Free Bad Grace: A Billionaire Romance Romantic Suspense (The Filth Monger Book 2) by Annabel Chant

nowhere we could hide and he’d be bound to spot us.
    I didn’t notice him turn round, though, let alone look back up the escalator and, when we finally got off, I wiped my brow and turned to the others.
    ‘We’ll have to stay this end. He’s moving further up the platform – we can’t risk him seeing us.’
    Matt and Alex didn’t speak. They merely nodded in affirmation and, when the train pulled in a minute or two later, we shuffled into one of the back carriages.
     
    As the train pulled away, Matt turned to me. ‘How are we going to know when he gets off, Sir?’ he said.
    I confess I hadn’t given it a thought. I blame the fact that I was in what was essentially a tin can, hurtling through tight tunnels under a seething city - I couldn’t focus. But it could equally have just been an oversight. I seemed to be making a habit of them, these days.
    I shook my head. ‘I don’t know.’
    Alex ran his fingers through his thinning grey hair. ‘We’ll have to split up – one get off at each station and take a chance.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s perfect. You get off next stop, Matt, at uh…’
    ‘Charing Cross, Sir,’ Matt supplied.
    ‘Yes, Charing Cross,’ I said. I couldn’t see Rick getting off at the very next stop, and Matt had done enough chasing for one night. ‘If he doesn’t get off, be ready to hail a cab in case we need you.’
    ‘Very good, Sir.’
    ‘What’s the next stop?’ I said, looking up at the map above the window. I flushed slightly – partly because I felt stifled, pressed up against people I didn’t even know, but mainly because I was acutely aware of my ignorance. I didn’t have even the most basic knowledge of the London Underground but, then, I wasn’t your average Londoner.
    ‘Embankment, Sir,’ said Alex, pointing it out.
    ‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’ll get off there.’ From the map, it looked like Embankment was a bigger station…busier. There was more chance he’d get off there or, at least, change trains. ‘Alex…you’ll get off at…uh…Waterloo.’
    The train pulled into Charing Cross, and Matt tipped me a small salute. ‘See you, Sir,’ he said, his jaw clenched tight as he headed off the train. I saw him weaving between people, heading towards the exit, then holing back, in a recess, his eyes roaming the sea of passengers.
    I didn’t see Rick and, as the train pulled away, I turned to Alex.
    ‘I don’t think he got off,’ I said.
    ‘Sir,’ said Alex. ‘What if he doesn’t get off at any of them, Sir?’
    ‘Then,’ I said. ‘We’re fucked.’

Seventeen
     
    Him
     
    T he wait till we reached Embankment felt interminable. Half the reason I’d said I’d get off there was because I didn’t think I could take much longer on the Tube. The other half was because I did have a gut feeling that Embankment was the station, and I wanted to deal with this myself. Added to which, Alex was no spring chicken, and I didn’t want him chasing around London all night.
    As the train drew in, I felt myself relax slightly, knowing I might be back in the open air soon. I nodded to Alex, then dipped my head and waited a few seconds, before moving out onto the platform.
    The surge of passengers headed forward slightly, more in the direction of the front of the train – the exit was obviously in a different place here. I stooped a little, wishing for a brief moment I wasn’t so tall.
    As I allowed myself to be pushed along towards the exit, I felt a tap on my arm. I looked round. It was Alex. ‘He got off here, Sir – I saw him. He’s just up ahead.’
    I felt irritated for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Good work. I haven’t spotted him yet.’
    ‘He’s there, Sir,’ said Alex, indicating ahead and a little to the right. ‘See?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well, at least we can split up again, if need be.’
     
    There was no need, though. Rick headed up and out, through the ticket hall, and into the quieter streets of Westminster.