He's Back

by Aria Ford

  I slit my eyes at him. Was that as sinister as it appeared to be? Or was it really just an innocent comment, a quip about my dust allergy?

  “Yeah,” I said neutrally. “What you got in there? Spiders?”

  He chuckled. “Wouldn't surprise me, Drake. Great big ones, probably, like the size of a hand...” he trailed off, shuddering. “Hope not. I really hate spiders.”

  I laughed and we spent a few minutes discussing the relative merits of hairy and non-hairy spiders, before he stood and, rolling his shoulders, went back to work. I handed him the key.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Good to have it back. We don't want all sorts of people snooping around in there, do we?” he added. “Who knows what might get out, hey?”

  I stared at him but he'd turned away, already heading from the room. I shivered.

  I wonder if I'm playing these people, or if, after all, I'm the one being played?

  It was an uncomfortable feeling. All the same, I knew now that we'd found the last piece.

  All we needed to do now was to find out about Blue Vales in Brazil. And then get this out into the public domain before it was too late. As it was, it felt like someone was suspecting us. We'd have to be quick.

  I went back to my office and tried to focus on the minor legal contract I was supposed to be drawing up. I was having trouble focusing, my mind far away, following trains of thought all its own. I wasn't making much progress and I stretched, yawning, and looked at my watch.

  Five-thirty.

  I remembered my earlier resolution to have a workout today. I stretched again, rolling my shoulders experimentally. It was no bad idea, actually. I could do with relieving my stress.

  I got to my feet and packed my things and headed to my car.

  “Bye,” I called to Mrs. Slate, the secretary.

  “Goodbye, Drake,” she called coyly. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you.”

  I drove away home. Once there I hurriedly changed into my running-gear and jogged down the stairs, heading out to the park. It was a nice evening – cool but not cold, with the sun just starting to sink behind the tree line – and I breathed deeply, enjoying the evening. I was starting to feel rested already as I jogged slowly down the path.

  I noticed a woman at the edge of the path, doing stretches with one foot up on the bench. Something about her caught my eye. She had a compact figure, with muscled calves and high breasts. She had fluffy dark-blond hair and, when she turned, big brown eyes.

  When I got closer, she stared at me.

  “Ainsley,” I said with a big, amazed smile. “What a nice surprise.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ainsley

  I stared at Drake. Oddly, my first thought on seeing that handsome face was that I was wearing my old faded tracksuit and scruffy old trainers. I felt my face flush with embarrassment.

  “Drake,” I said. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  My heart fluttered. Just looking up at him I was suddenly flooded with memories of the memorable night we'd spent together yesterday. “I... what a surprise to see you here,” I murmured.

  He nodded. “You can say that again.” He flashed a grin at me. “I'm just jogging,” he added, though that was self-evident from the running clothes.

  “Me too,” I said shyly.

  “I guessed.”

  The silence stretched between us. The park was cool with evening. Here and there, people stood and chatted or jogged. A dog ran to greet another one, the noise of their barking spilling out across the sunset-bright lawns.

  “Lots of people,” I said.

  “Mm.”

  I turned away a moment, not sure what to say next. On the one hand, I was really pleased to see him. On the other hand, I felt desperately uncomfortable. I hadn't made my mind up about him yet and I really wanted to confront him about his role with Steelcore. I just didn't feel like confronting anyone when I was wearing a stained t-shirt and faded Adidas bottoms.

  “It's a good evening for a jog,” I said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You finished work early,” I commented.

  “So did you.”

  “Monday's my half-day,” I explained, stretching my other leg while I did so. I felt my calf-muscle pull – a combination of the day's tension and the early-evening cold – and focused on the sensation instead of thinking about what I should or shouldn't be saying to Drake.

  “Oh. That's nice.”

  I stopped stretching and looked up at Drake. “I wanted to ask you something,” I said candidly.

  “Oh?” he frowned. Was it just me, or did he look nervous? Must be my imagination. Why would he be?

  “It's about your work,” I said. “With Steelcore.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked at his hands and this time he really did look nervous. He held the fingers of his left hand with his right, stroking the skin in a nervous habit I remembered from eight years before, when he was waiting to go into an exam or give a seminar. I smiled.

  “I'm not the police, Drake,” I said with a chuckle.

  His eyes narrowed, to my surprise, and then he laughed too. “Well? Fire away,” he said with a watery grin.

  I sighed. “I wanted to ask why. Why them? Why Steelcore, of all places? If you had to be a corporate lawyer, couldn't you have just, you know, worked for a better corporation? One without, you know, such a shady background?”

  He closed his eyes. His hands stayed where they were, locked together, fingers intertwined nervously. When he looked up, he was quite pale. “Ainsley,” he said softly.

  “Mm?”

  “Would you mind if I don't answer that question? Not yet? It doesn't...it doesn't come with an easy answer.”

  “Okay,” I said cautiously. “Now I'm really curious. But okay. You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to.”

