13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My eyes blink open, and a deep, throbbing pain has them contentedly closing again.
I’m on my stomach, on top of the quilt, with my head turned towards the door. In the dark, I reach my hands out to both sides, searching for Curren. But he’s not there.
I open my eyes again and try searching the room, but the slithers of light creeping in from around the door frame are no help.
Certain that I hear the shower running, I look behind me but give up immediately because it hurts. Everything hurts. My neck, my thighs, my back.
Pulling myself to the other side of the bed, I reach down to my suitcase, and feel around in the inside pocket until I find my laptop.
Still lying on my stomach, I rest my chin on my forearm and start it up. The initial brightness makes me squint, but it doesn't last long. And sure enough, just like I knew it would be, there’s a cryptic email from Issak waiting for me.
Six am tomorrow. Royal Victoria docks. Further information to come.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumble under my breath because that’s literally where I flew into this morning before spending an hour in London’s temperamental peak-hour traffic.
Traipsing back to the other side of the city is the last thing I want to do, and my battered body has nothing to do with it.
I’ve taken down men with cracked ribs, and helped secure control of our embassy during a siege in Sudan with a broken jaw.
Hell, I went to school with a collapsed lung from one of dad’s more severe beatings when I was eleven.
It's been well established by now that pain is not the issue. I just don’t want to move.
From the bed.
From the suite.
From wherever Curren is.
The bathroom door opens and the room floods with light. Closing my laptop, I shuffle back towards the other side of the bed while looking at Curren.
The pure white hotel towel is wrapped low on his hips. His dark brown waves are wet. And standing there—lit from behind by fluorescent lights with shadows down his front—he looks like a demon.
“Do you ever take that off?” I ask of the necklace still hanging around his neck. He shakes his head and sits beside me. Light as a feather, he runs his fingers from behind my knee to my thigh, and all the way to my shaved head. “You didn’t put your gloves back on.”
Ignoring me, he leans down and kisses the side of my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but good… Did you clean up the room while I was asleep?”
“Na, I got the room service chick to come back and do it. She wanted to call an ambulance, but I paid her to keep quiet.”
“Why do I feel like that’s something you would do?”
“Because it’s something I would do,” he says matter-of-factly. “I want a copy of that video."
"I deleted it."
"No you didn't."
"What's your number?"
"I'll give you an email."
" An email? Or your email?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it fucking matters."
"I'll get it later. It's fine." He's dismissive as he looks away, but a moment later he's affectionately scratching the back of my head. "I’m an amazing videographer.”
I nod sarcastically and reach for his thigh. “Thank you for understanding what I needed.”
“You did too, and asked less questions. We must be telescopic, or something.” He smirks, and I know he misspoke on purpose.
“What time is it?”
“Just gone half ten.”
“I was out for that long?”
“I guess you needed the sleep… I’ve gotta leave at five-thirty.”
“Where are you going?”
He pats my head back down onto the pillow. “Just work stuff. I’ve gotta pick a few things up first. Hopefully, it doesn’t take too long—“
“Are you coming back?”
“That all depends on you.”
“I hope you’re being cheeky.”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” Lifting my chin, Curren kisses me softly. “Can you scoot over a bit?”
“Can you lift me?”
“Are your arms broken?”
“No, but—“
“Then do it your damn self,” he says bluntly as he stands.
Confused, I push myself up, but his hands grab beneath my arms. He hops on the bed, reclines against the headboard, and pulls me up so one arm is lying across his lap and my head is resting on his stomach.
“I won't do that again, so please don't ask. "
"I won't."
"I hope that's true, because I don't want to hurt you, Jude."
“I don’t want there to ever be another day when we’re not together.”
“Can we go somewhere? Tomorrow or the day after… Is that at all possible?”
“I’m supposed to be on holiday now. So after tomorrow, I’m yours for two weeks.”
“Only two weeks? I was hoping to have full access to you for a little longer than that.”
“It’s all I can offer, I’m afraid. But I’ve hardly used any annual leave since I started my job, so I’ve got a few months banked. Just need to give notice… I’m booked to fly to Greece the day after tomorrow.“
“Can I come?”
“Of course you can come. As long as there’s a flight available.”
“I’ll make one available.”
“Will you just?”
The way Curren stares at me with the intensity, the promise, and the fire in his eyes. I know he would move mountains. “But I don’t want to come back here.”
“To London?”
“To England.” He hangs his head. “I can’t do it. I want my life to start from now, but it has to happen somewhere else.”
“Me too,” I tell him, and stroke his cheek.
It’s not a lie. I want our past to be irrelevant, too.
There’s literally nothing in the world I want more than to be by Curren’s side, but I work for England.
I’ve put my body on the line for this job more times that I can count.
It saved me ten years ago and gave me a reason to keep going.
So I’m not sure I’m willing to just walk away from it.
But there’s plenty of time to talk about that later.
Tomorrow.
After my next job.