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“You think?”
“I know,” Zara said confidently. “And I’d be quick about it. My guess is he’s already tracking you and means to take you home to settle things with you. A transatlantic flight when sitting down is painful is not a good idea.”
“Speaking from experience?” Finn teased.
“Unfortunately, too many times to count. Damian’s thing was always the minute he had me safe, I got put facedown over his knee, my knickers pulled down to my knees, and my butt paddled. He might wait until he had a proper bed to take care of the rest, but he had no intention of putting off punishing me for what he termed my aberrant behavior.”
“Would you do it again?” Finn asked gently, seeing the misty look on her friend’s face.
“Doubtful. Men who are worth submitting to—and make no mistake, that is what you’re doing—are rare. If you’ve found one, and he loves you, hang onto him with all your might.”
The two spent the remainder of their evening laughing and talking about the ballet, which they both loved, the opera, which Zara loved and Finn hated, fashion, friends, and subjects sure to cause neither angst nor pain. They ended the evening with a plan for Zara to chat up some friends in the intelligence community to see if she could detect any hint of what might be going on. Finn promised if Fariq was still in Arizona, she’d find a way to speak with him.
Riding up in the elevator, Finn felt more at peace than at any other time in her life, except for those times she was with Croft and not making herself crazy. She didn’t deserve him, but if he was willing to forgive her, she was going home. They would find a way to make it work.
Chapter
Fifteen
Finn’s sleep that night was dreamless and restive. The following morning, she went to the front desk to check out.
“Ms. Reid, we thought you might be staying a bit longer than one night with us.”
“I did, too, but I had a wonderful dinner with a friend who gave me some excellent advice.”
Finn signed the receipt for her credit card and turned to leave. She had almost reached the front door when she thought better of it and went back.
“Ms. Reid? Did you forget something?”
“No, but once again, my compliments to your staff. If a Mr. Crofton asks about my whereabouts, would you tell him I’m going home.”
“Of course. Are you expecting Mr. Crofton? Wild Mustang has no reservation with us, of which I’m aware.”
Finn grinned. Of course, he wouldn’t make a reservation or stay in the same hotel. He’d wait until he had a chance to corner her and cut off any escape before confronting her. Zara was right. She would need to find a way to soothe some of his ire—she could only think of one.
“He may not be in London yet, and he may not ask at all, but if he does, can you give him the message?”
“Rest assured, we will see he gets it.”
“Thank you again.” Finn headed out to catch a cab to Gatwick, then home.
Croft entered the Savoy. He understood why Finn had chosen it. It was probably his favorite hotel in the world. Perhaps if she behaved herself, at least until they were married, he’d bring her here for their honeymoon. After all, the hotel had thick walls and kickass room service.
“Mr. Crofton,” hailed the concierge—Wild Mustang was a frequent guest.
Croft smiled and walked toward him. “I’m wondering if you might provide me with a slight breach of your usual absolute discretion. I have reason to believe Finlay Reid may be staying with you. It is imperative I find her. Her life may depend on it.”
“I’m not sure where you got your information. Ms. Reid was here but checked out of the hotel most unexpectedly about an hour ago. Let me see if I can find out where she’s gone.”
The man at the front desk hailed them as they crossed the lobby.
“Mr. Crofton, are you looking for Ms. Reid?”
“I am, indeed.”
The man smiled. “She told me if you asked after her, I was to tell you she was going back to America.”
“Were those her exact words? Back to America?”
