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lobby, he pecked her on the cheek and dashed up to his office while she descended into the bowels of the building to speak to Chris.

The BMW had proved to be a false lead. It was an unmarked police response vehicle cruising the area.

‘I'm sure he's not a target, Julianna,’ Chris said. ‘There's no evidence they've traced Mark, or his sister.’

Even if the BMW was a red herring, she wasn't convinced. Against her better judgement, the temptation to invite Mark to move in with her rose a notch. He wouldn't agree; Mark valued his independence above her. They had chosen to navigate the meandering course of their relationship around their physical needs, not emotional ones.

Julianna circled Chris’s desk. ‘I just don't like it. It's like the quiet before a storm. And there's an innocent girl caught up in this, a girl I haven't even met.’

Chris tapped on his keyboard and scribbled something onto a piece of paper. He thrust it at Julianna. ‘Go see her. Why do you need Mark's permission?’

‘You had this all the time?’ She stared at the address. It was south of the River Thames. The phone number for the job she no longer had.

‘Only recently.’ Chris cleared his throat, awkwardly. ‘It was scribbled on a business card and tossed in amongst the files Mark sent to Sophia. Presumably he had referenced his sister as a potential witness. Sophia was going to contact Ellen directly, but Mr Haynes put a stop to it. Said deal only with Mark. He didn’t mention you.’

Sophia had kept Jackson in the loop, or more likely Luke had. Jackson Haynes was monitoring the situation more closely than Julianna had realised. Over the previous week, with the help of Chris's extensive resources, she had uncovered the significance of the name Redningsmann and the revelation alarmed her. If Jackson's assumptions were correct, then the man who had laundered money with the help of Mark’s old company Haydocks, and who was likely to be seeking the person responsible for exposing it, was also behind the threats to Hettie; a dangerous criminal who ruled over a successful syndicate of organised gangs. She had teased apart the threads, identifying a few common strands, and they pointed further back in time. This, she believed, was where Jackson wanted her to go. Follow the money and the people, and she might acquire more information than the police and Chris combined. It would do a great deal for her reputation and standing if she proved the existence of these connections.

Secretly, she enjoyed delving into the mess Mark had left behind. It was probably why protection work lacked appeal, especially being at the beck and call of others and having little say in how she should spend her day. Protocols stymied Julianna's natural inquisitiveness. Being a bodyguard was nothing like the movies.

Recently she had ferried Hettie to the art gallery and waited for two hours while Mrs Haynes caught up with the latest plans for the new exhibition. Julianna spent the time drinking coffee in the cafe across the street. Unlike Tess, who devoured books, Julianna couldn’t read. She had trained in surveillance, so that was what she spent her time doing: people watching. She wondered what lay behind the little scenes played out over coffees and croissants: angry exchanges, lovers kissing, mothers berating small children, babies demanding milk and men talking over laptops about sales figures. Her own life had never grounded itself in daily routines of family matters. Mark was similar in that respect. He detoured conversation around personal issues and homed in on work.

She stuffed the piece of paper Chris had given her in her pocket. ‘I'm driving Mrs Haynes tomorrow afternoon?’

‘Yes,’ Chris replied.

‘I'll try to see her after that.’

‘I don't know what you'll achieve. This family is so screwed up. I've told him to stay out of it, but Jackson feels responsible.’

Chris rarely referred to his boss by his first name; he had let his feelings rise to the surface, which was unwise for a man in his position. Julianna sighed. ‘You're not going to tell me why, are you?’

‘No. It's personal. That's the problem with all of this business. It's too damn personal.’

Nothing more needed to be said. The web of connections revolved around the same people, the same origins. She had calls to make and no time to hassle Chris.

~ * ~

She and Mark spent the Thursday night apart, which was a necessary interlude. So far she had been kind of mercenary with her curiosity. What they both needed was a spell away from the office. After she had visited Ellen, and plugged a few more gaps in her knowledge, she and Mark could have a gentle heart-to-heart. It was time to drop the pretence that she wasn’t that interested in him. She had to keep it sensible and not indulgent; no romantic overtures, which wouldn’t impress him. He possessed aptitude in the bedroom, undeniably pleasing for both of them, however, what had won her over wasn’t his flair for sex or his dogged investigative skills, it was his determination to stay out of his father’s criminal affairs. With luck, by emphasising that honourable quality she could raise the awkward situation with his mother and sister, and find a way to diffuse the anger. Julianna wasn’t expecting resolution, but she couldn’t go on sitting on the side-lines watching the family implode. She was guaranteed to lose Mark if he chose to ignore what she was close to unravelling.

On Friday, Mark insisted she came with him and jointly present Jackson with their findings. She baulked at the idea of the trip to the top floor.

‘You’ve done the leg work. I would have nothing to show if it wasn’t for you,’ he said. ‘Come on, you’re more than a driver. You know you want this recognition.’

Jackson already knew plenty about Julianna's potential – he had

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