by Matt Troy
I massaged my forehead and squinted at Matt. "About what?"
Chapter 3
Matt hesitated again. "About your theories on Callum. Do you really have doubts that he's the killer or were you just refusing to back down in front of Carly?"
Oh great question when I feel like shit. That's real compassion. Do your best to trigger off another rant in me when I really should be trying to stay calm. I paused to glare at Matt. "Of course I was bloody serious. And considering I'm the only one of us who has spent any time with Callum, I don't see why you all think my opinion doesn't count!"
Matt quickly raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Relax. I just wanted to know."
I subsided, but only slightly. "I don't see why I'm criticised for putting some effort into working this mess out," I muttered. "I still say that relying on clichés and the presumption this is some trashy novel isn't going to get us anyway. As far as we're concerned, it's real and happening. That means it's not a trashy novel and we can't take the plot for granted."
Matt studied me carefully before nodding slightly. "While you do have a valid point, Callum is the only person who seems even remotely likely to be a suspect at this point. So the rest of us are going to keep working on that assumption." He held up a hand to cut off my unvoiced protest. "However, if you can find some reason for another person wanting to kill him, then we can expand our list. But we're going to need real evidence of a motive."
I raised an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
"That would mean William dying. We're going to have to forget that this once." Matt smiled and got to his feet. "We'll try and keep you and Carly apart for today … give you both time to get over your hangovers and calm down."
I watched him make his way across the room and he actually had his hand on the door before a thought came to me. "Oi, Matt," I called, waiting for him to turn back to face me with a questioning expression. "Why was Carly getting so arsey about me and Callum hanging out anyway?"
Matt gave me another of his trademark measuring stares. "You mean you haven't noticed?" he asked with a fair amount of disbelief. "Whenever the pair of you gets together the air fills with pheromones and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. She probably thought it was affecting your judgement."
"Eh?" I blinked. "What are you getting at?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "You always were totally oblivious to that sort of thing, weren't you?" Shaking his head, Matt exited the room.
Even once he'd gone I continued to stare at the closed door as though it held the secret to life itself. Or at least the answer to this bloody murder-mystery … I wasn't asking for much. And try as I might to think of someone else to put in the role of prime suspect, the only thing I could concentrate on was what Matt had said about Callum and I. Why was everybody jumping to conclusions concerning the pair of us? Sure Callum sometimes had this little seductive act going on, but it was just to keep me off-balance and confused. Maybe the others hadn't worked that out and while on the subject of Callum…
Oh my god. Fucking crap. Bloody hell. I passed out in front of him last night after slurring like an idiot. Shit. My cheeks flamed and I groaned again, this time burying my face in my hands for good measure. What a fucking arse I made of myself. He wasn't going to lose that little smirky expression of his for the whole day. I sighed. Once again: alcohol is not my friend. Alcohol is not my friend. Alcohol is not my friend.
I somehow managed to get showered and dressed though the final result still didn't look that much different to an animated corpse. If Carly was bouncing around the house by now, I was going to kill her. However before I saw Carly, I ran into Callum again.
He was just walking in through the front doors carrying a bucket filled with now dirty soapy water and a sponge. Water had splashed on his black skin-hugging top making the lines of his torso that much more visible. He paused when he saw me and set the bucket down to brush his hair back with both hands and regard me with that look of faint amusement I was getting so used to. "Hey, how are you feeling this morning?"
For some bizarre reason, I found my cheeks turning a flaming red and ducked my head in an effort to hide the evidence until the colour died done. I coughed to clear my throat and tried to act as though I wasn't completely embarrassed and wanting to hide somewhere. "Ahem. Quite well thank you." I chanced a look up. "And, er, and yourself?" I suddenly stopped and felt my face drain in colour as I realised I was acting like Hugh fucking Grant. Noooooooooooooo. Oh god, someone just shoot me now. Please.
Either unaware or choosing to ignore my mental kick-myself-and-get-my-bloody-act-together aura, Callum reached back down to pick up the bucket again. "I'm afraid you missed the family breakfast, but if you want to follow me I can knock you up something in the kitchen?"
I successfully fought the wave of nausea the mere thought of food provoked. "Er, no food thanks. I think I'm just going to grab a coffee."
Callum shrugged. "Good enough. I'm on my way to get one now. Come on, I'll show you the way to the kitchen so you won't have to worry about starving while in this house."
I managed a weak smile as I moved down the stairs to join him, but starvation really seemed like a tempting idea right about now. To get my mind off food I found myself studying Callum's appearance. "So … what have you been doing?" Somehow that comment sounded ridiculously suggestive coming out of my mouth and I felt my cheeks flare back into full glowing life.
Callum glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes; that almost smile definitely hovering around his mouth. "I own a motorbike. I was just cleaning it up."
"And I bet you clean up so well," I purred, before realising what I'd said and making a strangled choking sound. Fuck, hangovers seemed to completely prevent my brain from censoring the crap coming out of my mouth. By some miracle it seemed like Callum either hadn't heard or was just choosing to ignore my idiocy. We walked the rest of the way to the kitchen in silence and I was grateful for it.
