Chapter 23
Kara - Present
“I need to do another interview.”
“Fuck no! Get your bag. We’re moving.”
“Lucy.” He grabs my hand, but I shake it off.
“No! You’re listening to me now. You pick up that bag, we are moving. Now. Whatever you want to do, whatever interview or social media account you want to check can wait until we get to the safehouse. This is non-negotiable. Are you hearing me?”
Owen, for once in his life, doesn’t say anything. He takes in my small frame, my face contorted in anger, and looks at my finger pointing at his chest as he nods.
And just like that, we are back to bickering.
“What? No smart response?”
“Remember the saying that Maria used to say? If you have nothing constructive to say, keep your mouth shut.”
“Well, look at that folks, he’s learning.”
He turns around and picks up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. His last night’s tuxedo still hugs his body.
The phone buzzes from my pocket, and Andrews’ name flashes.
Extraction four minutes.
“Come on.”
“Hang on,” he says, walking to the kitchen counter and grabbing a manila envelope out of one of the drawers.
I wait by the door and peek my head round, scouting the corridor, checking it‘s empty.
“Why has no one been intrigued by the gunshot?” he asks, one step behind me.
“Because people would rather bury their heads in the sand. The local community page on Facebook will have lots of comments I’m sure.”
“Sad, isn’t it? How we all hide behind our keyboards—”
“Sad isn’t the word I’d use. Come on, this way.”
I lead the way, past the doors to the stairs, and begin our ascent to the roof in silence, except for the sound of our breathing as we move quickly up the ten flights. My heart beats rapidly, adrenaline still pumping through my body like a drug.
I glance at my watch and see that we are running behind. Picking up the pace, I start to jog. He’s barely cracked a sweat. I knew he stayed in shape but was expecting him to be heaving by the time we arrived at the black fire door that opens to the roof.
I rest my ear against it, the metal cold on my cheek, and listen intently.
“Is that a helicopter?” Owen asks, the mechanical hum of the propellers coming through the thick fire door.
“Yup. Get ready to move.” He nods.
I open the door and see a small passenger helicopter hovering on the roof. The side door opens, and I’m surprised to see Andrews himself waiting. His body leaning out, his hand extended towards us.
Sensing my hesitation, Owen nudges me gently when I come to a halt.
“We good?”
“Yeah sorry. Go ahead.”
He takes the lead, taking Andrews’ hand and pulling himself into the cab. I follow. We fall into our seats as Andrews closes the door, and signals the pilot to move out.
He passes us two headsets and waits for us to put them on.
“Well, aren’t you two creating quite the headlines.”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” I reply sarcastically.
“Mr Cooper, nice to see you again.” He sticks out his hand, and Owen takes it.
“You too, Mr Andrews,” he answers.
“I take it Miss Snow has been looking after you?”
“She has.” He glances across and nods. “Although her bedside manner could use some improvement.”
My eyes narrow as I look out the window towards the Thames. The distant landmark of the London Eye behind us, the pods filled with tourists who are completely oblivious to the world outside.
Just onlookers of the beautiful London skyline, eagerly pointing out the different London landmarks.
We follow the River Thames, soon leaving central London behind us.
“I’m not hired to sugar coat things, Cooper,” I retort.
“No, you’re not,” Andrews says, grinning at me.
“Tell me about the hit?” I ask, desperate for information.
“No idea. It’s a ghost hit, hit the networks this morning at 11:00 a.m.”
“Oh, what a coincidence,” I say dryly, looking at Owen. “What was happening around that time…I wonder?” I tap my chin sarcastically.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck,” I respond blankly seeing his reaction. “I told you not to do that stupid conference, but would you listen. So fucking pig headed.”
“Enough, Kara,” Andrews interrupts, and I baulk in my seat, chastised. “So, you think it was a direct response to the press conference?” he asks.
“What else would it be? They heard what he said, and they saw me with him. So they put a hit out.”
“But the hit was for Lucy Cook, not Kara Snow. That’s what your friend said!” Owen says.