  He let out his breath in a long, wavering sigh. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

  I frowned. What was this all about? I looked away over the parkland, distracting myself from my sudden worrying thoughts. Watched a woman walking a poodle over the lawn, its pom-pom tail wagging jauntily. The sight stilled my anxious mind. What was Drake doing at Steelcore? Why couldn't he tell me?

  Is he ashamed of what he's doing there?

  That seemed the most likely conclusion I could draw. Probably he'd had to draw up a dodgy contract or something. There was something, certainly, he'd been made to do that didn't make him proud. I couldn't hold him responsible for that. He was employed there. He did what he was told to do.

  But why sign up for that in the first place? That was the not-understandable part. I sighed.

  “You finished with your run?” I asked, shrugging a shoulder. Whatever this was, I was probably best out of it. I should walk away now while I still could.

  “Just starting, actually,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh.” I paused. “I guess I'll see you around, then.”

  He looked disappointed. He didn't move.

  “Ainsley?”

  “Yeah?”

  He reached out to take my hand. I let him. His fingers closed over mine and my heart ached. Oh, Drake, I thought sadly. I wish you weren't part of all this...other stuff. I wish we could just be like we were again.

  “Can I ask you to promise me something?” Drake said, surprising me.

  “Maybe,” I said curiously.

  He grinned. “I can't say fairer than that, can I. Okay. I want you to promise that, whatever I do, you'll stay safe. Okay?”

  I frowned. “Okay. But...Drake?”

  “Mm?”

  “What's this about? Why can't you tell me something? You can trust me, can't you?”

  He gave a lopsided grin. “Maybe,” he said.

  I was surprised by how hurt I felt at that. I tensed and he let go of my hand. “What's that mean?” I asked, swallowing the lump that had risen, unbidden, in my throat. “If you don't trust me, then what are you even talking to me for?”

  “A
insley...” he protested. He looked up at me with big, sad eyes.

  I was mad at him now. It felt as if the eight years of being ignored and discounted, all that pain and sadness suddenly floated to the surface; unspoken words finally reaching my lips.

  “No, dammit, Drake. I am not promising you anything,” I said loudly. “If you don't trust me and you can't even tell me something – like where you are going for eight years, or why you've changed so much now – then why should I confide anything in you? Why should I trust you? You betrayed me.”

  I was crying, without even realizing I was doing it. I reached up a hand as my nose started running, messily, onto my chin. But the tears wouldn't stop. I turned away, shoulders shaking.

  “Ainsley,” he whispered. A hand touched my shoulder. I shook it off angrily.

  “Go away,” I said. I fished in my pocket, found a Kleenex, and blew my nose. “Just go, Drake.”

  Why did I feel so weird? It was like a dam had burst inside me and I couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the tears from coming out.

  He sighed. He stood behind me for a while. I knew he was there because I hadn't heard him walk away yet. After a long moment, he turned and walked away. I heard his trainers crunching on the frost-crisp grass.

  Good.

  Only when I'd heard him go did I turn around again. I'd managed to get my tears to stop, then, though one or two passersby gave me sympathetic looks. I sighed. It's not as bad as it looks, I wanted to say. In truth, it was as bad as it looked. I was miserable.

  I sat down on the bench, feeling totally drained. I looked around the park with little interest. Children were still playing – I could hear yells as they climbed from the monkey bars or swung on swings. Dogs were chasing each other round now, making jagged lines across the grass with their paw-prints; black etchings in the frost.

  “Drake,” I sighed. “What is all this?”

  I looked between the trees, trying to see if I could spot him on the path, but by then he was long gone, jogging out of my life.

  It seemed a sad sort of symbol to me, those footsteps on the path, walking away. He had done that twice, now. The first time, when he'd gone away and left me no explanation, no rationale for not coming back. The second time, when he'd refused to let me into his life again. Always secrets! I sighed.

  “At least something's stayed the same,” I told myself dully. He was consistently secretive, consistently unable to tell me the truth, or to open up.

  I stood and spent a moment rubbing weary hands down my biceps, driving out the cold. I walked over to my car. No point in staying around – he wasn't going to come and explain himself to me.

  The sad part was that despite it all – the mistrust and secrets, the lying – I still loved him. I couldn't help it.

  I jogged the two blocks back to my apartment, my eyes hazed with the slow fall of tears.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Drake

  I woke the next morning feeling like the sky had fallen on my head. I was wrecked.

  “Come on, Ainsley,” I said, noticing none of my messages had been answered from yesterday. “Don't walk away – not now.”

  It was the joy of finding her again, I realized, that had kept me going through this awful tension. And now I'd gone and spoiled it.

  “Drake Leblanc. Total asshole.”

  I sighed and slid out of bed, rolling my stiff shoulders. I'd slept badly that night, with uneasy dreams.

