Page 28 of Run

“Thank you. We’ll schedule ourStar Warssummer school for a later date. But, right now, I have lost the need to chat, so I’m going to have a nap.” After giving Rachel a cheery wave, Elle headed upstairs to find an unclaimed bed.

10

The streets of North London were as busy after sundown as they were during daylight hours. The only difference was in the type of people out and about. Of course, you had the run-of-the-mill activity you’d expect on a weeknight—couples on dates, students clubbing on the cheaper nights, families eating out, and shift workers going about their business. But if you looked in the darker corners, the out-of-the-way places that the average city dweller didn’t spend too much time peering into, you saw the other side of London’s nightlife.

Scantily clad women loitering on street corners. Guys wearing hoodies huddled together in dark alleys. Teens congregating around a park bench that sat under a conveniently broken streetlight. The steroid-induced musclemen with bulges under their jackets where a shoulder holster sat. And the furtive groups skulking in doorways or idling in places they shouldn’t.

These people congregated where the light was the worst and the smell of rot the strongest. They gravitated toward the places that were crumbling, broken, forgotten. The places with graffiti-covered walls and garbage-strewn floors. But no matter where they gathered, they were invisible. Mainly because if there were residents around, they were the kind who chose what they saw or heard.

“My skin’s crawling,” Rachel said from the driver’s seat of the van as she checked the locks were secure for the millionth time. “How do people live like this? Don’t they have any pride in their environment? Wouldn’t they be happier if they took care of where they lived and worked?”

“I know you won’t get this,” Elle said from the back of the van, where she was monitoring what surveillance cameras were working in the area in the hope of being able to warn their teams if trouble approached. “But generally, poor people don’t have the money, time, or energy to take care of their environment. It’s hard to pay for a pot of paint when you can’t afford to feed your kids.”

Rachel, the multi-millionaire, oozed her usual compassion. “They could at least clean up the rubbish.”

“You know that feeling when you get home after a hard day, and you don’t have the energy to hang up your clothes, so you throw them over a chair and promise yourself you’ll deal with them later?”

“Or the maid deals with them,” Rachel said, as though everyone had a maid.

“Imagine you don’t have a maid. Now imagine you’ve worked fourteen hours in a fast-food restaurant, earning minimum wage. Imagine coming home smelling of grease and burgers, and you still have to feed the kids and figure out how to pay your bills. Would you even see the street outside your house? That’s assuming you have a job. Sometimes, just surviving day-to-day can take all of your energy. There’s nothing left for anything else.”

There was no judgment in Elle’s tone. She knew from experience that Rachel was way more soft-hearted than she let people see. Also, if you had the patience, she could be reeducated too.

“I wonder what programs the government runs here?” Rachel mused. “If they can spend billions on the latest nuclear submarine, surely they have money to spare to clean up the city. I’m going to have a word with Boris next time I see him.”

Only Rachel could casually mention that she planned to rake the prime minister over the coals. It made Elle grin. “While you’re at it, you might want to talk to him about the underfunded charities and the lack of apprenticeship schemes or decent housing.”

“I might just do that,” Rachel muttered before clearing her throat and raising her voice. “At the very least, he must realize areas like this are an eyesore. What must the neighbors think?”

“The neighbors?”

“France, Germany, Holland. I bet the Scandinavians have this sort of thing sorted already. I wonder who I know in Sweden that I could have a chat with. Surely Mother must know someone. If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure she’s distantly related to their royal family.”

Yeah, Rachel was something else entirely.

“This is Command One.” Julia’s voice came over the speakers of the computer set up in front of Elle. “Teams are in position. Handing over to Mobile One.”

“This is Mobile One.” Elle felt silly using their call name, as there was only one van, so it wasn’t like they had to number them. But—military. The guys couldn’t turn off their training. It was stamped into their genetic code. “Teams, sound off, please. I’m going to need a status report.”

“Alpha Team.” Callum’s rough brogue came over the speaker. “We’re in position and ready to go.”

“Gamma Team,” Harvard rumbled. “We are good to go.”

“Delta Team,” Joe said. “Waiting for the all clear.”

Elle glanced at Rachel. “I’m sick with nerves, and these guys sound like they’re about to go for a Sunday afternoon stroll.” She scanned the monitors in front of her, searching for any reason at all that their op couldn’t go ahead as planned.

“They’re better trained and have more experience than anyone they’re dealing with tonight,” Rachel reminded her. “Their targets sit at the bottom of the food chain.”

“Even the bottom-feeders can still wield a knife.”

“If a teenager stabs Harvard, I’ll eat my favorite Prada handbag—with a fine Chianti.”

That was the thing about Rachel: her heart was soft and her sense of humor dark. It was the reason the women on the team insisted on being her friend, even when she clearly didn’t know what to do with them.

“Okay,” Elle said. “Alpha, Delta, and Gamma, you are good to go. Repeat, proceed with the operation as planned.” She hated that they were working with phones instead of the throat mics and body cams that made it easier to keep tabs on everyone.

“Roger that,” each team leader replied.