by Sibel Hodge
I gave a short, bitter laugh and stared upwards, watching the shadows from the trees outside dancing on the ceiling. My head and heart spun at a hundred miles an hour.
We’d been through this so many times since I’d started working for Brad. Two years ago, he’d asked me to marry him. And while I was basking in the happiness of it all, he’d upped and disappeared for three months on a secret SAS mission without a word. Not a single word. No phone call. No text. No letter. No email. Nothing. I’d thought he was dead or injured somewhere, dying a horrible death. Then I’d thought he just didn’t love me anymore, or he’d been having an affair with someone and run off with them, or he’d simply had enough of me for no particular reason. The crazy, irrational thoughts took over from the sensible ones. I racked my brains, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation why he couldn’t have just let me know he was OK, let me know I was still the most important thing in his life.
When he finally returned, I was a wreck. I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t speak to him. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. He hurt me to the core and left a scar on my heart. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the same thing might happen again, and I couldn’t risk being hurt a second time around. If Brad had such an emotional hold over me, where would that leave me in the future if something bad happened? Could I risk going through all the devastation again?
‘You know why I couldn’t phone or write to you and tell you where I was,’ Brad said softly. ‘I planned on getting in contact, but the mission didn’t go according to plan. We were holed up in the middle of nowhere, and it would’ve compromised the men in my unit and our job. We just had to sit it out and wait until we could do what we had to and get out of there in one piece.’
I blew out a deep breath. The air felt cold on my lips. I shivered, even though the room – and the heat from his skin – was warm.
He’d tried to explain all this to me on his return, but I hadn’t let him. I’d blanked him out of my life just like he’d done to me when he disappeared into the wind. And it had worked for two years – or so I’d told myself – until I desperately needed a job and he’d offered me one without a moment’s hesitation.
So here we were now. Too close to ignore these feelings anymore. Two years on and I still hadn’t got him out of my heart, or my head. Only now I was thinking that I couldn’t be a fully functioning woman if I didn’t have him in my life. I knew life was one big risk. Hell, I’d taken risks every day for the past seventeen years in my job as a cop. But to me, risking my life, or my safety, didn’t seem to be as important as taking the emotional, possibly heart-braking risk that I would with Brad.
‘Tell me honestly, Foxy. How do you feel about me now? Do you still love me?’
“Yes” was on the tip of my tongue. All it would’ve taken was a second in time for me to actually say it out loud.
He kept his eyes on mine, and I saw a shadow of doubt pass over them.
‘Let’s not talk about this now.’ I reached forward and kissed him full on the lips. When I finally broke free, I raised a seductive eyebrow at him. ‘Let’s do the nasty thing again instead.’
Brad didn’t need asking twice.
****
I stood in Brad’s shower early the next morning wondering if I’d imagined everything. I pressed a finger to my lips, remembering the sensual kisses. No, I hadn’t imagined it. I could still feel his touch on me.
I smiled to myself and turned the hot water on full. Eight jets blasted me from different angles. Eight! This was heaven. If I manoeuvred myself carefully, I could get one of the jets pointing on my knotted shoulders. Mmm. Bliss. I wonder if I could get it to hit my...no, don’t even think about it, Amber.
Suitably steamy and pink, I dried myself off on one of Brad’s soft bath towels and wiped away the steam from the mirror above his double sink, struggling to get my head around what had happened between Brad and me last night. OK, so I’d been scared by what had happened with the sp…spi…nope, not even going to say the word. I was freaked out by those things and Brad had comforted me. Or had he taken advantage of me? Hmm. The latter. If he’d taken advantage of me in a vulnerable state then it wasn’t my fault, was it? Yes, that was it. Totally not my fault.
I stood there, examining myself with a critical eye. Mmm. Not bad for thirty-five, although I could see a few lines forming around my mouth and eyes. Not fair. Why was it that men got more distinguished with grey hair and wrinkles, but women just got traded in for younger models?
I placed my fingertips around my eyes and stretched the skin, trying to smooth out the lines. It didn’t do much, except to give me a surprised, “I’ve-just-had-too-much-Botox” look.
