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Lifting my head from Eric’s chest, I saw I wasn’t wrong.
His head was turned to the side and he wore fatigues. I’d never seen him look so cold and aloof. He couldn’t even look at me.
“Caelan,” I whispered.
He didn’t turn or flinch. He’d heard me, knew I was stirring, which was why he’d turned away.
Eric bolted upright in bed and saw what I saw. Fear had him in its grip. Blind panic, then dread.
“I swear this isn’t what it looks like,” said Eric.
Caelan rubbed his fingers along his jaw, his wedding ring glinting in the light.
“Forgive me if I have ma own ideas about what the fuck this looks like.”
Cold, icy even, empty. He sounded… as if he’d checked out.
I made a grab for my robe. Caelan kept looking away.
It was as if he couldn’t… wouldn’t… see this scene.
This treachery.
Before I got to him, he held up one hand in the air, beckoning me not to move closer.
“Keep yer distance, whore. Lest yer wicked lies get someone else kilt.”
His vicious tone told me that his private name for me would never be spoken in a loving tone ever again. He still didn’t look at me.
“Blame me, it’s my fault,” said Eric. “Blame me.”
I heard Eric shuffle into his long underwear behind me. The baby had already had his milk in bed earlier and was sleeping off his draught.
Caelan swallowed so hard, his Adam’s apple bobbed several times. Whatever bait Eric was trying to dangle, Caelan wasn’t falling for it.
Yes, I’d known all along Eric couldn’t be trusted, but I’d still got myself involved. There was no going back. He’d made me come harder than Caelan ever had, and that was saying something.
“The four men,” said Caelan, his voice rough, “who killed them?”
My legs were unbearably heavy and I shuffled backwards, calves hitting the end of the bed, my bottom plopping onto the mattress. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Eric’s shadow lurking near the window.
“I did.”
My husband chose that moment to finally turn his head, and with a fury in his eyes I thought nobody could contain for long, he spat,“You?”
“One held a knife near our child. I tricked him, knocked him out, then pierced his throat. The next one, I sliced open his belly using his friend’s hunting knife. The third one I shot with your gun from beneath the floor. Then the fourth one was going to hurt Eric, who was tied up, so I jumped him from behind, then strangled him on the bed.”
Caelan got up from his seat and paced the room with a hand over his mouth, his expression as unreadable as ever. I wasn’t sure he believed me, but perhaps it was that he admired me and didn’t want to show it, or else he was ashamed he’d left me here in danger. Probably the latter.
“There was a thing in Brighton, too. Four men followed me in a Range Rover. Eric took them out. That’s how we ended up here. It’s a long story, but…”
Caelan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, kept shaking his head, pacing the floor as if he’d wear out the wood if he weren’t careful… leave scorch marks everywhere.
Caelan’s head whipped around and he pinned his eyes on Eric’s, growling in his direction like the revolted commander he was—snarling at an underling upstart, a puny little interloper. I watched as Eric moved back against the window, realising he had nowhere to run, his fear palpable.
Which told me Eric knew what Caelan was truly capable of, or he was very good at playing the part of someone who got scared easy. That didn’t seem to add up.
“This is what he wants, Flora. For me to play the big, bad wolf. Punish him. He’s a sick wee shite.”
