Uppercut (John Milton Series Book 22) by Mark Dawson

Author:Mark Dawson [Dawson, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unputdownable Thrillers
Published: 2023-08-26T16:00:00+00:00

54

Maria came outside, pointed to the second bedroom and followed him into it.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “John?” she hissed. “Who’s John?”

“Me. That’s my name.”

“You said your name was—”

“Eric,” he said. “I know.”

“Why would you say it’s your name when it’s not?”

“Because I have things in my past that I’d rather stayed in my past.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s not good enough. How can I look after her”—she pointed in the direction of the other bedroom—“if you’re lying to me about who you are? I’ve taken a risk to be here with you.”

“There are people out there who would like to know where I am, and using a different name makes it harder for them to find me.”

That didn’t help. “These people are dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“Then that makes it worse!”

“They don’t know where I am. I’m very careful to make sure it stays that way.”

That was true, and Milton had been careful. He was confident that the trail had run cold and that the Group would have to work very hard to pick it up again, at least until what had happened at the hotel. That had been the antithesis of discretion, and he knew what he had done risked giving them his scent once more. It didn’t matter; he would’ve done the same thing again.

Maria was staring at him. “Is that the only thing you lied to me about?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Maria—”

“No. You tell me everything, or I’m going to call a taxi and take her straight to the police.”

“You can’t do that. I told you—it’s not safe.”

“And staying with a man who lies about his name is?”

“Fine,” Milton said, raising both hands. “But please keep your voice down—we don’t want to scare her any more than she already is. What do you want to know?”

“Your full name.”

He wasn’t about to tell her that. “We’ll have to leave it at John.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“Some people I used to work for.”

“Who? Criminals?”

“No. I’m not a criminal.”

“What are you, then?”

“I can’t say.” He tried to think what he could say and sighed. “This is the best I can do—I used to work for the government. I did things for them that I wasn’t proud of. Not criminal things. I didn’t break the law.” That was a contentious point, but he was pleased to see that she didn’t ask him to elaborate. “That doesn’t mean I liked what I was being asked to do. I didn’t—and, eventually, I came to hate it. I left that job, but the people I worked for weren’t happy about that and tried to make me stay. I’m not going to do that, so here I am.” He spread his arms. “I go from job to job, from city to city, country to country, never staying in the same place long enough for them to get too close to me.”

“The government?” She stared at him. “What does that mean? You’re a spy?”

“No,” he said, uncomfortable with the leaps she was making—and that she might make. “I’m not a spy.

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