“Fish and chips?”
Elizabeth looked up. “Oh, wonderful. I’m starving.”
They made plans while they ate, Quinn promising himself that he wouldn’t waste her entire holiday on Jack’s murder.
“Are you going to show me where you grew up?”
The question took Quinn by surprise. “Naw. The place was demolished.”
Och, he would have loved to have seen that. He would have cheered as the building collapsed into a pile of dust and rot.
Quinn insisted on paying, given that she’d flown here to help him.
“Thank you. Those might well be the best fish and chips I’ve ever had.”
He helped her into her jacket. “I told you so.”
They walked outside and made their way back to the car.
Elizabeth looked up. “The rain has stopped.”
“For now.” Quinn wanted to take her hand, to wrap an arm around her shoulder, but crossing that line could have serious consequences for them both.
“It must have been incredible to grow up surrounded by so much history,” she said. “Crookston Castle has stood there since the twelfth century. The most historic building in my hometown is only a hundred and fifty years old.”
Quinn had never had time to think about the history of Glasgow. He’d been too busy trying to survive. “Aye, the city is rich in history, so it is.”
They reached the car, Elizabeth mistakenly walking to the driver’s side.
“The other side, aye?” He took her shoulders and guided her out into the street, unlocking and opening her door for her. “You’re knackered.”
“If by that you mean tired, then, yes, I am.” She climbed in, put on her seatbelt, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.
Quinn got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and merged with traffic, heading back to the hotel. “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He turned on the heater and the seat warmer then turned left.
“Mmm. That feels good.”
Her little moan might have made him crash had his attention not shifted to the car behind him—a black Corsa. It had pulled away from the curb at the same time that he had. Two turns later, it was still behind him.
You’re imaginin’ things.
With Elizabeth half asleep in the seat beside him, he decided to test that theory, turning right and heading north.
The Corsa did the same.
Quinn locked the doors, drove another kilometer down the street, and pulled over in front of a nightclub.
The Corsa slowed, stopped, giving Quinn a clear view of its plate number in the brief moment before its driver pulled to the side of the road, too.
Elizabeth’s eyes opened. “Are we stopping?”
“Nay.” He headed north again. “I’m just conductin’ an experiment.”
The Corsa waited for him to get a block ahead then did the same.