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I filled the tin tub in my small bathroom before lifting Alfie into the water. Leaving him there, sitting upright, I fetched some electrolyte salt replacement sachets and a bottle of water, combining them and grabbing some snacks from the cupboard. Prepackaged ones just in case my argument with Harriet had led to any of her deadly cooking.
Alfie’s hands trembled, spilling some of the drink into the bath water, so I took the bottle from him and held it to his lips as he drank deeply.
‘Not too quickly, you’ll throw up. Take it easy.’
‘Why?’
I creased my brow. ‘I just told you why.’
‘No. Why are you helping me?’
I considered my response, making him take a few more small sips as I did.
‘Because I believe you. I know you hurt her, but I’m not sure you were given much more choice than she was. More than that, I don’t think you know jack shit about what your dad was up to.’ The words felt like a betrayal to Harriet, but as I released them, letting them become real, I knew I believed them wholeheartedly.
‘Thank you. Will you help me get out?’
With a shake of my head, I declined. ‘I can’t. She’d kill us both.’
‘She’ll kill me anyway,’ Alfie said dejectedly, his eyes closing as he leaned back in the water.
Moving behind him, I scooped up water in the small jug I kept by the bath, pouring it over Alfie’s crusted hair.
‘You need to give her something to go on. Some sort of hope.’
‘My dad’s dead. He couldn’t give me the names even if I tried.’ Alfie moaned softly as I worked my fingers into his hair before adding some shampoo and lathering it up. A sob racked his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I felt something kind.’
Swallowing, I didn’t speak, just continued to work my bubble-covered fingers against his scalp. It was surprisingly intimate and very soothing. It had been a long time since I’d been touched, or touched someone, with kindness too. Not since the day I was taken.
The sweet, citrusy smell of the shampoo filled my nostrils as I let the moment just exist. I didn’t try to question it, not let any of the guilt or pain take me from it. Two souls taking a break from the pain with lathered fingers.
Just as swiftly, I cleared my throat and let the moment fall between my fingers like grains of sand. Some things were there to be clung to, while others you had to hold for a short time before letting them go. Alfie scrubbed at his face and body, the movements seeming to make him flag by the minute. Handing him a towel, I waited for him to dry himself, and fetched him a pair of jogging bottoms. They hung loose around his hips where he was much slighter than I; far more of a lithe, toned figure to my more meaty body.
He sat on my bed, picking through the snacks, trying to eat them with a level of decorum that must have pained him to muster. He was a man quite literally starved. Locking my door, I put the key in my back pocket before joining him on the bed, laying back and resting my head on my pillow. The blank stone above us was the same as it had been in all the years I had spent in our hidden bunker world beneath Glasgow, yet it looked different. I noticed a crack I’d failed to see in all my years staring up at it. Had it changed, or was it my perspective?
Groaning and holding his stomach, Alfie lay next to me. ‘I’m going to regret eating all of that.’
‘If you puke on my bed, I’ll be pissed.’
Alfie turned his body towards me, his cuffed hands sliding up between the pillow and his cheek. ‘Thank you for this. Any longer and I think I’d have lost my mind.’
‘Just don’t make me regret it. Don’t try to escape or hurt me. There’s no way you’d get out of here in one piece without knowing the way.’
‘What am I going to do?’ Alfie kept his gaze on me, his eyes searching mine for answers.
‘You need to give her something. Could your dad have kept the information somewhere? It’s rare that people in trafficking circles don’t keep dossiers on their buddies. Blackmail keeps their peers in line.’
Alfie bit his bottom lip as he pondered my question, and it sent a funny feeling into my chest. Pushing it down, I stared back at the ceiling. Was I so dejected from Harriet’s rejection that I was looking for that connection in Alfie? That way only sorrow could lay. Not only was I still hopelessly in love with my unhinged beauty, but there was very little chance Harriet would let Alfie live. Even if he did, he was a millionaire with a castle. What was I? An abused orphan-turned-bodyguard with only one person in my world. A serial killer who couldn’t keep her eyes off another man even when I was deep inside her.
Reaching out towards him, Alfie’s breath hitched. For a long pause, we stared into one another’s eyes before I broke the spell.
‘I’m going to cuff you to the headboard. I’m not sure I’ll sleep otherwise.’ Alfie put up no protest.
Closing my eyes after securing him, I listened to the sound of his breathing until my mind turned groggy. Floating in that spot between being awake and asleep, I thought I heard him whisper, ‘You don’t have to sleep, there are other things I’d much rather do.’
I brushed it off as my twisted brain playing tricks on me.
TWENTY-ONE
