Page 27 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

T he following day, Ellie finished work early and was home before six o’clock. As soon as she stepped through the door, Lizzie called out, ‘Is that you, love?’

‘Yes.’ She hung her coat and gas mask on the stand by the door, then followed the smell of stew to the kitchen. She found Lizzie at the Aga, stirring food that actually smelled rather tasty. ‘Cooking up a storm, I see.’ She peered into the pot.

‘Rabbit stew. Fairly basic, but I got some mint off Mum and tipped a good handful of pepper in. It’s ready, anyway.’

Ellie sat down as Lizzie fetched a pot of tea to the table, which was already set with teacups, cutlery and plates. ‘I feel guilty that you’ve done all this.’

‘Rubbish! I finished a few hours ago and I know how hard you’ve been working. I think you’ve been under a lot of strain since you began working with that chap.’

Ellie glanced at her and smiled. She wasn’t wrong, though she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying herself.

‘It’s just us tonight, remember? Catherine’s working on.’

Ellie nodded. ‘She hates that dorm they put her in. Calls it the dungeon.’ It did sound awful; cramped with cold stone walls and a tiny, hard bed.

Lizzie fetched the casserole dish over and ladled out several spoonful’s onto Ellie’s plate and then her own.

‘Dig in,’ she said, taking a small slice of home-baked bread and dipping it into the stew.

Ellie took a mouthful. ‘Ooh, this is delicious. Ten out of ten for this one.’

Lizzie chuckled. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my ration cake. Honestly, anything’s better than no treats at all.’ They ate in silence for a minute or two, and then Lizzie continued. ‘Once you’re finished you can go and put on a nice frock. We’re going to the dance hall tonight.’

Ellie groaned. ‘I’m not sure. I rather fancied a night in, reading, having a drink.’

‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. We haven’t been out in ages, and all we ever do is work. We need to have some fun.’ She stabbed a chunk of meat with her fork. ‘Besides, you’re only young once.’

***

They tumbled out of a black taxi by the doors of the Hammersmith Palais and joined the throng of people heading inside, servicemen and civilians.

They paid for tickets at the booth and checked in their coats.

Ellie smoothed her pale-blue dress. It wasn’t new but Lizzie had pressed it to perfection, and she had slipped on the blue kitten heels she usually deemed impractical.

Her hair was pinned in soft rolls, loose and tumbling about her shoulders, and a dab of Tangee gave her a confidence she didn’t quite feel.

Lizzie stood out, radiant in crimson with a gorgeous flared skirt. She shot Ellie a pointed look over her shoulder. ‘Don’t glare like that, love. You’ll frighten off all the handsome officers.’

Ellie exhaled. ‘Sorry. I’m tired and my mind’s still on work.’

Lizzie rolled her eyes, tugging her further inside. ‘You’re always working. What you need to do is unclench your jaw. Frankly, it’s exhausting just looking at you.’

Ellie huffed but let herself be pulled along to the bar, where Lizzie ordered two gin and tonics.

She nursed her drink at a small, round table near the edge of the dance floor, fingers idly tracing the rim of the glass as she let her gaze drift.

It was a habit: scanning the room, assessing the people, watching for patterns.

It had become second nature, a tic she couldn’t shake.

Even in a place like this, where the music drowned out everything, where people threw themselves into the moment as if tomorrow wasn’t promised.

The dance hall pulsed with energy. A big band played from the stage, brass and drums filling the air as couples whirled across the floor.

Laughter rang out, mingling with the scents of smoke, Shalimar and spilled gin.

Ellie hadn’t expected to enjoy it, but Lizzie was a force of nature, and by their second dance Ellie found herself laughing, caught up in the moment.

A young soldier spun her in a circle, grinning. ‘You’re light on your feet.’

‘She’s got hidden talents,’ Lizzie called out, twirling on by with her partner.

As the music ended, the two men thanked them, bowed playfully and melted into the crowd. Ellie caught her breath; cheeks flushed, hair slightly loose around her face. And then she spotted Jack across the room.

He stood by the bar, half in shadow, adjusting his cufflinks.

His hair fell slightly across his forehead, and she watched him rake a hand through it in that familiar way of his – the same gesture she'd seen him make a dozen times in tense meetings.

But his attention wasn't on the room around him.

