Chapter 48
CHAPTER 48
OKAY, OKAY, I knew exactly what I’d done.
I’d run away again, but avoiding my feelings was easier than facing them. I was happy for Luke and Mack, really I was, but I still found it hard to see two people close to me find the kind of partnership I’d had one chance at and lost.
At least when I got home, I found plenty to keep me busy. Not least Bradley, who’d returned in my absence and wouldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful his trip to Italy was, not to mention the fact that Miles had finished his dig and travelled back with him.
“The flight was fantastic. Your jet’s lush.”
“Glad you had a good time.”
“And I even bought you candy at the airport.”
See, this was why I loved Bradley.
Jed had also been waiting for me when I got back to Little Riverley. With his broken leg, he was officially on sick leave, although he was still going in for meetings and spent hours on his laptop at home. Or my home, it appeared.
“Bradley invited me to stay. I was bored, and you have a games room,” he said. “And my apartment’s on the sixth floor. Those stairs aren’t easy with my leg.”
His building also had an elevator. I was about to point that out, but then I thought, hey, having Jed around for a while could be entertaining.
“Just don’t walk around naked. You nearly gave Mrs. Fairfax a heart attack last time.” I’d heard her scream from the other end of the house.
“I thought it was her day off.”
“Wear boxers, Jed.”
The next day, I finally got in for my meeting with Jed’s bosses.
“You certainly got a result, didn’t you?” the director said.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. The bang was slightly larger than I anticipated.”
Another grey-suited clone got out his laser pointer and highlighted an area on the video screen. “The satellite feeds show the whole weapons plant went up as well. Which puts the Syrians years behind schedule and saves us from having to send you back in again. Job well done, Emerson. We owe you one.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
Only the CIA could be thrilled at the amount of mayhem I’d created. The director pushed a plate of biscuits towards me, and I took two. Even though I’d eaten four meals a day in Dahab and binged on falafel and ice cream sundaes, I still needed to gain half a stone.
“I didn’t see you at Philip’s memorial service,” he said.
“That’s because I didn’t go. I didn’t think it would be appropriate.”
How could I face his family when I’d been the one who killed him? No matter why I’d done it, his blood still stained my hands.
“We told his family he was lost in a light aircraft crash over the ocean. It was better that way.”
“Good thinking.”
At least they’d never know what he went through at the end. Sometimes a lie was better than the truth.
“Are you ready for more work?”
“Give me a few weeks, would you?”
I’d had a medical and thankfully my kidneys and liver were still functioning as they should, but my muscles had suffered wastage, my back still hurt in the mornings, and Toby and Alex needed to work their magic before I got back to full fitness.
“Fair enough, but don’t leave it too long. I’ve got a number of interesting projects I think would be right up your street. I’ll send the details over for you to take a look at.”
Patience, for the director, was a hindrance rather than a virtue.
The job in Syria, for all its horrors, had at least reminded me of my purpose in life. I threw myself back into life at Blackwood, and as long as I kept busy, I found I could live with myself again.
And then there was Jed. He took me out for dinner as promised, and despite what I’d said, I didn’t pick the most expensive wine on the menu. Jed ordered himself a bottle of white, but I was driving so I stuck with water.
“What are you having to eat?” he asked.
“Goat cheese salad to start, then grilled tilapia. You?”
“Lobster to start, then steak.”
“That’s two mains.”
“When I was stuck in that hole, I never thought I’d see the inside of a restaurant again, so I think I deserve it.”
“Fair enough. How are you healing up?”
“My leg’s getting there.”
“And your head?”
I knew firsthand what seeing Phillip in his final state could do to a person. I’d sleepwalked every night since I returned to Virginia and destroyed a sofa while I was at it. Jed had that to deal with, plus survivor’s guilt and his own torture.
“Work sent me to see a shrink. Twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays.”
“Any good?”
“I guess she helps a little. Are you having dessert?”
“I’m actually quite full now, and you know what they say: a full mongoose is a slow mongoose.”
Rudyard Kipling was a very wise man. I never liked to eat until I couldn’t move.
Jed raised an eyebrow and gave me his dirty smile, the one I hadn’t seen in a long time. “How about a different kind of dessert?”