The kitchen itself was, of course, expansive and gorgeous in white marbled surfaces and chrome. I was part shown/part guided onto a stool at the breakfast bar while Callum wandered over to make a start on the coffee. Folding my arms on the cool surface I rested my chin on my arms as I watched the dark-haired teen rummage in a cupboard above his head. He stretched upwards for something, causing the tight shirt to virtually ripple across his back before pulling away from the waistband of his jeans entirely. I realised I was staring and shook my head just as he pulled two mugs from the cupboard and turned to face me. "Do you want instant or freshly ground coffee?" he asked. "I think we've got some coffee beans in the bottom of the fridge somewhere."
My mouth answered before I had even fully registered the option. "Ground please."
With a nod Callum turned back and pulled open the fridge doors before bending down to search for the coffee. I watched the way the material of his trousers stretched over his admittedly nicely shaped arse and wondered just what kind of underwear he could have on under such tight jeans. Maybe he isn't wearing any somehow made its way into my thoughts and promptly turned my face bright red for yet another time this morning.
Trying to give myself something to concentrate on other than parts of Callum's anatomy, I got to my feet and made my way over to join Callum. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Withdrawing the bag of beans from the fridge Callum looked up at me and gestured towards the sink. "Sure, you want to get some water? It's all set up over there."
Glad to have something to focus on, I obediently made my way over and fumbled about with the coffee machine. Eventually I worked out what to do, just as Callum tipped the beans into the grinder and paused, glancing over at me. "If you've still got a hangover, you might want to cover your ears for this bit." I took his advice and a mercifully short while later, it was all over. Callum made his way over to join me and set up the coffee to brew. Leaning on the counter directly in front of me, he tilted his head back slightly as he regarded me with an expression that
bordered on sympathetic. "Feeling any better yet?"
"Not yet," I admitted, just as the smell of coffee hit my nose. "But I think I will soon." I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma. "Mmm," I murmured dreamily. "Something smells good." On opening my eyes again, I realised that Callum was still standing very close and I blushed. "The coffee, I mean. Er, not that you don't smell good too, but it's the coffee I'm remarking on. Even if I did just mention you and oh god I'm rambling again, do you see this? This is what happens when I'm hung-over and haven't managed to drink any coffee yet."
"Amusing as it is to find out how deeply you can blush, I'm going to take that statement to mean you'd like some coffee now," Callum commented before turning back to the coffee machine. "It's pretty much done now anyway." He poured out two mugs of the steaming black liquid and passed one to me.
I accepted it with a smile and brought the mug to my lips, savouring the anticipation of that first sip. "This has to be one of the best ways to wake up in the morning," I sighed.
Callum quirked an eyebrow as that smirk hovered over his lips again. "What would make it better?"
My mind was finding it hard to concentrate, even with the first intake of caffeine. "Er," I had to suddenly push a whole selection of unsuitable comments and images from my mind. "Apart from the hangover, I meant," I mumbled pathetically and took another drink of coffee to try and help my brain get a fucking grip. Oh god, bad phrasing … I did not just think that.
Some of that train of thought must have shown on my expression, for Callum's lips twitched in what could have been a smile. He turned away from me again and set his mug down on the counter. "I'm going upstairs," he announced. "I want to get out of these wet clothes."
My mind seemed to agree with Callum's sentiments and started throwing up an eye-boggling array of images to accompany that particular statement. As Callum left the kitchen, my eyes decided to further torment my vulnerable consciousness and fixate themselves once more on the way his behind moved in his jeans. In my distress, I gulped too large a mouthful of coffee and burnt my tongue on the hot liquid. At least the pain gave me something else to focus on.
I turned to face the side and took the fact that I was now alone as a prime opportunity to wonder what the hell was wrong with me this morning, using that tried and tested method of bringing forehead into contact with hard surface in this case the work-surface. I was getting quite a good rhythm going when a voice called out to me. "Blake? Are you in here? Oh dear!"
I looked up to find a very distressed looking Naomi standing in the doorway watching me with that overly cautious fashion you use around mad people who might snap. Trying my best to look nonchalant and unconcerned by her sudden appearance, I leaned against the counter. "Hangover cure," I explained with a completely straight face.
Naomi managed to dredge up some approximation of a smile and nodded. "Oh, I see. Does it work?"
"It does as a matter of fact," I answered, wondering just what kind of an idiot would accept that as an excuse in the first place. "The pain gives you something to focus on and make you realise how much worse you could be feeling."
"How clever," Naomi exclaimed, forcing me to ask myself just who was humouring whom. I raised an eyebrow in an unspoken enquiry as to her presence and she gave a slightly nervous giggle. "I just came to see how you're doing. We haven't seen you at mealtimes."
"I've been doing my own thing," I apologised with a shrug and a smile. "But I appreciate your concern."
Pausing, Naomi studied me for a moment or two before making her way further into the room and perching on one of the stools by the breakfast bar. She went to bite her lip, but visibly caught herself in time and cleared her throat instead. "Actually Blake, it's more than just mealtimes, we barely see you at all." Breaking off to think of some way of phrasing her thoughts, Naomi tucked a long errant strand of curling hair behind her ear before continuing. "I know you had your heart broken before you came here and, well… The best way of getting over someone that important isn't shutting your friends out."