His gaze found hers through the crowd and held.

Ellie's breath caught. She hadn't expected him here, not tonight, and her hand drifted to the pendant at her throat.

He didn't look away. Neither did she. A woman brushed past Ellie, breaking the spell for a moment, but when she looked back, he was already moving towards her, weaving between tables with that particular confidence she recognised.

When he was close enough to speak, she found herself smiling before she could stop herself.

His mouth quirked in response, just the corner lifting, and heat kindled in her chest.

‘Fancy a dance?’

Ellie tilted her head, feigning reluctance. ‘Do you swear not to step on my toes?’

He held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

When she took his offered hand, the contact sent a jolt up her arm.

The band struck up the next tune, a slower number, elegant and lilting.

Jack guided her into the dance steps with surprising grace, his hand settling warm and sure against her back.

She was startled by how perfectly they moved together, as if they’d been dancing for years instead of moments.

She caught his cedarwood scent and drank it in. ‘You clean up well.’

‘I do my best.’

For a while they didn’t speak, lost in the rhythm and the dangerous pleasure of being this close. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle strength in the way he guided her across the dance floor.

‘It’s nice to see you like this,’ he said, his voice low and intimate.

‘Like what?’ She tilted her head back to look him in the eye.

‘Relaxed. Smiling. Not accusing anyone of treason.’

She laughed, surprised by his teasing. ‘It’s a rare sight, I know.’

‘You should do it more often.’ There was a tenderness in his voice that made her breath catch.

The music seemed to wrap around them, creating a bubble of intimacy in the crowded room. She let herself sink into the moment, his hand in hers, the warmth of his palm against her back, the way his eyes never left her face. For once, she felt safe enough to just be .

When the music ended, they stepped apart but neither quite moved away. The spell held for a heartbeat longer, simmering between them, fragile and precious.

Jack cleared his throat quietly. ‘I’ll get us a drink,’ he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual.

She nodded, watching him go, her heart still racing from more than just the dancing. As she turned to look for Lizzie, a young corporal with sandy hair and a crooked grin stepped into her path.

‘Mind if I steal you for the next dance?’

Ellie shrugged and smiled. ‘Ok.’ The corporal beamed, reached for her hand and led her to the floor.

Taking her in his arms, he led her to the tune of Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’, spinning with the music, not overthinking.

It felt good, silly and easy in a way life rarely was these days, and she forgot about work, spies, MI5 and even the war, if just for a brief spell.

***

Jack reached the bar just in time to see her swept into another man’s arms. The soldier was young, fresh-faced with the kind of easy confidence that came from never having seen real darkness.

Jack watched as the boy spun Ellie across the floor, holding her closer than was strictly necessary, making her laugh as if the war had never touched them.

A possessive niggle twisted in his chest. He’d never seen Ellie smile like that; so open, so unguarded.

Her long, blonde hair caught the light as she moved, and she was suddenly no longer the service policewoman but the society beauty he’d first fallen for.

It was beautiful – and it was killing him.

The glasses in his hands felt suddenly heavy. He didn’t move, couldn’t seem to make himself step away from the pillar where he’d taken refuge. Instead, he stood there like a fool, watching another man hold the woman who’d been driving him to distraction for years.

Christ. He remembered her like this from before the war. She’d been at a garden party, radiant in silk and pearls, turning him down with that perfectly clipped voice. You’re not really my type, Stratton. He’d laughed it off then, but it had carved a hollow in his chest that had never quite healed.

And now? Watching her glow for someone else, some green private who had no idea how fiercely she fought or how brilliant she was, ignited jealousy, dark and territorial, inside him. She looked radiant. Unburdened. Free in a way she never was with him.

The part that stung was knowing how little her joy seemed to have to do with him. She was laughing, spinning, alive … and he was standing in the shadows like some lovesick fool, nursing two drinks and a wounded pride he had no right to feel.

When the song ended and the soldier stepped back with a grateful bow, Jack moved. Not quickly, he had more pride than that, but with quiet determination. He appeared at her side as if he’d materialised from the shadows.

‘Mind if I cut in?’

***

When Jack asked to cut in, his tone made her look up sharply. There was an edge there she hadn’t heard before, vulnerability beneath his usual control.

‘Not at all,’ she said, and meant it more than she should have.