Read Online Ugley Business by Kate Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

on the big, thick oak doors, there was a bleep from one of the gargoyles, and then the door opened and Luke stood there, his face sharp with tiredness, his clothes crumpled, and I fell into his arms.
     
    I woke alone in the guest bed where I’d fallen asleep as the sky got light. Luke was gone, and for a moment I panicked, until I heard his voice through the thick velvet curtain that cut off the gallery from the rest of the church.
    I got up, my body protesting as I stretched my muscles, and then smiled as I remembered how Luke had sent me to sleep. I peeked through the gap in the curtains and saw Luke sitting at the computer in the south transept, frowning at the screen, looking as sexy this morning as he had last night.
    Or maybe, earlier this morning. I looked at my watch. It was now late afternoon. I’d slept through most of the day.
    I pulled my clothes on and padded downstairs, and was just about to step out of the tiny stone stairwell when I heard Luke say, “Seriously, not even one?”
    “Nope,” Angel replied. “Not since I’ve known her.”
    I ducked back behind the pillar at the corner of the stairwell. Were they talking about me? What were they saying? What hadn’t I had or done since Angel knew me?
    “Well,” Angel went on, “she sort of had a thing going with Sven—you remember him? But then he went back to Norway and…”
    She trailed off, and I imagined Luke shaking his head. Sven had been a plant, an impostor, not Norwegian at all, and he hadn’t left. He’d been shot. By me.
    “Oh,” Angel was saying. “Oh.”
    “And before the thing with Sven there was nothing?”
    “I don’t even think she went on a date.”
    “Jesus,” Luke said. “I’m sleeping with a nun.”
    I blinked. Sleeping with. Not dating, not going out with. Just sleeping with. That put me in my place.
    “I’m not a nun,” I said, stepping out of my hiding place and walking up the nave to where Angel was washing tomatoes in the font.
    “Thought you were asleep,” Luke said, no trace of embarrassment or contrition in his voice.
    “I was. I woke up.” I went to the computer. “Whatcha doin’?”
    “Trying to get into the MI5 file on Greg Winter. Having no luck. There’s a fucking encryption on it and I can’t get through.”
    “Well,” I glanced over at Angel, “it’s a wild idea, but maybe Angel could tell you about him? Being his daughter and all.”
    “Smartarse,” Luke said.
    “Yes, my arse is very smart.”
    “She’s told me everything she knows. What I really want to know is where those pictures came from and how the hell he fell off his bike.”
    “He was a great biker,” Angel said, slicing up mozzarella in the kitchen. “He knew what he was doing. Could ride for hours without his concentration fading. It wouldn’t have been like him to just come off like that.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Those moors looked pretty empty. Middle of nowhere stuff. Could have been riding for hours. Maybe he did just get tired.”
    “And maybe there just happened to be someone following him who had a full film in his camera and just didn’t feel like reporting it to the coppers,” Luke stretched back in his chair and glared up at me lazily.
    I made a face and looked around for my bag, which I’d thrown in the direction of the sofa last night—damn, I mean this morning. It was on the coffee table, and I checked my phone for messages from Maria. None.
    “Listen, Sophie.” Angel came over, looking nervous. “I’m not going to be going into work tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, either. I’ve called it in. Family emergency.”
    I nodded. Just because it had happened fifteen years ago didn’t make it any less of an emergency.
    “Can you access the files on IC?” I asked Luke, and he shook his head. “Why are they blocking them? Shouldn’t you have, you know, access?”
    “Yep,” he said. “But not to these. You need certain levels of clearance.”
    “And you don’t have them?” I was both