Would Brad still love me if I looked like a wrinkly pug dog with wildly grey scarecrow hair? Maybe I should go on a diet and stop eating crap. I read an article once about how your metabolism slows down after the age of thirty. I’d always been blessed with skinny genes, but what if I turned into a blimp overnight? And I wasn’t getting any younger. It wouldn’t be long before things started heading south and the law of gravity took over.
Memories of how happy we’d been when we were together hit me right between the eye like Ricky’s knockout punch. They were so vivid – it was like they were burned on the inside of my skull. But if we tried again, would I be tempting fate to do the same thing to me? Would I be swimming in a piranha tank, waiting to be eaten up alive?
Worry formed a dark cloud over my head, casting one doubt after the other. Life was such a weird journey. All you had to do was blink and the whole thing could turn upside down.
Could I really marry him, though? I tried to imagine how it would be. I’d already crossed the line. My heart knew this, even though my head seemed to be still living in cloud-cuckoo-land about it. And what if time really was running out? What if this was my final chance for happiness before it got lost amongst the millions of chances that we never take and can never get back. What if my waistline and crazy chocolate brown curls disappeared along with my chance? What if I died suddenly and never got to share the rest of my life with him? Morbid, I know, but it could happen. Maybe we should just date for a while again and see what naturally came next. I didn’t need to make an instant decision, did I? Of course not. Maybe I should just stop thinking about things and let them happen naturally.
OK, brain, shut up. Stop it. Thinking about Brad is not allowed from now on. Just live and be happy. You wanted a superhuman power – being in love is one huge superhuman power, isn’t it?
I must admit, I could get used to his shower, though. The hot water in mine ran out after about five minutes and it dribbled out in a puny spurt. Would it be really bad to want to move in with him just for his shower? Brad’s shower was pretty sexy, just like him.
OK, not thinking now.
I headed out of the bathroom into Brad’s bedroom and rummaged around in my holdall that Brad had packed the night before, wondering if his choice of wardrobe had been practical or not. Knowing Brad, it would contain a few sexy pairs of undies, too. Wishful thinking on his part? You betcha. But his wishful thinking had turned into reality.
I pulled out a pair of minuscule pink cheeky knickers and matching lacy bra and smiled. OK, I had something in mind for those later on. Rummaging around further, I found a pair of Wonder Woman knickers (although they were more skimpy and sexy than the original ones) and pulled them on with a black push-up bra, closely followed by some black skinny jeans (courtesy of my skinny genes) and a thin V-neck black jumper. Stuffing my shoes into my ever faithful UGG boots, I wandered downstairs to the smell of eggs and bacon sizzling in the pan.
He could cook, too.
Shut up, brain.
And he looked fab in the mornings.
Stop it!
And he knew how to do that thing with his tongue.
Definitely shutting up now.
‘Coffee?’ Brad nodded to a French press and empty mug on the breakfast bar.
‘Ooh, yes. I could get used to this.’ I pou
red out coffee and took a sniff at the expensive roast.
And he had fab coffee!
The bacon smells were tantalizing my taste buds. Brad could even make something as simple as an omelette taste good. Maybe it was because he’d been stationed in hot, sweaty countries or stuck out in the wilds somewhere eating dried packet food that tasted of cardboard for months on end in the SAS. Surely you’d want to jazz it up a bit so it tasted a lot less like cardboard. A vision of Brad in desert combat gear, pouring herbs and spices into said cardboard packet meal sprang to mind. Mmm. He looked pretty damn sexy in those combats.
Definitely, definitely shutting up now.
Marmalade uncurled himself from the floor in the corner of the warm kitchen at the sound of my voice and did a bit of cat yoga like he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d obviously forgotten the sp…the thing incident last night pretty quickly. He finished off his routine, ending in…yes, you guessed it, cat pose and trotted towards me, rubbing his head against my feet, interrupting my daydream.
