“What happened to her?” I asked, a horrible, knowing feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.
“She’d bought some books from a charity shop she thought I might like to read. I was a big reader when I was a kid, but after that, picking up a book just reminded me of her,” he explained. “Anyway, she’d forgotten to give them to me on that Friday, so she figured it would be okay to drop them off over the weekend. Clive usually played golf with his father on Saturday mornings. Only his Dad was pissed that he’d dropped a couple of shots the week before, so he told him that one of his employees was going instead. Clive’s presence wasn’t required, and he took it pretty bad. When Sally stopped by, Clive was explaining with his belt how I’d fucked up his golf game. She rushed him, and he shoved her, hard. It wouldn’t have taken much to knock her down. She was frail and unsteady on her feet. If I’d seen her coming, I’d have stepped in. But when he got like that, I learned to curl in a ball and go somewhere else in my head until it stopped. I’d pretend I was in Narnia or some other place I read about. I was fourteen at the time and already pretty big. I probably could have defended myself, but I just got used to shutting down I guess. By the time I realised what happened, it was too late. She hit her head on the newel post of the staircase and died instantly. I knew she was gone the minute she hit the ground. You can just tell with some people when life has left them,” he said flatly.
“What did you do?” I asked, knowing there was more to the story. There was no way Tom would be as tense as he was if it ended there. He took a deep breath, and it was the first time in his whole retelling of the story that he seemed nervous.
“Clive was freaking out. Pacing up and down the hallway, grabbing at his hair and moaning and fucking whining about how his dad was going to kill him. Not giving a shit that he’d ended Sally’s life, just worried about his dad’s reaction. But not me. I stepped over Sally’s body, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a sharp knife from the dish drainer, walked back and stabbed it straight through his heart.”
My heart bled for him. This lost little boy who accepted evil until it was done unto others.
“I know you think it was wrong, but I don’t regret it. Men like Clive will never change. They’re weak and scared, and the only thing that gives them power is fear. He didn’t give a shit about the value of life until I took his away. Martha called the police, but she didn’t do anything to help him. I watched his life slip away as I sat on the stairs and held Sally’s hand, and I didn’t do anything to help him either. I don’t know why I held her hand. She wouldn’t care. The dead don’t know any different. I guess in those final moments, I wanted him to know that she had me, while he had no one. He died on the hallway floor in fucking stupid plaid golfing trousers, and the last thing he saw in this world was me.
“I didn’t say anything when they questioned me, and eventually they deemed it self-defence. After all, I was the quiet kid who liked to read. No prior history of trouble or violence, and he’d just killed an elderly lady. Martha didn’t say anything. Too busy justifying why she was hiding upstairs while I was taking a beating I guess. She sold the house and ran with what was left of Clive’s estate. Came to see me once before she left to try and justify what happened. To share her grief over losing the one person that bound us. I didn’t care to be honest. She wasn’t my mother. She was little more than a stranger, and she had no loyalty to me. I have no idea where she is now. I went back to the group home until I met Nan, but by then I already knew. I had a high tolerance for pain and a talent for killing without remorse. They call me Reaper, because that’s what I am. The fucking Grim Reaper.” He let out a deep breath that was almost cathartic. He was done. I knew everything and how I reacted to that was in my hands now.
“But that’s not how the story ends,” I said.
“What do you mean?” He looked down at me in confusion.
“Well, you make it sound as though you’re some sort of sociopath. You didn’t grow up to be some kind of serial killer, and you don’t torture or kill people for fun. There are plenty of professions, like psychologists and police officers, where you have to learn to turn off emotion and judge a situation dispassionately. Having the ability to distance yourself emotionally from something doesn’t make you a bad person. It’s what you do with that ability that matters. You chose to use those skills in a profession that you felt was morally defensible. You kill people, yes. But evil people who threaten the safety and security of others. You take lives only when you have to and to preserve the freedom of innocents. Isn’t that the moral code of every soldier? Nobody loves the warrior until the enemy is at the gate. There are many people who live safe, easy lives. Who will never be touched by evil. You do what you do so that these people can keep sleeping peacefully in their beds at night. And maybe there are people who would judge you, but I’m not one of them.”
He didn’t reply, but the look he gave me was one that would be burned into my memory for as long as I lived. If he killed for Sally, he would burn down the whole world for me. Because I didn’t judge him. Didn’t want to change him. I just loved him, for the man he was and for what he stood for.
“I don’t deserve you,” he told me. “I have more blood on my hands than you’ll ever know. I’m not good at the romance stuff or talking about how I feel. Shit, there’s going to be times you’ll scream at me in frustration because I don’t know how to do shit like normal people. But I’m never letting you go, buttercup. And until the day comes when they put me in a box in the ground, I’m yours.”
I moved in his arms until I leant on his chest, my chin resting on my fist as I looked him square in the eye.
“Just make sure they don’t put you in that box anytime soon, okay? I’ve been waiting for you a long time, so I deserve at least fifty years with you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a grin, pulling the sheet over our heads as he rolled me under him.
