Second Shot by Zoe Sharp Page A

the choppy harbor. There was a man in a long tweed coat standing next to her. They were shoulder to shoulder, like they were admiring the view. He was pointing out one of the buildings on the skyline, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Both their heads snapped up when I hove into view.
    “Simone!” I said, annoyed and relieved at the same time.
    “Mummy!” cried Ella, and promptly burst into tears.
    Simone turned away from the man and immediately swept Ella out of my grasp. Shame she hadn’t been so bothered about her child when she’d walked away from the sea lions, leaving us both high and dry
    “She said you were I-lost,” Ella sobbed, bottom lip wobbling.
    Simone gathered her close and shot me a daggered look.
    I didn’t bother trying to explain, just eyed the guy next to her with no small measure of distrust. He was possibly in his early thirties, blond haired and good-looking.
    “Hey, I’m real sorry,” he said easily, stepping forward and smiling. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”
    I noted the “we.”
Fast mover.
He had what I was coming to recognize as a Boston accent, a slight drawing out of particular vowels. He sounded genuinely contrite but I didn’t care.
    I glared at Simone. “You gave your daughter a fright, disappearing like that,” I said, and heard the accusing note.
    Simone heard it, too, and bristled. “I’m sure she wasn’t worried until
you
frightened her,” she said, glaring back. “I don’t need your permission to talk to people.”
    “That’s just it, Simone. Yes, actually, you do.”
    The guy’s smile had faded by this time. Ella, realizing that attention had shifted away from her, began to wail louder.
    He edged back a step. “OK, I didn’t realize I was getting in the way of anything here,” he said, and I could have sworn he sounded amused more than insulted. “I think I’d better give you two a few moments alone.”
    “Yes,” I said, without taking my eyes off Simone. “I think you better had.”
    He inclined his head to Simone, a “nice meeting you—but not that nice” kind of a gesture, and sauntered away. Simone made soothing noises to Ella, who—once she’d reclaimed her star status—quickly allowed herself to be quietened. Simone shifted her onto her other hip and moved in close to me, her face tight.
    “Embarrass me like that in public again, Charlie,” she bit out with quiet ferocity, “and
you’re
the one who’s going to need a bodyguard. …”
    I took the pair of them up to the cafe on the second level and we sat looking out across the bright water drinking hot chocolate while Ella continued to sulk over a milk shake. The walls in the cafe were decorated with more sea lion art. The carefree brushwork was starting to grow on me. Certainly, I’d seen less impressive canvases in London galleries with four- and five-figure price tags.
    “We’ve got to have some ground rules here, Simone,” I said, speaking low and trying to keep the temper out of my voice. “I can’t be in two places at once. I can’t protect both of you if you don’t stick together. If you’re not prepared to do that, I’ll have to call Sean and get him to send over more people.” I was doing my best for cool professionalism but it sounded childish, even to my own ears.
Do as I say or I’m telling on you!
    “I don’t
want
more people,” Simone said through her teeth. “One’s bad enough!” She shut up abruptly and looked away, staring at a ferry chugging across the harbor towards the airport.
    “So, who was that guy?” I asked quietly.
    It took Simone a long time to answer. Stubbornness or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure which.
    “Just a guy,” she said at last. “A nice,
normal
guy. Not someone who knows anything about—” She broke off, checked about her, guilty. ‘About us,” she muttered.
    “A nice, normal guy,” I echoed flatly. “You know that for certain, do you?”
    She sighed heavily, like a teenager told off for her choice