Chapter Ten
HASHTAG PEERED through the windshield at the dismal gray clouds.
“Isn’t this supposed to be summer?” The military vehicle sped along winding country lanes, the driving cab open to the back, where the team sat on two benches facing each other.
Next to him, Eve laughed. “Yes, but you know what they say about weather in the UK?”
“Wear layers? Forget sunscreen?” Crank cackled behind them. “Don’t believe the weather reports?”
“They get four seasons in one day over here. You watch,” she said, her voice ringing with confidence. “The sun will be out later.”
Hashtag stared at the thick layer of clouds. “If you say so.”
At the wheel, Roadkill chuckled. “Never mind the weather. You’ve got much more important shit to worry about. You’re gonna be our eye in the sky, remember?”
“And you’ve got important shit to worry about too,” Hashtag said, “such as making sure you’re on the proper side of the street. They drive funny over here, remember? Keep your eyes on the road ahead.”
“They do? Gee, I didn’t know that.” Roadkill rolled his eyes. He turned on the windshield wipers as heavy drops of rain splattered against the glass. “Now see what you did.”
Hashtag rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see. The rain is my fault for daring to mention the crappy British weather.” He glanced at Eve. “No offense.”
“None taken. I haven’t lived here in years.”
“Sure you can still sound like a Brit?” Crank asked. “Or an even bigger challenge—a Brit from around here.”
Eve said nothing for a moment, then smirked. “Will you stop mithering? Shut your cakehole an’ stop harpin’ on about t’weather. Anyone would think it were cowd out there. It’ll be crackin’ flags by two o’clock.”
Stunned silence.
Hashtag twisted to take a look at Crank. “You okay back there? ”
Crank blinked. “I think I understood about half of what she said. And that’s only because they’re normal English words.”
Eve preened. “I’ve still got it.” She blew on her nails and buffed them on her jacket.
“Wait—you mean we don’t get a translation?
” The passengers in Roadkill’s truck burst out laughing, and Crank tore his attention away from the road ahead to stare at them.
“Well, don’t tell me you understood it either.
” More laughter ensued. He tapped Eve on the shoulder. “You made all that up, didn’t you?”
She grinned. “Okay, Lancashire 101. ‘Mithering’ means complaining. Your ‘cakehole’ is your mouth, ‘harping on’ means going on and on about something, ‘cowd’ is how they say cold around here, and ‘cracking flags’ means it’s going to be hot.” She arched her eyebrows. “Want to hear more?”
“I think I’ve heard enough to know English is weird. Plus I can’t be certain, but I think you broke my brain.” That raised an even bigger laugh.
Hashtag appreciated the levity. Anything to take his mind off the upcoming mission.
Eve’s hand was on his thigh. Stop it.
He sighed. I really need to practice hiding stuff from you.
I’m going to be fine.
He wasn’t going to relax until he saw her walking back across that bridge, hale, hearty, and triumphant.
And definitely alive.
Eve snorted. If I’m walking anywhere, it’s a safe bet I’m alive.
You know what I mean.
She squeezed his thigh. Yes, I do.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.
Are we nearly there yet?
Hashtag laughed. “Horvan’s trying to be funny.” He typed. Just follow the lead dog. We’ll get you there. Him and the other two trucks filled with the rest of the team.
Not that he had any idea where Leighton Hall was. Roadkill was the one with the map in his head.
ROADKILL STOOD in the doorway to Leighton Hall, staring out across rolling parkland.
“This place is awesome. I can see for miles, and there’s nothing out there.
” He squinted. “Except for some grayish-white blobs way over there.” He froze.
“I don’t wanna worry anyone, but those grayish-white blobs I mentioned a second ago? They’re moving.”
Beside him, Horvan chuckled. “That’s because they’re sheep.
And you’re right. This place is awesome.
Did you see the banqueting hall? I wanna walk through there with my elbows tucked in, in case I break anything historic.
And these gardens are amazing.” His breathing hitched, and he pointed to one of the stone pillars that framed the steps leading to the garden.
“Do you see him? Of course, it could be a her.”
“What are you talking—oh my God, would you look at that?”
A hawk sat on the pillar, its rich brown wings folded back, its long black tail feathers tipped with white as if it had dipped them in a can of paint. Roadkill imagined its curved yellow beak would make short work of a hot mouse lunch. And as for those bright eyes….
“I’m glad I’m not a mouse,” Roadkill muttered.
Horvan was on his phone, scrolling. “It’s a Harris hawk. Isn’t it beautiful?” Then the hawk took off from its perch, heading their way. It landed on the ground in front of them, peering at them intently.
