“You’re going to fuck Katie Clark out of your mind. When we come home, you won’t even remember what you saw in her.” He thrusts his hips like a lunatic. Heaven help the poor woman he finds if that’s his best move.
I roll my eyes. We’ve had this same argument for months; not engaging is my best defense. When she ended things in January, I thought the pain would pass. It hasn’t.
Everyone was wrong about her being a rebound fling.I love her.
Missing her fiftieth birthday was brutal. I wanted to be there to celebrate with her. I don’t care that she could technically be old enough to be my mother. We fit like a puzzle. She’s my missing piece. And I’ve never been able to shake the feeling of her. I don’t ever want to lose it.
This trip is my last attempt to forget her. To move on. Deep down, I know it won’t work. She’s been gone six months with no word. When I went to Eden House, Harold escorted me out and said she’d returned to London. I was given firm instructions not to return. He gave me her letter—sweet, final, and not nearly enough to sever the tie. It only made me love her more.
My leave ends soon, and I’ve re-signed with the Army for three more years. With everything so chaotic and complicated, the structure feels like a safety net I need. I’ll be heading to Iraq later this summer. The mission is humanitarian only; low-risk. My squad will be training their soldier and supporting civilians. The Brigadier made me an offer to do something good. It’s a chance to be a positive influence where it matters.
Hannah was devastated when I told her. She made me promise I’d be home for Christmas. I will be. This year, her Christmas Day will be with me. These are my final tours. The last years. Once they’re done, I’m choosing stability. For her.
The plane is crammed with drunk stag and hen parties, families, and overexcited twenty-somethings. Dog and I reach our seats in row twelve—window and aisle. We left the middle seat open hoping for space, but a petite blonde in her mid-twenties sits there. Pretty face. Huge chest. Dog is rubbing his hands together mentally.
“Don’t piss her off,” I hiss.
“Hello gorgeous,” he greets her. She smiles, flattered. “Mind if I squeeze past? Unless you want the window?”
“No, I like the middle.” She stands, and Dog shuffles past, brushing her chest blatantly. Idiot.
The aisle is my preference—the escape avenue open rather than being boxed in. The soldier in me never truly sleeps. I settle in and search my bag for my headphones.
Dog has already struck up a conversation with our neighbor. His best James Bond accent in place, smooth, so he thinks.
Before I can pull the headphones out, the case is knocked from my hand by someone behind me doing the macarena. The tiny box hits the floor, and the earbuds scatter.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter, dropping to my knees to retrieve them. When I lift my head, I’m staring straight up the blonde’s skirt. My nose grazes her knee. She hisses and yanks the fabric down.
Her glare could peel paint.
Dog smirks, delighted.
I shove my earbuds in, slouch back in my seat, and don’t speak to another soul for the rest of the flight
Chapter twenty
Katie
Being back in London is unnerving, but it’s time I came home, especially after my last few weeks at Eden House. Who knew so much crime could be taking place under your nose, and you never realized?
It turned out the Edens were high profile art and antique thieves travelling the world and living a life of luxury on the proceeds. Not collectors, not eccentric millionaires—actual criminals.
The main house was packed full of stolen goods. The lower rooms were decorated like a normal house, but upstairs and the cellar were filled with contraband. All the movement of art and furniture I’d seen were gangs moving the goods to buyers on the black market or storing newly acquired stock.
On the first Saturday in June, Amy and I were sitting in the garden sipping tea and enjoying the summer sunshine. I was due to be leaving the next day, as my house-sitting contract wasfinished and it was time for me to move on. The dogs barked suddenly, and moments later three police cars tore up the drive, sirens screaming.
It was only Amy and me at the estate that day. Harold had been absent for a few days, and no other member of the ‘team’ came unless he was there. The officers approached with guns drawn, ordering us to put our hands in the air.
It felt like stepping onto a cop show, but the guns were real. Terror swept through me. One wrong move and someone could end your life with a click.
“Identify yourself,” the officer in charge barked.
“I’m Katie Clark, and this is my friend Amy Trodden,” I stammered.
“And your relationship to Jeffery Eden?”
“Um... I’m his house sitter. Amy’s my friend. She’s visiting.”