Page 8 of Goodnight
‘He doesn’t change does he? Jesus, mate, you’re a saint for hiring him,’ Clive said through a smirk once the door had closed after Bertie.
‘Don’t be a prick, Clive. Bertie’s actually been really useful to have around,’ Nick lied. He was finding that someone else pointing out what a useless prat Bertie was pissing him off. ‘Anyway, you ready to go?’
‘Yup, I told them to meet us at the East India Club for one o’clock.’
Nick froze. ‘Uh … listen … I … I think it’s better not to do business there, you know? I mean, what if one of their team is a woman?’
‘Since when did you object to doing business at the East India?’ Clive asked, his eyebrows practically in his hairline. ‘We’re meeting two other blokes, Nick; you know that as well as me. It’s all set up – we go there, eat a bloody steak, choke down a few bottles of Chateau de Ciffre and the deal will be done. Simple.’
Nick sighed; unfortunately things were not quite so simple for him. ‘I’ve got to take my receptionist with me.’
‘What? Why?’
Nick readjusted his tie and shifted in his seat. ‘Because she’s not really a receptionist, Clive; she’s a close protection officer.’
‘A what?’
‘A bodyguard.’
Clive burst out laughing. ‘That little slip of a thing out there is your bodyguard? You’re joking. I could take her out with my little finger.’
Nick doubted that, but wasn’t about to explain anything to Clive.
‘Well, she is, and she won’t be allowed into the club.’
‘Christ, make her wait outside.’
Nick rubbed his jaw. He could predict how that would go down.
For the last two weeks Goodie had been within twenty feet of him pretty much the entire time. That first night at his flat, Nick went to bed late after working in his office, and Goodie had still been sweeping with her bug detector. Seeing as she had gone over every inch of the space with her devices, Nick knew she would be able to find her way to the spare room. With all the adrenaline he’d found it hard to sleep and at about two o’clock he went out to the kitchen to raid the biscuit tin. On his way back to his room a pile of clothes caught his eye by the front door. He stared at them for a minute until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized it was in fact Goodie. She was lying on the hard wood, no mattress, fully clothed, with only a thin blanket from his sofa covering her and one of the small throw cushions under her head. Her dog, who Nick now knew was called Salem, was curled up in front of her, and her face was buried in the fur at his neck, her arm flung over his chest. Her other hand was stretched out above her, a hair’s breadth from the large knife he’d seen her use in the alley.
It was such a weird sight that for a moment Nick was frozen. She looked so small huddled on the floor, and her make-up-free face relaxed in sleep was so beautiful, that he stopped breathing altogether for several seconds. He had the strongest urge to haul her up off the cold surface and forcibly put her in a bed, preferably his own. Well aware of how badly that particular manoeuvre would have gone down, and noticing the dark circles under her eyes, he stopped himself, but only just. As he was about to turn away he caught movement. Salem’s head had lifted from his paws and he was staring right at Nick; he flicked a quick glance back at his mistress before baring his ferocious teeth silently across the room. Nick grinned and gave Salem a one-finger salute before reluctantly turning back to his bedroom.
The next morning he had woken up at around six as normal. He used his en suite and got changed in his room before venturing out into the rest of the flat. His eyes went straight to where Goodie and Salem had been lying in front of the door, but they were nowhere to be seen and the flat was eerily quiet. He checked all the rooms. It seemed Goodie had left. On his way out to work he slammed his door shut and strode down the corridor to take the stairs (there were three other flats on his floor, all of which he owned). Movement out the corner of his eye made him jerk in surprise, dangerously close to letting out a girly squeak. He turned to see Goodie and Salem behind him. She was in the same clothes as the day before but looked totally unruffled, her now-short blonde hair tucked behind her ears.
‘What the … what on earth do you think you’re doing?’
‘Waiting for you, and now walking down the corridor.’
‘Well, I …’ Nick was rarely lost for words and he was determined not to let this woman reduce him to silence. ‘Where did you spring from?’
Goodie looked back at Nick’s front door and then at Nick with a slight frown. ‘I am your close protection officer. I was outside your front door, waiting for you.’
She spoke slowly, as if she were dealing with a small child, which only served to irritate Nick even more, and he threw up his hands in frustration. ‘You could have bloody well said something: “Morning, Nick,” “Sleep well, Nick?” “Alright loser?” Anything rather than creeping silently after me.’ Goodie’s frown deepened.
‘We pride ourselves on being an invisible presence, sir. Most clientswantto forget we’re there. I would have thought you were no different since you fired your last two teams.’
‘Nick,’ Nick growled out, his temper mounting.
‘What?’
‘Nick, my fucking name is Nick,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘And I didn’t fire those teams – I just didn’t think they were necessary.’
Her only response was to blank her expression back to neutral, press her lips together, and cross her arms over her chest. She’d already made it obvious that she thought he was a bastard for dismissing the teams – they were probably mates of hers or something. His gaze dropped to her chest as if his eyes had a mind of their own. The pink coat of yesterday had been swapped out for a dark, close-fitting hoodie. She was slim-built, athletic, but perfectly proportioned.
When he forced his eyes back to hers he noticed irritation was now clouding her features and one of her eyebrows was raised slightly in challenge.
‘What happened to your hair?’ She looked so different from the receptionist Nick had employed it was a bit freaky.
