He just managed to knock back his drink before there was the sound of Freya’s footsteps on the stairs and Nora took his empty glass back into the kitchen.
“What happened?” Freya asked him, entering the candle-lit sitting room carrying a torch.
“Jimmy and Bill were fighting. Gordon accidentally got punched, end of story.”
“Why were they fighting? They’re best friends.”
“Apparently Lizzy accused Brenda of being a slut and vice versa.”
“Oh, the soldier,” said Nora, returning to the room with three cups of hot chocolate that she set down on the coffee table.
“What do you know about him?” said Craig.
“It was years ago. Let me think,” she replied, settling onto the couch and taking a sip of her chocolate, causing Craig to sigh with impatience.
“I remember now,” smiled Nora. “Brenda and Bill had only been married for a couple of years but he was working on the oil rigs and I understand it was putting a bit of a strain on the relationship. One day this handsome teuchter soldier came to visit, he was an old friend of Gordon’s. He bowled Bren over with his charming smile and wow was he a looker.” She grinned. “It was only natural he gravitated towards Bren. Although it’s hard to believe now, she was beautiful before her health deteriorated. They had an affair then he returned to his unit and she never saw him again. Bill came home and she confessed to him. There was a rumour she fell pregnant. Now I don’t know if that bit’s true or not, I never saw her with a baby belly or anything so it was probably a load of rubbish but there you have it.”
“There’s something you should know,” said Craig. “I just found out that Bill was the man dressed in black who tried to kick the door in.”
“Bill?” exclaimed Nora. “Why?”
“Apparently he wanted to put the wind up Freya.”
“I knew it, they think I’m something to do with the murders,” she said, panic in her voice.
“Don’t worry, I put them straight. He won’t go near you again. He realised how stupid he’d been.”
“He always was a hothead. He’s got into more than one fight in his time has that man,” said Nora. “Right, I’m off to bed. I’ve locked up but you’ll probably want to double check.”
“Alright Mum. Night,” he said, watching Freya from the corner of his eye, who looked very unnerved.
“Night both,” yawned Nora, carrying her mug of chocolate up the stairs.
“Are you okay?” he asked Freya.
“I can’t believe Bill did that to me. I was so scared.”
“I know but it’s over and he won’t do it again.”
“Is that what they all think, that I’m guilty?”
“Course not. You heard Mum, he’s a hothead. He’s scared, frustrated and acted like an idiot.”
“So no one else thinks I’m guilty?”
“No. Trust me, it’s fine.”
She relaxed a little. “I do.”
He took her hand. “I’d really like to kiss you again.”
Freya’s face lit up. “Okay.”
He kissed her gently and he was surprised when she moaned loudly and straddled him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth.
“Oh God Freya,” he breathed, sliding his hands under her jumper.
She sat bolt upright, looking horrified.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I…” She buried her face in her hands.
“Freya, what is it?”
When she looked at him her eyes were full of shame. “I could taste the whisky on you. Twelve year old Glenfiddich,” she whispered, her hands starting to shake. “I’m sorry,” she croaked before jumping up and rushing out of the room.
Craig was left sitting on the couch bewildered and angry. After the crap night he’d had this took the bloody biscuit. She’d only kissed him so passionately because he tasted of whisky.
After drowning his sorrows in another dram he decided to go to bed. As he hadn’t got much sleep the previous night he was knackered.
He checked all the doors and windows then plodded upstairs, listening to the storm rage around the house. He loved these storms when he was a kid but now it was the enemy, shielding a murderer from him.
He washed his face, brushed his teeth and headed to bed, smiling when he heard his mother’s snoring vying with the noise of the storm for supremacy. He hesitated outside Freya’s room, knowing it would be sensible just to walk past but he couldn’t. Dammit, why did he have to care about her so much?
“Freya?” he said, rapping on her door.
She opened it wearing just a long black t-shirt with a big ghostly face on the front. Her hair was loose and she’d removed all her make-up. Those big soft green eyes gazed up at him and he couldn’t resist taking her face in his hands and kissing her. Freya’s arms went around his neck and they stumbled back into the bedroom together, Craig kicking the door shut behind him.
“Toothpaste,” she smiled when he eventually let her come up for air.
He nodded. “Think you can kiss me again like you did downstairs without the taste of whisky?”
“Definitely.”
She gave him a kiss that set his body on fire and she smiled. “Minty. Yummy.”
They fell back onto the bed together, Craig sliding her t-shirt up to reveal her long white legs. He wondered how far she was going to let him go and prayed that she let him spend the night with her. Freya was a nice soothing oasis in this nightmare. When she pulled his shirt off over his head he was hopeful. Her hands stroked his chest, tracing the outline of the tattoo and he inhaled sharply, she seemed to instinctively know where to touch him for maximum effect. Slowly he pushed her t-shirt higher, hoping she wouldn’t object. She raised her arms to assist and he found himself gazing down at a slender creamy white body with full pale breasts, which he gently kissed.
“Craig,” she whispered, her legs wrapping around his waist, fingers playing up and down his bare back.
“Please don’t send me away tonight.”
“I won’t.”
