Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
ROMAN
The emerald ring is burning a hole in my pocket the longer it stays there. It took me months to find one that reminds me of the green of Maggie’s eyes.
It’s been stuck in the fiddly little velvet box for two weeks, as I try to figure out the perfect way to ask Maggie to spend the rest of her life with me.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed that I’d be ready to ask an amazing woman to commit to spending her life with me.
And far less that there was a realistic chance of her saying yes.
The park is bustling tonight, the low autumnal sun glittering through the red and gold leaves.
Maggie’s fingers entwine with mine, and I never tire of the way they fit just right.
I couldn’t wait to have that band of precious metal right there.
To promise Maggie that I’ll worship her until the day I die.
‘I can’t wait to see the parakeets,’ Maggie says as we walk, unaware of the nerves roiling through me while I prepare to propose. I want everything to be perfect.
‘I’m sure they can’t wait to see you either.’ I love indulging her love of animals. Whether feathered or furred. Our walks were always interspersed with the smooshing of dog faces or Maggie pulling bags of seeds from the pocket to feed the birds.
She has a soft spot for the small green parrots that have made London their home. The bench near their favourite tree may as well have dips shaped like our asses for the amount of hours we whittle away there.
I smile as my lock screen springs to mind. Maggie looks like the bird lady from Home Alone, but instead of pigeons, she’s surrounded by a cloud of feathered green. I love it.
I love her. It had taken a long time to admit to myself that it was love. My idea of it was so disjointed from my past that when it washed over me, I doubted it to be true.
The love is so different from the only love I really remember having.
My Gran. It was hard to know that what I was feeling for Maggie was what love is.
Desire was there. And obsession, too. And when I wasn’t with her, she was all I thought about.
It had taken me a while to convince myself that it wasn’t just infatuation, and even longer to believe that Maggie could actually feel love for me.
Maggie is chatting about the birds as we stroll. Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes are sparkling. It’s like vitality bubbles out of her, filling my world with a colour it had sorely lacked.
We still haven’t said the I love yous. Even six months on from the day I baked her cookies and asked her to start again.
Not because I don’t feel it now, I do. But because it took me so long to understand my feelings, I don’t know how to make it happen. Knowing Maggie’s family, I don’t think it was particularly prevalent for her either growing up.
I don’t want the first time I say it to be when I ask her to marry me. I want her to know that I mean it, and not just that it’s something that should be said.
‘Maggie,’ I say, stopping and tugging her hand until she turns to face me, her brows drawn quizzically.
‘All okay?’ she asks.
‘Yeah.’ I swallow down the lump in my throat. What if she doesn’t say it back? ‘I have something I want to say to you.’
Her teeth graze her lower lip. ‘You can say anything to me.’
‘I know. I’ve been looking for the right time, but I’m not sure when it will appear.’
She steps closer to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a kiss on the end of my nose. ‘If you’re talking about what I think you are, I’ve been trying to figure out when as well. God, we’re a mess, aren’t we?’
‘You’re my mess, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.’ My breath is shaky as I lose myself in her eyes, the sun glinting off her glasses.
‘You’ve got no choice but to have me,’ Maggie says with a smile. ‘You know I’m not above tying you to my bed.’
Damn.
I’ll never tire of how insatiable my girl is.
‘I love you, Maggie.’ The words tumble out, and the stress dissipates when they do. All those nerves disappear with the way her face lights up.
‘I love you, too. More than anything.’
It’s like she lights a rocket under my soul, sending me soaring. Three little words. And yet, my whole world feels like it’s expanding.
I pull her in, losing myself in the sweetness of her mouth, pouring everything I feel into the melding of our lips, when something barrels right through our legs, knocking me backwards.
Half-stunned, half-miffed, I turn to figure out what the hell happened, only to see Maggie crouching to pet a massive English Sheepdog.
‘Oh my god, Roman! Look at this baby.’
Baby, my arse. If the dog stood up, he’d be my height. I look over to our bench, not wanting to lose momentum. I want to tell Maggie how much she means to me. To get this ring on her finger, and promise to love her to immortality.
But she’s up to the elbow in fur and slobber and loving every minute. So I smile and join her in petting the rather adorable beast, and chatting to the owner who fills us in on just about every detail of her pet.
Eventually, they continue on. Right as I’m about to pull Maggie to our bench, her phone rings.
‘Eliza,’ she says.
The family member we see most often, as she’s occasionally in London. I never ask why. I don’t want to know. I wait as Maggie listens, frowning.
‘She’s nearby,’ Maggie adds. ‘And it’s urgent.’
Oh fuck. What in fresh hell does she want with us?
‘Can it wait?’ I ask, my fingers grazing the velvet box in my pocket.
Maggie bites her lip. She left her family business, but she didn’t leave her family. And this is Eliza. Since when did Eliza ever need help with anything?
She looks up at me, apologetic already.
‘She wouldn’t say urgent if it wasn’t. You know what she’s like.’
‘I know.’ I soften. ‘Of course we can go.’
What the hell are we getting ourselves into?
