Page 69 of The Secret Librarian
But worst of all, she’d trusted him with Avery.
James reached out and placed his hand slowly on the pistol, gently pushing it away, and she let him, until it was hanging from her fingertips at her side.
‘Put that back in your bag before someone sees it,’ he said. ‘And tell me everything you know about William and his whereabouts. If he thinks you recognised the watch, it’s anyone’s guess what he’ll do next.’
‘He couldn’t know. There’s no way he’d make that connection, I’m certain of it.’
James shook his head. ‘He’s known for some time who you are, Camille. It’s one of the reasons I was so determined to catch him out, to protect you from him, so I wouldn’t leave anything to chance.’
Her blood ran cold. ‘You think he’d hurt me? Here, in Lisbon?’
‘I don’t know what a man like him is capable of, and if I’m honest, I don’t want to find out. But I’d say he’s the type to do anything he has to in order to hide his tracks.’
James turned to order drinks for them, calling out to the bartender and holding up two fingers, but Camille was frozen to the spot. When he passed her a glass, she just lifted her gaze to meet his.
‘James,’ she whispered, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. ‘Do you think he’d hurt Avery?’
She thought he was going to drop the glass he was holding. His entire face drained of colour, going white as a sheet, as he stared back at her.
‘Avery?What does Avery have to do with this?’
‘She was here with him tonight, when I saw his watch,’ Camille said. ‘They left together.’
‘Avery is with William? She’s with him now?’
Camille nodded, fear racing through her body as James put his glass back on the bar and grabbed hold of her hand.
‘Which way did they go? Where were they heading?’
‘I saw them walk out into the lobby, that’s all I know. They might have gone elsewhere in the hotel, but equally he could have walked her home.’ Camille racked her brain. ‘No, she told me that he doesn’t know where she lives. She has a thing about wanting to keep her address secret, something about someone giving her a tip when she first arrived.’
‘Quickly, follow me.’
They ran out to the lobby and James shouted to the concierge, the panic in his voice palpable.
‘Have you seen a pretty woman with dark-blonde hair and a British man? He has mid-brown hair, blue eyes, taller than me,’ James asked. ‘I need you to think very carefully about who came through the lobby.’
‘She was wearing a calf-length navy dress, her hair was twisted up and he was in a suit,’ Camille added. ‘They would have passed through here perhaps half an hour ago, maybe less.’
The man frowned. ‘I can’t give out personal information about our guests. You must understand—’
James took a step closer, and for the first time Camille saw his temper. ‘A woman’s life is in danger, so spare me the privacy speech. Did you see them or not? I need to know who’s come past you tonight.’
The concierge shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t see them come through the lobby together, but a British man fitting your description came down from his room asking for champagne not ten minutes ago. He’d left his bottle in the bar and we arranged a new one for him.’
‘That’s him! He had champagne, I had a glass before I left.’
‘Where did he go?’ James demanded, and she noticed his fists balled at his sides, his jaw clenched.
‘To his room, sir. He went up in the elevator five minutes ago.’
‘Which room!’ James demanded. ‘Tell me what floor he’s on!’
The man went to hold up his hands but James reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of cash, slamming it on to the counter. ‘Tell me the room he’s in, and if he hurts her before I get there, then I will hold you personally responsible.’
The man reached for his book, frantically flicking through pages, tracing his finger down a row of names. It felt like it took forever, but the more James glowered at him, the more the poor man’s hands shook.
‘Room 305.’
