“Don’t follow them, Jake,” Rose said. She couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt after they had been left alone. “Let them go.”
He turned to her, brow creased in concern. “Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath and paused to consider the question. Despite the odds, she was unhurt. Shocked, scared, a little disheveled, hands and elbows slightly bruised from blows she’d struck, but essentially uninjured. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks to you. Good thing you came along.” She raised her eyebrows in speculation. “Were you stalking me?” She added a smile to show she was teasing.
Crowley smiled sheepishly. “You left and I realized I needed to go the same way as you to get the Tube. I didn’t want to seem creepy, like I was following you, so I let you get a head start then made my way along. Thankfully I didn’t wait too long, I heard you scream and came running.”
“Did you know it was me?”
“No, but I could tell someone was in trouble.”
Rose tucked her shirt back in and pulled her jacket straight. She gingerly touched the knuckles of her right hand and winced. “Guy had a hard face.”
Crowley nodded, a slight smile that she took for respect tugging at his lips. “Everyone does really. You handled yourself well.”
Rose flexed her hand and realized it was shaking. “I’ve never had any kind of actual fight before. Not in the real world, anyway.” Her stomach churned and her knees began to shake.
Crowley closed the distance between them and rested a hand on her shoulder. “There’s a bench just out there on the footpath. Let’s have a seat while the shock and adrenaline settles down, yeah?”
She nodded. “Good idea.”
He guided her out into the streetlight and sat beside her. “And then maybe I should walk you home after all?”
She patted his hand gratefully. “Also a good idea. Thanks.”
Chapter 4
Landvik leaned back in his expensive leather chair, letting it knock back against the huge mahogany desk as his eyes roamed the gray stone buildings and roofs opposite, visible through the large, multi-paned sash window. Dates and Latin names were engraved into the fascia of the buildings opposite, finely carved statuary stood in curved alcoves watching over the red and white lights of traffic busily moving to and fro through the night below. The hiss and rumble of a red double-decker bus drifted up to him as he ran a well-manicured hand over his ash blond hair, down over a neatly-trimmed salt and pepper beard.
He sighed. What was taking so long?
As if in answer, the phone on his desk vibrated in the quiet gloom of the otherwise deserted office. The tall man turned his chair around and snatched up the phone, tapped the answer button.
The voice on the other end was tight, breathless. “Mr. Landvik, it’s Jeffries. You were right; she’s definitely the one we’re looking for.”
Landvik sighed and shook his head. “So, bring her in.”
“Well, there’s a bit of a problem there.”
Landvik pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes. “A problem? You don’t have her?”
“She fought back at first, but that was no problem, but then some guy came running to her rescue. Big bugger, he was, good fighter. Things were getting loud and messy, so I called the abort and we got out of there before we attracted any more attention. It was just bad luck, really. Before that guy intervened we had it all under control.”
“Stop talking, Jeffries.” Landvik took a deep breath and calmed himself while he considered.
“Yes, sir,” Jeffries said, instantly disobeying the direct order.
Thankfully all Landvik heard after that was Jeffries’ labored breathing. There was an edge of pain to it, and Landvik took some pleasure in that.
“This man who intervened, do you think he was some random white knight or someone she knew?”
“Actually, it was a guy she’d just had dinner with. She walked off on her own, so we took our shot. He must have followed her.”
“Inconvenient.”
“Yes, sir.”
Landvik considered this turn of events. “Have you managed to establish where she lives?”
“Ah, no,” Jeffries admitted. “She took a taxi from the museum to the restaurant, so we decided to grab her as she walked.”
Landvik nodded to himself. It was a mess, but far from a lost cause. There were always hiccups in life and the trick was to move with them rather than let events control the situation. “So find out where she lives,” he told Jeffries in a slow, measured voice. “If she’s not there, grab her when she arrives at the museum for work tomorrow. This is only a short delay, yes?”
“Yes, sir. No problem.”
“One way or another, I want you to bring Rose Black to me in one piece. And soon.”
“So that last bloke wasn't the one?” Jeffries asked.
Landvik let out a harsh exhale. “Just find her.”
Chapter 5
Crowley stood by the front door of Rose’s flat. “So you’re safely home.”
Rose nodded. She still trembled and he didn’t blame her. He was still buzzing as well. “Don’t leave just yet?” Her tone framed it as a question, but she sounded a little desperate. Scared. And understandably so.
“I’m happy to stick around for a while.”
She put her key in the lock and pushed the door open. Crowley followed her as she flicked on the lights and closed the door behind him. Her flat was bright and tidy, a polished rosewood table in one corner, red and white floral settee and armchairs facing a large television. It was roomy for a one-bedroom place, with doors leading off the main room to a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.
“I think I really need a shower,” Rose said. “Wash that whole experience off me, you know? Can you stick around until I’m done?”
“As long as you like.”
She gave him a grateful smile, dropped her light jacket onto an armchair, and went into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of firm, smooth flesh as she peeled her shirt up before disappearing from sight. Crowley pushed away the thoughts that immediately arose, unbidden and inappropriate.
He wandered her living room. A couple of large images hung on one wall, slatted bamboo tied into a flat canvas for Chinese watercolors. One showed a red and white crane beside a waterfall, the other a stylized depiction of Zhangjiajie National Forest Park. Crowley smirked, shook his head. He couldn’t believe he still remembered that name, but after seeing a documentary on the area of sharp peaks and deep forests he became mesmerized and researched it. One day he planned to take a vacation there. One day.
Pictures on the mantelpiece caught his eye. One showed Rose with two people who must be her parents, a small, determined-looking Chinese woman with kindly eyes and a tall man, dark-haired and slim-featured, with laugh lines at his mouth and eyes. They looked like a happy family. Not far from it was another photo showing a teenage Rose with her parents and another young girl. The family resemblance was readily apparent; it had to be Rose’s sister. No other images of the girl were anywhere he could see. He wondered what the story might be there. Other photos showed her parents much younger on their wedding day, Rose with friends, Rose on a sleek red motorcycle. Crowley tried to imagine Rose riding the powerful machine rather than just posing on it and the possibility came easily. Maybe something else to talk about. He had often planned to take his test and get a bike, but had yet to get around to it.
He went into the kitchen and found the kettle, teabags, milk and sugar. He brewed two mugs of hot, sweet tea, the English panacea for all forms of shock and trauma. As he was stirring the sugar in, Rose emerged trailing a cloud of steam. Her hair was wet, flattened to her head and neck, her skin rouged with the heat of her shower. She pulled the rope belt of a towelling robe tight around her waist and smiled.