Thank God.
“It looks like the Earl isn’t in London, he’s at his estate in Lincolnshire.” Addy slid back into the vehicle. As soon as she closed the passenger door, Sam pulled out into traffic. Anyone who had ever dealt with London traffic understood, it was eat or be eaten. The congestion charge to drive in the city had gone up since the last time he’d been home, but he paid it gladly.
“You want to drive there now? Or do you want a place to sleep for the night?” Personally, he wanted out of London—too much CCTV coverage, and though she looked vastly different thanks to age and the way she carried herself, it wasn’t enough to prevent facial recognition from identifying her if they ran a sweep. He wanted her somewhere safe, where he could at least protect her the right way this time.
“We’re exhausted.” It was sweet that she included him in that assessment. “But we’re not safe in London. Let’s at least get out of the city. We can find a way station or one of the American hotels and stay there.”
The American hotels offered a number of amenities, and at times, denser populations. The more guests, the easier it would be to disappear among them.
“Agreed.” From memory, he followed the route to get out of the city. He’d lived in London for many years, owned a motor, and for a time, even had a bike. Most of the time, it had been faster to get in and around the city via the bike rather than the motor, but he always liked to be prepared. He still owned a flat, though he sublet it in large part to make it clear to MI6 he had no intentions of returning.
Addy said very little, her attention on the scenery as they drove. A part of him wondered what she saw when she looked outside. London was a city for the ages. For more than a thousand years, there’d been a London, the old establishment alongside the new. In parts of the city, one could even find the scorch marks from the Great Fire. In others, damage from the Blitz. And still others, like the Tower, buildings erected by William the Conqueror and those who followed him.
Sam had something of a love-hate relationship with the city. It was home; therefore, he would always adore it. It was the place where he’d first met Addy, so he would treasure those memories. It was also the place everything went horribly awry. Every day, it seemed to grow more crowded, the tourists more dense, the pollution worse. Rising costs, coupled by shrinking size—he loved London, but he couldn’t imagine himself ever living there again.
Unless Addy wanted to. He’d live anywhere for her. Good God, he was such a sad sack. Then again, he had plenty of years to meet someone else if he was going to, but no woman ever touched him the way she did. In fact, even when he tried to flirt, he found the exercise tedious and perfunctory. He wanted no one else. There had always been and always would be Addy.
“You’re very grim.” The soft observation dragged him away from his thoughts.
“It’s a very grim day.” It had begun to drizzle, not enough for a real rain, but plenty to be annoying on the windshield. The cold would come soon enough, and the damp would be everywhere. He’d spent too many years in Costa Rica. At this point, he enjoyed the warmer climate, the lush foliage, and even more, the wide-open space. The country was quieter than America, poorer too, but he got by. Sometimes, he did more than get by.
“You’ve been quiet since we got off the ferry.”
“Well, I’ve pretty much said all I had to say,” he lied, because he could say more. He could beg. He could plead. He could throw himself down and grovel. He would do none of those things, however. If Addy wanted him around, as he had already told her, all she need do was ask.
“If you say so. Maybe it’s just because I’m tired. I wish this was home.” In direct contradiction to what he had just been thinking, but he recognized it. The hardest place to see was the place you weren’t allowed to go. What a person always longed for was what they didn’t have. Though, even when he had Addy, that longing hadn’t gone away. Whether she was on assignment or he was, what he looked forward to most was when they were in the same place.
“If you want to return, we can make that happen,” he said.
“You weren’t kidding earlier, were you?” Interest and intrigue filled her expression. “You really will do anything I ask.”
It wasn’t a question. “Well, as you’ve got the gist of it, I see no need to explain.”
“Sam, it was a long time ago, and there’s been a lot of water under that bridge.”
“The bridge could’ve washed away, Addy, and I’d still try to rebuild the bloody thing. If you want to detonate it, I’d blow it up and rebuild it again. Until I got it right.” He couldn’t blame her if his feelings made her uncomfortable. Unlike some, she wasn’t overly demonstrative. She didn’t throw herself at a man, nor did she feel the need to show off for one. If anything, it was one of the reasons seduction ops drove him crazy. She had to act so completely out of character. Yet, it was that same act which also prevented such operations from driving his jealousy. She wasn’t remotely interested in those other men, even when she played her part to perfection. By not being herself.
Lady Addison? She’d belonged to him.
“I can’t come back here. Not yet, anyway. The job isn’t done.”
“Then for the sake of argument, if the job was done—what then? What would you do? Whatwillyou do?”
“Take a vacation. Spend a few weeks off the grid, without worry or concern that I’m needed somewhere. No more babysitting, that’s for damn sure.” She shook her head, but the level of disgust in her tone intrigued him.
“Been doing a lot of that lately, have you?”
“None of your business. Though, admittedly, I have grown quite weary of playing a part that I did not get to script.”
In that, he was in perfect agreement. “Then change the script to suit your purposes.” At the risk of endangering this detente they had discovered between them, he pressed his advantage. “Or is it that you handed your leash to someone else?”
“Nobody holds my leash, Sam. MI6 didn’t hold it. They earned it, by earning my loyalty. Then they threw it away, severing that bond forever.” The question was, had the tie between her and him also been forever severed? She didn’t take him down that road, though, nor answer his unasked question. Instead, she continued to stare out the window, her expression one of quiet longing.
“And who calls the shots, who’s holding your feet to the fire? Who’s making the decisions for you?”
“What you really want to know is who has my loyalty,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And you’re asking because you’re curious, but also so you’ll know who you have to kill to set me free.”
“Perhaps. Though assassination would be my last choice. I can always buy them off. If that fails, blackmail is often effective.”