Page 158 of The Unlikely Spare
Just two people who found each other in the worst possible circumstances and decided to hold on anyway.
In the silence that follows, there’s the sound of more vehicles approaching—heavy engines, multiple units. It could be Pierce’s people regrouping, could be local police, could be anyone.
The tension ratchets up again. Everyone’s hands move to weapons. Even handcuffed to me, Eoin automatically moves to shield me from the door.
“We need to move,” MacLeod says quickly. “We’ll sort this out somewhere secure. Sir, will you come willingly if we don’t separate you from O’Connell?”
I lift our cuffed hands. “I think I’ve made my position clear.”
Singh almost smiles. “The car’s this way. And, O’Connell? No sudden moves. I’d rather not have to explain to Cavendish how Prince Nicholas got shot while handcuffed to his protection officer-slash-kidnapper-slash?—”
He pauses, clearly searching for the right word. I decide to help him out.
“Boyfriend,” I supply helpfully. “Do keep up, Singh.”
The word feels strange and wonderful in my mouth. Boyfriend. Such an ordinary word for something that feels anything but ordinary.
But there it is, out in the open, no taking it back now.
As we’re led to their vehicle, Eoin leans close. “You realize this complicates everything?”
“Darling,” I murmur back, “when has anything between us been uncomplicated?”
“Fair point.”
Walking while handcuffed to someone requires a peculiar synchronization. We have to match our strides, negotiate doorways sideways, constantly aware of the pull of metal between us. Every step requires cooperation, communication. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and somehow perfect.
Rather like whatever this relationship is, actually.
Behind us, sirens wail as more law enforcement descends on Pierce’s warehouse. Through the car window, I catch a glimpse of Pierce being led out in restraints.
Ahead awaits the fallout of everything that has happened and probably a media crisis of epic proportions.
But for now, sitting handcuffed to the man who was sent to betray me and chose to risk everything to save me instead, I can’t help but smile.
We’re alive. We’re together.
Everything else is just details.
Chapter Forty
Eoin
I’m being interrogated in an Auckland hotel room, which, I guess, in the history of interrogation rooms, isn’t the worst venue. Although the complimentary mints on the table feel a bit out of place next to the recording equipment. Nothing says spill your guts about terrorist plots like individually wrapped peppermints.
Scotland Yard has commandeered an entire floor of the hotel, turning hotel rooms into makeshift interrogation spaces. I’ve been sitting in this plastic chair for six hours now, my voice hoarse from talking, my body aching from our mad dash and capture. Along with that knackered feeling you get from finally coming clean to people who’d probably prefer you hadn’t because it makes their life more difficult.
Detective Chief Superintendent Martin Thornton stares at me through the laptop screen, his face even more stern than usual. His boss, Commander Helen Adebayo, sits beside him in the London office, looking as serious as I’ve ever seen her.
“So to clarify,” Thornton says for what feels like the hundredth time, “you engaged in a sexual relationship with the principal you were assigned to protect while simultaneouslyinvestigating a potential security breach within his protection team?”
“Yes, sir.” The words scrape my throat raw. No point in dressing it up now. I’ve laid it all out—every kiss, every lapse in judgment, every moment where I chose Nicholas over protocol.
“And you didn’t think to report this…complication?”
“I did think about it,” I say. “Extensively. Usually at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep because I knew I was fucking up everything I’d worked for.”
Commander Adebayo lifts her eyes off the page to look at me. Thornton’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes shifts.
