‘No, I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up, I guess.’
Lara wasn’t sure why she was telling him all this. Stefan was in Amsterdam, there was nothing he could do to help, but it was just good to hear the concern in his voice, to hear that someone cared.
‘I won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon but if you need to stay at my place, my neighbour has a spare key…’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lara said, with a half-smile. The offer was enough, the feeling that if everything fell apart she had somewhere else to go. She lifted her head just a little. ‘I’ll check into a hotel and sort it out tomorrow.’
‘What are you going to do?’
It was a good question. What was she going to do?
‘I’m going to clear up the boat, I’m going to throw out everything that’s broken. And then I’m going to find who did this.’
Lara curled her fingers around the phone, squeezing hard. Even if it hadn’t been before, it was personal now.
‘I’m going to stop them, Stefan. And I’m going to make them pay.’
Chapter 30
Lara hadn’t been on a date for a long, long time. In different circumstances, she might have felt the usual fizz of anticipation, the rush of excitement when you were about to meet a new lover. But tonight, as much as she wanted to see Stefan, Lara was not in the mood to go out. Fox had been right that she’d feel safe at The Pengelly: perhaps a little too safe. The lifts were operated by residents-only key cards, there were spy-cam intercoms on every hotel suite door and the Head of Security – Fox’s friend Mills – had called within ten minutes of Lara’s arrival to check everything was to her satisfaction. Mills even gave her his personal mobile number and assured her his team were on call 24/7. It was like having your own bodyguard, although Lara assumed it only applied inside the hotel. Perhaps she was about to find out.
‘Have a good evening, Miss Stone.’
Lara nodded to the doorman, a friendly but solid man in a black suit with one of those curly ear-pieces. She hoped he could use it to call in a missile strike if needed.
Stepping out into the street, she tried to breathe in the warm evening air. Stefan had called her the moment he had landed and invited her to Rabbit, a romantic French bistro on the King’s Road only a short stroll from the hotel. Lara was forcing herself to walk partly because it was ridiculous to get a taxi over such a short distance but mainly because she couldn’t let ‘them’ win, whoever they were. That was precisely how terrorism worked: make ordinary people fear for their safety, make them change the way they behave. Well bugger that, thought Lara fiercely. Not that she was being silly about it: she was still paying attention to her surroundings.
Across the road she saw a middle-aged man in a suit, tie undone, striding towards the station and a young couple strolling along with their arms hooked together. Nice people, happy people – and Lara tried to remind herself that most people were decent and kind.
That morning had been spent sweeping up the glass and cleaning Misty with the help of Gustav, the white-haired artist living two berths down who, without saying a word, had just brought his toolbox down and began working on her bookshelves and door.
People were good. But still, Lara couldn’t help but be on high alert. Hyper-aware, that’s what they called it in the army; expecting every face to be hostile, every car to be wired with explosives.
She was still feeling tense as she walked into Rabbit. She liked Stefan – and he’d come straight from the airport just to see her. If that wasn’t a romantic gesture, she didn’t know what was, but it was that very gesture which was making her fret as she gave her name to the maitre’d. Lara wasn’t sure if she was ready for a relationship.
But then again… thought Lara, smiling to herself as she saw Stefan already at the table; a flutter in her chest, a catch in her breath. Stefan was smarter than usual, in a crisp blue shirt, his dark blonde hair was pushed back off his face – and those eyes. As he smiled, she wondered if she should just have invited him to the hotel and ordered room service.
‘You look great,’ he said, standing to kiss her cheek.
She knew he was being kind. The jeans, t-shirt and biker boots were what she always wore. She’d put a dress in her overnight bag but it was still hanging up in her suite. It felt wrong to dress up and look pretty when Dingo was dead and she had failed in her attempts to lay Sandrine to rest. Still, it felt nice to be complimented – and she had to remember to live life, otherwise what was the point?
‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ she smiled, as he pushed her chair in. And good manners too. Aunt Olivia would approve.
Stefan waved their waiter across and she watched as he charmed and joked, expertly ordering the food and wine as the golden lights of Rabbit cast a glow over everything. Relax, she told herself. Enjoy.
‘So how are you feeling?’ asked Stefan, when they were alone. ‘After yesterday.’
‘I could have done without it,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘But checking into the hotel was a good call. There’s nothing like crisp hotel sheets to soothe you. I actually had a great night’s sleep for once.’
Not entirely true, but she knew she had to put it behind her. She was Lara Stone: tough, capable, resilient. Fake it until you make it, right?
‘Did you talk to the police?’
Lara shrugged. ‘Yes, but I’m not sure he rates their chances of finding out who did it.’
Stefan nodded sympathetically. Lara was grateful that he wasn’t making a big deal about it, wrapping her in cotton wool.
‘You know what we need?’ he said, pulling a bottle from an ice bucket, ‘We need to get drunk as kippers.’