands, and pushed back the wet hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears. She was beautiful. No matter how he had tried to suppress his feelings, they had not diminished. Now Morgan looked deeply into Cook’s eyes.
“We’re close to finishing this,” he promised.
She understood that he meant their absence as lovers as well as the case.
“And when we are, we’ll go away. No work. No cases. Just us.”
“Sounds perfect.” Cook smiled. “Where?”
“Hawaii,” Morgan told her, picturing the blissful image of big waves, blue skies and Jane in his arms. Despite the cold Welsh rain, he felt as though he was already there. Only the sound of helicopter blades broke him from his reverie.
“You have to go,” she almost whispered.
“I’ll send it back for you,” he promised. “Hand over to the legal team, and I’ll take care of the Princess.” Morgan turned to watch as the helicopter touched down a hundred yards from the house, the mountains behind it ominous and dark beneath the thick cloud.
It was time for Morgan to leave Wales. There was only one more thing for him to do.
He took Cook’s hands in his, the touch full of the spark and promise of what was to come. “I’ll see you in London.”
And then he kissed her.
Chapter 37
PETER KNIGHT LOOKED at what had become of his office. His map of the United Kingdom and the carefully placed pins lay crumpled and torn on the floor. A chair lay on its side by the door. The pens, photos and paperwork from his desk had been tossed like confetti.
“Are you calm now?” he asked the woman who had trashed his office. Fearing for Eliza Lightwood’s safety more than his own, Knight had taken her down with a self-defense move and was now sitting on top of her, exerting just enough pressure to keep the woman pinned.
“I’m sorry,” Eliza wheezed out.
“I know you’ve had a shock, Eliza, but I can’t let you up if you’re going to do that again.”
“I’m good, Peter, honestly. I’m sorry. That just all came as a shock. It… it really threw me. I’m sorry. I just lost it for a moment.”
Knight could understand why: hearing that your friend was responsible for blackmailing your father into suicide was not something that could be taken lightly. Still, it gave Knight pause for thought. If Eliza’s temper was as violent as this…
He hadn’t revealed to her that Sophie’s body had been found, but could Eliza already know that the blackmailer was hanging in a Welsh forest? Could she have been the one to put her there, during her absence that she claimed was a drive to the south coast?
He had more questions than answers. He expected he wouldn’t learn much more by keeping Eliza pinned to his office floor.
He stood.
She got up slowly, red with embarrassment and exertion as she took in the devastation she had caused. “My God, Peter… Send me the bill. Whatever it is. Redecorate the entire floor of this building and I’ll pay for it. I’m so, so sorry.”
“That won’t be necessary, Eliza. You’ve had a rough time recently. It’s perfectly understandable.”
“Thank you, Peter.” She sighed. “You’ve been so amazing throughout all this… Do you have a bathroom I could use? I’d like to clean myself up before I go.”
“Of course.” Knight smiled, and showed her the way.
As soon as she was out of sight, he pulled out his phone and wrote a text message to Hooligan:
Look deeper into Eliza. Could she have put contract killers onto Sophie? Or killed her herself? Possible she could have got to Wales and back in time to dump body? Try to discover her movements in the past three days.
Private London’s tech guru replied a second later.
OK. What will you be doing?
Peter looked toward the bathroom before he replied.
Old-fashioned stuff.
“Thanks for waiting, Peter.” Eliza smiled as she emerged from the bathroom.
“No problem.” He smiled back, walking her out to the front of Private’s building and waving her goodbye.
Then, as Eliza opened her umbrella and blended into the pedestrian traffic of London, Knight began his tail.
Chapter 38