Primal: London Mob Book Two (16 page)

T
hey walked back
into town early the next day and took up residence at a small coffee shop. Farrell had disposed of the first Tracphone, then used one of the others to call Leo. Their long-standing relationship served them well; Farrell had to say very little to impart the necessary information, and Leo agreed to meet them the following morning.

He and Jenna passed a quiet evening with Martha Krüger, who insisted on stuffing them full of bratwurst and homemade sauerkraut even though they’d eaten the schnitzel less then two hours earlier. It was obvious the older woman was lonely, and Farrell made a point to linger at the table, talking about old friends and sharing stories until Jenna was nearly falling over from exhaustion.

They’d retired to the blue bedroom, and Farrell had opened the windows wide while Jenna took a shower. Crickets chirped in the fields beyond the house, the trees sounding a collective hush as the wind blew through their leaves. Jenna crawled into bed next to him wearing only her I HEART GERMANY T-shirt and underwear. It had taken effort not to move his hands over her body. Not to pin her underneath him, soothe her soul the only way her knew how.

But she was worn down, both emotionally and physically. He had no idea what was next. He wouldn’t know that until he’d had time to dig into the wire transfers Erik Karlsen gave them, and he couldn’t do that until he got a computer. He was hoping to convince Jenna to go back to Italy where she would be safe, but there had been a dark light in her eyes after the invasion at the Erik Karlsen’s cabin, and he had the distinct feeling it wouldn’t be easy to get her to return home.

He held her close instead, smoothing her hair, letting her body, warm and pliant, settle into his. When her breathing became regular, he had slipped out from under her and sat in the chair by the window, gun drawn, ears tuned to any sound that didn’t belong on the property.

“Are you sure he’s coming?” Jenna asked, when the waitress poured their second cups of coffee.

“He’s coming.” Farrell folded the paper he was reading and set it in front of Jenna, pointing to one of the articles. The headline read CLIVE HEWITT POISED TO TAKE CONTROL OF UK LABOR PARTY. He watched as her eyes skimmed the article.

“This man, Hewitt, is going to appoint Bernard Morse as his Director of Communications and Strategy?”

Farrell took a drink of his coffee. “That’s what it says.”

“Do you think he has something to do with the Institute?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but I think we should be looking at anyone connected to Morse,” Farrell said. “He’s the only connection we have to Adam, and Adam is the only person other than Petrov that we know for a fact was involved in the study at the Institute.”

“I wish we had a computer,” Jenna said, shredding her napkin, her brow furrowed with worry.

A bell over the door rang, and Farrell looked up to see Leo striding into the restaurant. He scanned the room with guarded eyes, then spotted Farrell and started toward them. He slid into the booth across from them.

“Glad to see you both in one piece.”

“Gladder to be in one piece,” Farrell said.

Leo nodded. “There’s a lot of chatter.”

“What kind of chatter?” Farrell asked. In their business, it could be anything: increased activity on the DarkNet, gossip in the streets, rumors in the police force.

“All kinds.” The waitress lifted the coffee pot and Leo nodded, then waited for her to pour and leave before continuing. “Increased activity on the Net. Nothing that points to a connection, but you know how those guys operate: code words and all that cloak and dagger shit.”

Farrell nodded. “What else?”

“Charlie Baldwin sent word that someone was poking around the woman’s apartment, the one who watched Lily.”

Jenna leaned in. “Mrs. Hodges?”

Leo nodded.

“We were there.” He glanced at Jenna, knowing how upset she was about the older woman. She hadn’t had time to grieve properly, and it was going to hurt like a motherfucker when the time came. It was going to hurt Lily, too. The thought made his blood boil. That the people behind the Marburg research had killed an innocent woman was bad enough; that they’d created yet more loss for Jenna and Lily was something else. He turned his attention back to Leo. “Any chance Baldwin was talking about us?”

“Didn't sound like that kind of someone,” Leo said.

Farrell nodded, letting his mind work the problem. He didn’t know when the answer would come — but it would come.

“Extra surveillance at the charter terminals?” Farrell asked.