It was Roadkill’s turn to catch his breath. “Either I’m paranoid, or that hawk is paying us way too much attention.”
“That would be because you’re standing in his doorway,” Aelryn murmured behind them.
Roadkill didn’t need to turn around to know Aelryn was smiling.
“ His doorway?” He watched as the hawk took several bouncing steps toward them. He paused, and Roadkill stood aside quickly. “Sorry if I’m in your way.”
The hawk bounced past them and entered the hall.
Aelryn smiled. “That was Richard Deveraux. This is his house. He’s one of my most trusted leaders, and I’m grateful to him for offering us this space during this mission.
” He pointed to the thick green canopy to the east. “All this land belongs to him. You’ll meet him later, at dinner.
” He touched Horvan’s arm. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” Horvan gave Roadkill a smile. “Watch out for the sheep in case they decide to gang up on you.”
“Is that likely? Do they carry flick knives or something?”
Horvan’s eyes twinkled. “No knives, but they’re all baaaad boys and girls. ”
Roadkill groaned. “Doing impressions of sheep now? Wow. There’s no beginning to your talents.”
Horvan was still chuckling as he walked back inside.
Roadkill strolled across the courtyard and down the stone steps to the meticulously laid-out gardens.
Eve had said Leighton Hall dated back to the thirteenth century, and seeing its gray stone walls topped with crenelations, as if it was a castle, he could imagine battles being fought beneath its battlements, bloodcurdling cries rending the air, the thud of horses’ hooves… .
You always wanted to be one of King Arthur’s knights, didn’t you?
He laughed as Eve joined him. “Jousting sounds as if it was fun.”
“Sure,” Hashtag commented as he followed Eve. “You’d probably have gotten yourself run through with a lance. Mind you, you’re the right size to fit into one of the suits of armor I saw in the hallway leading to the banqueting hall. They weren’t big guys by the look of it.”
Eve linked arms with both of them, and they ambled along the path, flower beds on either side. “I asked Saul if I could wear a tiny camera when I go into Theron’s place.”
Hashtag chuckled. “Confess. You always wanted to be James Bond. Or should that be Jane Bond?”
She grinned. “A spy? Sure. Who wouldn’t want that? All those little gadgets….”
He shrugged. “We can do that. God knows we have the tech. But I don’t think we should. They could be on high alert, for all we know.”
“They’d better not be,” she muttered.
He glanced at her. “Got your story straight?”
Eve’s smile oozed her customary confidence. “Yup.”
Roadkill loved that about her.
“You know we’ll be listening. If you get into trouble—”
“What? You’ll wade in there? You’ll send in the marines?
No. You stick to the plan. Thank you for worrying, really, but I’ll be fine.
” She pursed her lips. “It’s weird, you know?
No one ever wondered if I’d be okay during a mission.
Sure, they wanted me to make it out alive because that’s how they’d get their information, but it was never about me.
” She smiled at them. “It feels good knowing you care.”
Hashtag hugged her. “You are one awesome lady. ”
Eve bit her lip, and Roadkill stilled. He knew the signs. “What’s on your mind?”
“When this mission is over, we need to have a conversation.”
Hashtag’s brow furrowed. “That sounds kinda serious.”
“Because it is.” Eve sat on a low stone wall, a sea of roses behind her, their subtle perfume carrying on the breeze. They perched on either side of her, Roadkill aware of Hashtag’s heartbeat racing like his own.
“I’m assuming the day will come when you’ll want to put your feet up,” she began.
Roadkill blinked. “Retire, you mean? Sure, I’ve thought about it.”
“Same here,” Hashtag added.
“Well, maybe we should all think about it sooner rather than later.” She paused. “If we’re going to have kids.”
Roadkill and Hashtag’s voice rang out in unison. “Kids?”
“I figured I had to bring it up sooner or later.”
Hashtag regarded her with interest. “You want kids?”
She shrugged. “I’m simply putting it out there as a possibility. Sure, I’ve thought about it quite a bit—lately.” Eve bit her lip, and Roadkill found that adorable.
You think she’s one thing, and then she goes and turns everything you thought on its head.
“Tell us what you feel,” he urged.
“Honestly? I’m torn. I mean, I love my life the way it is. I really do. I love being able to wade into a fight and knock heads together.”
Hashtag chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that about you.”
Eve’s smile was pure sunshine as she leaned into him. “But then again, I also love the idea of sitting in front of a fireplace, babies in my lap, while my mates rub my feet or back, and I’m there, content, with the kids sleeping against my chest.” She sighed. “Is it wrong to want that?”
Roadkill kissed her cheek. “Nothing you want could be wrong.”