‘Hey, boy. How you doing? You like it here?’ I picked him up and kissed the top of his head. Brad had put out fresh milk and some scrambled eggs and bacon in a bowl for him, and half of it had already been devoured. Sneaky. Bribing Marmalade with gourmet kitty food so he wouldn’t want to go back to pokesville apartment. Give him a bowl of food and milk and he was anybody’s. Tart! It seemed to be working, too. My ginger ball of fur seemed to be making himself at home here pretty quickly. That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? Cats are pretty easy to please, not like their owners. Of course Marmalade would love it here. Brad’s house was on the outskirts of town and backed onto acres of farmland. All those mice and voles scurrying around for him to chase. He’d have a field day. Literally. Maybe I should marry Brad. Just for Marmalade’s sake, you understand.
He purred louder, and I could’ve sworn he nodded at me. Maybe I should let Marmalade decide my love life from now on. He’d probably do a better job than me.
‘What do you think, boy? Should I marry Brad?’
Brad glanced at me over his shoulder. ‘You’re going to let a cat decide whether to marry me or not?’
‘Shush.’ I smiled at him. ‘I talk to Marmalade all the time.’
‘Yes, but does he ever give you an answer?’ Brad looked as doubtful as he would if I’d just told him the sun was made of chocolate.
Ha! What did he know? Marmalade and me were in perfect tune with each other. Maybe I was actually a cat in a past life. ‘Of course he does.’ I blinked at Brad like he should know better. ‘I’m waiting for his answer.’ I picked up Marmalade. ‘So, meow once for “yes” and twice for “no”.’
‘Meow.’
The corners of Brad’s lips curled into a smile. ‘I take that back. You can let him decide everything from now on.’
‘Look, I still need some time to decide this, but can we keep it quiet for now?’
His gaze melted into mine for a while before he finally gave me a reassuring smile. ‘Sure. Whatever you want, Foxy.’ He handed me a plate of bacon, grilled mushrooms and fried eggs, and then put scrambled eggs and wholemeal toast on his.
I took the plate and stared at the fried egg. This is going to sound really bizarre, but the centre of the yolk had a darker yellow ring in it. Like a wedding ring ring! Maybe it was a sign. Or had I been hanging around with Tia too long and all her psychic sign stuff was rubbing off on me?
Over breakfast, I brought Brad up to date on the latest.
‘So Eleanor and Deborah were having an affair at university?’ Brad forked a mouthful of scrambled egg in and chewed thoughtfully.
‘Maybe they were involved in the safety box robbery together.’ I put my fork down and took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Why else would Eleanor deny knowing Deborah? I think they never ended their affair. Deborah’s marriage to Carl could’ve just been a front.’
Brad dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
The dabbing made me smile. I wanted to reach over and kiss his scrumptious lips and ravish him on the spot, but I held back. We had work to do, and I could kiss him all over tonight.
‘And what about Amanda Forsythe? Do you think she’s tied into this somehow?’ He gazed at me over his coffee mug and grinned like he could read my mind.
I shook my head. ‘No. I think she’s just having an affair with Levi. She was rattled when I asked her about Levi. Scared even. Hacker says she doesn’t like giving interviews, which is weird when you’re trying to market books, so maybe she’s just a really private person and doesn’t want anyone to know she’s messing around with a married man.’ I fed Marmalade some scraps off my plate. ‘But maybe she knows what was in Levi’s contract. I think I should pay her another visit and ask her.’
‘She probably won’t tell you anything.’
‘I know, but it’s worth a try.’ I cleared the plates and dumped them in the dishwasher.
Brad came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. ‘What’s on the agenda for today?’
‘I need a lift to pick up my car. Then I’m going to go back to Deborah’s to see if I can get hold of her.’ I turned to face him, circling my arms around his neck and staring into his eyes. My heart did a weird little tap dance.
‘And tonight, Foxy?’ His eyes questioned mine.
‘Tonight I have plans for you.’ Before I could elaborate on exactly what sort of plans, my mobile rang. It was Dad.
I slipped out of Brad’s arms and flipped it open. ‘Hi, Dad. Has Sabre pooped out the memory card yet?’
‘No. I think he’s doing it on purpose.’
