Page 34 of Into the Dark
“Which is…?”
“We cool off all contact for a bit. Can’t risk it. Not until we know who’s passing Freddy his information. Jake, are you able to investigate it from your end?”
Jake nods slowly. “I can try.”
Mark nods. “Don’t put yourself in any unnecessary danger, okay?”
“Careful, detective. It almost sounds like you care.”
Mark glowers. “I need to talk to a few people, see what I can figure out. We don’t have enough to move on Freddy yet. The Wembley address was a dud.” He gives Jake a pointed look. “I’ll be in touch. We’ll figure out somewhere to meet going forward.”
“You can meet him at mine,” I say.
Jake tenses beside me. “No, fuck that. You’re already too fucking involved. Because of me. No.”
“No one is going to be watching my house, and you coming to my house isn’t going to raise suspicion. It makes sense.” I turn back to Mark, hoping he agrees. “You can reach him through me.”
Beside me Jake sighs, but I ignore him. Mark doesn’t look completely happy with my suggestion either, but he nods.
“I’ll let you know what I can when I know it. I’ll be in touch,” he says as he heads for the door. “I suppose I’d better think of an explanation for Rebecca then…”
“You’ve been lying to my face for weeks without any trouble—I’m sure you’ll come up with something convincing.” I give him a tight smile.
He looks like he might be about to say something in response, but he doesn’t. He just inclines his head in a goodbye and walks off down the corridor.
Alone again, I turn to face Jake. I feel sick. Exhausted. I want to curl up in bed with him for the next six months and not emerge until this is all over. He opens his arms and wraps me up in them again, resting his chin on top of my head.
“It’s going to be all right. I promise,” he whispers.
“Is that your professional opinion, or are you trying not to worry me?” I ask.
“Mmm, both.” Another kiss on the head. “So…shower?”
When I look up at him, his eyebrows are raised naughtily. A flush of want hits my tummy. God, I want him. Except beneath the flush of want the nauseous churning has returned. I don’t know if it’s because of fear or because I haven’t eaten a proper meal since the morning I left France.
“You have no idea how much I want that.” I reach up and nuzzle his beard.
“But…?”
“But I think I need to eat something first.”
I feel him nod. “Actually, yeah, good idea.” He kisses the top of my head again then moves away from me and starts to get dressed. I don’t follow suit straight away; I just watch him. Moving, breathing, alive.
“You promise,” I hear myself say a few minutes later.
He stops, turning to look at me.
“You promise it’s all going to be all right?”
This time when he smiles, it’s that smile that sets my pulse racing—the one that shows me his sharp canines at each side. Boyish and naughty and very Jake. “I promise. Now,”—he winks—“let’s go put something inside you that isn’t me, yeah?”
Downstairs, Robyn’s wedding party is muted and quiet, the faces of pretty much everyone screaming “hangover.” Jake and I take a seat by the window, and someone promptly comes over to take our beverage order, champagne, tea, coffee, and fruit juice being offered by the impeccably dressed waiter. Jake and I both plump for coffee and orange juice, and I watch as the waiter scurries off to get them.
As I glance around the large, airy banquet room I spot Rob’s girls at the other end deep in conversation, giggles bubbling up every now and then. Just as I’m wondering whether they know why Becca’s absent from breakfast, she comes flouncing into the room dressed in a flattering summer dress and looking surprisingly well-rested. I take the spring in her step to mean Mark must be at least partially good in bed. Pity she has no idea he’s such an underhanded twat. Then I feel a little guilty for that thought. It’s his job. His job I hope he’s also at least partially good at. Because that will mean he can keep Jake safe.
“I feel like I’m doing the walk of shame,” Jake says as he reaches across to fill my cup with the steaming, aromatic black coffee the waiter just set down between us.
“You do? Why?”