Page 5 of The Writer
“Nice evade. So, you’ve rescued people before?”
I dig my keys out, place my bag in the back of the car, and jump in. It won’t be a long drive, and despite the complete clusterfuck of a night, I don’t quite want it to end.
“Where am I taking you then, Ivy?”
“Do you know The Star?”
“Sure.” It’s a good hotel. Reputable, flashy, and appealing to tourists, and right in the heart of the city in the safest part.
Thank fuck.
The key turns and the ignition catches on the second attempt. We head off from the base, and I start to count down from ten in my head. I’d put money on Ivy asking her first question by the time I reach five.
Seven, six, five …
“If you’re not part of the team, which, by the way, you still owe me the details of, then what has you out in the middle of Afghanistan?”
There you go. “I’m a photographer.”
“Really?” Her face scrunches up, as if she can’t quite make the information fit.
“Really.”
“But you worked as part of them. I assumed you were on that team. You handled a gun pretty well.” She leans her head back and looks out at the road in front of us, watching the sun warming the sky on the horizon.
“I was a corporal, and then became an Army photographer as part of the Royal Logistics Corps.”
“But not now?”
“I went freelance about two years ago, but I’ve mainly stayed in the places I’ve been stationed and have backup.”
“Like tonight?”
“Yep. Having a damn good backup is something I’ve learned not to take lightly.” I look across to her and do a double take. She’s loosened the tie containing her golden hair, and I can finally see her face.
“What are you looking at?” She scowls and wipes at her cheek.
“Nothing. Just hoping you took my hint.”
“Backup.” She smiles and rips the tie out of her hair completely, shaking it out with her fingers. “Yep. Got it, corporal.”
Something makes me question if she’s going to really take that advice. Backup or not—and I end up staring out at the horizon. The air is thick with smog from the city, causing a haze to form. It’s worse in winter, though.
Traffic is light this early in the morning, and we coast through the streets towards the hotel. She’s not too far from the room I rent, which is lucky because that shower is calling me.
“Are you over here for just one job?” she asks.
“No, I’ve been here for a few months.”
“Wow. That’s a long time. Lots of photos, huh?”
“I guess. What about you? What next? Asif still thinks he’s missing a spy.”
I pull up outside the hotel. Looking up at it, we could be anywhere in the world.
“I’ll have to work on that.” I’m not sure she means that at all, or if she cares, now she's back to safety. “Oh, and thank you, Blake. I might not have said that yet.” Her face shows no sign of insincerity, and in the light, her beauty is striking.
“You’re welcome. Promise me you’ll behave?”
