Hide to Seek (London Lies #2)

Chapter One: Freedom Awaits

The deep, vibrating roar from the boat's horn drilled through his brain and rattled his upending nerves. It tore through his resolve, demanding he take notice of where he was, how he'd got there and what he was doing. It was almost jovial in its hail. Like all the other passengers on the Stena Line who had flocked onto the decks to enjoy the three hours of steady sea crossing.

Fletcher flinched. Then, leaning on the balcony railings to peer out to the shore and watch the port drift away into the horizon, he wondered, not for the first time that day, if he'd made the right decision in boarding this ferry back to Ireland. It was too late now. He was here.

Fletcher Doherty was heading home.

Inhaling the sea air, he wrapped his jacket around himself to stave off the wind chill that blew his hair wildly against the breeze. The phone, tucked into his pocket, vibrated just as the ferry's signal silenced. He fished it out, flicked it open and the list of missed calls and messages popping up on his screen caused a painful reminder of what he was leaving behind—his job, his friends, the life he had created for himself over the past five years. He couldn't bring himself to read them, or to listen to the pleading voicemails.

Perhaps, if he did, he'd jump to shore right then.

The phone rang in his hand. The name appearing on his screen made him clench his fingers around the plastic. Heston. If there was one glimmer of an indication as to this being the right decision, it was that name pulsating in his palm right then. Still, he stared at the screen. The ringing increased in volume and tempo, demanding that he answer it as though whatever would be said could be important.

It wouldn't be.

Not in comparison to what he was doing now.

"Are you going to answer it?" Jackson Young jogged up behind him, having emerged from the stairwell of the passenger deck.

Fletcher peered over his shoulder, meeting the man's gaze. Jackson's blond, limp and knotted hair and three-day old stubble was the only indicator of the events of the past few days. It was a marvel how he could still appear so striking. So handsome. And draw every eye to him after what he'd been through over the past six months. He was still a bright, shining star walking among the ordinary folk as though he was one of their own.

He wasn't. He couldn't be.

And that caused the uncomfortable restriction in Fletcher's chest.

Jackson drew his eyebrows up, his blue eyes filling with a disquieted unease. He looked at Fletcher with hope, with fear, with a troubled mind wanting to be eased. It was why he was here after all. It was why he'd made the decision to flee, to throw the prospects of a quiet life away and run to the safety of seclusion.

So, Fletcher slapped the mobile shut. Then, without so much as a whisper of hesitation, he threw the brick out to sea. It landed with a thud and a splash that finalised Fletcher's ties to a life he'd thought he wanted. That was over. Heston was over. Working for Rose and London Lights was over. The potential to elevate his career with the helping hand from veteran journalists was over. And the friendships he'd accumulated during his five years of being an Irish expat in England's capital city were now drowning to the bottom of the Irish Sea.

New beginnings.

In an old world.

Jackson joined him at the edge of the boat as the land disappeared into the murky water that sloshed up against the stern. He didn't say anything. Neither did Fletcher. Their silence wasn't awkward. It wasn't comfortable either. It was a shared moment of reflection. Of knowing this could be the only peace they might have in a long while. A two-hour ferry ride from Holyhead to Dublin on international waters meant they couldn't be found just yet. They'd managed to get through ID control without any real problems. For how many times Fletcher had done this journey, he knew the ferry border control wasn't as meticulous in checking details as the airlines would be. It was why across water was the only way they could have gone. And they needed to breathe in this sanctuary while they still could. Fletcher wasn't sure what awaited them in Ireland. He had his apprehensions about going home, about bringing Jackson Young and all that came with him to his family.