Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

was to be paid for in cash. He had to be in Pamplona before they arrived, but he didn’t know why. Before leaving the airport he was to call the same number and tell whoever answered his flight number and arrival time. If no one showed up to get him at the airport, he was to hire a taxi to drive him from San Sebastián to Pamplona, where he was to book a cheap hotel, call the same number to report his whereabouts, and then stay put until he was contacted.

Gareth sat before his computer, an assortment of flights showing on the screen. He made a decision on which to book and held it with a credit card, intending to pay cash at check-in. However, the flight would leave before dawn, before he could make a stop at the bank. The cash point wouldn’t give him enough for the ticket, and he had to have sufficient cash to pay for a taxi to Heathrow and Euros to get to San Sebastián. He rifled through the pockets of his jacket and pants, hoping to find something to put toward his expenses. His wallet held less than a hundred pounds. The evening with Olivia had taken the rest. Then he remembered the small envelope of cash that had been pushed under his door the week before. The note inside had said “for unexpected outlay in pursuit of your assignment.”

At that time he had expected he would find a way out of the mess and wanted no part of owing these people anything. But following the daily threats made to his brother, he knew he was in it to whatever conclusion was in store. A short time passed before he remembered where he had hidden the envelope. His fear and disgust had kept him from opening it or counting the contents, but now there was no choice. A rush of adrenaline shot through him as he finished the tally. It held over two thousand pounds. He pulled his duffle bag from under the bed and stuffed it with enough clothes for a week or so, almost forgetting his razor and toothbrush. He rifled through several drawers for his passport, finally finding it when he dumped contents of the third out onto the bed. He put it on the table beside his bed, along with his watch and the roll of cash. Although he was plagued by anxiety and doubt, he laid down on his bed, hoping for a little rest before the taxi he had scheduled arrived to take him to Gatwick for his dawn flight to Madrid and on to San Sebastián. Emotional fatigue overwhelmed all thought and anxiety, and he fell into a restless sleep.

It seemed the middle of the night when the alarm on Gareth’s watch startled him away from the meager three hours of sleep he had been able to manage. He sat on the edge of the bed, for a moment disoriented, and then, wishing it had all been a bad dream, got up and walked to the bathroom. At the sight of himself in the mirror—face drawn, eyes bloodshot— he knew it wasn’t a dream. Once resigned to the reality of the task at hand, he splashed cold water on his face and decided not to shave. He pulled on some clothes and then his old brown suede jacket. As he scanned the room he remembered the things on the nightstand and stuffed them into his pockets. He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and headed for the door, stopping for an instant to look back at his cluttered apartment. He wondered if whatever lay in store would keep him from ever seeing it again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The McKinnons returned from London in the early evening. They entered the house and immediately began to look for Ben and Ana. The two were discovered relaxing in the small room that held the only television set in the house. Hugh asked them to come into the sitting room so he could explain what had happened at the museum. Paris asked Hugh for a drink, the day having taken its toll on her. Ben jumped up, offering to get it for her, and asked if anyone else would like something. Ana had no idea what news there was, but the seriousness of Hugh’s tone made her nervous with anticipation. Her day had seemed long, with only a few minutes respite playing with Sir Freddie on the kitchen step. Ben was preoccupied, picking up a book and putting it down again within minutes. She felt best if she stayed physically close to him, not letting him out of her sight. The need was illogical. They were safe, or relatively so, seemingly hidden away in the country. But she didn’t trust anything anymore. Watching Ben being beaten on the sidewalk had forever changed her.

Ben returned to the sofa, sat down beside Ana, and gave her hand a squeeze. His touch sent warmth flooding through her body, and when he turned toward her, his deep blue eyes focusing on hers, the urges she felt seemed very inappropriate in a setting where his parents sat directly across from them. He had come up behind her while she was at the sink tidying up after lunch. He leaned in close, bringing his head over her shoulder to see what she was doing. She caught the scent of his cologne mixed with clean sweat. In her imagination he had turned her around and planted a decisively lusty kiss on her enthusiastic lips. Ana sensed his interest, sensed the pleasant tension in the room whenever they were together. She wondered what he was waiting for… the right moment perhaps? She had been lost in thought while the three others were talking, and soon she heard Ben saying her name once, then again.

“Ana … Ana … Mum asked you a question.”

Flustered by her poor manners, Ana said, “Oh, please forgive me. I was distracted—lost in thought.