Chapter 15
Duncan flinched at the hard knocking and grabbed the phone from Sharyn. He pulled up the lobby’s security feed as he crossed toward the door. During the call with the Frenchman, he had assigned Archie to monitor for any suspicious activity below.
“Did you see anything?” he hissed back to his friend. “Were you watching the lobby?”
“Bollocks . . .” Archie snatched up his own phone, which rested on the sofa next to him, clearly abandoned during the tense conversation.
With the feed now filling Duncan’s phone, he searched the screen for any sign of an armed task force, but the lobby looked as calm and quiet as usual. Once he reached the front door, he tapped the security screen next to it, bringing up a view of the hall outside.
Two men filled the frame. The larger pounded a fist on the door.
Duncan sagged with relief, momentarily resting his forehead against the door. “False alarm,” he called to the room. “It’s only Seb and Dom.”
Archie fell back heavily into his seat. “Those barmy bastards’ timing couldn’t be worse.”
Duncan unlocked the door and yanked it open. His two friends had the flat directly under this one. He confronted the pair, blocking the way inside. “Seb. Dom. We were just headed out. To . . . to get some breakfast.”
Need to get these two clear of here as quickly as possible.
Sebastian Kroner stepped forward, shouldering past Duncan to barge inside.
The man—the son of an MP with the House of Commons—had no respect for boundaries.
His twin brother, Dominic, followed with a more apologetic look.
They were not identical, but fraternal. Seb was all wiry muscle and had his father’s hawkish nose and jet-black hair.
Dom had a wider gut and softer features.
“We’ll go with you,” Seb said. “Coffee and a ciggie sound perfect.”
“We’ve been up all night,” Dom explained.
That was obvious, as both were still in their costumes. Under an ankle-length peacoat, Seb wore a pirate’s outfit with an eyepatch pushed to his forehead. Dom had a matching coat, but under it, a tight bodysuit bore the outline of a skeleton on it.
“Lost you after that ruckus with the fire alarm.” Seb nudged his brother. “But lucky for us, we found some damsels that needed rescuing.”
Duncan had no interest in the details and grabbed Seb’s arm to try to get him and his brother out the door.
Seb shook free, only now noting that Duncan was not alone. “Ah, I see you found some company yourselves. No wonder you vanished.”
Dom winced. “Bruv, maybe we’re intruding.”
Duncan opened his mouth to agree, but Seb cut him off.
“Nonsense. The more, the merrier.”
Archie intervened, flashing open his robe to show his boxers.
“We’re not ready to go yet. As cold as it is outside, we debated staying home.
But the Tower Cafe doesn’t deliver. Pick up only.
But since you’re both dressed, maybe you could dash over there for us .
. . and we can all extend this little party of ours. ”
Archie gave Duncan a weighted look, the intent clear.
Get them the hell out of here.
As Archie headed to his room to change, Duncan took advantage of the opening.
“We’ll call an order in. My treat.” He reached into a pocket for another way to put these two to use.
He tossed a set of car keys to Seb, who had no choice but to catch it.
“Take my Aston. It’s been sitting idle for weeks and can use some warming up. ”
Duncan knew Seb lusted for a chance to drive his new DBX707, a graduation gift from his father.
Seb smiled and retreated for the door, plainly fearing such an opportunity might be taken away. He dragged Dom with him. “Can’t promise we might not be a little late in getting back.”
“Take your time,” Duncan said and closed the door on his two friends.
Naomi strode over, her eyes pinched. “You gave them your car? Does Archie have another?”
“Not here.”
“Then why did you—”
Sharyn answered, clearly understanding his intent. “With the authorities headed this way, they must know of Duncan and Archie’s involvement. If the police haven’t already, they’ll put a trace on any registered vehicles.”
Duncan nodded. “With luck, Seb and Dom will draw away the task force, buying us a bit more time. The restaurant lies in the opposite direction from St. Davids Station. Where trains head to London twice an hour.”
“Won’t the authorities get an alert when we buy tickets?” Sharyn asked.
“No. On British railways, as long as you’re not leaving the commonwealth, anyone can buy tickets for someone else. We can pay cash at the kiosks, even make up a name. If an inspector should check—which is rare on those commuters—it won’t matter as long as we have paid tickets in hand.”
Tag hobbled up, using one of the umbrellas Duncan had bought last night as a cane. “We’ll still need to be mindful of CCTV cameras.”
“I’ve got plenty of extra mufflers and hats,” Duncan assured them. “No one should question us being all bundled up. It’s a bitter morning out there.”
In more ways than one.
Archie returned, dressed in sweats and tugging into a black puffer jacket. “Let’s get cracking.”
Duncan got everyone properly outfitted, checked the lobby feed, saw it was clear, and led the way out. Once at the curb, he hailed a cab. The boxy carriage pulled to a stop, and they all clambered inside.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
“St. Davids.” Duncan handed forward a fold of bills. “We’re late for our train.”
“No worries. I’ll put my boot into it.”
The cabbie took off, wending quickly through the morning traffic.
Behind them, a distant wail rose.
Sirens.
Duncan shared a worried look with Sharyn. Neither of them was under any illusion that they had made a clean escape—especially considering the murderous bastards who pursued them. The question remained:
Who the hell are they?