Page 57 of Compulsion

I worried my lower lip. “Peck sent him, I’m sure. Yeah, Peck’s starting to think I’m a threat because of what I know about the London operations, so I’m sure he wants me out of the way. But you said you’ve been nosing around the business yourself and haven’t been as careful as you could have. He’d want to warn you off too. And then Baz….” Seve glanced at me, so my voice must have sounded as odd to him as it did to me. “He was surprised to see me here. He was almost apologetic about killing Stewart… in front of me.”

“I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it! Peck has nothing to do with the central office functions, so he wouldn’t have known I was nosing around, as you say. That would mean….”

“Your uncle must have told him.” Instructed him.

“Uncle would not….” Seve’s words dried up.

“Maybe Peck didn’t mean to kill you. Maybe he sent Baz just to scare you off. But Baz was never controllable.”

Seve shook his head as if trying to clear a tangle of disturbing thoughts. He didn’t turn to face me when he spoke next. “Who’s Stewart?”

“Huh?”

“You said Baz killed Stewart. And you’ve… said his name before. In your sleep.” Seve seemed to be forcing each word out between his teeth. “Did you know him in London?”

“Seve,” I said slowly. Dear God, we’d only spent two nights together, and it was as much of a minefield as our waking hours. “This is really not the time.”

“For what?”

His brow was creased in a frown, and I felt a strange, exhilarating rush of care for him. “For inquisition.”

But he didn’t let go. I imagined that was never Seve’s forte. “It’s his lighter, isn’t it? A souvenir, you said.”

I nodded.

“Was he your lover?”

If I hadn’t been fighting off a stress headache, I’d have rolled my eyes. “He was a friend, not a boyfriend. He was a counselor, helping the kids on the streets.” Helping me. “But I believe your uncle thought Stewart was messing with the club’s courier runs, and wanted him gone.”

“Was he like me?”

This was so not like Seve that I laughed out loud. “Are you really wearing the jealous hat, Seve? I can’t believe it!”

He looked dogged. “Would you have stayed in London? If Stewart hadn’t been killed?”

The inference was stayed in London with Stewart. I was too weary to argue. “I expect so.”

“I repeat, was he like me?”

“What are you saying, Seve?” Was he asking me to stay with him? Be with him like I’d wanted to be with Stewart? I would have treasured Stewart’s friendship all my life; I would have stayed as close to him as I was allowed. I would have followed his principles until they were my own.

What were Seve’s principles, compared to that?

“I spent too long in that world, Seve,” I said. I was definitely still in shock, and so I was treading very carefully along this thin, cracking ice that was our conversation. We’d just killed someone, hadn’t we? In self-defense, maybe, but we’d both contributed to his death. Seve had hit him with the bottle, but I’d been just as keen to see him dead. I remembered Baz leaning over me as I knelt on the floor, shifting the knife in his hand to a better grip. I remembered the ice in Seve’s tone as he tempted him to watch us. I didn’t know if I felt grateful for being saved or resentful at being manipulated. I didn’t know what I felt. “I’ve been there. Baz’s world. Peck’s world. Your uncle’s world, for that matter. But I got out, you see. And I don’t want to be sucked back in.”

He stared at me. There were dark circles under his eyes that I’d not noticed before. “You needn’t be.”

“We need to call the police, Seve. Get this all sorted out.”

“Soon.”

I sighed. He was reluctant and—to be brutally honest—so was I. There’d be questions. Suspicion. And then more questions. Seve sat down heavily on the couch beside me and reached for the bottle of water I’d left there the previous night. He took a long swallow, then passed it to me. I drank too, then handed it back. In my befuddled state, it seemed one of the most intimate things we’d ever done together.

When his phone rang, we both jumped. I glanced at the clock. It was barely 5:00 a.m. Who’d be calling Seve at this hour of the morning? He picked it up from the table where we’d left our stuff the night before. He glanced once at me as if considering whether to take the call away from me, but he stayed put. I could hear the high, excited pitch of the caller, not giving him much opportunity to reply. And I saw the way his face paled.

“Who is it?” I hissed.

Seve’s eyes didn’t meet mine. “I understand. Of course I do, mamá. Soon, I promise you. Let me call you back.” He disconnected.