“Check.” Leo took a drink of the coffee and grimaced. “You’re probably going to have to stick to the roads to get to Rugen.”

“Rugen? Where’s that?” Jenna asked.

“It’s an island in the Baltic Sea,” Farrell explained. “I have a small house there. It’s a bit under the radar.” She didn’t say anything, and he returned his attention to Leo. “We’ll need another car.”

“Done.” Leo passed him a set of keys. “There’s a computer in the trunk. Encrypted. Plus new IDs and credit cards, and plenty of cash.”

“Thank you,” Farrell said.

Leo shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

It was a way of downplaying their relationship. The things Leo did weren’t about employment.

They were about brotherhood.

Farrell let it go. Neither of them were good at warm and fuzzy.

“How are things in Italy?” Farrell asked.

“Solid. Debriefed the men about the new threat, reviewed protocols, added a vehicular detail in town before the turnoff to the villa. No one’s going to make it to the drive without getting the greeting of a lifetime.”

“Good. Business?”

“Smooth as silk,” Leo said. “The club’s running like a well-oiled machine, everyone’s in line, and the district captains have been alerted to possible bribery.”

“What kind of bribery?” Jenna asked.

Farrell turned to her. “In case someone tries to get information about me from one of the men. I don’t tell them much to begin with, but we still have to be careful.”

He looked at Leo. “You’ve been thorough.”

Leo shrugged. “Learned from the best. Anything else I can do?”

Farrell pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket. “This woman’s father was Erik Karlsen.”

“The researcher on the Marburg study?” Leo asked.

“The same,” Farrell answered. “I promised him I’d look after his daughter. That means a full security detail and anonymous contributions to her bank account each month.”

“How long?” Leo asked.

“Indefinitely.”

“You got it,” Leo said, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket.

“I think that’s it.” Farrell looked at Jenna.

“Is Jenna coming back to Tuscany?”

He felt Jenna tighten beside him, knew she was gearing up for a fight. It was inevitable, but he wasn’t about to have it here. And the truth was, he wasn’t ready for her to leave his side. Not yet.

He shook his head. “We’re going to head to Rugen and then see where we’re at.”

“Sounds good.” He slid from the booth. “You know where to find me.”

T
hey said
goodbye to Martha and packed the Saab Leo left for them. Then they were driving north across Germany. They passed the larger cities without stopping, Farrell’s eyes on the rearview mirror, watching for anyone who might be tailing them. When they had to stop for petrol, they stopped in small towns that didn’t take them too far off the main highways.

Their journey was largely silent. Jenna knew Farrell was probably thinking about next steps, one of which was probably sending her back to Italy.

She should have wanted to go. She missed Lily, and even though they’d talked on the phone, she didn’t think she would be completely satisfied until she saw their daughter with her own eyes.

But a switch had flipped inside her when she was crawling on the floor of Erik Karlsen’s cabin, dodging bullets and wondering if she would make it out alive. If any of them would make it out alive.

She and Farrell had been driven to find answers about the research done at the Stafford Institute. She was ashamed to admit it now, but she might have left it alone had that man in the alley not attacked her and Lily. She’d just wanted to get back to their quiet, simple life.

Whoever was behind the Marburg study made that impossible, had made it clear they would keep coming. Jenna wasn’t fool enough to think it was just about the research papers. She had no doubt that if she were to hand them over, she and Lily would be dead in seconds.

All of which meant they were forced to go on the offensive, figure out who was behind the study in an effort to stop the threat against her and Lily.

And there was a bigger threat at hand as well, because if the study was real — and it looked like it was — it meant a deadly weapon would soon be in the hands of people powerful enough to use it.

If it wasn’t already.

As they sped toward the edge of Germany, she had the sensation of standing on train tracks, feeling the vibration of the coming train, hearing it even if she couldn’t yet see it. Soon it would turn a corner, and then the danger would be clear and present. Would there be time to get off the tracks? Or would it be too late?

She glanced over at Farrell, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. She’d thought he would take her last night in the blue bedroom. He’d held her instead, and she’d fallen asleep to the lullaby of his heartbeat, feeling safe in spite of the danger all around them.

