Page 29 of The Unlikely Spare

“Officer O’Connell,” I call. I can’t deny that I enjoy the slight stiffening of his shoulders in response to my voice. “Would you please come here a moment?”

His jaw tightens as he approaches, stopping at what I assume is the precise regulation distance from my seat.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Did you know that the kangaroo and the emu were chosen for Australia’s coat of arms because neither animal can move backward? Symbolic of a nation always moving forward, apparently,” I say.

He blinks. “Is there something you need?”

“Just sharing knowledge, O’Connell. Cultural exchange. Although I anticipate it’s going to be remarkably one-sided.” I take another sip of whisky. “Here’s another fascinating tidbit: in 1932, the Australian military fought a war against emus. And lost.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes flick briefly to my glass.

I suppose it’s understandable that he’s checking for sobriety when I’m trotting out facts like this.

“The military lost to birds?”

Have I piqued his interest, or is he simply humoring me? And why do I feel a slight flutter in my pulse when those gray eyes focus on me with something other than their usual disapproval?

“Indeed. The emus employed superior tactical maneuvers, apparently. Terribly nimble.” I swirl the whisky in my glass. “I’ve been wondering if I should incorporate this historical footnote when addressing the Australian Defense Force at the naval base in Darwin. What are your thoughts?”

O’Connell’s gaze shifts just past my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll make the appropriate judgment when the time comes.”

Irritation flashes inside me.

“You’re no fun at all, are you? Do they train that out of you in protection officer school, or is it a natural deficiency?”

“Is there anything else you require?” His voice could freeze the whisky in my glass.

“Tell me, O’Connell, what do you do when you’re not shadowing royals? Hobbies? Interests? Is there a significant other pining for your return?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I’m on duty, sir.”

“Surely even you must take your superhero cape off occasionally. What then? Cricket? Stamp collecting? Interpretive dance?”

Emma chooses that moment to reappear beside us, her smile brightening when she turns to O’Connell. She’s practically batting her eyelashes in Morse code. SOS:save me from my boring shift with your brooding Irish charm.

For some reason, it causes my irritation to spike even higher.

“Can I get you anything, Officer?” she asks.

“No, thank?—”

“He’ll have water,” I interrupt. “Maintaining optimal hydration is crucial for security personnel. Isn’t that right, O’Connell?”

“Water would be fine, thank you,” he says to Emma, his tone neutral.

When she leaves, I lean forward. “I believe our flight attendant finds you rather appealing, O’Connell. Perhaps you should pursue that. Might help you unwind a bit.”

His posture becomes, if possible, even more rigid. “Is there something specific you need from me?”

“Just making conversation. Twenty-four hours is a long time to maintain that stoic silence you’re so fond of.”

“I’m here to ensure your safety. Not to entertain you.”

I smile, all teeth. “At least sit down. Your looming is becoming oppressive, and frankly, it’s giving me a crick in my neck.”

O’Connell glances toward Officer Singh, then back at me. With visible reluctance, he lowers himself into the seat opposite mine.