My smile was definitely feeling forced now. Damn Carly and her bloody back-story. "I assure you, it really wasn't that serious."
Naomi pursed her lips as she tilted her head back to look at me through slightly narrowed eyes. I'd seen that expression on my mother, usually when I was trying to convince her that I wasn't the one responsible for the fact that all the alcohol in the house appeared to have been consumed. Admittedly when my mother was using that look, I normally deserved it, but this time I must confess to feeling somewhat persecuted. And just how the hell could Naomi believe whatever pile of crap Carly told her over the evidence of her own eyes? I was clearly not heartbroken and pining over some lost love. And who in their right mind would dump me for a girl anyway? I mean honestly…
THE END
(FREE BOOK)
THRILLER
KILL OR BE KILLED
The Erotic Flashback.
He was certainly a mercenary, he had this particular swagger, this incredible poise, even when crossing the river banks or hacking through jungles sweating out his guts.
Captain ‘Killer’ Kelly had followed him for six miles through the night. Across the river bank, through a section of the Singha Raja Forest; now he was resting, getting his breath in short, gasping snorts preparatory to traverse the home stretch.
Home of Praba, the Satan of war, the vicious terrorist whose religion was taking lives, the shedding of blood, the stirring of maniacal passion in men who would be far better off home screwing their wives, tilling their fields drinking their Palmyra palm toddy, loving their children.
The mercenaries were the left hand of this fanatic who loved war above everything and who lived in ultimate comfort and protection and seclusion among his fellow fanatics deep in the jungle.
It was captain ‘killer’ Kelly’s job to bring the man out from his jungle lair. To topple the mad men. To eliminate the rebel group, to educate the mad-man’s followers or kill them, to bring peace once again to Elephant pass and peace to the northern province.
Captain Kelly’s job for the moment was to topple Selva a petty chief and the eastern province war lord.
As a highly trained commando his mission was to penetrate deep into the jungle where the terrorist were taking refuge and also terrorizing the innocent indigenous people living there. His job as a sniper was to bring the leader of a small group of terrorists from his jungle lair.
To eliminate this despot. His superiors threw the challenge on their faces and as none was prepared to volunteer, captain Kelly, like the ass hole he was volunteered least expecting that the mission would be a one man show. If he had known what he learned, he probably wouldn’t have spoken too soon, but now it was too late. He knew he had a great deal more to learn, all of it bad, he was to live off the land alone and confront a small group of terrorists armed to the teeth. What he didn’t know was how many were there in this particular group. He was dropped off at the edge of the jungle and from there he was on my own.
In his camouflage kit he increased his pace, sweating like a eunuch with an erection trying to find cover quick. He checked his weaponry. He had his AK47 hanging lose by its strap around his neck along with a long barreled sniping rifle with a silencer fixed, there were a couple of grenades, there was a Rambo knife strapped on the inner side of his left thigh almost touching his testicles a long machete on his hip and a somewhat primitive weapon, a small but sophisticated cross bow and arrows. In short he was a walking arsenal.
With stealth he penetrated the jungle and stood near a trail, behind some low grown trees, keeping an eye out for his unseen foes. He saw a shadow of a moment and stood dead still and saw a terrorist, he was so sure of himself he did not bother about stealth, he acted as if it was his domain. Kelly let him pass him and trailed him about one hundred yards behind. He was making his way towards a small mud thatched house of one of the indigenous people.
There was a feminine scream that rent the quite jungle night,
it told him one thing, and only one, and the indigenous old man had a daughter. The terrorist knew about her. He had stopped for fun and frolic, and she was not interested. The terrorists advances had failed to charm the lass.
Kelly gripped the crossbow tight and dashed noiselessly towards the house; He armed the crossbow with an arrow. Time was important, but silence was vital. There was a whole group of terrorist lurking in the area. One shot and the sound would bring the whole damned lot on his trail. Screams, especially feminine ones, did not send them crashing out of their jungle hideout. Feminine screams had been rather commonplace in this vicinity.
They would never become commonplace with him. His batman had told him once, “Sir, you will never fall prey to the real enemy. You will get yours, sir, on the trail of a woman’s skirt.” The women he played around with, he visualized one woman with whom he had spent a week back. Kelly had met her at the officers mess, after a few rounds of drinks the lady had invited him to her home, which he accepted gladly. She was the wife of another officer who was engaged in the combat area. Since the reason for the invitation was quite obvious no sooner than Kelly reached the lady’s home, her name being Judy. Kelly pulled Judy to him and undid the band at her waist slipped her dress over her shoulders and let it slip to the floor. She gasped and bent down. Kelly thought she was going to retrieve her dress instead; she was fumbling with his pant.
She was in some kind of urgency to get it off. Kelly felt that she was really starved for sex. As a matter of fact, she really was. For almost two long months she has had no sex with a man, she had been masturbating throughout.
