by Nana Malone
There was no point in hiding it, at least not from myself. But that meant I had some decisions to make. From the time we moved back to London, my whole life had been focused on my father and keeping him as well as I could. I'd taken care of him, making sure I could afford to pay for his care. When he was gone, I focused on my job. My life. What I had built for myself. But I hadn't really focused on me properly. I'd gone through the motions, but I hadn't actually lived. I hadn't actually moved forward. I was in a holding pattern.
The same kind of holding pattern I'd been in my whole life. Not really here, nor there. My whole life was just blank slate of not really living. And despite his best intentions about my safety, I'm sure this was not what my father would have wanted for me. I know it certainly wasn't what my mother had wanted.
So, I was doing this thing. This thing that was going to cost me everything. The roots I had worked so hard to plant would all go up in smoke if anyone found out.
But Roone, the way he held me, the way he made me feel, had convinced me it was worth the risk. That skin-tingling, bone-melting, irritating fire was under my skin. Whether I wanted to fight with him or kiss him, at least I was feeling.
Real feelings.
I’d spent the weekend making love to him. It had been insane. For the last week, at work, we were perfectly professional. Even the sniping had died down. Although, I told him we had to pick that back up so that neither Evan or Rick would notice. Chloe though… Every time we pretended to snipe at each other, she just gave me a sly wink.
After the gala, the Evans had hired security. Just someone who would walk me out to my car and make sure I didn't go anywhere alone. I didn't go to the parking garage on my own. Since Roone was with me most of the time because we have the same clients, being alone wasn't really a concern the rest of the time, but it was awkward.
I didn't honestly know how long I could go on pretending. Because as time went on, it was about the little things. I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted to walk around with him in public just being us. I wanted to do tourist things like eat at cafés and stroll around the Victoria and Albert Museum. I just wanted to be free. With him.
It was after work hours when Roone came into my office. "Want to try to get out of here?"
"Yeah, but I'm waiting on a call from James. He said he had an address and phone number for that Phillip Winchester guy."
His brows lifted. "Well that's good. I'll stay with you. We can talk about the proposal for London Lords. I have some ideas for budget cutting that could still be beneficial just by using a different vendor. There was this bloke—"
My phone buzzed, and I held up a finger. "Sorry. It's from James."
"What's it say?"
I stared at my phone. "I have a phone number and an address."
"Why don't you look happy about it?"
"I don't know. It was one thing to ask James about the sketches, you know? It's another thing entirely to call up an old friend of my dad’s and say, ‘Oh hey, do you think anyone would have seen these tattoos before.’ I don't know, somehow drawing another person into the conspiracy theory makes it feel like this is real. That all of a sudden, it's not tidy or neat. Honestly, I've never been a tidy, neat person. I'm a little bit messy. I'm kind of a hot head, but I get things done. But now, I'm..." My voice trailed.
Roone's voice was soft. "Scared?"
"Yeah, terrified."
"Well, I'm here. So you call him. What's the worst he could say? ‘I don't know anything about these tattoos. Great sketches though?’"
"Yeah, I guess you have a point."
He waited patiently. Anyone walking by would think that we were just having a meeting. He was relaxed, sort of reclined in his seat. I was hunched over my desk, grabbing on to my cell phone.
"Come on, it's 5:30. Make the call, and we'll get something to eat. We'll order in. Feel like a curry?"
My stomach grumbled. "Oh my God, I would love a curry."
"Great. You make the call, and I will order online. By the time we make it back to our flats, we'll have dinner. Actually, know what? We'll pick it up on the way."
I couldn't help but smile. I lowered my voice in case anyone could hear us. The door was still open, so I had to be careful. "I don't know why but I get the warm squishes thinking about us ordering take out."
He winked at me. "Wait until I tell you that there's going to be dessert too."
I giggled. "Be still my heart." His smile was lazy. And the way he looked at me made my stomach flip and dance. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. You do that. I'll do this."
I picked up the phone and dialed the number.
Someone picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Hello, I'm looking for Phillip Winchester."
"Yeah, this is him."
I said, "Hi, my name is Jessa McLean I believe you knew my father, Andrew McLean, and his wife, Elisa."
"Oh my God, Jessa! It’s been years."
"Yeah. I suppose maybe when you saw me last I was quite small."
"Yes, indeed you were. Maybe eight, nine?"
"Listen, I'm not sure if you knew, but dad, he passed away last year."
"Yeah, I heard. But by the time I found out, the funeral had already passed."
"Oh no, that's not why I'm calling. I picked up some of his things from Hope House, and there were some sketches he’d done. I thought maybe you could take a look at them and tell me if you recognize anything or anyone in them."
"Oh, sketches you say?"
"Yeah. You know dad, forever drawing. It won't take long. I can meet you somewhere. Perhaps a coffee shop? It should only take ten minutes of your time."
"Yes, of course, I would absolutely love to meet."
"You would?"
"Of course. How about tomorrow evening, happy hour. I teach at the university at King's Cross. There's a café close by. When you pass the train station, make a left. Tea and Vine, I think it's called."
