Thirty
Dante
ON THE FLIGHT HOME, SHE turned to me with tired longing in her eyes for what we’d never have and what I could never give her: a normal life. Despite this, she said, “Where will we stay?”
“Knightsbridge. It’s probably the safest place.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
She turned back, looking forward. I sensed she wasn’t at all satisfied.
“What is it, Ciara?”
“A feeling something bad’s going to happen, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
She shrugged. “Could be nothing.”
“Could be.”
I hated to admit it, but I had the same feeling.
Sexton never sounded worried. Never. Yet on the phone a little over six hours ago, he called and sounded more than worried. It was more like sadness mixed with bewilderment in his voice – and fear – there was fear. Of what, I didn’t know yet. Perhaps Ciara was