By the afternoon, Nan had declared that she’d had enough of listening to us fornicate and that we were all going shopping. This elicited more than a few grumbles from the guys, but their protests had been half-hearted at best. While Tom and I had made good use of our time, they were restless and antsy. Whether he was supposed to or not, Tom told me about Operation Sceptre. My feelings about it were mixed. On the one hand, I was relieved. Being subject to constant surveillance and having the threat of the Russians hanging over me was wearing, and I was soul sick of being party to it all. I understood that they needed to be sure, but the longer MI5 took, the higher the risk that innocent people would get hurt. On the other hand, I knew that in order have a life with Tom on our terms, a life that was normal and safe, he had to go back into the fray. It was the unknown that scared me most of all. Would he be okay? Would he be able to send word to me when he was safe? When would I see him again once all this was over? They were all questions I didn’t have an answer to, but I guess that didn’t make me any different to most other military wives and girlfriends. I believed in Tom. He would find his way back to me, or die trying.
As much as I loved his home in Breinton, there weren’t exactly a wide range of shops to choose from, which was why, at three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, we found ourselves drinking coffee on Hereford High Street. I’d opted for a hot chocolate with an extra helping of mini marshmallows, much to Tom’s amusement. I could see by the way he watched everything that he was soaking up information like a sponge, always wanting to know what I was reading, what food I enjoyed most. By the predatory look in his eyes every time I brought that sweet, decadent drink to my lips, I knew he was replaying back our time together. When he started brushing his thumb back and forth across his lip, I knew I’d never look at hot chocolate in the same was again.
High Street was an eclectic mix of quaint buildings interspersed with well-known retailers, but the Tudor fronts and quirky buildings gave the place an old-world charm that I’d been missing in London. As I closed my eyes against the low winter sun, I tried to block out all though
ts of going back. If I had my way, I never would.
“Right, you’ve had a sit-down. We’ve only an hour before the shops shut, so let’s get moving,” Nan ordered.
“What’s the rush?” Crash asked. “Unless you’re off to the pub, in which case I’d be happy to join you.” Will coughed in reply and gave him the infamous Dwayne Johnson eyebrow. “I wasn’t gonna drink on duty,” Crash protested. “But drink or no drink, I’d rather be shooting pool in the pub than shopping.”
“Well, you’re out of luck, son. My incontinence pads aren’t going to buy themselves, but if you’re a good boy after we’ve finished, I’ll take you for a bag of peanuts in the pub,” she replied, and he rolled his eyes as we all laughed. Standing up, we all got ready to leave when Tom tugged gently on my sleeve.
“Are you okay to go with Nan? I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I just have something I need to pick up first?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. I stood instinctively on my tiptoes, but dropped back down when something occurred to me. Tugging him towards me by the lapel of his overcoat, which reminded me of the one Daniel Craig wore looking out over a London rooftop in Skyfall, I inhaled the subtle scent of his aftershave before whispering in his ear.
“Is it okay to kiss you goodbye? You know, with people around us?” I asked.
He gave me a half smile, like he was amused by the question, and then turned slightly to grasp the lapels of my coat.
“Not only is it allowed,” he replied, grinning, “I’m pretty sure it’s mandatory whenever you leave me.” With that, he tipped his head and kissed me so thoroughly, my knees nearly buckled. The guys all catcalled, making us smile, and with a last quick peck, he let me go.
“Will?” he asked, looking over towards his friend.
“You go, I’ve got this,” he replied. And with a wink to me, Tom was gone.
“Good Lord,” Nan said, threading her arm through mine. “I feel pregnant just watching you two. I think you’d better follow me to the chemist, dear. Wouldn’t hurt you to stock up on condoms while I get my pads. A woman as damn fine and exuberant as I’m far too young to be a grandmother.”
I was far too used to her shocking one-liners to be horrified or offended. Instead, I embraced the mantra, “If you can’t beat them, join them.”
“Don’t worry, Nan, we’re far too busy working out how we want to christen all the rooms in your house to think about children yet,” I replied.
“Shameless hussy!” she scolded, as she tried to hide her smile.
We walked together down High Street until a store caught my eye.
“Do you mind if we stop here quickly?” I asked her.
“Lead the way,” she replied.
Will pushed open the heavy black door, and we all piled inside. It took me ten minutes to find what I was looking for before grabbing some tape and wrapping paper at the till. I looked over my gift as I stood waiting to pay, not knowing if he’d like it, but absolutely certain that some things should not be forgotten.
Sarah
The drive back to London was surprisingly upbeat. With our relationship pretty much out in the open, we were a lot more tactile in the back of the car than we’d allowed ourselves to be before. That wasn’t to say that I spent the journey straddling him and kissing until we were both breathless like I wanted to, but sometimes the smallest of touches were the sweetest seduction. His calloused fingers would trace over mine before he’d turn my palm upwards and repeat the dance. A ribbon of desire unfurled inside me with every stroke. It was like having every sensitive nerve ending linked to his touch by invisible threads.