“You mean I can stay with you all night?” he said, pressing his hand between her thighs and making her moan.
“Yes.”
He kissed her hard and deep, his hand moving inside her panties. She unzipped his combat trousers and he tried to kick them off. One leg caught on his right foot and he desperately kicked his leg in the air in an attempt to shake it off.
“Smooth,” she laughed.
“That’s never happened before,” he said, scowling at the trousers still dangling from his foot. “Do we need protection?”
“Yes. I’m not on the Pill and I don’t have anything.”
“I do. Don’t move, okay? Stay right there looking absolutely gorgeous.”
After pulling the trousers off his foot and throwing them to the floor he crept to the door and peered out to make sure his mum wasn’t on the landing. Often she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Seeing it was all clear he tiptoed across the landing to his own bedroom and stumbled about in the dark, attempting to grope his way to the bedside cabinet. He stubbed his toe on the base of the bed then hopped about the room quietly swearing. When the pain in his big toe had abated he rummaged around in the drawer for the packet of condoms, praying he still had it.
“Yes,” he said triumphantly, holding it aloft. “Stupid cellophane,” he added when it refused to open. Eventually he managed it, yanked too hard and dropped the box, sending the little multicoloured packages scattering, disappearing under furniture and into the shadowy depths of the room.
“I don’t believe it,” he said before dropping to his knees and hunting round for them, the sound of the storm drowning out his swearing. “Oh come on just one, please.” He spied something colourful glinting under the bedside cabinet. Ducking beneath it he retrieved not one but two of the things and backed out, banging his head as he tried to stand up. After more swearing he clambered to his feet.
Freya sat up in bed when he entered the room limpi
ng and cradling the back of his head.
“What happened to you?” she said.
“Don’t go looking for condoms in the dark,” he said, making her giggle. He frowned. “Why are you under the covers?”
“I was getting cold. I was starting to think you weren’t coming back.”
“There’s no chance of that,” he said, hobbling to the bed and perching on it with a grimace.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Oh yeah, so much so I brought two,” he said, tossing the condoms onto the bed beside her.
He soon had her warmed up again and they moved together quietly, conscious of Nora just down the hall. However Freya felt so good that he soon forgot all about the case and his mum two doors down and just lost himself in her, revelling in her breathy sighs and mewls of pleasure. They let go, frantically tumbling about the bed. He flipped her onto her knees and she gripped onto the bed frame for dear life as he drove into her. When he looked down at the flames on her back they seemed to become a living thing, matching the fire that raged within Freya. Their passion matched the ferocity of the storm, the roaring of the wind swallowing their cries as they climaxed together.
“I never thought all those years ago we’d end up like this,” he mumbled into her shoulder as they flopped down onto the bed, breathing hard.
“Me neither but we weren’t thinking about sex back then.”
“I suppose. I’m glad we did this.” They lay on their sides to face each other, limbs entwining. “How did you know it was twelve year old Glenfiddich?”
“Because I’ve drunk a lot of it in the past,” she replied wryly. She hesitated before continuing, “I used to go into shops carrying a whisky bottle with the bottom cut out then nick one off the shelf and slide it into the fake one and just walk out of there. It worked really well until supermarkets started using those big security tags.”
“You little minx. Were you ever caught?”
“Almost, more than once, but I was a fast runner.” She closed her eyes and cringed. “And I’ve just confessed to a police officer. Sometimes it’s easy to forget what you do.”
“You know, I’m glad about that,” he said, thinking of her fear of police.
“So, are you going to arrest me?” she said mischievously.
“It’s not like you do it anymore, is it?”
“Course not.”
“Then I won’t nick you, but I will still cuff you if you like?”
She rolled on top of him and kissed the tattoo on his chest. “Kinky.”
“We still have another condom.”
“Actually, we don’t. What we have is a large plaster,” she said, holding up a band-aid still in the wrapper.
His smile fell. “Bugger. It looked like one in the dark.”
“There are other things we can do,” she grinned before dipping her head below his waist.
“Oh Jeezo,” he gasped, his hand fisting in her hair.
Craig jumped awake, heart racing as the images of fire and water continued to play out behind his eyes. In the dream he’d been able to hear Freya calling for him, voice hysterical with fear but he couldn’t find her, groping about blindly in the graveyard in the dark. Intermittently it would light up with dancing flames, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her in the distance and he’d move towards her then the fire would die away and he’d be left alone in the dark, rain pouring down on him, her voice still calling for him. When he’d looked down at his feet and realised her voice was coming from under the ground he’d jumped awake, thank God. Freya was safe and sleeping beside him, sprawled on her front, one arm stretched across his stomach. He smiled with relief and kissed her bare shoulder. She didn’t even stir.
Craig attempted to focus his grainy eyes on his wristwatch and saw it was just after six in the morning but looking outside it could have been the middle of the night. On the bright side he still had a little time before he had to get up so he snuggled deeper under the duvet and ran his fingers lightly up and down the flames on Freya’s back, hoping to wake her so they could have some fun before he had to get up. Last night had been a lot of fun and he wanted more.
