AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I kicked my wet shoes off and walked through the bedroom into the adjoining bathroom, flicking the light on and leaning over the basin, wringing my wet hair out in the sink. I was freezing cold, the water clinging to my skin in tiny droplets that made me shiver.
I caught sight of my eyes in the mirror and cringed. My mother’s eyes, my son’s eyes. Dark blue. When I’d been born, the doctors had told my mother that they’d eventually turn brown, just like my father’s eyes. Because brown was meant to be the dominant gene. But my eyes had only gotten bluer as I got older, bluer and more serious as the innocence of my youth had ebbed away. And now there was nothing in them, nothing but a vast darkness that stretched as far and wide as my empty existence.
I had the sudden urge to call Miguel again and check on Luis. I wrapped my hair up in a towel and padded, barefoot, through my bedroom and into the hallway. I heard rustling and looked for Guillermo, but – wait – Guillermo wasn’t here, was he?
Guillermo was in Mexico.
My heart dropped into my stomach as I realised somebody who wasn’t Guillermo was in my apartment.
Nothing was out of place. But somebody was here.
I smelled it first.
Oranges. The sharp citrus smell stung my nostrils. I never bought oranges. I hated the way they tasted. Yet I could smell, as plain as day, the overpowering scent of freshly sliced orange.
I took a few tentative steps down the hall, suddenly on high alert.
I didn’t have my gun. I’d left it in my handbag, in the bedroom, and now I was here, defenceless, and somebody was in my house. In my fucking kitchen. And then I saw him, hovering in the shadows beside the refrigerator, and as he shifted the streetlight slicing through the blinds cut across his blue eyes.
‘I thought you’d never get back,’ Murphy said, not moving.
I backed up a little, debating if I had time to run back to the bedroom. My entire body was alight, rage and fear humming in a steady vibration. I couldn’t think properly. It was the first time I’d seen Murphy since learning the truth about what had happened to my family.
But he didn’t know that I knew. At least, I hoped he didn’t know.
He stepped out of the shadows, holding his palms up in a supplicating gesture. ‘Did you bring me back a chocolate ice cream?’
I changed my mind. He needed me, and even if he’d somehow intercepted the call I had made to Este’s brother, he wouldn’t shoot me. He couldn’t. I had the keys to the city, as far as he was concerned. I was the co-signatory on every single dirty bank account he’d been stashing money in, in this country and the rest.
‘You look more like a vanilla man to me,’ I replied coolly, rooted to the spot. ‘Boring and weak.’
He laughed, swiping at the drink on the counter. ‘You’re hilarious. Ever since the first time I stuck my finger inside you, I knew you were fucking hilarious.’
‘You’re drunk,’ I realised, a little surprised.
He was soaking wet, from head to toe. The rain that had begun as we were leaving the ice-cream parlour hadn’t eased off, instead it had come down in sheets.
It looked like Murphy hadn’t been here long, judging by how soaked through with rain he was. It looked like he’d taken a bath fully clothed. And he was drunk?
Never, in nine years, had I seen him even slightly intoxicated. High on cocaine, yes, but not drunk. He was always so controlled, so polished. Now, not so much. Something must have happened. Something to make him lose control.
I mean, apart from him killing my entire family and trying to hunt my illegitimate son to use as collateral against me.
‘Have fun with Johnny Boy?’ he asked. ‘Romantic walks on the beach? Did you share an ice cream before he stuck his dick in you?’
Wait. He was jealous?
‘His kid was there,’ I said, still in disbelief. ‘He’s my fucking babysitter, Murphy.’
‘Sure,’ Murphy drawled. ‘Babysitters don’t fuck you.’ He snickered. ‘Well, sometimes they do. But they shouldn’t, nuh-uh.’
‘There’s only one person who fucks me,’ I replied sharply. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’
He laughed again, but there was no joy in the sound. It was a guttural noise that rattled in his chest, full of loathing, full of hate. He hated me, I realised. He hated me because I had chosen to align with somebody like Dornan, rather than somebody like him.
I didn’t move as he reached up and grabbed an unopened bottle of whiskey from the top of the refrigerator and tore the lid off.
I didn’t move as he approached, stopping only to throw back a swig straight from the bottle, wiping the excess that dribbled down his chin with his suit sleeve.
