Page 60

The venue for the evening was a concert hall, some annual charity gala named after a long-dead queen that the great and good attended en masse. I had less interest in the event and a whole lot more in the scale of it. A crowd had formed outside with photographers jostling for position, waiting presumably to spot celebrities who exited a line of cars to a riot of camera flashes.
Our convoy cruised into the queue. As planned, the bodyguard crew exited first to take positions, ready for Alex’s moment. My gut tightened with anticipation and adrenaline. Our actions were well rehearsed. We’d analysed the risks and planned well.
None of that eased my spike of intuition that something would go wrong.
Alex’s car reached the end of the red carpet, and the princess stepped out. Blinding white lights flickered, and she pasted on a natural smile, posing for a beat with us giving her space so the photographers could get their shots.
With a hand raised to shield my eyes, I scanned the surroundings, my heart thumping. All the fucking lights made it hard to see individuals in the crowd. Anyone could be there. Relief followed fast when Riss gave the signal to close in and get our principal inside.
We jogged up the steps with Alex in the centre of our huddle and entered the wide foyer through tight security, melting to the background while she was greeted by friends and acquaintances. I watched on as she air kissed women in expensive dresses and with what looked like priceless jewels at their throats. I heard her use titles instead of names, and I gritted my teeth when a man kept his hand on her shoulder for a minute too long, only remembering to breathe when Alex laughed with him and pressed up on her toes to whisper something in his ear.
In the centre of her group, she moved up through the theatre building to the box where she would watch the performance.
These were her people, I realised. The attendees were of the same social standing, with their wealth signalled in their fineries and their confidence. Alex had genuine smiles for many, making a point to linger and chat.
There was nothing of the scared girl who’d flown into my arms or the version of her that jumped in a lake. She was in work mode, and I couldn’t relate to her. At all. I couldn’t imagine being like Dori would’ve, in a tux at her side, only behind her, watching out for her.
Fuck. Why the hell had my mind gone there?
I needed to centre myself in my role. The concert began with a blare of live music, and all eyes faced forwards.
I tapped my earpiece. “Riss, permission to scope the crowd out front again.”
“Granted. Johnnie, go with him.”
Alex was safe enough here. I needed to make sure she stayed that way.
I descended the plush stairs, Johnnie a few steps behind. Outside, I prowled the crowd that lingered despite the doors being closed, and making a note of the photographers I recognised. None were Malcolm Dennis, the paparazzo who’d haunted Alex. He had to be here somewhere. There was no way a guy whose main deal was taking shots of beautiful young celebrities would miss an event of this size.
As I searched, my phone buzzed with a message from the princess.
Alex: I did it! Will is set up to think I’m going to a friend’s place.
Raphael: Good work. By the way, you were right about Dori. He’s in Milan.
She started typing but stopped, and no reply came through.
I continued my hunt. Johnnie stayed with me, going through the motions, though I was certain he did it without caring. Once we’d left the crowd to circle the building, he sparked up a cigarette and strolled the alleyway behind me.
“What peril are you expecting down here?” He breathed out a plume of smoke. “The stray cats in the bins looking at you wrong?”
“I’m doing my job.”
He released a laugh. “Not for much longer. You’re out of here after tonight. I heard Riss tell the big boss.”
Shame heated my cheeks. If Barrington knew, Ben probably would by now, too. I’d held out a small hope that I could persuade Riss to change her mind after the gala. But if she’d already set wheels in motion, I had no hope.
Johnnie took another drag of his cigarette. “I feel bad for you, kid. All this constant hassle about danger around every corner has to be exhausting.”
“Why wouldn’t ye worry? It’s what we’re paid to do.”
“You’re young. You’ve been doing this job all of five minutes. When you’re in my shoes, you’ll see how badly off your perspective is.”
“Is your age the reason you don’t give a fuck anymore?” I shouldn’t bite back, but the emotions of the night were already high, and he was pissing me off.
“If the first time you see a gun is at the airport on a lads’ holiday to Ibiza, then suddenly you think you can be a bodyguard, then yeah, I’ll call my age an advantage. Seen and done it all.”
Ah, fuck him. “At age seven, I could dismantle a revolver and put it back together with my eyes closed. I’d witnessed more bloodshed and threat before my tenth birthday than you’ve probably seen in your life. I know scare tactics. I learned them at the hands of men who would make the worst of us shake. Don’t think ye know me.”