Free Friday's Child by Clare Revell Page A

Elle’s sullen demeanor. He didn’t know why she was suddenly sulking like a three year old and acting as if her life had been ripped from her. It wasn’t as if the protection was being foisted on her against her will.
    As soon as she’d finished eating, Elle rose and left the room without a word. Patrick sighed and pushed his hand through his hair.
    “So she’s your old flame from university, then?” Shay sounded more bored than curious.
    “Yeah. But I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into her. It must be me. She’s been a bit frosty the past few times I’ve seen her.”
    “Oh, this is beyond frosty, Patrick. It’s more like icy or even beyond icy. I thought she wanted our help?”
    “Maybe it’s just my help she doesn’t want. I’ll talk to her.”
    Shay stood. “You do that while I go grocery shopping. Think I have the better deal actually.”
    Patrick winked at her. “I think you could be right.” He went to find where Elle was sulking. If she was running true to form, she’d be in her room or by the fireplace. Not that she’d admit she was sulking, because she was far too mature for that, but it was as close to sulking as a person could get.
    He tapped on her bedroom door and pushed it open not waiting for an answer. She lay on her stomach, reading. She didn’t look up, so he stood between her and the window, blocking her light. “Elle, can we talk?”
    “Why?”
    “I need the truth, Elle. All of it.”
    “My name is Eleanor, not Elle. And talking won’t change anything.”
    Not bothering to hide his irritation, he flopped down on the bed beside her. “Look, Eleanor , if you don’t play ball, we can’t protect you. We need to know anything you’ve seen or heard that might have gotten you noticed.”
    “You’re MI5. You figure it out.” Again she spoke over the book, not even looking at him.
    He caught his breath, his hands curled into fists, and his jaw tightened. This was a mistake. He should never have taken this assignment. And he wasn’t going to start calling her Eleanor either. Reaching out, he snatched the book, closed it, and tossed it to the side in a swift single movement.
    “Hey, I was reading that,” came the immediate indignant protest.
    “What happened to you, Elle?”
    She sat up and glared at him. “Me? What you mean, what happened to me? University was a long time ago. Maybe I grew up. Just like we all did. Grew up and changed. None of us are the same people we were back then. For instance, why didn’t you tell me you were a spy?”
    “Need to know,” he snapped back.
    “You’ve changed.”
    “You too, way more than I expected. You used to be—”
    “I used to be what? Innocent?” She tossed her head, sending her hair shimmering over her shoulder. “In answer to your question, you happened to me, Patrick. You made me who I am now.”
    He caught his breath, doing a double take. He got her involved in drugs, if indeed she was? “Excuse me?”
    She stabbed a finger at him, emphasizing every word. “That last weekend at the house party changed who I was forever.”
    He flung his hands up in defense. “Now, wait a minute. That wasn’t all me. You agreed. You didn’t say no or stop or…”
    “I should have.”
    Patrick stood and stomped across room, shoving his hands through his hair. “So what are you saying? That I forced you to do something you didn’t want to do? Because you know very well that’s not true.”
    He grunted in annoyance as his pocketed phone vibrated and rang. “Don’t you dare move. This isn’t finished.”
    “I’ll move if I want to.” She scowled at him, and marched over to the window, keeping her back to him. “Answer your phone before they ring off. There’s probably a major terrorist threat you need to save the country from.”
    He snatched his phone free and glared at the screen before answering. “Page.”
    “It’s Nahum. Abbie Harrison never made it home from school.”
    His anger dissipated faster than if