Page 74 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

ChapterThirty-Seven

Ruby

“But, Sir,” one of the Constables protests.

“Go now,” my savior states and turns around, brushing past me, but grabbing my arm to pull me further into the confines of this sudden safe haven.

“Uhm,” I stammer.

“Come,” he says, letting me go and shutting the door in the surprised faces of the police officers.

Gobsmacked, I follow him deeper into Solitaire, seeing faces I recognize and who recognize me.

“Wait, my dad got arrested. He didn’t do anything wrong…”

“Rex will be fine. He is with my D.I.’s and being released as we speak.”

“You know him?” I ask carefully.

He nods and leads me over to the bar. “Drink?”

“Sparkling water, please.” No way am I getting even slightly fuzzy headed. I need my wits about me.

“Ice and lemon?”

I nod, my lips pursed.

It arrives in front of me, but I ignore it. “I need some stuff explained.”

“First, allow me to introduce myself. I am Philip St. Clare, Chief Constable of the Greater Manchester Police.”

“Why did you help me?”

“We take care of our own, Ms. Bellingham.”

“I’m not your own, though. I’m not a member here.”

“Max James says otherwise. Plus, your father is a long-standing member in New York.”

“Humph,” I mutter and pick up my glass to take a small sip. I take in my lavish surroundings and replace the glass on the bar. “How come the police have no jurisdiction here?” This is all stuff I should know, that I wanted to know before I set foot in here.

“This is an embassy of sorts. It sits on US soil.”

I blink in surprise. “All of them?”

He shakes his head. “The one in Liverpool that you attended yesterday is owned by the French. The London one is Italian, New York is British, so on and so forth.” He waves his hand elegantly about.

“That’s just…” I blow out my breath. “So I’m safe here because I’m a US citizen.”

“Not only that,” he says. “Solitaire can offer you many things, Ms. Bellingham. We have been waiting a long time for you to make contact.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Not how it works,” he says with a soft smile.

I search his features for signs of deception or delusions. He seems legit. Really tall, in his fifties, probably. Expensive suit. All the trimmings.

“But you are the police,” I point out unnecessarily.

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