Chapter 44
Lucy Cook - Present
We’re lying in the small double bed in Maria’s spare bedroom. His arm tucked under the pillow, making his top hang tight against his muscle.
“Luca and I were cellmates. We spent three years together at Wandsworth prison. You learn a lot about someone when you spend that much time together.”
“Or learn what he wants you to learn.”
“For someone who helped him disappear, you really do dislike him.”
“I helped him disappear because I owed him one.”
“Yes, pray tell, why did you owe Luca Knight?”
“Because he saved my life once, when I found myself caught in a sticky situation with his best mate and second in command, Roman Rook. And well, when you fuck his best mate, your paths cross.”
“Rome?” he asks, grinning. “That man hardly talks.”
“That’s probably why we hit it off.”
Owen laughs then, the sound rich and warming, and I can’t hide my smile.
“That’s all I’m going to get though, isn’t it? He saved my life once.”
“I can tell you the story if you really want, but I’m more intrigued as to how he managed to hide so much of your past. And Maria’s. The press has some of the best investigators in the world, and the vetting in government is robust. So, how have you managed to keep your background so buried?”
“No idea. Luca said he would deal with it.”
“And you trusted him?”
“Yes.”
“And you never asked how?”
He shrugs. “Plausible deniability.”
“Like the money. I still don’t get what was in it for him. What aren’t you telling me?”
Because there must be something, something he’s holding back, that explains what Luca’s end game is in this.
“Do you think Maria finds this weird?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Ah, there he is. The politician. Misdirection 101.”
“Says the woman who fucked me in the kitchen to change the subject.”
“You’ve got a crass mouth.”
His eyes darken, and the twinkle of mischief shines from behind the mossy green pools that has my cheeks warming.
“You’re blushing,” he says, grinning. “Are you thinking dirty thoughts, Luce?”
He moves quickly, pushing me onto my back and rolling onto me. My head cradled between his biceps as he bends down and smells my neck, running his nose against my pulse point. The softest of kisses touches behind my ear before he’s leaning on his arms, looking down at me.
He looks at my lips, and I wiggle underneath his weight, wrapping my legs around his waist as I lean up to take what I want.
Him.
My lips meet his, and just as we sink into the moment, I place my feet firmly on the bed, thrusting my hips upward. He loses his balance as I use my own momentum and motion to land on top of him, holding his arms next to his head.
“Not fair,” he says, grinning. “You can’t use your assassin moves in the bedroom. It’s cheating.”
“We need to come up with a plan. No sexy time.”
He pouts, and it’s fucking adorable.
“I want to see what’s on the hard drive.”
“Way to ruin a moment,” he mutters, and I climb off him.
“Do you think Maria has a laptop?”
“I’m sure she does. I’ll get it, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to shower.”
I frown and subtly go to smell myself, and the bastard laughs.
“The blood, Luce. You’re covered, I’ll grab you a new top.”
“Oh, yeah good thinking.”
He walks to the door, and as it opens, the most breathtaking smell comes through the gap. “Is that?”
“Meatloaf,” we say in unison and grin.
“I suddenly feel like I’m fourteen again,” I admit. Meatloaf was my absolute favourite.
“I told her that we hadn’t eaten.”
“We ate at Andrews.” I laugh. “That was barely three hours ago. I can’t believe she’s cooking at this time of night.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Owen, this is not fun.”
“Come on, some of it has been.” He smirks and I flip him the bird, which gives me another laugh.
Things are lighter. Much lighter between us.
It’s almost like we have created a temporary truce in the warmth and comfort of Maria’s little cottage, but I know that outside waits an absolute fucking shit show.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Oh my God,” I moan as I take the first bite, the sweet, moist meatloaf melting on my tongue. “This is heaven. Thank you so much, Maria.”
“It’s no bother. Bit later than I would have usually cooked something, but then it’s only ever normally me, or when this one escapes Westminster.”
“Owen, leave the laptop. We can look after,” I say as his features remain illuminated by the light from the laptop. “Don’t miss the heaven.”
“Fuck,” he says, as the clang of metal hits the plate as he drops his fork, meatloaf and mashed potato falling onto the table.
“What?” I ask, shovelling another mouthful in. I’ve been trained to eat when I can eat whilst on a mission.
Is this still a mission? It’s a bloody family reunion right now.
“It’s not working.”
“What do you mean, it’s not working?”
Owen pulls the cable out, puts it back in again, types and waits. I walk round to the computer and watch as the screen goes black.
Followed by rows and rows of binary.
“Disconnect it,” I say quickly, reaching forward and grabbing the wire. “It’s a failsafe. It’s wiping itself.”
“Fuck.”
He pulls it out, but it’s too late.
The heat the thing is kicking off says that it’s done what it was supposed to do if it’s been tampered with.
“Did you use the right encryption key?”
“Yes, Lucy. I used the right password,” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.
But these devices don’t just wipe themselves. I dare not suggest that it’s probably likely he’s typed the password in wrong, but what other explanation is there?
“I take it that was important?” Maria asks, nodding to the black hard drive that Owen is staring at with a glazed expression.
“Very,” he answers monotone. “Now what?” he asks, glancing up at me as I stare at the now fucked laptop and empty hard drive.
“We need to get Maria a new laptop.”
“Lucy,” he groans. “Please, for once, be serious.”
“It’s Luca, he’ll have a back-up.” I squeeze his shoulder before taking my seat again and tucking back into the heaven—AKA the best meatloaf in the world.
