Page 63 of Reset

“I don’t think a little dirt is going to upset my stomach,” he said as they slowly made their way along the first wall.

“Do you really want to risk food poisoning when we’re this close to getting out of here?”

“I can wait,” he said. But he didn’t sound happy about it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cock & Bull Pub

London’s East End

* * *

David managed to track Prentice, the mercenary hired to abduct Ryan, to a ratty old bar in London’s East End. He’d been in worse places, as had Harvard. Although, from the look on Harvard’s face, you wouldn’t think so.

“Is being married to a millionaire ruining your appreciation for the grubbier side of life?” David asked as he sipped his warm ale.

They sat in the far corner of the small bar area. David was grateful the crowd wasn’t just made up of locals because they would have stuck out like two sore thumbs.

Harvard flashed a smile while keeping his eyes on their prey. “Do I detect a note of jealousy in your tone?”

It was famously difficult to rile Michael “Harvard” Carter. The man was born cool—in all senses of the word.

“Elle could be rich if she wanted,” David pointed out, but then conceded with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be legal though, and would, most likely, end with me breaking her out of some high-security prison because she’d hacked the wrong people. Probably safer if we earn our money the good old-fashioned way.”

“Hard work, low pay.” Harvard toasted him before giving a chin lift. “Looks like our boy might be ready to call it a night.”

“About time. If you grimace at the carpet one more time, I might lose it.”

“There’s a carpet. In. A. Bar.” Harvard’s lip curled. “No way they can get that clean.”

“Rachel’s silver spoon is spoiling you, man.” David took another sip of beer, watching Prentice in the mirrored signs hanging beside the bar—next to several Toby Jugs that could use a good clean. “You met the Queen yet?”

“They’re not that close family members; they only get together at big events. It’s not like they’re having tea every Sunday.”

David bit back the urge to roar with laughter, it would attract too much attention. “Listen to yourself. You didn’t even bat an eye at the idea of meeting the Queen.”

“I’m married to the aristocracy. I’ve met more lords and ladies than you can count. Hell, half the House of Lords was at our wedding.”

“Not to mention William and Kate. Wait, do you call them by their first names, or is it Your Royal Highness?”

“It’s good you’re enjoying yourself. One of us should be.”

David placed his pint glass on the old mahogany bar. The wood was varnished to the point where it looked like it’d been shrink-wrapped, and the scrollwork around the edges had years’ worth of dirt enhancing the design.

“Another, luv?” the barmaid asked.

The woman was pushing seventy, had bleached blonde hair, a heavy hand with blue eye shadow, and those little spider web lines around her lips that only smokers developed.

David’s smile was designed to make her feel like the Mona Lisa incarnate. “I’m good, thanks.”

She batted her false lashes before sauntering on to the next customer.

“I’m telling Elle you were flirting,” Harvard said as a group entered the bar, taking the small room to bursting capacity. “Heads up, we have movement.” He touched his earpiece to activate comms. “Joe, Dimitri, we’ve got Prentice and two friends heading out of the door nearest Brick Lane. Follow, don’t engage.”

“Copy that,” Joe said.

David threw some bills onto the bar as they pushed up out of their stools. Slowly, they made their way through the packed pub. Someone had cranked up the music, and Rick Astley was playing. David suspected that in this bar every night was eighties night.