‘WE’RE HERE.’
Bryce stopped in front of a high rise, 150 E 42nd St, New York. He undid the clasp of his helmet, and then helped her with hers. With her face revealed, he was hit by a sudden pang of worry. She looked ill.
‘You okay?’
She fought back the tears and whispered, ‘Yeah.’
In a display of kind affection, he touched her cheek. It sent her heart into palpitations and her emotions in all direction. She had known the man barely a day, and she was a total mess.
So help me God, she thought.
‘Let’s go.’
He hefted her backpack and offered her a hand. A minder came running out from nowhere to take the keys from Bryce.
‘Thanks for the ride, mate.’
‘No worries,’ the man replied.
They went up to the thirty-fourth floor, to the Australian Consulate-General.
She assumed they were ther
