by Koko Brown
“I can’t,” she gasped. “I have to... I need to.”
His gaze travelled between hers before he understood. With an arm around her waist, he switched their positions and raised them upright with his other arm.
“Better?” he asked, stroking his hands over her hips. She gripped his latex-covered cock and fitted it to her soaked sex before answering.
“Much, thank you.”
With a sigh of relief and euphoria, she sank down and closed her eyes to deepen the wonder of opening to Xiu, being filled deeply by him. He scooted back a little just to be supported by the headboard, then let her take over, his hands light on her upper thighs.
She gripped the headboard and let a natural rhythm overtake her senses. It was selfish, being entirely focused on her own pleasure but Xiu’s groans told her he didn’t mind. Quickly, she placed one of his hands over her clit before returning her grip to the headboard. Xiu did as she directed, and rested both thumbs over her clit, rolling them both in circles just above where they were joined.
Atarah closed her eyes again and slammed down on him, over and over again until she broke, shivering on top of him and squeezing his cock erratically, with every ripple of her climax. Xiu pulled her closer and pressed a breathless kiss to her shoulder.
A buzzing noise terrified her.
“God, is that your phone?” She scrambled from his lap.
“That’s our pie,” he said, breathless from their exertions. He cupped her face between his palms. “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” she reassured him. “Starving, though.”
“Got it.” He went to the bathroom, while Atarah lay back and enjoyed the sweet ache that came with being thoroughly used. Xiu returned with a damp face towel for her, which she took with a blown kiss to him and disappeared down the stairs, most likely to rescue their pie.
Curiosity made her look at his phone for the time. Four messages from his Chief. Get back to me asap.
Where are you? I need to have you answer… we’ve got some forensic data back on the body…
Atarah’s throat dried. If the police knew, it would only be a matter of time before Gael and Sybilla knew as well. Then where would she be?
SIX
Lonán transferred some money to Saoirse’s therapist’s account. They had an appointment on Friday, and he wanted to make sure she was paid up in full before the session.
A car starting nearby made him look up from his phone. Approaching the window, he twitched the curtain and saw Rae standing in the driveway of her cottage, her fingers inside the pockets of a thick cardigan. Her eyes suddenly swung towards the house and she lifted an arm to wave at him. He moved to the door and opened it, beckoning her inside. She held up a finger and returned into the cottage, then bounded across the road.
“Had to get keys. There isn’t anyone with spares, so if I’m locked out…”
He nodded in understanding. “Can I get you a drink? I’ve got Horlicks or hot chocolate.”
“Have anything more adult?”
“It never helps you to sleep,” he said. “What’s your fancy?”
“Horlicks, please,” she replied.
“Good, take a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the large sofa in the open plan living and kitchen area. She toed off her shoes, tucked bare legs under herself, and rested on the arm of the chair. He frowned at how comfortable she’d made herself, but went to make the drinks with warm milk. He added a third cup because with every minute there were voices in her vicinity, Saoirse would make an appearance and ask why they hadn’t told her Rae would be making an appearance.
“Thank you.” Rae said the words with reverence as soon as he handed her a cup. “I haven’t had Horlicks in years.”
“You never do until you have a child.”
Rae offered a small smile. “She’s gorgeous.”
“She likes you.”
Rae’s smile widened. “She likes me is a surprise because…”
“She’s been through a lot. Her sense of trust is negative at the moment, so that does indeed surprise me.”
“Who was the bad man?” Rae asked, and Lonán’s shoulders went up.
“I’d rather not talk about that, if you don’t mind. It’s pretty… you know and we met this morning.”
“I suppose your trust is on a negative balance as well after what you’ve been through, too.” Rae took a sip of her drink. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I’ll sleep tonight with that!”
The moan of appreciation sent a familiar curl of feeling through him. One he thought had died a long time ago.
“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”
Rae didn’t hesitate. “I never sleep well in a new place.”
“Why’ve you moved?”
“I’m in hiding and I thought this was the perfect place to be away from all my enemies,” she said, an amused lilt to her voice. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He regretted vocalising his suspicion, but the hair change, arriving in the middle of the night, having no money and no phone… it didn’t sit well with him. “A little.”
“I’m just having a bit of a career break,” she answered, uncurling her feet. “It’s been a difficult couple of days. I feel more than a bit betrayed by my colleagues. I need to re-evaluate what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
Lonán’s eyebrows rose. He suspected that was as close to the truth as she would ever get. He’d already traced who the cottage across the road belonged to; everything was public information if you wanted it. He just needed to trace the name on the Official Copy, when he had more time on his hands. Then again, what would stop Rae from doing the same to him? Tracing his details and finding out why he was hiding in the middle of nowhere, not excepting that his daughter was recovering from something that continued to stoke the fires of his rage.
“Being around here will help you, especially if you have nothing else to do.”
“What about you? What’s your career looking like?”
