Page 94 of A Dark Fall

Except I know why. I know what the knot is. What it represents. Why it’s a knot in my chest but something lighter and more fragile in my stomach. I just can’t let my brain know about it yet. Because it’s far too soon. Or maybe it’s far too late.

Jake flicks a switch on the steering wheel, and the radio comes on, playing some heavy house music like the sort they play at his club. He leaves it on but turns it down low. Because I feel sleepy and not in the mood for talking, I turn my head to stare out the passenger window, letting my eyes close over with the slow, smooth movement of Jake’s car. I always get sleepy in the passenger seat of a car, the slow rocking lulling me into relaxation.

It’s like this for a good ten minutes until Jake breaks the balmy silence.

“So, did I pass?” he asks quietly.

I roll my head to the other side to look at him, taking in his profile as though committing it to memory for the final time. The shape of his perfect mouth, his long, straight nose, the lightly tanned, smooth skin of his face, glittering green eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. He’s so bloody beautiful.

Then I know itistoo late. The thought I’ve been trying to hide from my consciousness pops into my head. It’s not a soft landing.

I’m no longer falling; I’ve fallen.

I’m in love with him.

I feel everything all at once. I’m a myriad of emotions like my mother.

I mean, I have no clue where his head is right now, and I’m in love with him. Well, okay, I never know where his head is,but I knowhe’s not bloody in love with me. He’s not an idiot.

“Well? Did I?” he presses gently.

I swallow before answering him and hope to god my voice won’t betray me. “Mmm, flying colors springs to mind. You can be really charming when you want to be—has anyone ever told you that?” I ask quietly. If my voice is quiet, then there will be less emotion in it. Less “I’m in love with you” in it.

He grins. “It’s not the first thing people say about me, no ...”

“Did you have fun?

He thinks about it for a ridiculously long time. “It was a great tart.”

I smile at him for a moment before turning straight ahead to focus on the road. What the hell am I going to do? I’m such a bloody idiot. Head over heels for a man I’ve known for less than a month. God, this probably happens to him all the time, women falling in love with him at the drop of a hat. I’m just another one. Another idiot.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing. Just tonight. I’m really glad you came.” I reach across to take his hand, squeezing softly. “I’m sorry about Mark. He can be a little overbearing at times. It’s automatic, I think. Because of his job.”

Jake frowns slightly. “His job?”

“Yeah, he’s a detective sergeant now, I think. With the Met. He’s never normally quite as bad as that,” I explain.

An odd look passes over Jake’s face, but only for a moment. Then it’s gone.“He’s a copper?” There’s an edge to his tone that I don’t understand.

Then it hits me. I sit fully around in my chair to face him.

“Jake, I never told him about what happened that night. About how we met, about what happened to you. I never told anyone. Even Rob thinks we met at the club opening.”

He glances around at me, eyes narrowed. It looks as if he’s trying to figure out whether I’m lying or not, which hurts me. It hurts me he doesn’t seem to believe me. He turns back to focus on the road, saying nothing.

“Jake, I could lose my job if anyone found out I did that—treated a stabbing without recording it.” I’m sure if Douglas ever found out, he’d go easy on me, especially if I put it down to inexperience or an oversight. Or that it happened during a drop-in where the rules are slightly different.

“So, why didn’t you?” Jake asks. He keeps his eyes on the road, biting the inside of his cheek the way he does when he’s tense.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you report it? I mean, if you could have lost your job. You’re a good girl, Alex. Whywouldn’tyou report it?’ His tone is sharp. “To your detective friend, maybe? One phone call. Easily done.”

I don’t honestly even know how to answer that question. Why didn’t I report it? Suddenly, loudly, frighteningly, the magnitude of what I did hits me. What the hellwasI thinking? Would I have kept my mouth shut if it were anyone but this man sitting in front of me? Was I unconsciously trying to protect him because, deep down, I wanted him? Hindsight doesn’t offer me any clues on it. But at no point after it happened or since has it even occurred to me to report it.

When exactly did I become the girl most likely to ruin her career for a beautiful face and a bit of sexual chemistry? Oh, wait—I do know the answer to this: five and a half weeks ago.