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“No, Anderson. We’re going to my car, now.”
Weston’s expression went blank and hard.
“All of us?” Marek asked calmly.
“Yes, Mr. Lee. Once I know more about what exactly is going on, I’ll let you go.”
“I stay with Rose.”
Knight raised one golden eyebrow at that. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
“I’m parked on the road.”
For the second time that day, Rose went down the hill, though this time it wasn’t at a breakneck run but in Marek’s arms. She offered to walk on the grass, but he insisted on carrying her. Once they went through the little gate at the end of the drive, they could see a large black SUV, which was hidden from the house by a tall hedge. It leaned precariously toward the ditch, but was pulled far enough off the road that another car could have passed by if it needed to.
Knight tucked a gun through the belt that held the sheath to his sword, and tugged keys out of his pocket. Weston opened the door and Marek placed Rose inside. She climbed into the third row of seats. Marek got in and started to join her, but she raised a hand and he stopped, instead sitting in one of the captain’s chairs in the middle row. Weston took the other.
Without another word, Knight climbed in, messing with his belt for a moment before tucking the sword into an odd pocket on his door.
Rose leaned forward between the middle-row seats. “Does he have a special sword holder where there should be a cup holder?”
Weston snorted and Marek’s teeth flashed as he smiled. There was a little bubble of something in Rose’s chest, a feeling she didn’t recognize.
Knight adjusted the rearview mirror. Rose leaned back and crossed her arms.
“Where are you taking us?” Marek asked.
Knight didn’t answer.
“Oh good, I’m getting kidnapped again. What a refreshing change,” Rose said.
Weston pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead and Marek chuckled as Knight started the car and pulled onto the little lane.
Rose tried to stop herself, but she turned to look out the back window, at the little cottage in the country. Their little cottage.
They took the M3 in toward London. Marek looked out the window long enough to be sure he knew where they were headed, then shifted in his seat so he could see both Weston and Rose.
He looked at Weston, trying to see the young man Rose had described. It seemed likely that the physical damage—the eye, the weaker right leg—were related to what had happened to them when they were teenagers.
The piece of the story he was missing was how Rose had come to be with Weston now, though Marek thought he knew the answer to that, and why she’d been running from Weston when Marek got there. Weston had mentioned that she’d get answers if she stayed, and in that moment, he’d seen something in the other man’s face that made Marek think Weston still had feelings, strong feelings, for Rose.
But then he’d deliberately used a harsh tone of command with her, forcing her to respond with habits that had been quite literally beaten into her. That might be why she’d been running when he first got there. And if it hadn’t been for that glimpse of longing and heartbreak he’d seen on Weston’s face, he wouldn’t have questioned the situation further, but after that glimpse of raw, aching emotion, Marek was sure there were things he didn’t yet understand.
Despite the late hour, there was traffic on the M3, and it was nearly forty-five minutes before Knight got off the motorway. Marek saw a sign for Hampton Court Palace. That meant they were near Kingston upon Thames, which wasn’t far outside London. It was far enough out that the underground wouldn’t run there, but the London buses might.
Marek worked though several plans, fleshing them out from start to finish, making contingencies at each possible point of divergence. It was a habit he’d cultivated through the years. Anyone in the armed forces would tell you that a plan usually goes to hell about thirty seconds into engagement, but remaining calm and knowing what to do when it went to hell made all the difference.
He went over each plan twice, as Knight navigated through the winding streets, the river on their right, the expansive green of the lands around Hampton Court Palace on their left. They pulled up outside a large set of iron gates built into a stone wall. Beyond the gates, the palace was artistically lit. The moonlight provided just enough illumination to hint at the colors in the expansive gardens. Knight pulled up to a small keypad and typed in some numbers. Marek leaned close to the window and saw when the light on the cameras mounted above the gate went out. Then one side of the gate swung open and they pulled through, into the Hampton Court Palace grounds.
Rose leaned forward. “Where are we?”
“Hampton Court Palace,” Marek replied. “This was Henry the Eighth’s palace.”
“The one with all the wives?”
“The very same.”
