limo into gear and made a hurried exit from the car park.
An hour and a half later, having abandoned the limousine—after wiping it clean of fingerprints—in Queens and taken a cab into Manhattan, the couple faced each other over a table in a darkened corner of a Midtown bar. “We should have gone back to the apartment,” Nina grumbled.
“Trust me, there’s nothing I’d like more,” said Eddie. “But it might not be a good idea me being seen around there.” He shook his head. “Christ, what a mess.”
Right now, Nina didn’t want to think that far ahead. She took in her husband’s less-than-pristine appearance. “That’s not the only thing that’s a mess.”
Eddie gingerly touched his jaw where the assassin had landed a blow. “That guy got in a couple of punches.”
“No, I meant in general. What is with the beard?”
“You don’t like it?”
“Would you be offended if I didn’t?”
“N—”
“I hate it,” she said, before he could even finish the word. “I don’t know if you were trying for a Commander Riker look or something, but it’s definitely more toward the Charles Manson end of the beard spectrum.”
“First chance we’ve had for a proper chat in over three months, and that’s all you want to talk about?”
Her change of expression warned him that was far from the case. “God, no, Eddie,” Nina said with a long sigh. She spread her fingers, putting the tips to her temples. “There’s so much I want to say that it feels as though it’s all going to burst right out of my skull. I mean, Jesus Christ, Eddie. Jesus Christ!” She hit his arm, far from gently.
“Ow,” he said. “What was that for?” She did it again, harder. “Ow!”
“What was that for?” she echoed incredulously, voice rising in both volume and pitch. “For God’s sake! You disappear and leave me for three months, not a word the whole time, the police and Interpol and God knows who else are scouring the globe for you—then you turn up out of nowhere at the top of a Japanese skyscraper, which then gets blown up with me inside it, and when I finally get back home after being chased and shot at in Rome, you pop up again as if by magic to save me from some asshole who was apparently trying to kidnap and murder me! The least I deserve is some kind of goddamn explanation!”
“Oh. Yeah. All that. So what happened in Rome?”
“Don’t change the subject!” she snapped, raising her fist once more.
“All right, fucking hell! Just don’t hit me again, okay? I’ve had people laying into me for the past week, and I’m getting pretty pissed off with it.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just … I’m so happy to see you again, you wouldn’t believe it. But I’m also so mad at you.”
“Okay, so stick with the happy part for now, all right?” said Eddie. “You want to know what I’ve been doing? I’ve been looking for Stikes, for one thing. I had to bust someone out of a Zimbabwean prison to track him down, but I finally found him … and you were there with him.”
“I was not with him!” she protested.
“Yeah, I know that now. But he got away, and I’m not going to get any more help from the person who told me how to find him. Seeing as she tried to kill me.”
Nina sighed. “What is it about us? Why are we incapable of having a normal life that doesn’t include regular assassination attempts?”
“Dunno. But I don’t remember breaking any mirrors, walking under ladders, or not saluting magpies, so it must all be your fault.” He managed a half smile at her outraged look, then became serious again. “But as well as that, I was trying to find out what happened in Peru. I didn’t murder Kit, Nina. He was trying to kill me. What I did, it was self-defense … whatever you thought you saw me do.”
She said nothing for several seconds, causing an unexpected apprehension, even fear, to rise within him. But her reply made it vanish. “I believe you.”
His face lit up. “You do?”
“Yes. I believe you’re innocent. But …” The single word instantly crushed his elation. “I need to know you’re innocent. And so does everybody else—Interpol, the IHA, everyone. Otherwise, what? You go on the run again? Or you get caught and sent to prison—or worse? Eddie, I …” She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t go on like this. Without you. It’s just …