We didn’t bother waiting for the bill, just flung some cash on the table and ran, well, hobbled in Jed’s case, for the car. The engine screamed, and the Viper took off as I floored it over the bridge a couple of miles from Little Riverley.
Jed laughed and braced himself against the dashboard. “That the best you can do?”
“Nah, I’m saving the best for later.”
The tyres smoked as I accelerated up the driveway and parked in a hail of gravel. I hopped out of the car, metaphorically, and so did Jed, literally, dragging his crutches behind him. We burst in through the front door and Jed eyed up the stairs and then his cast.
“Elevator,” I gasped.
It turned out that with the right incentive, Jed could be remarkably agile even with his leg in plaster, and I sure was smiling by the end of the evening. Oh yeah. Having Jed as a houseguest definitely had its advantages.
And the best part? He didn’t bat an eyelid when I rolled out of his bed and went to my own. He understood me. No questions, no awkwardness.
Exactly what I needed.
Over the next couple of weeks, things started getting back on track. Jed stayed at my place most of the time, ostensibly because of my gym and housekeeper, but we both knew the real reason. Let’s just say more than one person commented on my smile.
Life was…well, not good, but better.
Except I’d forgotten just how sociable Jed could be.
“What on earth’s going on?”
Eight in the evening, I’d been stuck behind a pile-up on I-95 for an hour, and now I’d got home, my lounge was filled with twenty men and a sea of beer and takeout boxes. I could hardly hear myself shout over the ball game on TV.
“I just invited the guys over, darlin’,” Jed said.
“But you forgot to invite me? Or did you just assume I’d come along, seeing as this is my freaking house?”
Bradley threw a pretzel at me. “Take a chill pill, Emmy. It’s only a bit of fun.”
Those words struck fear into my heart. I’d seen the aftermath of Bradley’s fun before.
Nick grinned at me from the couch. “Relax baby, it’s just pizza and a few beers. We’ll clear up after.”
“You won’t clear up. You never clear up.” Nick was the untidiest man I’d ever met. A complete mess. It constantly amazed me that he ever managed to wear clean shirts and matching socks. I suspected he bought them in bulk and binned them once they were dirty. “And it’s hardly ‘just a few beers.’ What did you do, buy a brewery?”
“No, but seriously, that’s not a bad idea.” Nate turned to the rest of the gang from his perch on the coffee table. “Guys, if we all put in a few dollars, we could probably do that.”
Cue an animated but drunken discussion about starting their own beer label until someone scored and their attention turned back to the screen.
“Are you gonna sit down, baby?” Nick asked. “There’s space between me and Jed.”
No way. I refused to spend the evening wedged between their massive thighs, nice though they were. The British version of football was bad enough, but the American version sent me to sleep. How did they manage to turn a sixty-minute game into five hours? And when I started to nod off, Nick would poke me, constantly.
“You must be kidding.”
“Or you could sit on my lap,” Jed offered.
My eyes rolled so hard they got halfway to Alabama. “Nick, give me your keys. I’ll sleep at your house.” Next, I turned to Bradley. “And, party princess, if the house doesn’t look pristine when I get back tomorrow, I’m holding you responsible.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll all be good.”
I returned the next morning to find a very hungover Bradley balanced precariously on a stepladder, trying to scrape a slice of pizza off the lounge ceiling. Boy, was I glad I’d escaped the night before.
“How on earth did that get up there?”
Bradley shrugged and wobbled, so I grabbed the ladder to steady it.
“I literally have no idea. I passed out around four.”
I ventured further into the house, marvelling at the skill it must have taken to hook a shoe on a branch of the ridiculously expensive chandelier that hung in my two-storey high atrium, and almost tripped over Logan, who was asleep in the entrance to the dining room. As I wandered through the place, I counted another six men unconscious downstairs, before finding Nate in the kitchen concocting what had to be the most vile-smelling alleged hangover cure I’d ever come across.
“What’s in that?”
“Lemon, raw egg, fresh oranges, vitamins, kale, pickle juice.”
“Pickle juice?”
“It restores electrolytes.”
“I’d rather just go teetotal.”
I heard a gasp from the doorway and swivelled to see Mack, looking fresh as a daisy and followed by Luke and a very excited Tia.
Uh oh.
What on earth were they doing here?