Michael had kept his eye on Isabel while he’d been talking to Sinclair. She walked over to join them.
“How are you feeling, Inspector?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he assured her.
Isabel insisted on looking at the injury. “It’s not bleeding anymore, but you might need stitches.”
“Are you ready to leave?” Michael asked her.
“In just a minute.” She hurried over to the bartender and asked him to put some ice in a plastic bag.
“Does the pub always clear out when Clive Harcus comes in?” she asked him.
“Pretty much,” he said. “He’s bad for business. The locals are afraid of him and for good reason. He’s quite the bully. Word will spread that Clive is locked up, and there will be a crowd here tomorrow night.”
Isabel thanked him for the ice bag and handed it to Sinclair. “This will help reduce the swelling.”
Once again the inspector assured her that he was fine, but from the way he was smiling at Isabel, Michael could tell he was appreciative of her concern.
He shook Michael’s hand. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he promised.
Isabel was suddenly in a hurry to get back to the hotel. After the brief interaction with Clive Harcus, she felt the need for a hot shower.
Michael was more relaxed now that Harcus was locked up, and yet he wasn’t ready to let his guard down. Admittedly, he wasn’t as desperate to get her on a plane back to Boston, though. Tomorrow they had another meeting with Gladstone, who had told Isabel he would have preliminary papers ready to go over. The meeting was set for four p.m.
An hour after the scene at the pub, Isabel was ready for bed, but she couldn’t unwind. She was too revved up to sleep just yet. She thought about turning on her phone to check her emails and texts, but she couldn’t make herself do it. She hated answering emails and texts almost as much as she hated talking on the phone. Realizing just how much she disliked the interruption actually made her smile. In high school her cell phone had been attached to her ear. It was the first thing she grabbed in the morning and the last thing she put away at night, but by the end of her college days she had developed a real dislike for the interruption of answering a call. She had certainly changed over the years.
“You look happy. What were you thinking?” Michael asked. He had just finished his shower and his hair was wet. She watched him turn off all the lights but her bedside lamp. He stretched out on the bed next to her, stacked his hands on his chest, and closed his eyes.
“I was thinking about phones. I realized that, except for a quick call tonight, I haven’t turned my cell phone on for days. I put it in my charger every night, and every morning I put it in my purse, but I don’t turn it on. It’s been pleasant.”
“I didn’t want you to turn it on because they could track us, but now that everyone knows we’re here, it doesn’t matter if it’s on.”
“I haven’t missed it.”
“That’s nice,” Michael said on a yawn.
She knew he would be asleep in seconds. She wished she could do the same.
She saw a side of Michael tonight that shocked and surprised her. She had never seen anyone move as fast. The way he fought and controlled Clive was impressive. She knew he was strong, but seeing him in action was jaw-dropping. His Navy SEAL training came out in full force. He made it look so easy. He was almost nonchalant about it. In fact, he probably didn’t think it was much of a fight at all.
Isabel wasn’t an advocate of ever using violence, but the image of Michael punching Clive was quite gratifying. If anyone needed a good punch, it was him.
“Damn it,” Michael muttered, opening his eyes and rolling toward her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot your birthday. I’m sorry. Guess it was pretty awful. We’ll have to celebrate later.”
“Awful? It wasn’t awful.”
“Then what was it?”
Once again she pictured Michael’s fist connecting with Clive’s ugly face.
“Best... birthday... ever.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Yeah? It’s about to get even better.”