SHELTER

by Boston, Claire

  “Of course.” Zamira’s pulse raced as she told the agent everything she knew.

  Franklin asked questions, wanting her to expand where she could and then she said, “This information is a great help. Thank you.”

  “When are you going to get Annisa out of there?”

  “You do realise Annisa will be sent home afterwards?” Franklin asked. “She’s here illegally.”

  “Yes, I do. But she thought she was doing the right thing.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “I realise you work for Border Force, but I can’t give you the details of our operation.”

  Zamira narrowed her eyes. This was stupid. “My cousin may be in danger and I’m not going to stand around while you get the correct paperwork together.”

  “Your actions might hurt the other migrants who are there.”

  Guilt pinched her. “Then give me some kind of guarantee, otherwise I’m going over right now to get her.”

  Agent Franklin growled. “I don’t like to be threatened.” Keys clacked in the background and then a sound of surprise. “You’ve got high security clearance.”

  “That’s right.”

  A long pause. “We should get the warrant tomorrow and we’ll be ready to raid his property by Wednesday at the latest.”

  A full day and a half, maybe two. Would Annisa be safe until then?

  “I understand your concern, Zamira, but please let us help everyone there. Our information indicates it’s not just Annisa who is being treated badly.”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “Could you perhaps slip Annisa a phone so she can call if she needs to?”

  Zamira should have thought of that yesterday. But if she followed the bus in the morning and found out where Annisa was working, she could give her a phone. She sighed. “All right. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Agent Franklin hung up.

  Zamira stared at the phone. Annisa should be fine. Henk wasn’t suspicious, and Annisa hadn’t been able to come over because the property was like Fort Knox with the gate closed. She was trapped inside at night.

  It would be OK.

  But tomorrow she’d buy a phone and get it to Annisa somehow.

  She couldn’t be too careful.

  ***

  Jeremy checked the time. He’d finished welding Jamie’s bike twenty minutes ago and Jamie was still chatting about his SES training. Usually he’d be happy to spend time with his friend, but normally he didn’t have an attractive woman inside waiting for him.

  He tugged on his beard. “Listen, mate. I hate to interrupt, but you need to go.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Jamie stepped back. “You’ve got plans?”

  “Ah, well, Zamira’s inside and she’ll probably want dinner soon.” His face heated.

  “And you’d prefer her company to mine.” Jamie grinned. “I get it. Go. I’ll load the bike on my own.”

  “Thanks.” Relief filled him as he moved towards the shed door.

  “Hey, Jeremy!” Jamie called.

  He turned.

  “If you want to get some, you might want to tidy your house. It’s a tip.” He winked.

  Jeremy gave him the finger and continued walking. He was right though. Not that he expected anything to happen, but it was time he did more than move things from one surface to another.

  He whistled to Fetch as he entered the house and stopped in the laundry to fill Fetch’s bowl with food. Fetch raced over to him, his toenails clicking on the wooden floor. Jeremy smiled. “Hungry are you?” He continued into the living area where Zamira was still sitting at the table. She concentrated on her computer screen, a cute little furrow in her brow as she clicked the mouse.

  She glanced up. “Are you finished?”

  “Yeah.” He caught sight of her suitcase still by the couch. “I’ll set up the camp bed in the spare room before I have a shower.”

  “I’ll start cooking.”

  Was he being a chauvinist letting Zamira cook for him? She had offered… “If you can wait twenty minutes, I’ll help.”

  She smiled. “I can manage, just point me to a cutting board and knife.”

  The kitchen was in a slightly better state than the living room. The sink was clear and he’d remembered to turn the dishwasher on before he left this morning, but several notebooks and his unopened mail were scattered on the bench top. He gathered them into a pile and looked for somewhere to put it. In the end, he shoved a few things aside and put them on the sideboard.

  “Don’t you have an office?” Zamira asked, getting the vegetables out of the fridge.

  His face heated. “Not yet. It’s one of the rooms I haven’t finished. I’m in the middle of making a desk.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “It’s pretty basic at this stage. Just a table really.” He rubbed his beard. “What are we having?”

  “Stir fry.”

  He took his wok out of the cupboard and put it on the stove.

  She grinned at him. “That will make it easier.”

  “Need anything else?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” She was already chopping carrots, looking so at home in his kitchen his heart pinched.

  Get a grip.

  “I won’t be long.” He headed down the hallway and opened his junk room. He carried the camp bed and sleeping bag across the hallway to the empty spare bedroom. A nice sized room though there weren’t even curtains on the windows. He paused. If it bothered Zamira, she could take his room.

  He set up the camp bed, adding a pillow and blankets. Not fancy, but she’d be warm. Did she sleep naked? He squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t think about it.

  He headed for the bathroom and stripped off, dumping his clothes on the floor. No, he had a guest. He threw his clothes in the laundry basket and the soap scum on his sink caught his attention. Damn it. Why had he let it get so bad? Zamira wouldn’t be impressed having to shower in a bathroom this dirty.

  He threw his pants back on and hurried to the laundry to get some cleaning products.