“I’m home-schooling Saoirse for now, I’ve spoken to the local school. They’re not going to prosecute me until she’s deemed fit to return. I’ve also got her on a list for a private school nearby. All girls, all female teachers. I realise that’s not what you asked me. I do online translations for books, articles, legal, and medical documentation.”
“Really? For what language?”
“Mandarin, French, and Arabic.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s varied,” she said eventually. “What made you learn those?”
“A willingness to be anywhere but the small town in Northern Ireland where I grew up,” he said with a shrug. “It’s what I’m teaching my daughter. It will allow her to travel the world, with or without this country being part of an organisation or not.” Now who’s lying, a voice in his head mocked. If she’s running, who the hell is she going to tell? Fucking no one!
“I hope so,” Rae traced a finger around the rim of her mug. “I would hate for children to miss out on those opportunities.”
“What about you?” he asked. “What languages do you speak?”
“Not as many as you,” she replied, getting to her feet. “Would you mind if I took this home with me? I can feel myself fading and I think it would be embarrassing for us both if I fell asleep on your couch.”
“Yeah, go ahead. That’s grand. I’m glad it’s going to help you sleep.”
“Cheers. You’ve been really kind.”
He batted her words away with an awkward shrug. “You’re welcome. Just let us know if you need anything.”
She touched his arm with an affectionate carelessness. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight.”
She walked back over the road to her cottage and he heard the door close and the lock slide across. Good thing, too. These cottages didn’t have alarms. She’d have to get one fitted if she thought for a moment anyone would be coming to harm her. He recognised the face of escape. He’d seen
it far too often in the mirror, looking at himself.
Returning to his phone, he looked up the name on the Land Registry, who would confirm the car coming last night and again a few minutes ago.
Strange, there was no mention of him on social media… then a news check gave him a glaringly disturbing answer.
Trafficking in our midst
Nearly twenty people from China were safely recovered from people traffickers in South London yesterday. DS Xiu Jiang, identified by hospital staff at St Augustine’s, was able to communicate with them ahead of government-provided translators, to confirm their names and where they have travelled from. Chief Superintendent Chambers of Southwark Borough confirmed that there was an operation in place and some good policing work helped save the people from the fate that often befalls trafficked people—slavery and prostitution. Chief Superintendent Chambers would not confirm any further details, only that she was pleased with the work of DS Jiang and his team in securing very nearly exploited people. The difficulty now will be as to whether those people will be returned to China or given asylum here in the UK.
See our Comment Column – Trafficked People Are No Better Than Migrants On A Boat
Xiu Jiang’s a cop. Rae must be a source, who had an in with those traffickers. Maybe she was one.
He was tempted to march across the road and demand answers from her. But for the first time, with her hair out of her face, he could see the bruises on her throat and the swelling on the left cheekbone where she had either been punched without the necessary force to cause a contusion or she’d been slapped hard.
What he wanted to do more, was to take his daughter and go. The last thing he wanted was any more law enforcement near him.
They’d certainly know that he was hiding and who from.
SEVEN
Xiu went straight to the station, foregoing the idea of returning to his own home and sleeping. At least Atarah was tied down to the idea of staying put. But he had to see how far the investigation had progressed, if at all. From his chief’s irritable messages, they had something.
Whatever the something was, worried him. It all pointed to the unlikelihood of him being able to protect Atarah from the fallout of what she had done. He’d kept all her belongings in his home, so at least there would be some forensic evidence to back up any self-defence argument she would inevitably have to present.
Had anyone asked him what he would do in that situation, his first response would have been to contact his colleagues and have the whole place surrounded by coppers. And yet he hadn’t done any of that. He got both Atarah and Wen out, and left that body to be discovered. It wasn’t him, and it wasn’t what he’d been trained to do. But instinct guided him to another path.
Chambers collared him as soon as he walked in. “Where have you been? We’re about to have a review of the evidence. In the incident room, now, please.”
“Can I get a coffee?”
“No.”
Xiu took a seat nearest to the door, ready to escape as soon as he possibly could. Chambers headed the room, which had a picture of the dead body pinned to the top of the whiteboard.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This here is Nicodeme Antine. Nicodeme is the right-hand man of these two paragons of society, Gael and Sybilla Ermond. They are people traffickers, with connections to every single European country and many more beyond. I have intelligence from higher up that there were undercover officers who infiltrated the organisation, which is why in the last six months at least, we have been able to recover more than three hundred people illegally trafficked into this city alone. This officer’s prints are in the system and he had infiltrated up to the very echelons of the organisation. We think he turned.”
She turned back and set up the photographs of the flat, the broken table, the knife, and the gun.
“Forensics are still running the DNA, but there are three types in that room. Blood from a female. And fluids from a male. We’re waiting on more information, but I want to know who Nicodeme was with, who he last had contact with. We’ve got his phone and another we found in the cistern in his toilet. Marcus, run tech on both phones, I want to know who was calling. He also had a laptop and an iPad. Fine-tooth comb on those.