"Yes." I scribbled it down so I wouldn't forget. "I can absolutely do that. That's fantastic. Thank you so much."
"Sure thing. I look forward to seeing you again, Jessa. I wonder if you turned out looking like your mother."
I smiled softly. "I hope so. People used to tell me that all the time. But not a lot of people who knew her are around now."
"Well, I'm sure you do. I look forward to seeing you." Then he hung up.
Roone lifted his eyebrows expectantly. "Well?"
"I'm meeting Phillip Winchester tomorrow. Hopefully, he can tell me something useful."
Roone nodded. "Yup. See? We'll get to the bottom of this."
I grinned. "You're still saying we."
"Yeah," he looked around and made sure no one could overhear us. "Because like we discussed, you're stuck with me."
I laughed and stood. “Wait. We have a meeting with vendors tomorrow. You and Chloe will have to take it.”
He frowned but nodded. “Okay. Consider it done. But I want all the news when you finish.”
“Deal.” For the first time, maybe in my whole life, I was looking forward to going home. Because I knew that home would involve conversation with someone about our days and what we loved, and things that made us happy. There was nothing to regret, or fear, or miss at home. I could happily be there because of him. "Okay, I will head out first. I'll meet you at the tube station, and we'll walk together."
He shook his head. "You know what? We can walk out together."
"Are you insane? I'm pretty sure the Evans are still here somewhere."
"Yeah, no shit. But you know what? Doesn't matter. Still safer for you to have someone with you, so we can just be two mates heading off for a curry."
I chewed my lip. "Yeah, okay." I hated to say it, but I was so afraid, though there was no way I was admitting that out loud. Tonight would be for fun things. The things I'd always longed for in my life and finally had. Everything was going exactly how I'd always dreamed and for once, I was going to enjoy it.
Jessa…
Later that night, a knock at the door aroused me from my sleep haze. I’d fallen asleep during the superhero movie. Roone had fed me well, then he’d licked me until I’d been too exhausted to scream. And then he’d held me as we watched some telly.
I was getting way too attached to him. No such thing. Now shut up and enjoy. Roone just tightened an arm around me and tried to keep me tucked against him on the couch.
"Roone, let me go. That might be Chloe with work."
"No, just stay here," he muttered. He lifted his arm and helped me up off the couch. Sometime after making love, we’d thrown on shorts and T-shirts to start our bad-TV binge.
I knew there were a slew of conversations coming. Things we had to iron out. I was enjoying the hell out of myself for the moment, but soon, there would be much talking.
When I looked through the peephole, I was surprised to find someone I recognized. Detective Inspector Spencer. He’d been the one to speak to me after my father died.
“DI Spencer?” I said as I dragged the door open. “What can I do for you?"
His eyes were grave. "May I come in?"
The color leached from my body. Something was wrong. The way he was looking around told me something was very wrong.
"What's wrong?"
He frowned and pulled out a small notebook. "I wish I could say this was a social call or even that it was about your father's death. But Jessa, I have to ask, has anything unusual happened the last few days?"
My gaze darted straight to Roone. He came over at that point and nodded at DI Spencer. "You don't have to answer that," Roone said.
"I have nothing to hide."
DI Spencer’s brows furrowed. "Why would you have something to hide?"
Roone shook his head. "Jessa."
DI Spencer glared at Roone. "Well, strictly speaking, I would suggest you wait until your solicitor gets here."
What the hell was going on? "Solicitor? What do I need a solicitor for?"
His gaze met mine directly. "I hate to break it to you, but Toby Adamson is dead."
Gray flecks of snow flipped over my consciousness. That was all that registered. "What?"
DI Spencer nodded. "The reason I'm here is that there's some evidence at his house that suggested maybe you'd been there, or that he’d been here and removed it from your flat."
Did I hear that correctly? "What? I've never been to Toby's flat."
DI Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic baggy. Inside was a delicate chain with a rose pendant on it.
"I've been looking for that. It was my mother’s. It was stolen when my flat was broken into weeks ago."
Roone gripped my shoulder. "Jessa. Stop talking."
DI Spencer slid him a glance. "He's right. You should stop talking. This is just a friendly conversation. I saw reports at the station of a couple of incidents you were involved in during the past few weeks, and I’m inclined to think that the break-in here and the mugging at the gala was him. Sometimes people become fixated."
I thought about the hang-up calls I’d been receiving of late, but that made no sense. Why call me and get my guard up if he was planning just to mug me later? “What? Toby? No. Also I was on the phone with him when someone tried to mug me.”
“I know it’s hard to imagine, and sometimes it’s impossible to see because there's whole parts of the story that don't line up. and we need to piece them together. It’s also not unheard of for people to use recordings in those type of kidnap situations."
“But—he was a kid.” No way was he the one scaring me.
Roone wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Can we ask, when did he die?”
“Last night around eleven p.m. Stabbed.”
Who in the world would want that kid dead? Suddenly my hairbrained theory that my father wasn’t as sick as I thought was on the rocks. But still, I couldn’t figure out the why of it. It made no sense.
I couldn’t find the words, so Roone spoke for me. ”Thank you for notifying us, DI Spencer.”