  Zamira’s mouth dropped open, and she looked him up and down, her face flushing, but definite interest in her eyes.

  Nice. His body stirred and he flashed her a grin. “Sorry, I realised the bathroom needs cleaning.” He got the products he needed, and a fresh set of sheets for his own bed in case Zamira wasn’t comfortable in the spare room without curtains.

  Or if the attraction went anywhere.

  He scrubbed the bathroom quickly and then showered, mindful of the time. After he cleaned the toilet, he headed for his bedroom.

  A pile of dog hair on his sheets reminded him Zamira had already been in here. Would she think it creepy he’d made his bed after she’d already seen it dishevelled? No, Fetch’s hair was a good excuse.

  Not that he expected her to be in here again.

  But damn he wanted her.

  He groaned. Don’t think about it.

  Moving fast, he threw on a clean pair of jeans and the Thor T-shirt Mai had given him for Christmas and then made the bed. The rooms looked better, but he needed to do some washing tomorrow.

  The living room was still a mess, but he wouldn’t kid himself. That needed far more than a quick tidy.

  Zamira stood at the stove, stirring the wok, her back to him. She had changed into a red knitted long-sleeved dress with black leggings underneath and red, white and blue Captain America socks. The fun socks were such a contrast to the proper, dignified clothing she wore. Did they represent the true Zamira? The whole look was more casual, but she still looked stunningly beautiful. He swallowed. “How’s it going?”

  She turned, her gaze intense. “Good timing. It’s ready.”

  He walked quickly into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Water would be great.”

  He breathed deeply as he poured her a glass and the spicy stir-fry scent made his stomach rumble. It reminded him of the noisy dinners with his family; his youngest sister Moira always with some new absolut
ely thrilling thing that happened at school to tell them about and his other sister, Heather always more dignified, telling her not to gossip, so like their mother.

  “Are you hungry?”

  He pushed away the thought of his family. “A little. It smells delicious.”

  No one had cooked for him since he’d moved into his own place and even when he’d lived with Pete, he’d been expected to cook a few days a week for the family. He owed them that much for taking him in. His chest ached with longing. Stupid. He was fully capable of cooking for himself.

  He hadn’t relied on anyone to take care of him.

  The table was still half covered in papers, but he had nowhere to move them. There hadn’t been any point finishing his office when he lived alone. He hadn’t imagined anyone wanting to move in with him. That was asking for trouble.

  He never saw the rejection coming.

  He gathered up the bills and invoices. They could go on the office floor.

  Zamira was dishing up as he came back. She put both bowls on the table and he took a seat. “Selamat makan.”

  “Terima kasih.” He bit into the noodles and stir-fry and his eyes rolled back into his head. Spice and flavour, salt and sour. “So good,” he said when he swallowed.

  “It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” Zamira said. “I’ll write it down for you if you like.”

  A reminder she wasn’t staying. “That would be great.”

  Zamira sipped her water. “So how do you know Indonesian?”

  “I spent a month in Bali last year helping to build an orphanage. I learnt a bit before I went.”

  She stared at him. “That’s a wonderful thing to do.”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I could do to help.” Someone in town had been raising funds and while he hadn’t had a lot of money to give, he figured his skills might be valuable.

  “The orphanage must be amazing.” She glanced around. “How long did it take you to build this place?”

  Her praise washed through him. “About a year. I lived in the shed for a while and worked on it in between my other jobs.”

  “How many rooms haven’t you finished?”

  “Just the office.” The others were simply empty. He had no family who’d want to stay over. He gritted his teeth. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. “Did you get any good photos today?”

  She sipped her water. “Yeah. I’m pleased with them.”

  Not much at his place worth photographing, but maybe it was practice. Which reminded him. “Did Border Force call?”

  She nodded. “Agent Tara Franklin called me.”

  He waited but when she didn’t continue, he asked, “And?”

  Zamira screwed up her face. “I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”

  He sat back, hurt hitting him. Right. She didn’t trust him even though he’d been helping her. He shoved more food into his mouth rather than comment.

  She hesitated and sighed. “I should be out of your hair in two days.”

  The flush of disappointment was unwanted. He frowned. Zamira wouldn’t leave without Annisa. That meant Border Force had to be acting within the next two days.

  He smiled. “There’s no rush. How long are you on leave for?”

  “I fly back on Sunday.”

  “You can stay until then. You might as well make full use of your holiday.” Having a finite time together meant he wouldn’t get attached, but they could still have some fun together. Although Annisa would be around, so maybe not. He picked up her bowl. “Do you want any more?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He carried the dishes to the sink and put them in the dishwasher. “I’ve got ice cream if you want dessert.”

  She shook her head. “I’m full.”

  He put on the kettle, more for something to do than any real desire for a cup of tea. Zamira brought their glasses into the kitchen, brushing up against him as she placed them in the sink. He stepped closer to her soft body. He hadn’t dated in a while and his hormones were taking over.

  “Do you want a cuppa?”

  “That would be nice.” She stepped back, a tiny frown on her face.

  Maybe he was reading her wrong. He distanced himself from her as he made the tea.