Her green eyes flickered open and the left side of her mouth lifted into a smile. She rolled onto her back and lithely stretched, putting him in mind of a cat.
“Do you have to get up yet?” she said.
“Not just yet,” he replied, pulling her to him and kissing her neck.
“So what’s your plan for today?”
The weight came crashing back down onto his shoulders and he sighed into the skin of her throat. “Try not to cock things up too much. Try and find who’s murdering women. Try not to get anyone else killed.”
Freya felt how tense his muscles had gone and felt guilty for bringing it up. “This isn’t your fault.”
“It is that the murderer’s not been caught yet.”
“No it’s not. It’s the Fiscal’s fault for leaving you with just a couple of PC’s and that stupid detective’s fault for not getting here on time and for the murderer’s for killing people in the first place. You’re doing your best.”
“But it seems that’s not good enough.”
“Don’t give up, you’re all we’ve got.”
“Then God help us all.”
She kissed him and ran her fingers through his hair. How Mad Mandy could ever have hurt him was beyond her, he was lovely. She wanted to show him some tenderness after the violence he suffered during that relationship. “Stop putting yourself down, you’re doing a great job. You need to relax. Lie on your front.” She was pleased when his grin returned and he lay face down on the bed. She straddled him and started to massage his shoulders.
“Mmm, that’s really good,” he murmured into the pillow.
“You obviously work out a lot,” she said, admiring the ripple of his back and shoulder muscles.
“It helps with the stress. You get a lot of that in this job. Most of the lads go to the pub but I’d rather go to the gym. I feel better and I don’t wake up with a hangover.”
“It’s better than hitting the bottle.”
He cringed. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to tiptoe around me. I wish I’d gone to a gym instead.”
“You have a lot more issues to deal with than I do.”
“Well, I’m certainly being forced to confront them now.”
“Get off me.”
“What?” she said, hurt.
“Just do it.”
Bewildered, she climbed off his back. His arm went around her waist and he flipped her onto her back and she found herself staring up into his smiling face.
“That massage really turned me on,” he said.
“You stupid bugger, I thought I’d offended you.”
“No, I just think you’re really hot.”
He kissed her, pushing her legs apart with his knee but they were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. “Freya, breakfast’s ready,” called Nora.
“Thanks,” she called back.
“Put the girl down Craig or you’ll be late.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Okay Mum.”
They remained quiet until they heard her retreat down the stairs.
“Oh my God, she must have heard us,” said Freya.
“I didn’t think she could hear anything over the storm, or her snoring.”
“What do we do?”
“What can we do except pretend it didn’t happen.” When she looked wounded he took her hand. “I don’t mean us, I mean Mum shouting through the door like that.”
She smiled, relieved. “Oh, I see.”
“Listen, I don’t know where this is going but I think we should keep it quiet until the investigation is over. My superiors wouldn’t approve of me sleeping with a possible victim.” Or suspect.
“Okay,” she replied. “I’m in a bit of a fragile place right now Craig and I couldn’t take being used. If this isn’t going anywhere then please tell me and t
here’ll be no hard feelings.”
“What did I say yesterday? I’m not using you. I genuinely like you Freya.” He recalled James’s words about her lack of self-esteem and resolved to watch how he phrased things in future.
Reassured, she kissed him and smacked him on the bare backside.
“Ow.”
“You’d better get moving, you don’t want to keep Gary and Steve waiting.”
“But I’m comfy.”
“Craig,” hollered Nora up the stairs. “Get a move on, your breakfast is going cold.”
With a groan he gave Freya one final kiss, dragged himself upright then crept across the landing to the bathroom. Thank God for the wood boiler stove because at least they still had heating and hot water.
After washing and brushing his teeth he ran his fingers through his hair, decided that would do and headed downstairs, pausing to peek in Freya’s room. She was already fast asleep, a happy smile on her lips. At least he’d managed to cheer her up. When he realised he was enjoying watching her he tore his eyes away and jogged downstairs.
“You look pleased with yourself,” said Nora as he sat at the kitchen table and tucked into his fried breakfast. “And I can guess why. Can’t say I’m surprised, two young attractive people cooped up together in a storm, but that girl carries a lot of baggage.”
Craig sighed and rolled his eyes as she went on.
“I like her, of course I do, but how could you cope with a girlfriend who screams every time you put your coat on? And you’d have to be constantly vigilant, making sure she doesn’t have a drink.”
“Mum, Freya’s managed not to have a drink after living on her own for two years. She doesn’t need anyone looking over her shoulder and if you knew what she’s gone through you’d understand the coat thing.”
“What happened to her?”
“You’ll have to ask her. Anyway, we’ve had one night together, stop getting ahead of yourself.” He paused, the fork halfway to his mouth. “How much did you hear last night?”
“Enough to know what went on.”
“Great,” he sighed.
“I’m just saying after Mandy the Nightmare, don’t go getting involved with another woman with issues.”
“Freya isn’t Mandy. She’s sweet - sometimes - and thoughtful and she’s fought so hard to come through so much. Ow,” he said for the second time that morning when she slapped him round the back of the head. “What was that for?”
The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) Page 15