Page 147 of The Black Trilogy

I jerked my head back infinitesimally, indicating the trouble approaching. He knew me well enough that he understood.

“Here we go again,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

CHAPTER 3

I ITCHED TO reach for the pistol in my handbag, but I’d promised Nate I wouldn’t shoot anyone today. Rats. I didn’t fancy incurring his wrath quite so soon after arriving back, so I’d have to do this the hard way.

The footsteps grew louder as they left the grass and hit the concrete path. I spun around, shoving Bradley behind me as some little punk ran up. How old was he? Seventeen? Eighteen? He was taller than me, and heavier, but who cared? That only meant he’d fall harder.

Moonlight glinted off the blade in his right hand as he thrust it towards us. Good grief—his stance was all wrong.

“Gimme the bag and the watch,” he demanded, then flicked his wrist towards Bradley. “Those earrings real?”

Bradley put his hands on his hips. “Of course they are. Do I look like the sort of man who’d wear cubic zirconia?”

Oh, Bradley. He’d rather be mugged than admit to wearing paste.

I went to hand my bag over, but before the kid could take it, I dropped it on the ground. Oops. As he bent to pick it up, I kneed him in the face, and there was a satisfying crunch as his nose broke.

Score one to me.

He let out a howl and straightened up, dripping blood down his shirt and all over the ground. Pain driving him, he ran at me with the knife held out in front. I sidestepped and twisted it out of his grasp. Amateur.

Bradley leapt back as I swept the guy’s legs out from under him, and when he was flat out, face down, I pressed the tip of the blade into his neck.

“If I see you round here again, this knife’ll be buried to the hilt. Got it?”

I lifted his mouth out of the dirt just enough for him to mumble, “Got it.”

“Should I call the cops?” Bradley asked.

No way. “You should know better than to ask.”

I’d been in the Richmond PD’s bad books since I left for England, and if we got them involved, they’d bombard me with irrelevant questions for hours, just for the heck of it. Our dinner reservation wouldn’t wait. Instead, I let the guy up, and in seconds he’d disappeared into the night.

“He won’t be back here if he’s got any brain cells left.”

“I doubt he had any in the first place,” Bradley pointed out.

“You’re probably right. That went quite well though, don’t you think?”

Despite being a little rusty, I’d controlled the situation with no problems and my worries about underperforming receded just a tiny bit. Not a bad evening so far, and I still had spring rolls and prawn fritters to look forward to.

Bradley squealed as he stepped forward and picked up my handbag, holding it out in front of him as if it was poisonous. “No, I do not think it went well. He bled on your Louis Vuitton! And just look at the state of you.”

Okay, so he had a point. My silk top, once a pristine cream, had taken on a tie-dyed appearance. Rats. I’d forgotten how much mess a broken nose made. The mouthwatering taste of crispy wontons receded into the gloom.

“Guess we’re not going out for dinner anymore,” I said. “We’ll have to pick up pizza on the way home.”

“I should have remembered how trouble follows you around.” He rolled his eyes in the dim light and pulled out his phone. “Do you want jalapeños on yours?”

When we got home, Bradley and I curled up together on a sofa in my home cinema, wrapped up in a blanket, like we’d done many times over the years. He was one of the few people who ever glimpsed the soft side of me, the normal person hiding under the hard exterior. The outside world only saw serious Emmy, the hard-nosed woman totally focused on work. I kept the girl who chilled out with junk food and a soppy movie well hidden.

Only she’d been the Emmy who went to England. With Luke and his sister, Tia, I’d kept the darkness in me locked down, and for three months, I’d been free to act like a regular thirty-year-old woman. Just a couple of days had passed since I saw Luke and Tia, and I missed them already. Not the same way I missed my husband—think barbecue pit compared to the fires down below—but a certain sadness haunted me now I’d lost the only good things to come into my life in recent months.

Dan had messaged me last night to say Tia was holding up as well as could be expected under the circumstances, but that was little consolation.

Emmy: And how’s Luke?

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