  Handing her one of the mugs, he said, “I didn’t get a chance to light the fire earlier. Are you cold?” He walked into the living area and moved a model off the coffee table so they could put their mugs down. The office was moving higher on his priority list every day.

  “No. It’s cosy in here.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” He sipped his tea. He needed some innocuous conversation. “So what do you do for fun?”

  She blinked at him and then turned towards him, bringing one knee up on the couch, brushing his, while she blew on her drink. “I like reading comic books and going to the movies.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Which comics?”

  “I’m a Marvel girl. Thor’s my favourite.” She nodded at his T-shirt, a smile on her lips and he glanced down. He’d forgotten what he was wearing.

  Hope flared in him. “What about the movies — love them or hate them?”

  “Love them.” She grinned. “I’ve got the whole collection on DVD.”

  She didn’t strike him as the comic-reading type. He would have flagged her as literary or classics. “I’ve only seen the movies. Mum banned comics in our house.”

  “Why?”

  “She was an English teacher, only had time for the literary stuff, and Dad wasn’t a reader.” His stomach clenched at the thought of his father.

  “The odd couple.”

  “I suppose. They made it work.” Until he’d ruined it all. “I tend to listen to audiobooks these days. Keeps me entertained when I’m working.”

  “What a great idea.”

  Fetch snuffled up looking for a biscuit. Jeremy rubbed his ears. “There’s nothing for you, mate. You’ve had your treat today.”

  Zamira winced. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Fetch has the run of the house. The only reason he doesn’t sleep in my room is he snores too loudly.”

  Her laugh was light and full of delight. “Really?”

  “Like a freight train. I can still hear him faintly when he’s sleeping in here.”

  “I’ve never had any pets,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do with him when he ignored me.”

  “Not even a goldfish?”

  “No. It never occurred to me to get one when I moved out, because the apartment’s so small.”

  He’d always had animals. His dad’s kelpie used to go to work with them and even after his mother had kicked him out, Pete’s family had had dogs and cats. Pete had been his lifeline, taking on his apprenticeship and giving him a place to stay. “They’re good company.”

  “I can see.”

  Fetch leaned against his leg, eyes closed, drool leaking out of his mouth as Jeremy rubbed the spot behind his ears. He chuckled. “We do have a bit of a drool problem though.” He grabbed a tissue from the table and wiped Fetch’s mouth, then threw his favourite chew toy into his bed. Fetch ambled after it.

  He collected both their empty mugs and took them to the kitchen, washing the dirt from his dog off his hands. Another downside.

  He settled back on the couch next to her. “Which is your favourite Thor movie?”

  “Ragnarok of course.”

  “Glad we agree.” He shifted to face her and ran his hand along the back of the couch so it rested near her shoulder. He wanted to forget about the outside world and get back to the attraction pulling him in.

  “What’s your favourite movie?” She leaned into the back rest of the couch so her silky soft hair just brushed his fingers.

  He itched to run his fingers through it, pull her head back and kiss her.

  “Jeremy?”

  Crap. “Sorry, what?”

  “Which film is your favourite?”

  “Right…” His desire to touch her was driving him crazy.
Get it together. “I’m a fan of thrillers.”

  She winced. “Too suspenseful for me.”

  “You could always close your eyes at the suspenseful bits.”

  She laughed. “Then I’d miss half the movie.”

  Her laugh lit up her whole face, her eyes sparkling and the sound tickling him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to risk it. He circled his thumb over the back of her hand and her eyes widened. “I’ve got to be honest.” He moved a little closer and her lips parted. “I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on our conversation, because all I can think about is how much I’d like to kiss you.”

  She stared at him.

  He’d stuffed up. Inwardly he cringed. “Sorry, I’ve read it wrong, haven’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair. Awkward. “Don’t worry, I’ll still help you with Annisa and you can stay here.” He shrugged and smiled. “I’ll ignore my attraction to you.”

  After only a brief hesitation, she launched herself forward, into his arms and her lips met his.

  ***

  Some other being had taken over Zamira’s body, but she was happy to let it. She’d been hot and bothered since Jeremy had come out half naked. Zamira kissed him hard, all the pent-up attraction pouring out of her. He tasted spicy and warm and his tongue teased her as his arms wrapped around her.

  This hot, bearded builder with a heart of gold pressed all her buttons. Even the fact he’d taken the time to assure her he would still help no matter what made her weak at the knees. Being cautious had got her nowhere. In was time she went after what she wanted.

  He gripped her hips, dragging her closer and she dug her hands into his hair, her lips on his mouth, his beard brushing her face. She ran her tongue between his lips and they parted on a groan. His hardness pressed into her and her body heated. She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anyone before. With him she felt sexy, desired and safe.

  The knowledge that he wanted her too was heady and while some thought deep at the back of her mind told her she should slow down, it was easy to ignore. She’d never been this eager, this rash and she wanted to be with him. She had limited time here and would use all the moments she had.

  Her hands slid down his side, under his T-shirt and over his smooth, warm, tight muscles. Time to see it, to kiss it and taste it. Shoving his T-shirt upwards, she brought her hands around to his firm chest and he drew a sharp breath in.