I twisted and turned restlessly in my seat, clamping my thighs together tightly and trying in vain to control the rush of need rippling through my body. I could tell by his sexy smile that the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. His military training gave him absolute control over everything from his breathing to his heart beat, and he was a master at hiding his reaction. The rock-hard bulge in his suit trousers gave him away though, reassuring me that I wasn’t the only one suffering. When he brushed his thumb of his free hand along his plump bottom lip in a way he knew drove me crazy, I shivered and promptly poked my tongue out at him. His laugh was rich and full of happiness, making Eli turn around sharply in his seat. After all, it was a sound none of us heard very often. Lifting our joined hands in his warm grip, he brushed a kiss over the back of my knuckles, his deep brown eyes filled with playful affection.
It was early evening by the time we arrived at Dad’s place. Will and the rest of the team disappeared to wherever it was they went when they weren’t with us. At some point during the journey, I’d become so fed up with looking out of the black windows, that I scooted over to press up against Tom, resting my head wearily against his shoulder. It was in that position, the comforting scent of his shaving soap and aftershave surrounding me, that I woke to find myself at the one place guaranteed to deflate my euphoria.
“It’s like coming back to a prison,” I whispered, almost to myself. I should have known he would hear me. He heard everything. Squeezing my hand reassuringly, he pulled me into the house. Wearing a sulk like a petulant kid, I followed him reluctantly inside.
“Do you want anything to eat?” he asked.
“I’m not hungry for a big meal, but I could snack,” I admitted.
“Netflix and pizza?” he suggested, cocking his head to the side, and I knew he was remembering the last time we did that. I smiled affectionately, loving that he knew exactly what I needed to make me feel better.
“Perfect,” I replied.
“Why don’t you grab a shower and load up that series we watched before. I’ll order the pizza and bring it up when it gets here.”
“Sounds great.” I brushed my fingers across his, wishing desperately that there weren’t people listening to every word we said, and headed upstairs. Ten minutes later, the shower was running, and having stripped off my jeans, I stood in front of the mirror removing my makeup, clad only in a sweater and my underwear, when Tom burst in. Closing the door as quickly as he’d opened it, he spun me round to press me up against it and spearing his big hand into my hair as he kissed me senseless. The instant his lips touched mine, I was lost. Hours of secret touches and pent-up desire boiled to the surface, and I groaned as I opened wider, giving him everything he demanded. He slid his hand up my thigh, pulling my leg to wrap around him, and lining his hard length against that one spot that set my body on fire.
A moan escaped me as his tongue tangled with mine, his huge frame making me feel so small and fragile and protected. He rocked slightly so I could feel the full force of his erection, and I grabbed the back of his head in desperation, frantically needing to anchor myself against the tidal wave of longing rushing over us both. Reluctantly breaking our kiss, he leant his forehead against mine and closed his eyes as he slowed his breathing.
“What was that for?” I asked softly, aware of the microphones in the next room. His eyes were still closed as I nipped slightly at that bottom lip that would be the death of me.
“That was for me. Because I can’t fall asleep next to you tonight without taking a taste of you with me,” he replied. Keeping me in the cage of his arms, we spent the next few minutes sharing gentle kisses and nuzzling one another as steam from the shower filled the room. Cupping my face one last time, he stroked my cheek gently with his thumb when his phone buzzed to announce that someone was at the gate, dragging us back to reality. I moved to let him by, and with one final kiss, he was gone, leaving me, a complete boneless mess alone in the shower, contemplating how it was that I had fallen so absolutely and completely in love with this man.
For the next five days, we fell into a strange sort of routine. Mark Delaney continued to visit, and I diligently scanned each of the manifest changes before signing them. Tom felt that it would arouse too much suspicion with Vasili if I didn’t look as if I was playing an active role in the business, and so I continued my usual duties after Mark left, though I f
ound myself caring less and less about the company when I realised that my presence was essentially immaterial. The board made any important decisions and no one member, myself included, had enough of a majority to overrule the rest, and few of those decisions made while I was there were ground-breaking. The company had been running for over two hundred years without me, and my existence there felt almost like a blip on the radar. With not even a door plaque to my name, I could simply pick up my handbag and my mother’s pen and walk out, and it would be as though I’d never been there at all. Minute by minute, the idea seemed to become more and more appealing.
Tom, on the other hand, took it all in his stride. He’d found a way to access the images of the scanned manifests though a secure link, given to him by MI5, so he spent his time trawling through the paperwork, determined that not one shipment would be missed, no matter what it contained. I’d decided to give him his gift Friday, but by Wednesday I couldn’t wait any longer. When I saw his face as he opened it, I ached for my charcoals. I wanted to encapsulate that moment by my own hand forever. He peeled the paper off in a careful way that spoke of how few presents he received before running his hand reverently across the gold-embossed cover.
City Under Siege Page 18