“They know Lucy, Kara. Not you.” Andrews agrees with Owen. “They saw Owen with a woman, the same woman from the gala. The woman that Owen clearly spent the night with who he clearly has feelings about. Owen’s right, it was Lucy not Kara.”
I glance at Owen, who says nothing, just watches the exchange silently.
“So, you’re saying they are using her to get to me?” Owen asks.
“Exactly that. You’re both all over the news.
They saw you, identified you as Lucy Cook, and well caught us all by surprise.
” Andrews shifts and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“The thing is, Owen, they don’t know Kara.
I’m disappointed in Anya, of course I am. We don’t go after our own.”
A moment of sadness washes over me. A single moment. A teeny, tiny moment as I think about the betrayal.
We’d had each other’s back on many missions, but she threw any past or friendship down the toilet for a million quid.
Rude.
“I mean, sure, a few mercenaries will know of you, but you’re a ghost. You’re the best at what you do, and you don’t leave a trail. Kara Snow is an enigma. They will be coming after Lucy, completely unprepared for what destruction you will rain down on them.”
“No hiding?” I ask, frowning.
Everything inside me is screaming to take Owen to a safehouse and wrap the fucker in bubble wrap, whilst we work out who the hell to give the sodding hard drive to so we can walk away from this.
And it hits me again; how little I truly understand what's happening. Why would Luca give it to him? Of all the people. What’s their relationship?
But maybe Andrews is right. If a hit has been put out on me—no, not me, on Lucy—then maybe this is a reasonable adjustment.
“Go to the safehouse. We re-group, we plan, but we continue as planned. Owen is in a position of power. We need to let them come and try whatever they have planned so that the police can get involved. We need to let this play out.”
“You’re going to use her as bait?” Owen says tersely.
I shake my head. “No, he’s going to use us both as bait.” I turn my attention back to Andrews. “Right?”
“Come on, little one, this is the perfect plan.”
“You and I have very different ideas of what constitutes the perfect plan,” I groan. “You know I’ve been shot already on this assignment, right?”
“You’re fine,” Andrews responds quickly, waving his hand, sitting back in his seat before changing the subject. “So, Cooper, changing the world one speech at a time? How’s life as an MP?”
“Hmm,” he responds, not biting, his eyes assessing Andrews. “Kara tells me you saved her?”
Andrews laughs. “On which occasion? This one and I have saved each other’s arses many times. Not for much longer, though.” He smiles fondly at me.
“I’m done after this one,” I explain.
“Done?” Owen looks over at me, and I shift in my seat under his scrutiny.
“Out, done, finished. Debt paid,” Andrews fills in.
“And you got her off the street?”
“I did.” Andrews looks over at me proudly. “She was like a feral dog, wild, untamed but such raw talent.” He leans forward and grabs my hand, and I squeeze it.
Andrews is a lot of things to me. A pain in my arse, a boss, in some disturbing way a father, and I owe him a lot.
“So, how did you find yourself in the private security industry?” Owen probes. “It’s a strange recruitment technique, I must admit.”
Fuck.
There’s no missing the tone in his voice, the way his eyes bore into Andrews.
Owen leans forward. “Taking young teenage girls, girls who have been chewed up and spat out, left to fend for themselves, let down by the system…”
“And family,” Andrews adds.
I tense.
He doesn’t bite. “You took them off the streets. If that doesn’t scream taking advantage of people, I don’t know what does…” Owen snarls.
“Jesus, you two may as well get your cocks out and piss on me. Stop it, the pair of you!”
Owen crashes back into his seat and continues to stare at Andrews, who is completely unfazed. His mouth fighting a smirk, which I’m fairly sure if he lets loose, Owen will lamp him one.
“Testy, isn’t he?” Andrews nods his head towards Owen, who looks about ready to launch himself at Andrews.
I reach over and grip Owen’s hand in mine, and squeeze it. I press something on my headset to change the channel, so I’m talking directly to Owen.