“Alison, I need you on CCTV with Shivata. Xiu, you’ll have to go back to the safe house with the last group you sent there to talk to every single one of them. Someone would have seen something. We’ve got surveillance photos of Nicodeme on the system. Show them around. Someone will bite, if they hear the story. When the forensic comes in, we are back here to regroup. Does anyone not understand what they have to do?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Get on with it.”
They dispersed and Xiu turned quickly to his desk. He had an e-mail from the social worker who had assessed Wen.
Dear DS Jiang,
Having assessed Wen, please find attached my current report and protective plan. This will remain in place until the Home Office has processed him and his mother. They will be shortly moved to a detention centre…
Xiu picked up the phone and dialed the social worker. “What on earth do you mean by transferring that boy and his mother to a detention centre?”
“Hello? Who is this?”
“DS Jiang,” he bit out. “You can’t send him to a detention centre!”
“That Chinese boy? Well, I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything further that we can do.”
Xiu felt the bubbling of rage filling his chest. “After everything he went through, are you telling me you’re sending him and his mother to a glorified prison?”
“Like I said, DS Jiang, I can’t do anything.”
He ended the call with a jab of his thumb and immediately rang a friend. More of an acquaintance who happened to be a useful human being. “Al, how are you?”
“What do you want?” Alan demanded, and Xiu heard the tap of keys in the background. “You’re on speaker, and my PA is staring at me as if I’m talking to one of my clients like this.”
“I obviously need a favour.”
Alan sighed. “What? Who need rescuing now, and are you going to pay?”
“Erm, no? Good case, though; it’ll get you exposure…”
“What type of exposure?”
“Child trafficked into the UK from China, when this country is trying to prove how marketable it will be, post-Brexit.”
Alan thought for a moment. “Sold. E-mail me the details and I’ll get a visit arranged.”
“Needs to be soon. Social worker is in the middle of shipping your eight-year-old client and his mother to a detention centre.”
“What the fuckety-fuck? What’s wrong with social workers? Don’t they have Savilles and Rotherhams to deal with?”
“You’d think,” Xiu said wryly. “Can you move quickly to make sure that doesn’t happen?”
“What’s your interest?”
“The eight-year-old was probably the last person to have contact with a dead man.”
Alan groaned. “Are you serious? No, you know what, don’t tell me anything else or I won’t do it. Does this boy speak any English?”
“Nope.”
“Erica, can you get me a translator, please? What language? Xiu that’s for you, what language?”
“Mandarin.”
“Sorted. You owe me.”
Xiu logged out of his computer. “All the time. I’ve got to go, but I’ll probably see you at the safe house, if you get down there today or tomorrow. Preferably today.”
Alan growled at him. “Don’t push me, you cheeky fucker—you’re getting one for free from me.”
“And I take it, with or without any lubrication,” Xiu teased. “See you later.”
They ended the call and Xiu got back up again. Before he’d even crossed the incident room, his chief bellowed at him again. “Take Rupert with you.”
“Really?”
“Yep. No more solo trips for you. Rupert can do all the note-taking for your interviews.”
X
iu glanced at Rupert who seemed less than enthused to take notes for Xiu. Oh well. “Come on, then, let’s go.”
Rupert grabbed his coat and followed Xiu to his car. “I know my language skills aren’t up to snuff, but I will be able to see the threads connecting to this murder.”
The confidence of untested youth.
“Sure.”
EIGHT
Rae didn’t come for lunch.
Lonán supposed she slept through, after all that Horlicks. It didn’t stifle his own disappointment. She popped around quickly just to return his sparkling clean mug and convey her apologies to Saoirse before disappearing again.
He instead got a call from the agency that set up his translation work.
“Hi Lonán,” Cheryl said breathlessly. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. What can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s more what you can do for us. We have a telephone conference we need you to translate on. It’s in the next half an hour—can you dial in?”
If he said no, that would be another job he had rejected because he didn’t want Saoirse listening in. “Let me check something really quickly and I’ll call you back. Okay?”
“Of course, you know I love listening to your voice. Bye, Lonán!”
He ended the call and took the key from the side bowl. “Saoirse!” he called. She came bounding out of her room, a book clutched between her fingers. “I need to ask a favour, come on.”
She held out her hand to him and he took it. They hurried across the road and Lonán knocked impatiently.
Rae answered, her hair sticking up in awkward angles, sleep creases in her cheek. “Hi.”
“Sorry, Rae, I need a favour. I have a delicate phone conference I need to listen in on, and I need someone to keep an eye on this one…”
“Were you sleeping?” Saoirse asked, blinking at her.
“Yes, sweetheart, I was,” Rae admitted, rubbing her eyes. “I can come over, if you let me put on a bra.”