“Do you know how to reach him?” he asks.
“Nope. Do you?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m eating,” I say.
“How can you eat right now?” Owen asks, staring at me like I’ve got two heads.
“I’m hungry,” I answer, shrugging. “You eat when you can.”
He shakes his head, that cute, bloody frown line back on his sodding forehead.
“You should eat something, too.” I point my fork at his hardly touched meatloaf. “We can’t do anything about it right now, we may as well enjoy dinner and worry about it in ten minutes.”
“My appetite has suddenly disappeared,” he says, pushing his plate away. He looks at Maria. “Sorry, Mum.”
I frown and shake my head softly. Hearing Mum from his mouth sounds so strange, and it makes me realise again how much I’ve missed.
And for what reason?
Stubbornness, fear, anger.
I put my fork down and stare at my half-eaten meatloaf in two minds. To force myself to keep eating or to stop. Because much like Owen, my appetite has also suddenly disappeared.
But it’s not because of the hard drive.
No, it’s because I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a crippling feeling in my chest.
Regret.
“And you’re sure this will work? It seems very simple,” I say, looking over Owen’s shoulder as he uses Maria’s phone to post a message on a Reddit Page.
“Why over complicate something?”
“But it’s Reddit.”
“Yes, Cookie. It’s Reddit.”
“Okay,” I say, shrugging, peering over his shoulder as he types out his message.
“u/NightFisher, your Sicilian Defence game last week was impressive—reminds me of our match in Wandsworth. You still use the Queen’s Gambit in real life? We should arrange a rematch?”
“And this works?”
“Yes, Cookie.”
“Hmm.”
Posting a message on a sub stream about chess seems too simple, but we need Luca Knight.
“What now?” he asks, closing the laptop down.
“Sleep,” I say, stretching my arms above my head. “You must be tired, Maria.”
“I’m fine, dear,” she says as a yawn comes out.
“See?” I smile.
“I don’t want to waste any more time. it’s so lovely to see you here. Both of you together.”
“I know, Mum.” Owen passes back her phone.
But she shakes her head, holding her hands up. “I don’t need it; you keep it until you hear back from your friend.”
“Go to bed, Mum. We’ll still be here in the morning; we aren’t rushing off.”
“We aren’t?” I ask. “I thought we need to get back to London, start to get back to normal.”
“We do, but he usually replies quickly, and then we can go once we know what’s next. We don’t have any other phones right now. I left mine at Andrews’. I bet the media is loving this.”
“It’s been a day, Owen. I’m sure there hasn’t been anything.”
“There hasn’t been much,” Maria pitches in, helping my cause. “Running some more snippets from that awful explosion. I still can’t believe you were there; you are so lucky.”
“It was awful,” I say. “So many innocent people.”
Owen frowns at me.
“I think I’m going to go to sleep myself,” I say.
“You okay to take the sofa?” Maria asks Owen.
Huh?
I honestly just assumed we would be together in the same bed. How ridiculous is that?
I meet Owen’s eyes briefly, and it’s like he’s thinking the same thing.
“Actually, Maria.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, linking our fingers together and bringing my knuckles to his lips.
Realisation slips onto her face, and she lets out a small laugh. “That’s—that’s wonderful.”
Her expression really doesn’t sell it, but I guess when you’ve brought two kids up, who in your eyes are brother and sister, whether it be biological or not, it probably lands slightly different. Like a wet fart.
“If you find it weird, though—” I say, noticing her apprehension.
“No, it’s fine. I mean, I wasn’t completely blind. You both had a very special bond.”
“Yeah, an abusive foster father will bring people together for sure.”
“Lucy,” Owen reprimands me, and a warm flush creeps over my chest.
“Sorry,” I mumble, releasing our hands. “I’ll see you in the morning, Maria.” I leave them to have their mother son moment.
“It’s been a long day, dear. Don’t look at her like that.” Maria’s soft voice follows me, and I stop at the bottom of the stairs, listening.
“Still, she’s such an arsehole sometimes.”
“Aren’t we all?” I can hear the smile in her voice, her tone light.
“Well, she takes it to the next level.”
Maria lets out a small chuckle. “Her whole past has been re-written tonight, and you’ve found out that she was the reason you went to prison—again. You’re both handling it very well. A little too well if I’m honest.”
“I’m reeling,” Owen admits, sighing. “But I don’t blame her. Not one bit. Happenstance is a funny thing. As for Lucy, well, Luce has probably done what she always does. Acknowledged it by popping it back in her box.”
“I thought you talked.”
“Barely. There will be more talking. She will fight it like she usually does, because God forbid she actually has a conversation.”
“Well, be kind,” Maria says after a minute.
“I can see it in her eyes, Owen. That is someone who has spent her whole life in fight-or-flight mode. She’s been running from her past her whole life, and she’s now staring at it head on.
She may act like she doesn’t care, but that right there is just the same person she always was.
Someone wanting to be accepted and loved.
Nothing has changed for her. Can you imagine going through your whole life thinking that you had run and left her? ”
She clicks her tongue. “Poor girl.”
I can practically see her shaking her head. The sympathy and sorrow, it’s emanating out of the living room into the hallway where I hide.
It’s suffocating.
I don’t need their fucking pity.
Yeah, the whole situation stinks, but I’m not the same little girl.
And if Owen believes that, then he’s just as stupid as she is.
Lucy Cook is dead.
Yeah, right.