“Of course. Miss McLean, if you can think of why anyone might want him dead, you call me, yeah?”
I nodded, too numb to speak.
When DI Spencer was gone, Roone pulled me close. “This is going to be okay. You’re okay.”
I nuzzled in. “I know what he said. I don't believe him. There’s no way Toby came after me.”
“I know. It seems unlikely, but we’ll investigate tomorrow. For now, let’s get to bed so I can hold you.”
I knew I should be strong and start making calls to see if Evans PR could help Toby’s family in some way, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Just for the night, I was going to accept comfort.
I could fix this in the morning.
32
Jessa…
As I rode the tube, I smiled down at my phone. Roone was sending me inappropriate messages. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to keep my mind off of Toby. And all things considered, he was doing a pretty good job of it. The first thing I’d done when I woke up was find out where the services would be and arrange for flowers.
Before I’d left for this meeting, Roone had fed me and done everything he could to keep my mind off of it. And bless him, he was still trying.
Roone: Show me your tits.
Jessa: No. I'm on the train.
Roone: Go on… just stick the phone under your blouse and take a picture.
Jessa: You're impossible.
Roone: I'm pretty sure that's why you love me.
Oh shit. Did he know? No, you daft cow, he's just being facetious. It's like ‘love ya, not serious.’ He doesn't know you're falling for him.
Should I address it? NO!
Jessa: No, pretty sure it's your big cock.
I was a chicken shit. But I wasn't ready to examine any of the feelings I'd been having. I was going to enjoy him and pray that no one from work found out. Oh, and I should also try and figure out how to get around the little no-fraternization rule.
God this should be easier.
Why couldn't I ever do anything simple like fall in love with a nice normal bloke? Why, oh why, did everything have to be so complicated?
Roone: Okay that's good. I can work with that. I'll just keep you so high on orgasms you have no choice but to fall in love with me.
Like an idiot, I grinned. Like every stupid girl before me smiling because some man wants me to fall in love with him by way of giving lots of orgasms.
Jessa: Ah, I'm onto your nefarious plan.
Roone: You will have no choice.
Jessa: I probably never did.
I turned off my phone then. I didn't want to be distracted. If Phillip was taking the time out to meet with me, I couldn't be cheesing off because Roone was asking me to show him my tits. I also couldn't be urgently looking around because I was considering it.
I walked up the stairs into the station and followed the directions he'd given me. When I found the café, I popped my head in, looked around, and found an empty table by the corner. An older gentleman, probably mid-50s, came up to me. "Jessa? My goodness, you do look just like your mother."
I blushed and touched my cheek. "I'm not sure why, but that makes me really happy."
He smiled. "Well, it's a compliment." He opened his arms wide. I felt a little odd about stepping into them, but when I did, I felt safe. Like I'd done this before. I might not remember him, but there was something extremely familiar about him, like he was someone I could trust.
"God, it's been a long time. Have a seat."
I took my seat again, and he joined me.
"Again, I'm so sorry about your father."
"Thank you. It was difficult, but maybe he's at peace now or something. I don't know."
"He loved you very much. I may not have seen him much in the last decade or so, but that much I know. He did come to see me, about two years ago. But I didn't see him again after that."
I frowned. "He came to see you? James didn't mention that he'd come to the city."
> "I think maybe he'd been here to visit you. I don't know. He was lucid, so that was good."
"I have absolutely no recollection of that visit. I mean obviously, he was my dad, so he'd come to see me plenty. But I was always closely monitoring him. You know, just waiting…"
Phillip nodded. "For the other shoe to drop. For the delusions to reappear out of nowhere. And it wasn’t really even out of nowhere, because you know it's always there. It was a constant. But just when you get comfortable and complacent, you're reminded?"
"Yeah, I guess you knew him well."
Phillip nodded. "Yeah. But despite his illness, I loved him. And it hurt to see him like that."
"Yeah, I know." I didn't want to go down the road of how sad we all were because then I would start crying in the middle of a public place, and I really wasn't down for that. "Oh, so let me get out my phone and show you the sketches."
"Yeah, I'm curious as to what you think I can help with."
"Well, I don't know. I don't even know if I'm chasing a ghost or people who aren't real. In some ways, I feel as crazy as he was. Like why am I even bothering? But I have to know, you understand?"
"Sure. And I honestly wouldn't worry."
"Is it that apparent on my face?"
He nodded. "Yeah, you're not him Jessa, and I'm—"
I shook my head rapidly. I pulled up the file and showed him the phone. "It's not really that much of a worry."
He frowned. "I feel like there's something I need to tell you."
I shook my head. "No, if you could just look at these." I knew I was being irrational, but I didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to hear his platitudes.
He leaned forward and took my phone. He frowned as he saw the tattoos in the sketches. "These men don't look familiar to you?"
I shook my head. "I've never seen them before. But you know how it was with dad. These three people worked at the grocery store. This is the mailman, but the tattoo stays constant. Apparently, he sketched it for years. There were so many of it. Different faces, obviously, but this group are the only ones that had it tattooed on their arms. Like they were real people with these tattoos, you know?"
