Flint had listened to every single word between Fury and Malmesbury through the shutters in the Blue Chamber, but as he reached the foot of the stairs in time to see her enter the villa, on his own way out of the back door, he knew one thing. No way was he going to admit that. Or that he was bolting. Christ alone knew what she'd do with that information about him, if he put one more foot wrong here. Just because she hadn't done anything out there, didn't mean she wouldn't. No, he ...