Page 112 of The Unlikely Spare

No matter how many times I remind myself that this—whatever this is—can only end badly, I can’t seem to stop my body’s reaction to him.

My earpiece crackles to life with Cavendish’s voice. “Potential situation at the main entrance. Three individuals without proper credentials attempting to access the site. Moving to intercept.”

I touch my comms unit, acknowledging, then shift position to get a better view of the inn’s entrances. Blake is already at the main door, her body language casual but her eyes alert. Singh has disappeared—presumably to assist Cavendish.

Something’s not right. That instinct that’s kept me alive through years of undercover work is sending alarm signals down my spine.

I catch Blake’s eye and make a subtle hand gesture. She nods and moves to secure the rear exit.

“Sir.” I approach Nicholas at the bar. “I think it’s time we continue to the next part of the tour.”

He reads my expression instantly, setting down his glass without question. “Of course. Though I was just getting the hang of being a proper barkeep. Perhaps in my next life.”

I guide him toward Blake, keeping my body between him and the windows. The tour guide follows, looking confused by the sudden change of plans.

“Is everything—” she begins.

The explosion cuts her off mid-sentence.

The sound reverberates through the wooden structure, followed immediately by shouts from outside.

“Down!” I bark, pushing Nicholas behind the solid wooden bar. Blake drops into a defensive position at the door, weapon already drawn.

“What the hell was that?” Nicholas demands.

My earpiece crackles to life. “Explosion confirmed—vehicles compromised?—”

The words hit harder than the blast. My mind races through scenarios, each worse than the last. If they’ve taken out our transportation, we’re trapped. And for them to know exactly where to hit us…

Someone told them. Someone on our team gave away our position, our protocols, our escape routes.

Which means everything I’ve been trained to do is now a liability.

“Alternative exit?” I ask Blake.

“Kitchen, then out the back,” she replies, eyes never leaving the door. “But it’s all open ground up that slope.”

The security briefing flashes through my mind—the Green Dragon sits at the water’s edge, with a grassy slope rising behind it. Tree line at the top, then down to the staff car park. We’ll have to crest that rise completely exposed before we can drop down to the vehicles.

“Better than being cornered here.” I make the decision instantly. “Blake, coordinate with Cavendish. I’ll get the principal out through the kitchen.”

Blake hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Standard protocol is to keep the principal surrounded?—”

“Fuck standard protocol. Someone just blew up our exit vehicles.” I grab Nicholas’s arm. “We move now.”

To his credit, Nicholas doesn’t waste time with questions or protests. He follows my lead as we move swiftly through the kitchen, past wide-eyed staff who’ve hit the floor at the sound of the explosion.

At the rear door, I position myself in front of Nicholas, my body a shield between him and whatever might be waiting outside. Through the window, I can see the grassy slope stretching upward. The summer sun beats down on brown-tinged grass. There’s no cover until we reach those trees at the ridgeline.

“When we go, you stay directly behind me,” I tell him, not turning around. “We make for the trees at the top. The car park’s on the other side.”

“Understood.”

I push the door open and move out, immediately scanning for threats. The afternoon heat hits like a wall after the cool interior.

We start up the slope, my body angled to shield Nicholas as much as possible. The dry grass crunches under our feet, the incline steeper than it looked from below. Every step feels exposed, the bright sun making us perfect targets against the hillside.

Halfway up, shouts erupt behind us.