‘Did you give him the prunes?’ I asked.
‘A whole bloody packet!’
‘Maybe you should give him another one.’
‘OK, but I don’t fancy being near him when it does come out.’
I didn’t blame him. The thought was terrifying. ‘I’ve gotta rush, Dad. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.’
****
Deborah’s house was as quiet and deserted as before. This time even the rabbits were nowhere to be seen. I had a sneaky suspicion that Deborah had done a runner so I called Hacker.
‘Has Deborah booked any flights out of the country lately?’ I asked him, thinking about Carl’s five million stashed in a bank in South Africa. ‘Maybe to South Africa.’
I rattled the knob on her front door while I waited.
It was locked.
‘I was just about to call you, actually. I’ve managed to get into the computers at Kinghorn Thomas, and you were right.’
‘What, Edward was using the bank’s money to place illegal bets?’
‘I can’t tell yet if it’s Edward, but someone was. It’s been going on for the last fifteen years. They’ve tried to hide it pretty well by moving money around, but if you know what you’re looking for, it’s right there.’
‘It’s got to be Edward.’ I paused, thinking about the bets I knew he’d put on the Levi fight. ‘So he’s using the clients’ money to make himself rich?’
‘Yep,’ Hacker said.
‘I don’t think his customers would be too impressed to know he’d been gambling with their hard-earned cash.’
‘No. Especially as Edward made a huge loss on Levi’s fight because he went down in the wrong round.’ Hacker paused. ‘OK, I’ve just checked all the airlines out of the UK. Deborah hasn’t booked a flight anywhere.’
‘What about flights for Eleanor Jones? Can you check that, too?’
‘Hey, I’m one step ahead of you.’ I heard his grin down the phone. ‘I checked her at the same time. Nothing.’
‘OK, thanks.’
‘Oh, and I hear congratulations are in order.’ Hacker chuckled. ‘It’s about time you and Brad got back together.’
‘What?’ I shrieked.
Damn Brad. For a start, I hadn’t even made up my mind yet about getting married, and I also had to let Romeo know him and me were definitely over – something I wasn’t particularly looking forward to. Oh,
God, did I actually just think that? Did I just admit to myself that it was over between Romeo and me? It looked like my subconscious had already made up my mind for me.
‘What did Brad say to you?’
‘He didn’t say anything. Tia’s psychic, don’t forget. She could tell as soon as Brad walked in the office.’
‘Shit. Don’t tell anyone yet.’ I released a heavy sigh. ‘I haven’t told Romeo, and he needs to hear if from me first.’
‘No problem.’
‘And tell Tia not to either.’
‘OK, don’t panic. I’ll tell her,’ he said.
****
‘Can I see Edward Kinghorn, please?’ I asked the same woman on the customer service desk at Kinghorn Thomas.
‘Do you have an appointment?’ she asked.
‘No, please tell him Amber Fox is here. Oh, and it’s probably best to let him know I’ll wait here all day if I have to.’ I gave her my sweetest smile and took a seat on a comfy looking chair.
Edward’s secretary turned up five minutes later to escort me upstairs again.
‘You may go straight in.’ She sat at her desk and busied herself with some paperwork. I wondered if this was something they taught at banking school. If in doubt… busy yourself with paperwork.
I didn’t bother knocking. When I opened the door, Edward was in his wheelchair in front of his desk, pouring tea into two teacups.
‘I thought you might like some tea.’ He held out a china cup and saucer to me. ‘It’s Darjeeling.’
‘Thanks.’ I sat down in the chair I’d sat in before and took a sip, holding the saucer in my hand.
‘What can I do for you this time?’ He picked up his cup and saucer, eyeing me as he brought it to his lips. He smiled but it didn’t hide the flicker of irritation that flashed across his face.
‘I know that you’ve been using the bank’s money to place illegal bets on sporting events.’
He was taking a sip of tea at the time and coughed. ‘My dear Ms. Fox, you do have a rather wild imagination, don’t you?’ Setting his cup and saucer down on the mahogany coffee table in between us, he smiled.