Chapter 21 #2
“They’re no Custard Cream, but they’re still good,” she says, surprising me as she lowers herself to the step, placing the packet between us.
I grimace. “Custard Creams were your favourite?”
She smiles, leaning back against the fence beside her. “Yeah. Why? What were yours?”
“Jaffa cakes.”
She frowns. “Did they even count as biscuits?”
I shrug. “It’s what I used to go for.”
Humming, she reaches out and pulls another biscuit from the packet. I bite into mine, savouring the sweet taste.
“Rayden and I…” Her voice is quiet as she sits up, half eaten biscuit in hand. “We agreed to… just be friends. That’s what you walked in on.”
I look away, over at the wooden gate at the end of our courtyard. “So you were more? You did fuck him at the party?”
“No!” she exclaims. “No.” Her voice lowers. “We haven’t had sex since before this. The… marriage.”
I look at her. “You haven’t?”
“No.” Her eyes fix on her biscuit. “You?”
“What?”
She shrugs. “Sourdough girl might be doing more than just making dinner.”
I sigh, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. Lifting my leg, I rest an arm across it. “Sourdough girl would prefer to make dinner for you instead of me.” I bite off another chunk of biscuit.
Her eyes fan over the garden. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Oh.”
“That must… suck,” she mutters. Her eyes widen. “Not her… liking girls. Just… this.” She gestures around us. “The fucking State.”
My gaze lingers on her longer than it should—on the way her throat moves when she swallows, on the way her eyes brim with concern for a girl she’s never even met. They’re softer than I’ve ever seen them, making it hard to look away.
My lips purse, and I nod. “Yeah. It does.”
“Whoever came up with this system deserves to be shot,” she says, voice so sure, so steady, so certain, that a genuine smile spreads over my face.
“Marriage wasn’t on your bucket list?”
She scoffs. “Not a forced one.”
“Me neither,” I say. “Not a real one, either.” The words slip out before I can even comprehend what I’m saying. My brow furrows as her eyes widen, gaze boring into the side of my face. That’s way too much to share for one day. Especially with her.
“I’ve got to go,” I say.
“Where?”
“I’ll be back later,” I mutter.
“Zac—”
I’m tearing through the house and out the front door before I hear her say anything else.
I’m sweating when I finally emerge from the basement, a towel draped around my neck. Claudia runs into the drawing room, squealing, Jordan only seconds behind, something messy and gloopy on his hands.
“Zac!” Claudia slams to a halt, grinning. Jordan grunts as he collides with her. “No, Jord! No!”
He just laughs, coiling his hands around her waist and smearing the dark goo all over her. She’s giggling, trying to fight back, and they fall over the back of the sofa without sparing me another glance.
Fucking lovebirds.
I’m using the shower first.
Anna’s in her room, but I stride past without greeting her, locking the door behind me and taking a long, warm shower.
I head back downstairs in a new long-sleeve black top and navy jeans. Claudia and Jordan have finished their fight, sitting side by side at the table, arms wrapped around one another.
Jordan looks at me. “How’s Emilia?”
“Fine.”
“How’s getting to know her coming along?” Claudia asks. Jordan’s deep bronze hand trails over her pale shoulders, his eyes fixed on her.
“It’s better for her if I stay away as much as possible,” I counter, staring down at the table for any new documents I might have missed.
“Zac—”
“It’s better for me, too.” Anna grins as she appears in the doorway, dressed in one of my shirts that she stole months ago. Claudia scowls at the sight, and I glare at the brunette, knowing I’m about to get an earful from my friend’s wife for her brashness.
Claudia’s finger jerks between the two of us. “You need to stop whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you. There’s more at stake than you two giving it all up to fuck one another.”
Anna scoffs, shifting on her feet. “Fuck you—”
“I’m not jeopardising anything,” I snap. Looking at Anna, my glare darkens. She just smirks. “Put my shirt back in my room.”
Without another word, I leave the room, pushing past her, through the kitchen, and stepping back into the windy evening. Exhaling, I rest against the wall, staring up at the dark sky before my eyes fix onto the dirty, cracked wall of the house.
“Claudia’s only trying to help.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jordan press his back against the wall beside me.
“I know,” I murmur. I know what he’s thinking; what he wants to ask me.
My mind flashes back over the past week.
How I didn’t go back to Number 8 after the raid.
Instead, I came back here, ate some of Anna’s cookies, and slept upstairs.
The Safe House is closer to the truck depot, and I only had four hours until my shift started.
Bridget had given me a disapproving look before I’d entered my room.
Anna was curled up in my bed, asleep. I hadn’t pushed her out, too tired to even think clearly.
I slid in beside her, attempting to ignore her even when her arm came over me and grabbed my cock.
I’d be lying if I said I stopped her, eyes closed, unashamedly letting my thoughts wander to a certain fiery blonde.
I’m a dick. A hypocritical twat.
“I’m not fucking Anna,” I tell Jordan. I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself to him, but the knot in my chest eases slightly as I do so. I leave out what I did do with her last week. That was a momentary lapse… Something that won’t happen again.
“You’re not?” he asks, clearly surprised.
“No.”
He smirks. “A certain blonde distracting you?”
“Fuck, no,” I retort. “I’m just keeping my head on straight. Focusing on what we’re trying to do here.” I change the subject onto what we should be focusing on—not sex, and certainly not immature blonde girls.
“Bridget said you didn’t find anything out at work?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head, a glare spilling over my features. “They’ve gotten so fucking secretive. Haven’t even seen the guy who always drove the big truck since the end of May. Something’s happened to him. They have a new favourite. Greyson.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Jordan says.
“Yeah,” is all I can think to reply. “I think I’m gonna head off. Work starts at five.” I push away from the wall, taking a step towards the alley.
“Zac.” I glance back at him. “Try. With Emilia. Trust me, it might be exactly what you need.”
“Maybe I’d listen to you if you weren’t so whipped by your own wife.” I turn away, striding down the steps and into the alleyway, heading back towards the Married Sector.
He’s wrong.
Ignoring every aspect of her that I dislike, even if I wanted to get to know her, if I spent time with her, hell, if I fucking cared for her, I’m more danger than she deserves.