He eyed her empty glass. ‘Would you like another drink?’

She nodded.

He got them both the same again, insisting on buying this second round also. She didn’t protest.

‘You know,’ he said carefully. ‘I’m kind of surprised you’re still working undercover.’

She silently contemplated him. ‘What do you mean?’

But she knew exactly what he was referring to. He had, finally, got around to asking.

He swallowed uncomfortably. ‘I mean… Everyone knows you did an amazing job with that car theft ring. They all went down for years, right?’ He took a deep breath. ‘But I also heard you were lucky to escape with your life.’

She tried to give an offhand shrug. ‘Not all operations go to plan.’

‘What went wrong?’ he asked.

‘My cover got blown.’

The sweet cloying smell of clove smoke suddenly filled her nostrils. A wave of nausea hit her. She flashed back to that bare concrete room. Hanging chained up from the meat hook. The blood running in hot rivulets down her body. The incessant excruciating pain. Her heart palpitated and the cocktail bar began to spin around her and she felt as if she might fall off her bar stool. Maybe she’d had too much to drink already.

She gulped hard and placed her hand on the edge of the bar to steady herself.

Dale leaned in with concern, placing a gentle hand on her forearm.

‘Bailey, are you okay?’

She blinked and took a deep breath and nodded.

He gave her arm a soft squeeze, then withdrew his hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

‘No, it’s okay.’ She forced a smile. ‘But do you mind if we change the subject?’

They chatted a short while longer, just inane small talk, until they’d both finished their drinks. And then they left the bar.

Standing outside, they prepared to go their separate ways. There was a pregnant pause, then Dale said, ‘You know, I always had a bit of a soft spot for you, Bailey. Back at Hendon.’

Bailey swallowed as a little spasm of warm butterflies went through her.

‘You could have fooled me,’ she laughed nervously. ‘I never even thought you noticed me. Mr Hotshot Dale Bleudore.’

‘Oh, I certainly noticed you,’ he said.

He suddenly looked embarrassed and dropped his gaze, shifting bashfully from one foot to the other. Then he looked up again, putting on a businesslike face.

‘Anyway, better get going, eh? It’s getting late.’

Bailey gulped and nodded.

It seemed neither of them quite knew the most appropriate way to say goodbye. For a moment she thought they were going to embrace with a kiss on the cheek, but they didn’t. Instead they just ended up waving at each other.

‘Au revoir,’ she said.

He frowned. ‘Eh?’

‘It’s French. It means “see you again”.’

‘Oh yeah. Indeed. See you again.’

And as she watched him walk off, she realised that she was looking forward to doing exactly that.

10

The piece of news was devastating. Bailey stared in horror at her father as he lay there in the hospital bed looking back at her with a grave expression on his face.