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least you’re back in one piece.’

He glanced down at the athletic garments draped over his frame. Then he looked back up. ‘You don’t know that. You should probably make sure. Conduct a thorough search.’

She smiled.

He said, ‘Do we need to debrief right now?’

‘Let’s pretend I arrive an hour from now.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

He put his hands on her waist and she wrapped her legs around him.

He carried her to the bedroom.

22

Slater and Alexis stepped into his penthouse right on three in the morning and each managed a replenishing five hours of sleep.

Slater stirred first, and hit a button on the nightstand that controlled the blackout blinds. They rose with a barely audible whir, exposing Manhattan and Central Park. Alexis grumbled beside him, and he rolled to his side so he could whisper in her ear.

‘You should go home,’ he said.

She sat up, her eyes half-closed, her hair tousled. She said, ‘Seriously?’

‘What?’

‘Feels like I’ve just had a one night stand.’

He smiled, then it faded. ‘It’s for the best.’

She took a moment to compose herself. Reached up and wiped her eyes, then drank half a glass of water from her own nightstand. It seemed to clear her head.

She said, ‘You don’t think your news is going to go down well?’

‘It might not,’ Slater said. ‘I want you well and truly back home when I hand in my resignation.’

She scoffed. ‘Hand it in? You’ve got a letter?’

‘That was metaphorical.’

‘What actually happens?’ she said. ‘What’s it going to involve?’

Slater paused. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never retired before.’

‘You said in the past you were a vigilante.’

‘Those were different circumstances,’ Slater said. ‘Back then, I was an enemy of the state. I abandoned my position. So did King.’

‘So if it all goes to hell, you could do the same here?’

Slater shook his head. ‘That was different. It was all or nothing. If I’m doing things the right way here, then I need to stick to the rules. No matter what.’

‘But there are no rules,’ she said. ‘You work off the record.’

‘I know. But I can’t repeat the past. It’s too dangerous.’

‘For you? Or for me?’

‘I’ve made an enemy of the entire government before,’ he said. ‘It’s not good for anyone.’

She didn’t respond.

He said, ‘I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder my whole life. We both deserve better than that.’

She said, ‘What if they don’t accept?’

He lapsed into silence.

Thought hard about it.

He said, ‘I’m not going to ask them. I’m going to tell them. They can do what they want with the information.’

‘And if they decide they don’t like your ultimatum?’

‘I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.’

‘You’re not afraid of that?’

‘I won’t have a choice. It’s what I’ll have to do. Fear’s never really played a part in anything I’ve done.’

‘So you do get scared?’

‘Of course. All the time.’

‘But you do it anyway?’

‘Yes.’

She paused. ‘I guess that’s the definition of bravery, when you think about it. Doing things despite fear.’

‘Maybe. I don’t think much. I just do.’

She slipped out of bed and put on one of the spare sets of clothes she kept in his walk-in wardrobe. He lay there, savouring the view, wondering if he would be forced to leave the penthouse behind because of its proximity to what would come to be known as his past life. Because of its proximity to Jason King, who would still be a live operative.

That was the whole other side of the coin.

Slater had spent most of his career blissfully unaware of King’s existence, but the moment they’d been introduced he knew they’d be inseparable. They were one and the same, cut from the same cloth, forged in the same fire. They’d hunted each other for a brief spell on the Mediterranean island of Corsica before uniting to take down a soulless smuggler. That seemed like it had happened decades ago. So much had unfolded since then. So much war, so much death.

He was tired to his core of it all.

But he didn’t know how King would take it.

Slater wondered if King and Violetta were in their own penthouse suite, debating his hasty return, ruminating on what it might mean. He didn’t want to face King until he’d spoken to Violetta.

Alexis came to the bedside, recognising that he was deep in thought. She bent over him and kissed him on the forehead.

He looked up at her. ‘I’ll make it quick. I don’t want to hang around any longer than I need to.’

‘I hope it goes well.’

‘If it does,’ he said. ‘I’ll be free.’

‘We’ll be free.’

‘You’re free now. You could leave me if it all goes to hell. Start fresh.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t.’

He threw the covers off and walked her to the front door. An ominous heaviness stewed his gut as he twisted the handle and pulled it open, but all it revealed was an empty hallway outside. For some reason he’d anticipated Violetta standing there, watching like a hawk, waiting to pounce.

Something told him she’d be expecting what he had to say.

He didn’t think he’d played his hand early. Hell, he hadn’t even made a final decision until he’d opened his eyes on the beach in Tulum. But maybe King knew. The man was perceptive. Maybe he’d told her.

Alexis kissed him. ‘Good luck.’

She went to the elevators, and he closed the front door. He would usually dive straight into a carefully calculated morning routine that he followed without fail every time he slept in his own bed, but now he abandoned it. He didn’t need to be perfect anymore. He could still train. He could still fight. He could still improve. But he didn’t have to optimise it.

There could be downtime.

He dropped into an armchair, closed his eyes, and focused on the breath. Emptying his mind of unnecessary thoughts. There was no use overthinking, overanalysing. All it would do was allow him to seesaw back and forth. He’d made his decision. He was going to stick to it.

He waited calmly for Violetta to arrive.

23

King lay on his side, propped up

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