Page 48 of The Bodyguard

Doesn’t matter. It’s ending, remember? It’s ending, before it even gets a chance to start.

“Well, go and get it. I’ll be fine here.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Jesus!” She sighs and throws her head back. “You’re only going over there.” She stabs a finger into thin air, in the direction of the guest cottage. “What the fuck is going to happen to me in the amount of time it takes you to fetch your bloody laptop?”

She’s pushing me again, but in a different way now, and it might just be because she feels a little rejected, but I’m guessing here, I’m really not in the mood to analyse shit, but I’ve got to try and get this relationship back to where it’s supposed to be, and away from the dangerous direction it was heading.

“I have a job to do, Lena. Let me do it.”

She comes closer, a defiant look in her eyes, she’s almost – but not quite – back to being that stubborn bitch she was when we first met. When neither of us wanted this.

“Is that all I am? A job?”

“That’s exactly what you are.”

Disappointment is etched all over her face, and I feel bad for doing this. Saying this. I don’t mean it. She’s not just a job, not anymore, but I can’t afford for her to be anything more than that. We still don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with here, distractions aren’t an option.

She takes a step back from me. “Well, at least I know exactly where I stand now.”

I swallow hard, my eyes still on her but she’s not looking at me, not anymore.

“Come on, then. Let’s go get that laptop.”

“Lena…”

But she’s already out of the door, and I run to catch up with her.

“What do you need a laptop for anyway?” She shouts over her shoulder as I finally fall into step beside her. “You writing a novel or something?”

I don’t answer her, because I can’t. Not really. There isn’t an explanation I could give her that wouldn’t sound like I was making shit up as I went along, so I’m just hoping she doesn’t push this one. And she doesn’t. Which is a relief. And instead we walk in silence for the few minutes it takes to get to the guest cottage.

“I’ll wait out here,” she says, as she slides her phone from her pocket and leans back against the wall.

“I’d rather you came inside.”

She sighs quietly, but doesn’t argue. She just slips her phone back into her pocket and follows me into the cottage, pulling herself up onto the countertop as I grab my laptop from the kitchen table.

“How long has it taken you to do that?” She crosses her legs at the ankles, her fingers gripping the counter edge. “Minutes. Seconds, even, I could’ve stayed over there.” She jerks her head in the direction of the main house. “Surely, when we’re here, you don’t have to trail around everywhere after me?”

“I’m taking no chances, Lena. Despite the gates and the walls and the security cameras, there are still many ways people can get to you here, so just humour me. Please.”

She cocks her head slightly. “What people?”

It’s my turn to sigh. “I don’t know, I’d just rather be safe than sorry.”

She slides down from the counter and makes her way to the back door. “You got everything? Can we go back now?”

“Yes. We can go back now.”

She heads out first, and I lock the door behind us and follow her back to the house. The short, pale yellow dress she’s wearing accentuates her lightly tanned skin, it’s such a simple outfit but one she carries off with ease, a trait she gets from her mother, an ex-supermodel who still looks stunning in her 50s. Her long legs are toned and tanned, and I can’t take my eyes off them, until I snap myself back to this distorted reality I’m living. The kind of life I’ve gotten used to after so many years. The life I stuck with because there was nothing else out there for me.

“I’m going to take a bath.” She heads back into the living-room and picks a book up from one of the side tables. “I can do that on my own, right?” She lifts an eyebrow, just to make sure I get that that’s a rhetorical question.

“I’ll be down here, if you need me.”

She stops in the doorway, hugging the book to her chest. “I think I’ll be fine.” And then she smiles at me before she heads upstairs, and I wait a few minutes before I fire up my laptop, and insert the flash drive. It takes just seconds to send its contents over to Flick, she can have a look at what’s on there, and decide if any of it is useful. It’s too risky for me to be doing that here.

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