I didn’t hear footsteps behind me. I didn’t hear anyone chasing after me. I didn’t know if they were giving chase, or if they were coming, but that one guy… Hale. East bloody Hale. He had followed me out of the restaurant.
The real question was if he’d recognized me or not. No one should have. The disguise I’d worn was a good one. My partner, Amelia, was a whiz with prosthetics.
I kept going but slowed my steps as I stripped off the black hoodie I’d been wearing, pulling the arms through and reversing it so the red inner lining became the outer layer. I thrust my arms into the sleeves again and snapped it on. As I sped up again, I spat out the filaments used to plump out my cheeks. Then I peeled off the latex I’d used to fashion a nose for myself and tossed it at the nearest bin.
I yanked the wig off my head and shoved it in my pocket because I didn’t want to leave it where it might be found.
Listen, no one is following you.
I wasn’t dumb enough to believe that. I’d been trained too well. I knew someone could be following whether I detected them or not. I knew it wasn’t safe to stop and check my clothing. I might have been tagged with a listening device even as I ran.
The dark alleyway narrowed between the Marks and Sparks and the Cock and Crow pub, the late-night revelers and bustling traffic noise shielded by the buildings. Christ, I wanted to take a breather.
No! Don’t stop. Rest later.
This was my I-shat-the-bed egress route, and I needed to stick to the plan.
I ran and ignored the pounding of my heart, the screaming of my lungs, the weight in my legs. Ignore it, just run. Safety first. Worry later.
I raced to the end of the alley, not even looking around me to see what might be waiting for me. Everything posed potential danger. Getting my body safe was the first thing I needed to do. My kidney ached from where I’d taken the hit. My shoulder throbbed from where I’d fallen. But I’d catalog the injuries and worry about those consequences later.
My partner, Amelia Jansen, jerked her head up as I stumbled into the car. “Jesus fucking Christ, Nyla, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Drive,” I managed to grind out.
In a flash, the MINI Cooper’s tires spun, and then she shifted like a Formula One driver, swerving into traffic. Fighting the burn in my lungs and panting as I spoke, I gasped, “I think I was followed.”
Amelia’s eyes went wide. “You’re serious?”
I groaned. “Unfortunately.” Then I put my finger to my lips, indicating she should be quiet as I peeled off my jacket and then flung it out the window as we passed a bin.
My tank top went next as I tugged it over my head and pitched it, then I contorted and shimmied out of the black stretch bottoms I’d worn. Amelia rapidly blinked over at me, but she kept swerving like she was auditioning for The Italian Job.
I kept expecting to hear the shrill chirp of sirens, but there was nothing other than the bustle and honk of taxis, revelers and tourists.
Were we even being followed?
You can’t take that risk.
Amelia slowed as we approached an alley and in the dimness between two streetlamps, the rest of my clothes went out the window.
She lifted a brow and asked, ”Are you clear?”
I nodded. “I think so. Let me check the camera.”
Delicately, I ran my fingers over all the edges of the camera that I’d been using to take pictures. I looked for anything out of order, out of place. “I think we’re good. But let me just grab the SD card.”
She groaned. “Thank God that camera is intact. The requisition paperwork was going to be a nightmare.”
“I wish I could say of course it’s in one piece, but it was touchy for a minute there. Bastard almost smashed it.” After a careful search, I hadn’t found any listening devices. With a sigh of relief, I flipped open the SD card holder and muttered a curse under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.
“Motherfucker.”
“What? Talk to me, Ny. What’s happened?”
“He took it.” I held up the camera and showed her the empty SD card slot.
She frowned. “Shit.”
Plowing my hands through my hair, I tried to fight off the impending panic.
If you panic, you are out of the game. Breathe.
I forced myself to drag in a long deep breath, hold it, and then release it slowly by counts. “I went into the restaurant as planned. While I was serving, I was in there twice before they even noticed anything. But this fucking camera, one of them saw it. And then he chased me. I ran. God, I didn’t think anyone would follow or that he’d be that fast, quite frankly.”
“You didn’t take evasive maneuvers?”
I choked out a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? I ran for my life. Yeah, I took evasive maneuvers. He was just faster than I expected.”
Amelia took up my hand. “Relax, take another deep breath.”
My brain offered up helpful images of me fighting that arsehole. He was supposed to be a lazy billionaire. But oh no. The twat had fight skills. Actual martial arts fight skills. He had fucking surprised me.
I had done my research on the London Lords, as they called themselves. I was looking for proof of their secret society. There had been whispers, rumors. Filthy rich men who were the real London power brokers, and I knew in my gut the London Lords were part of it.
I had studied their movements, where they went, who they talked to, who their friends were. I’d just needed evidence, but all my evidence was fucking gone.
“Okay, I went in there. I took my pictures. I was trying to identify all the players, and fuck, there were some people I didn’t recognize in the room. And then he saw me and chased me, and we had a fucking fight in the park. He was good, Amelia. Jesus Christ, like skills you read about, he was that good.”
“So what, are you hurt?”
Even as I shook my head no, I rubbed my shoulder where I’d taken the brunt of my fall, but it was my kidney that hurt the worst. “Not in a real way. I don’t think he was trying to hurt me. Lucky couple of punches.” Bullshit. He had you dead to rights.
“You were so lucky, Ny. If he’d managed to subdue you, if you’d been caught, it would have been both of our asses. That wasn’t a sanctioned operation.”
Did she have so little faith in me? “I never would have given your name.”
She rolled her eyes. “Process of elimination. I’m your best mate, and we’re almost always attached at the hip.” She had a point there. With a frustrated sigh, she took the exit toward Camberwell and my townhouse. “How did he get the drop on you? That disguise should have worked.”
I shifted in my seat with a wince. “He was, at the very least, as good as I am. And he didn’t get the drop on me; he was lucky.”
Amelia slid a glance at me. “What are we going to do?”
I looked at the camera. ”I’m not sure yet, but I’m not giving up until we manage to pin something on the London Lords.”
“If anyone can do it, it’ll be you.”
I fucking prayed she was right because I’d lost this opportunity tonight. Cocked it right up. I only knew the London Lords as Bennett James Covington, East Hale, and Bridge Edgerton. They had another friend, Drew Wilcox. I didn’t know much about him. Wife, family, that was it. Covington had recently gained a fiancée. Edgerton also had a fiancée. They’d been engaged for two years but still had made no move to get married. That was all I had.