“I don’t need you to save me from the big bad wolf that is Andrews. That ship has long sailed. Stop.”
“I don’t like him.” His attention is firmly on me. Andrews is ignoring the exchange and looking out the window.
“You’re the one who hired him!”
“Because I was told to. That was before I found out that he pulled you from the street and turned you into a bodyguard!”
“Assassin, actually.”
“What?”
“I’m an assassin. This is my first bodyguard assignment.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “This is fucked up, Lucy.”
“Yes, it is. But right now, we need him. And I need you to stop being all Protector Owen, okay?”
He ignores me. Instead, his mossy green eyes stare and search mine until he sees something that he decides not to argue with, and turns back to look out at the passing scenery below.
The sprawls of housing peppered in between parks and industrial estates lead us further into the outskirts of London and into the home counties.
I sigh and turn my gaze to Andrews, who’s watching me with a raised eyebrow. I flip the switch again, so that I’m now communicating with only Andrews.
“Don’t start!” I point, and he laughs, holding his hands up.
“Would I ever?” He’s still grinning, and I pick up a bottle of water from the floor and throw it at him, his chuckle filling the headset.
“Where are we going?” I look out the window, noticing the winding roads below.
“I’ll drop you in Weybridge, Surrey. I’ve got somewhere you can lie low, and we can work out what’s next.”
“No doubt his lordship wants to update his social media accounts.”
“Probably not a bad thing, little one. He has a role to play, responsibilities. How are things between the two of you?”
I lean back and quickly glance out the window, annoyed at how my throat clogs with emotion. The helicopter lurches as it hits a spot of turbulence. I grip the handle above my seat to steady myself.
I sigh, contemplating the best way to answer his question.
“Complicated.”
“You slept with him,” he responds, and my head whips round quickly, my eyes wide.
“Jesus, Andrews.”
He laughs again. “I’m a bloke. I know these things.” He glances over at Owen. “He cares for you a great deal, Kara.”
I look over at him, his body turned away, tense and silently seething.
“I know.”
“Have you told him?”
“Hmm,” I reply, watching him. “Kind of.”
“Which means?”
“I did it in the most inappropriate, untactile way, and made us both feel like shit.”
“Oh, so you were yourself then.”
I hold my middle finger up to scratch my eyebrow, and he lets out a scoff.
“I just…I could have done it better.” I fidget in the seat, regret washing over me, my legs crossing and uncrossing as I acknowledge how shitty I’ve handled things until this point.
“I’ve deflected, I’ve judged, I’ve belittled, and then because he got pissed at me, I declared what had happened outside his apartment building just to hurt him. We haven’t spoken about it since.”
“Jesus Kara.”
“We’ve not spoken about that, or the fact that we slept together this morning, or the other messy stuff.
So now we have another elephant in the room.
” I groan and rest my head in my hands, shaking them.
“I honestly thought Lucy was dead, Andrews.” I rest my chin in my hands, my eyes meet his blue ones, full of concern and care.
“But the more I’m around him, the more I’m with him.
I remember. I just, I don’t know.” I puff out a breath and sit back.
“Maybe Lucy is still very much a part of me, like Owen King is a part of him. We are very much two broken souls thrust back into each other’s lives. ”
“Do you ever think these things can sometimes happen for a reason?”
“You mean fate?” He nods, and I roll my eyes. “C’mon, Andrews, in our line of work? And you start spouting bullshit about fate? Are you going senile on me, old man?” He grins, and a small smile tugs at my lips.
“Of all the agencies, of all the people, he comes to ours.”
“He was told to, and you put me with him. That isn’t fate. That’s strategy.”
“This is your last assignment, little one. Maybe this is all happening for a reason. Maybe, just maybe, he is the happy ever after you’ve been searching for all these years?”
I furrow my brow, head moving from side to side. Because of all the people, I couldn’t. Not Owen.
But even as I shake my head, I turn to look at the man who once kept the monsters away. I ask myself the question, could he by my happy ever after?