  In the kitchen I put the kettle on to make a proper cup of coffee. I breathed in the deep, earthy scent of the coffee-grounds and sighed, letting the caffeine-scent weave through my brain and wake me up. I should phone her. I should visit. Send her flowers. I sighed. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't ever very good at being romantic.

  “You never complained about that,” I said, sighing, as if I was talking to Ainsley. I'd taken for granted how accepting she was, always. I'd put her through so much shit and she'd just smiled and welcomed me back.

  Kelly wouldn't have done that. She would have bust my ass.

  I chuckled. After Ainsley, Kelly was a cross between Godzilla and Tinkerbell. I had been completely unprepared for her. She'd told me as much, too. Said I'd been spoiled. I had been.

  Ainsley Johnson. If I could think of something to show how sorry I am, I'd do it.

  I was sitting at my kitchen table with a coffee and muesli, feeling sorry for myself, when the phone rang. I jumped up and ran to it, knocking over the cereal-box and spilling wholegrain muesli everywhere. I didn't even notice.

  “Ainsley...” I pressed answer.

  “Hi,” Liam said.

  I let out a long sigh. “Liam! Hi,” I said weakly. Dammit! Why did it have to be him now?

  “Hey,” he said. “How's it going?”

  “Not terribly,” I said pragmatically. “More importantly, how're things your side?”

  “Okay,” Liam replied. He sounded wired. “That's why I called. I think it's okay.”

  “You do?” I felt my whole body relaxing. I hadn't realized how much I'd been worried about that. “How d'you know?”

  “I know because no strangers have come knocking at my IP address.”

  “Oh.” I frowned. “Plain English, please?”

  “I mean, no-one has managed to trace the hacking back to me. To us. We're okay.”

  “Whew.” I sat down heavily, wincing as my shoes crunched wholegrain into the floor. “You know that for sure?”

  “As sure as I can be, Drake,” he said. “Wanna go celebrating?”

  “No,” I said loudly. I sighed. “I mean, no. I don't think that's a good idea yet. We don't know it's okay yet. Okay?” Dammit, why was I so tired? I could barely think straight.

  “Okay,” he said. I could hear the raised eyebrows and confused expression down the phone. He was clearly upset and I couldn't blame him. Was that any way to thank him for all his stress and hard work?

  “Look, Liam,” I sighed. “I'm sorry. Things are just a bit stressful at my end just now. Not that I think they're not at yours,” I added with a chuckle. “Thanks, man. Really. I appreciate it. As soon as things are settled down here, we have to meet up. I have to talk to you about...my findings...too.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. He sounded contented now. “The contract.”

  “Exactly,” I said, wincing slightly at his mention of it. I knew I was being paranoid – who would bother to bug my phone, for pity's sake? – but I couldn't help it.

  “Well? You have a plan about that?”

  “I do,” I said confidently. My plan was to fly to Brazil and pay a visit to the mine, take a team of journalists and capture evidence on film – but I wasn't going to talk about it just yet.

  “Great,” Liam said. “I trust you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling moved by that. “Glad someone does.”

  He chuckled. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “I would,” I said with a faint smile, “if I knew what I was talking about.”

  Liam laughed. “That bad, eh?”

  “Very much that bad.”

  Liam sighed. “When I see you, we'll talk about that, too – whatever it is. Put our feet up, have beer and talk. Sound good?”

  “Sounds like paradise,” I said feelingly.

  “Right,” Liam said briskly. “Well, maybe we can meet on Friday, after work. Then we can go to paradise, eh?”

  I laughed. “I'll do my best to make it.”

  “You do that. Bye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  We hung up. I sighed, leaning back in my chair. I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted out of my chest. At least we knew that side of the business was safe. No one had managed to trace Liam's incursions – at least not as far as we knew. That was worth celebrating.

  “I'd like to see Liam,” I said to myself. “But I'd rather not be free on Friday.”

  I would rather, I thought as I grabbed the broom and started sweeping up the breakfast-cereal, be spending Friday night with Ainsley.

  “Some ch
ance of that happening,” I said aloud. I knelt down on the floor with the brush and dustpan, then stood up, sighing as I noticed the dust on the knees of my new black trousers.

  Sometimes nothing goes as you planned. I threw out the dirt, bent down and dusted my knees and then headed down to the car.

  An hour later, after being stuck in traffic, I was sitting behind my desk at work.

  “Mr. Leblanc?” a voice said behind me.

  I jumped and almost spilled my coffee on myself. “Yes? What?”

  The man looked at me with round eyes and then chuckled. “Sorry, sir,” he said.

  He was a young man – in his late twenties, I thought – with a bald head and a gray t-shirt with some slogan on it. He looked slightly uncomfortable. I frowned.

  “Were you looking for me?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah. You're Drake Leblanc, right?”

  “That's me,” I said grimly. “Why do you ask?”

  He chuckled. “I'm the technician, sir,” he said. “I was told we needed to check your PC. If you don't mind?”

  I frowned. “Check it? What for?”