“It’s only me. Always has been.” And always would be. “Why?”
He plucked at his cufflinks. “Seems like you were maybe asking to partner up and go after Bernard together.”
I took the glass of whiskey from his fingers. Placed my mouth directly where his had just been and took a satisfying sip. “I’ve never worked with a partner before. Don’t worry, that wasn’t my motivation here, Abraham.”
A sense of loss was already lodging itself in my sternum. I pressed my palm there, attempting to sooth the newness of feeling so raw. Every single second of my time spent with Abe these past thirty-six hours had been like diving through uncharted waters. A tiny voice in my head whispered you’re going to miss him.
“Okay then,” he said. “Now that we’ve fought off an attacker together and I’ve learned your true identity, we can go about our business separately. I’ve got plans the next few days to enjoy all the rich culture that London has to offer. I doubt we’ll see each other again, except coming and going at The Langham.”
This was what I wanted—to clear the air between us, uncover his real purpose, and get back to the hunt. So I wasn’t sure why my emotions felt so out of control as we reached the natural end of our… whatever this was. What was it?
I pointed at the vial that had held GHB meant for both of us. “What would you like to do about our imminent brush with illegal drugs?”
He reached across the table, stole his whiskey glass from my fingers. Took another generous sip. “Tourists get drugged and mugged all of the time. It’s natural to read into things when you’re in the thick of an active investigation. We were two loud Americans getting intoxicated. We were a target for a crime of opportunity.”
“Would Bernard know what you looked like, Abe?” I asked.
There. Another flicker of curiosity—more than that. A tangible passion. He was desperate and denying himself. “Why would he know that?”
I lifted a shoulder. “You currently employ the man who sent him underground. I’d know what you looked like.”
He tapped the glass. “We were targeted for a crime of opportunity. I’d drop it.”
That didn’t match what my instincts were telling me at all, but if Abe Royal was going to be this stubborn and prideful, we’d reached the end of the road.
I stood, pocketing my things and tossing some cash down onto the table. “Consider it dropped,” I said. I took the little vial with me though. “Have fun on your vacation.”
His entire body flexed and tensed, as if he was bound to his chair by invisible rope. With a curt nod, he said, “I shall see you around. Neighbor.”
I yearned for a pithy response and came up empty, feeling flipped upside down by the surge of anger, frustration, need, lust coursing through my veins.
And hurt. That was there too, buried beneath the other, more vocal, emotions. Since graduating from NYU, there hadn’t been much effort made on my part to meet people or make friends beyond the occasional one-night stand or brief fling. My love life centered around anonymity—I preferred my partners to know as little about me, or my past, as possible. And in college, attempting to make those friendly connections was like trying to learn a brand-new language not a single person had ever taken the time to teach me.
On the occasions that I attended a campus party or a study group or a dining hall rendezvous, their experiences and memories were bizarre to me—the little coded ways they spoke to each other, their teasing and affection. I believed this social comfort came from people who grew up with siblings or friends, who went on field trips or had backyard birthday parties. More often than not, I’d leave feeling embarrassed or at the very least confused. At the end of the day, I found it easier to not try at all.
So I opted for turning on my heel and striding out of that pub without a clever goodbye for Abe Royal. And as I walked down the street, heading back to The Langham Hotel, I recognized the familiar feelings of embarrassment and confusion, of longing for something I didn’t understand. Maybe, just maybe, I had been trying to partner with Abe on this case.
Those were deceiving thoughts. I was better off alone anyway.
13
Abe
The lights in the Royal Opera House dimmed. The luxurious red-and-gold curtain opened on