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“Time for one final check.” He glanced back at me. “What do ye call the bodyguard who fell for a princess?”
Him and his jokes. I arched an eyebrow.
My friend punched my shoulder. “Royally fucked. You’re already in love with her, my friend, and I fucking love being the first to know.”
With a grin, he dove out and sprinted for the office.
God, but he was right. Ilovedher. I’d fallen hard to the point it was more truth than any other fact in my life.
Jackson appeared again seconds later with his hands outstretched, right as the controller gave me my takeoff warning.
Fuck it. Fuck all of it.
Without Dori here, we had to extend the visit and move to the secondary site. Waste the time I could be using to get back to Alex.
I crammed every bit of emotion behind my wall of control, returning my friend’s grim smile when he slammed the door and clipped himself back into his seat.
Thirty seconds.I worked through the sequence of my preflight checks, ensuring the instruments were operational and the fuel levels were where I expected them to be, and my flight plan was recorded. Once I started the engine, we’d be ready for takeoff in under a minute. I should’ve already had it underway.
“Stop.”
Jackson’s tone froze my fingers, poised to flip the switch.
“Fucking hell,” he added. “Look.”
The door to the office was open, and the tall, blond friend of Alex’s wrestled with a uniformed staff member. Dori broke free, swinging a rucksack and falling in his haste to reach us, the picture of elegantly ruffled European royalty.
Jackson swore then exited and opened the rear door, practically boosting Dori into the back of the craft. He strappedhim in and tossed him headphones. I could barely hear over the thrum of my pulse.
With Jackson securing the doors and clipping his harness back in place, I checked the clock. Seconds to go.
Over the headphones came Dori’s voice, thick under heavy breaths. “I know I’m late. My cab broke down. Gridlock. I had to run the whole way.”
I wasn’t angry. I was fucking overjoyed. Against all odds and a coming storm, I set our path for home.
Chapter 29
Alexandra
Scoop, chuck, scoop, chuck. I filled another bag of rubbish then hollered down for Valentine to carry it outside to the skip. While I waited, I grumpily shook open a fresh bin liner and gazed around the spare bedroom.
Today, Daisy had assigned me to the upstairs room in the hope that spreading us out would give us a better chance of hunting down the treasure. Once we had the item the homeowner needed found, the rest of the clearance would go much quicker. We wouldn’t need to check every pile to make sure it didn’t contain a diamond necklace or a priceless figurine.
No sound came from downstairs, so I returned to the patch I was working on, where a stack of boxes had been wedged together Tetris-style. Dutifully, I rattled then opened each, checking the contents before discarding them in the bin bag. They were a strange collection of what must’ve been late-night or impulse purchases. A cleaning product for bathrooms. A mechanical tool for removing fluff from clothing. All examples of an active life the lady couldn’t lead. The more time I spent here, the sadder it made me.
Couple that with the mournful sense of loss for Raphael not being here and I was a grouchy wreck, hot under the blonde wigI’d felt safer in wearing today and bothered for other reasons. I’d got used to having Raphael near. I craved him, and the distance between us panicked me. I wasn’t sure at what point that change had started, but my addiction to all things Raphael was getting worse.
A figure appeared in the door. Daisy. “How’s it going?”
I sat back from the pile and in the path of fresh air from the open bedroom window, where clouds had rolled in to darken the skies, then peeled off my mask. “I was getting a little blue over the state of mind of the woman who lived here. How does someone get like this? Why did no one help her?”
Daisy pulled a pretty grimace and tucked an escaped curl of blonde hair behind her ear. “Her name is Agnes, and her condition is not that uncommon. Hoarding often stems from physical or mental illness or extreme events the mind can’t get over. Mia and I did a similar house clean for a woman in Inverness. She’d broken her leg and had other health issues, and over the course of several months, turned from an outgoing and employed woman to a complete recluse. When she came home from hospital, she had a nurse check on her once or twice and a meal service bring her food, but then her employer forced her into early retirement. She didn’t have any family and had lived for her job. Her whole community had been at the nursery she’d worked in. It dented her confidence so much that for three years, she didn’t leave the house, which only made her physical health worse. It was only when her power went out one winter that she was forced to allow an engineer inside, and she was so ashamed of how bad things had got. The engineer was kind and had seen the videos I sometimes make of our cleans. She contacted us. We did the job for free.”
Daisy moved to where I’d been digging through boxes and picked one up. “I’d say Agnes has something else going on, but Iknow for sure it isn’t our place to judge. Everyone is entitled to a clean home. I consider it a privilege to be able to help with that.”
“Kind of judging the guy who employed your company. He’s her relative, yet he let her live like this and didn’t show any interest until she was near the end of her life.”
Daisy took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t be so hasty to go after him either. You might be right. He could be completely mercenary and not give a damn about her. He also might be like Ben.”