Ella tried to think back to the scene in Montecatini, putting it back together in her head, trying to make sense of it. Lucas had looked agitated and he’d been looking up the street in the direction the two men had come from. The way he’d stood in front of her too—surely that’s what a bodyguard would have done.
She still couldn’t process the fact that two men were dead, or the measured way Lucas had shot one of them in the head after he’d fallen. That hadn’t been defense or protection: that had been an execution. And she still couldn’t process that she was at the center of this, that she needed to be watched, that there were people out there who might want to kidnap her.
Why her? They weren’t rich. They were well-off, comfortable, but it wasn’t like her dad ever made the rich list or anything. That meant there were at least a thousand people in the country who were richer than they were, a thousand people with daughters or sons or grandchildren worth much more to a kidnapper than she was. So why her?
‘Did you follow me in Thailand last year?’
‘No.’
‘Did anyone?’
‘I don’t know.’
Chris turned to him and said, ‘What about at college?’ The question annoyed her, Chris sounding more concerned about his own privacy being breached than he was about her safety or what had just happened. Maybe he was right to be concerned, but it annoyed her all the same.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lucas, as if he, too, was irritated by the questions. ‘I was just asked to keep an eye on you in Europe, that’s all.’
He slowed and pulled over next to a phone booth. There was a small supermarket across the road, a garage fifty yards away, lit like stage sets under the deep black of the sky.
‘Stay in the car.’ He got out and walked over to the phone. They couldn’t hear him talking but he kept looking at them all the time he spoke.
‘He took the keys,’ said Chris. ‘For someone who’s meant to be on our side, he doesn’t seem to trust us much.’
‘Check the glove compartment.’
‘What for?’
‘I don’t know. ID or something.’ Chris reached down casually and checked but found nothing.
‘It’s a rental car.’
A scooter approached at speed from behind, the sudden high-pitched drone startling her. It sped past them, two good-looking Italian boys, the wind pulling at their hair and their shirts, giving them an air of sleekness and freedom.
The one sitting on the back was laughing and had turned briefly and looked at the car as they’d passed. For a second Ella felt like he’d looked at her, the smile for her, his eyes inviting.
And now they’d disappeared and she was envious—of their open road, of their carefree night, a night that had been hers too just half an hour before, though she hadn’t appreciated it then. Maybe she would have if she’d known how soon it would end.
‘I need to call my dad. Have you got your phone?’
‘Yeah.’ He handed the phone back to her. She held it close to the window to pick up some of the streetlight but before she could start dialing she noticed that Lucas had seen her and that he looked in a hurry to end his call. Within seconds he was back at the car, opening the door.
‘Turn it off.’
‘I was calling my dad.’
‘Not on that. Turn it off. I’ll call your dad when we get to Florence.’ She turned off the phone and handed it back to Chris. Lucas shut the door again and got back in the driver’s seat. He turned to face them both. ‘Keep your phones switched off. Don’t be tempted to make a call, don’t be tempted to use your credit cards, do nothing to give away your identity or location, not until we know what’s going on.’
Chris said, ‘What about you? Who were you calling?’
‘Hotel in Florence.’ He started the car and pulled away. ‘It’s high season. Best to book ahead.’ They didn’t respond and a moment later he said, ‘That was a little joke there. Just trying to lighten the mood.’
Chris threw him a look of contempt and said, ‘After what we just saw you do, you expect us to laugh at your standup routine? When do you get to the jokes about shooting people?’
Lucas glanced across at him and said, ‘What did you see me do? Tell me. What did you see me do?’ His voice was threatening and Chris didn’t answer.
Maybe he’d saved them, but Ella couldn’t shake the memory of what she had seen: Lucas taking a step forward, shooting the man in the head. Treading carefully with her tone, she said, ‘Lucas?’ She caught his eyes in the rear-view and felt confident enough to proceed. ‘Why did you shoot him in the head?’
‘He was wearing body armor.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because he didn’t bleed enough when I shot him.’ Again, it sounded like he’d go on to say something else but he didn’t. He seemed to have a way with awkward conversation-ending pauses and none of them spoke for the rest of the journey.