Eliza sends us coordinates through the secure app the Hamiltons have on their phones. And tells us to take the back lane behind a disused-looking factory to avoid the cameras.
That alone makes me want to vomit.
Nothing good can come of it.
Maggie’s grip tightens around my wrist. ‘You don’t have to come in. I don’t know what she’s doing, but I don’t want you to ever have to lie for me.’
Running is tempting, but I know who Maggie’s family are. And promising myself to her means I’ll always be embroiled with them by extension. Her family will be my family. In for a penny.
‘I’m all in, Princess. If you’re going in, I’m coming.’
The smell hits us as soon as we enter through a broken back door, and we clock the rusting van parked outside. That hot, coppery tang that coats the back of your throat. A scent that throws me right back to the wedding night in Scotland.
Floodlights flicker overhead as we head deeper into the bowels of the old building. I’m amazed there’s even power. The weak, milky light highlights the damp, moulding walls and the wet patches that mark the concrete.
We round a corner and walk into an open space.
And there she is.
Eliza Hamilton.
Looking like a blood-coated angel, and smiling like we’ve just walked into the pub, and not a crime scene.
The body on the floor is unmissable. Extremely large, and not exactly intact. The head has been rolled off to the left, resting next to a scarlet-edged chainsaw. Battery powered. How efficient.
The arms and legs are severed too, into chunks. Vomit hits the back of my throat, bitter and stinging.
A drain in the centre of the room stands open, too small to fit a person in.
In one piece.
Maggie stops dead, her hand gripping mine almost painfully.
‘Eliza, I told you I don’t want to be involved in this anymore. I thought you were in danger.’
‘You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need a hand.’
Maggie lets out a brittle laugh. ‘You need my help?’
Eliza’s eyes move from Maggie’s face to mine.
‘Well… I need Roman’s help.’
Ah.
‘You can’t ask him to do that,’ Maggie says. ‘You can’t implicate him in this.’
‘This fucker is too big to move, and my chainsaw is out of juice. He’s supposed to go down the drain, but the lardy cunt won’t fit if I can’t chop him into more pieces,’ Eliza gesturing vaguely at the torso like it wasn’t recently a living being.
‘I managed to get the legs and arms and head off, but I can’t shift this bloody thing on my own, and I need the place cleaned up before morning.
I’m going to have to take the body elsewhere to deal with it.
Probably back to the pigs, which is super bloody annoying because I’m booked into the spa here for the weekend. ’
She speaks in clipped annoyance. I can’t imagine being so blase about death.
‘Roman. You don’t have to—’ Maggie starts.
I already am.
I take off my coat and roll up my sleeves, fighting the way my brain screams absolutely not. Too late. I’d do anything for Maggie, and by extension, Eliza.
‘It’s alright, babe. Not my first rodeo, huh? I’ll do anything for you. Anything.’
Eliza beams. ‘Knew I liked you.’
‘You can’t mean that.’ Maggie watches me with eyes as big as plates.
I look at her, bracing herself to argue with her sister, to protect me.
And I realise Maggie doesn’t know.
I’d help her bury a body.
Fuck, I’d kill someone for her.
‘I mean every word.’
Because whatever family she was born into, she chose me. And if loving her means occasionally lifting a dead man into a shitty van for my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, then it’s a good thing I’m used to lying for a living.
‘What are we thinking?’ I ask Eliza. ‘Deadlift between us?’
‘Hope you’ve been in the gym, buddy. He weighs a fucking tonne.’
Maggie groans.
‘Was he terrible at least?’ she asks.
‘The worst,’ Eliza answers, and a knowing look passes between the sisters.
Maggie’s eyes trail over the mound of human in the pool of blood. ‘Good.’
I hook my arms under what remains of the torso and lift in time with Eliza. Trying not to stare into the oozing fleshy wound where his head once sat. There’s bone.
Fighting the barf takes it out of me, more so than the heft of the dead man.
Back straight. Core pulled in. Just try not to think about it until he’s in the van.
Eliza grins over the bulk. ‘Thanks for this. I’ll owe you a favour.’
‘Just make sure this doesn’t come back to Maggie and me.’
‘I’m good at my job,’ she huffs as we near the back door. ‘Speaking of which, after your fall from grace, what are you up to? I can always use some muscle down here in London if you need to make ends meet.’
‘Thank you, but no thank you. I’ll do this for love, but not money. I’m helping others with their social media. At least my years of content production haven’t been a complete waste.’
‘How boring,’ Eliza says before her face twists in disgust. ‘Damn, he’s pissed himself. Gross.’
‘That’s the bit you find gross?’ I grunt as we reach the alley, and Maggie comes from behind us to open the van door. Despite the rusty exterior, the inside is pristinely boarded with metal and pinned with tarps.
‘Bit to the left,’ Eliza says as we manhandle him into the back. ‘Mind the, well, whatever that goop is.’
Maggie retches as we dump him in and close the van.
Eliza claps her bloodied hands, looking delighted with herself. ‘Brilliant. Knew you’d be useful.’
So much for the romantic afternoon I’d planned.