Son of a Gun by Lee Ness

Author:Lee Ness [Ness, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When I arrived back at the road, the climb had taken a lot out of me. Garcia had dragged herself over to the Mercedes and had slumped against the wheel. When she saw me, with an effort, she pulled herself straight.

“You look terrible,” she said with a nod to my battered form that limped across to her.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought anyone could look beautiful in a dirty, torn, dress and with grazes on her face and knees, and with hair grey with dust, but you’ve managed to pull it off,” I replied. She blushed visibly and looked away. I realised what I’d said and cursed myself for making the moment awkward.

I changed the subject. “Let’s see if our car still works. I think he’ll have lost his collision damage waiver on the Audi.”

“His was stolen. I think your friend might have lost his on this though,” Garcia replied.

I smiled. “Don’t worry. Cam never pays for anything. One of the joys of being a world-class hacker.”

I slumped into the car awkwardly and turned the key. The engine started first time.

“German engineering,” I said. “Gotta love it.”

Garcia gingerly got in at the side of me. A sharp intake of breath told me there was a lot more pain there than she was letting on.

I pulled away gently and drove up the hill to the village.

“We need to recover,” I said. “But, we can’t stay long. We need to get out of here before anyone finds the Audi. The scene at the airport means the police will be looking for them. And me, for that matter.”

We parked the car and entered the visitor centre at Santa Creus. The majestic monastery, the Monestir de Santes Creus attracted tourists, but it was far enough away from the beaten track that there weren’t many of them. However, the visitor centre had beautiful marble washrooms inside the cloisters of the 17th Century Bishops Palace, the entrance to the monastery. I led Garcia into the ladies.

She looked at me and I smiled. “Convenience,” I answered her unspoken question. “We need to work on each other to get cleaned up. There’s usually more space in a ladies restroom.”

“How do you know?” Garcia asked.

“It’s not my first time.” I laughed. The hand towels were proper Egyptian towels, not the paper I’d been expecting. “That’s a bonus,” I said and dampened one under the tap. “Let me have a look at you.”

I cleaned Garcia’s wounds on her face and shoulders and then her knees. I left the bullet wound on her neck as it had coagulated and there was no point trying to clean it now. There was one on her back where the road had torn her dress. I paused and she sensed my uncertainty. Garcia grabbed her dress and pulled it off over her head. She had her back to me and she held her dress in her hands as I cleaned the wound on her back.

“That’s it, I think.”

Garcia turned and dropped her dress, exposing her full breasts.

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