Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology 2)

My lips twist in annoyance. ‘You fucking lied to me, you scoundrel.’

A wave of realisation travels across his face, one that suggests he’s comprehended just how pissed off I am. Good. Because I’m really pissed off. He won’t turn this around on me. No way. ‘I . . .’ he begins. ‘It’s . . . I . . .’ He stammers all over his words, getting more and more worked up and redder in the face. ‘I prefer you with red hair!’

I snort and push him off me. ‘Yeah, well, I prefer you in London with me, but you’re not fucking there, are you?’

He breathes in deeply and squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘It’ll drive me insane for the rest of my life if I don’t follow this, princess.’

‘I know,’ I reply simply, making his eyes snap open. I pull my bag onto my shoulder and straighten myself out. I spent the entire flight coming to terms with that. ‘So let’s see if it’s there, and then we can get on with our lives together.’

His neck retracts on his shoulders. ‘What?’

‘Let’s find some treasure, Hunt.’ I push past him, my small case bouncing across the cobbles as I drag it along. ‘Where are you staying?’

He doesn’t answer, forcing me to stop and seek him out. He looks a bit dazed.

‘Well?’ I ask.

He shakes himself back to life. ‘Well, what?’

‘Hotel. Where are you staying?’

‘Across the square.’

‘Are you going to show me?’ I cock my head in question, and the hollows of Becker’s cheeks begin to pulse.

Slowly, he flexes his head from side-to-side, rolling his shoulders. Then he strides over and snatches my case from my hold, virtually ripping my arm off in the process. ‘It doesn’t look like I have a fucking choice, does it?’

‘No, it doesn’t.’ I sniff, watching as he stomps off down the alleyway, hauling my small case behind him.

‘Move that arse, princess,’ he spits, and I grin, starting to totter along behind him. ‘Why the fuck are you wearing a wig?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?’

‘It’s fucking ridiculous.’

‘I wouldn’t be wearing one if you hadn’t done a disappearing act,’ I retort indignantly as we breach the end of the alley and emerge onto the square. The sun has completely fallen away, and now the Pantheon is glowing, the surrounding area lit by the bustling cafes.

‘This way,’ he mutters, striding off. I tail him, noting he’s looking around vigilantly. It makes me wonder if he suspects Brent Wilson is loitering somewhere, but I think better than to ask. He might swing for me.

He leads me to a small boutique hotel just off the square, and after the tiny elevator has carried us to the top floor, he exits first, leaving me to follow on behind. Letting us into the last room at the end of the long corridor, he throws my case down on the bed and goes straight to the window, throwing it open and pushing the shutters back. I breathe in my surprise when the Pantheon comes into view over a few dilapidated rooftops, almost close enough to reach out the window and touch. ‘Wow.’ I close the door and wander over, joining Becker. He seems thoughtful as he stares across the tops of the buildings, his stance relaxed. I’m desperate to know what his plan is, what he’s thinking, or whether he’s figured out exactly where he’s going to look. The building is a monster of a structure. ‘Where will you start?’

He jumps next to me a little, startled back into the hotel room from wherever he was. He turns and paces towards the bathroom, pulling his jacket off as he goes. ‘You shouldn’t have come, Eleanor.’

I take myself to the bed and sit on the edge. ‘I’m not going to sit at home worrying about you.’

His head peeks around the door, his fingers working the buttons of his shirt. ‘How did you know where I am?’

‘Dr Vass. She called The Haven after she couldn’t reach you on your mobile.’ My eyes narrow. ‘And I checked your secret hiding place. No map. And then I found Gramps and Mrs Potts, and they didn’t look in the least bit surprised when I told them it was gone. Seems I’m the only one who didn’t know.’

Rather than coming back at me, he just scowls, his glasses dropping down his nose a tad. I scowl right back, daring him to argue with me. He must appreciate my anger because he huffs and goes back into the bathroom without a word. I hear the shower kick in and get up, grabbing my wash bag and making my way to him. I see his naked back disappear behind the shower curtain as I enter.

‘I want you to promise me something,’ I say assertively, dumping my cosmetics on the sink.