“What time’s your flight?” I change the subject. I'm not a story. And my past is my own.
“Later in the day. I need to speak to my contact first.”
“Well, let me know if you need a ride to the airport. We know how good you are at getting into trouble.” I'm only half kidding. But much like yesterday, I'm not quite ready to give up my time with her. It’s an alien feeling. Perhaps I’ve been out here alone for too long.
“What about you? What’s next for Blake Rhodes?”
“Well, I also have a meeting with my contact tomorrow. About the photos, I’m here for, actually.” I stretch back and cross my arms behind my head, happy to watch her get dressed. She'll do what she wants, and I'm not begging her to stay.
Her eyes light up, as if she’s just been given the key to a locked room. “Really? Is there a story behind that?”
“That’s not my job. I don’t dig, I shoot.”
“Guns and pictures, apparently. But you must have a sense about what you’re photographing, right? If there’s a story behind the photo.”
“Haven’t you heard the saying, a picture tells a thousand words?”
“Maybe, but I want to be the one controlling the words.”
“You can come along. Maybe there’s a safer story for you to work on until you’re back home.”
Her brows draw together, as if she’s working out a problem, and it annoys me that, considering everything, she’s hesitant. I get out of bed, cross to my jacket, and fish out a business card from the inside pocket.
“Here’s my number. I think we both had a good time. It’s not a marriage proposal, but a potential story and maybe a ride to the airport.” I hand her the card, and she looks it over, as if there’s a vast question attached to it.
“Okay. It might be fun.” She smiles. “Got another? And a pen?”
I grab my phone from my jeans instead and pull up a new contact and hand it over, shrugging them on after that.
“Efficient,” she says, as she types it in and hands it back. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you back, if that's what you're intending to do.”
“No, you're not. I'm perfectly capable of—”
“Yeah, right. No. I'm walking you. Deal with it.” I'm pulling my shirt over my head and grabbing my boots before she gets another chance to argue. “Much as I'd like more time, if the lady wants to leave, I'll be escorting her back. You ready?”
She picks up her jacket and nods. I guess this is one way of getting to spend more time with her. One way or another.
Chapter Four
IVY
That was a night of shit sleep.
I glare at the pitiful look on my face and twist my hair up into a clip. I’m not sure why it was so rubbish. I was sated, relatively happy after my night of dirty dealings, and then inexplicably excited about seeing him again today. And yet, instead of getting the great night’s sleep I should have had, I was relegated to tossing and turning.
Maybe I was still shaken by the ordeal we went through. Not that he seems to care about it, but my head’s been an odd wreck of imagination versus actuality. It’s like Asif’s men are around every corner still, just waiting to bundle me up in the back of a truck again and do their worst. Or maybe that was just the walk back here last night, the cold air on my skin and the quiet streets, as he talked and looked around, protecting me—again.
I pull on my top and drape a scarf into place, strap my spare recorder and essentials into my small rucksack, and swipe both the key-card and my suitcase on the way out of the door. A text came in last night after he left. Apparently, I’m supposed to meet him by the fountain in the main square in ten minutes. Good job I’m only a five-minute walk from it.
I drop my case in behind reception and arrange to pick it up at four. That should give me enough time for a quick drink before heading to the airport and checking in. My phone rings the second I’m out into the bright light, and I drop my sunglasses down and look at the name flashing. Neve. Not the best timing for a sisterly conversation, but I pick up the call and cut through the traffic and people to make my way to him.
“Ivy?” The line crackles, cutting in and out. “Ivy?”
“Yes? Neve? Can you hear me?”
“Right. Yes. I can now. I thought we could arrange to meet for a drink.”