Maybe it’s better to stand behind someone like Farrell.

Maybe it was.

The light was fading when they finally left the mainland behind. Then they were on the large island of Rugen. At first Jenna thought there had been a mistake. It didn’t look anything like an under-the-radar hideaway. The island was populated with busy little towns, and signs dotted the roads for boat rides and other tourist attractions.

But soon they were leaving all of it behind, the road stretching toward the clear, blue sea. Farrell pulled off the main road, then made a series of turns onto increasingly smaller, windier roads. Finally he pulled into a drive sheltered by trees. When they emerged into a clearing, she couldn’t hide her surprise.

She didn't know what she’d expected. Maybe a lavish estate like the one in Cornwall or a sprawling villa like the one he owned in Tuscany. This was a relatively small house with a steeply pitched roof. It had obviously been standing for ages, its brick pale and faded from the salt of the sea, wild roses climbing up the walls toward what looked like a modest second floor.

They got out of the car, and Jenna turned around, taking in the sweeping views. The house was situated at the edge of the island, a field of wild grass the only thing between it and the tall cliffs that descended sharply to the sea. She could hear the waves crashing below them, could smell the briny scent of the Baltic.

“This is yours?” she asked, still taking it in.

“You sound surprised.”

She thought about it. “Not so much actually.”

Farrell was at heart a simple man. When he indulged in luxury it was more often for the enjoyment of others — for her and Lily — or in an effort to keep them safe.

He removed their stuff from the trunk and started for the house. “I’ve had the fridge stocked. Let’s get settled, then we can take a walk.”

The house was as intimate on the inside as it appeared on the outside, with a living area that opened onto a modest kitchen, two bathrooms, and a bedroom. Farrell led her upstairs to a sleeping loft where the mattress sat directly on the floor. It seemed almost claustrophobic until he opened two big doors that looked like giant shutters. Then the entire wall was open to the fields below, the ocean beyond.

She was awestruck by the view. By the sensation of being at the edge of a world, in a place where nothing else existed.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to find him leaning casually against the wall, studying her with dark eyes.

“I do,” she said. “Very much.”

“Good. We have internet service here, but not much else. No television, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t need television,” she said.

I only need you. You and Lily.

She left the words unspoken, even as she finally realized they were true.

He nodded. “Let’s see what’s for dinner.”

They inventoried the kitchen and put together a simple dinner of cold salmon and sweet pickles, tangy potato salad with chunks of red onion and parsley, crusty bread that tasted like it had been made that very day. They ate on the deck outside and washed it all down with a crisp Riesling Farrell pulled from the fridge, the ocean beating out a soothing rhythm beyond the cliffs.

When they finished eating, they walked hand in hand to the edge of the world and sat in the tall grass. It was nearly dark, and Jenna was tired and content, her stomach full, nerves all smoothed out from the wine. From Farrell’s presence next to her.

He leaned back, his gaze piercing through every defense she’d ever laid against him. It was the gaze of someone who knew her. Who loved her.

Who would die for her.

There was a time not very long ago when that would have scared her. But that was before. Before she realized how very dangerous the world was, and how that danger could come from unexpected places. It was before she’d held their sweet daughter against her leg and prayed that she would live to make it out of that alley. Before she’d left Erik Karlsen to die, knowing Lieve would be orphaned because of the men who wouldn’t stop coming for them.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the crisp sea air. Maybe it was just reality.

But now she understood. Farrell had been right all along. Some people didn’t play by the rules, and when those people came for you, you couldn’t play by the rules either.

Not if you wanted to live.

I think you’ve been holding things together so long, you’re secretly afraid of what will happen if you let it all go.

Kate had been right. But now Jenna was ready to let it go.

Something quiet and sacred passed between them. It was borne of all the things that had threatened their love, everything that might have kept them apart but instead brought them together. It was the knowledge that when everything else fell away, their love was still strong and true.

That it always would be.

The moment stretched, long and heavy between them, a world of thought and hope and regret. Finally he stood, held out his hand.

“Come to bed, my love.”