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Broken: The Feral Fugitive and the Reluctant Refuge

Page 53

by J.H. Norris

He shrugs at that one. It turns out, he’s got money. I don’t know how much and I didn’t ask too much about where it came from after his military service. But he’s got money. My prodding about Passport Control also didn’t seem to bother him.

It turns out that the convenient thing about being found in a burnt-out strip club with another criminal accomplice is that it gives you very little power to stop a creative detective pinning a double-murder on you. So it’s Harry who gets to take the rap for, well just about all of it, actually. Who’s going to defend a corpse? Especially when there’s a couple of detectives who are financially incentivised via their good pal Dmitri to join some dots for the Crown Prosecution Service’s paperwork. And once CPS can tick the “no realistic prospect for conviction” box, it’s amazing how quickly files gather dust.

“So you’re not wanted?” I ask him

“Nope”

“And you’re not skint?” I interrogate

“Heh - Nope”

“Wives? Kids?” he shakes his head. I continue my faux-interrogation with “Pregnant?”

“Fuck you, don’t fat shame me, it’s beer bloat” he fakes offence with a laugh

“So that’s it, we’re home free to do what we want?”

He smiles unusually warmly and holds my hands with his on the table.

“I don’t think I do want to travel, actually” I inform him after a few minutes of contemplation. “…I’d really like… don’t laugh…” he looks at me, like he’d never laugh at something I truly wanted “…a place to call home. Mine, ours, but home…”

He stands up, leaning over the table. My stomach fluttering as his hands cup my face and he kisses my head.

“Deal”

I think hard. I do need a break though… “After an all-inclusive somewhere way too expensive for how cheap and tacky it is? Oh! And I want to swim up to the bar in an obnoxiously small bikini”

For just a minute, I let myself settle. The idea of breathing in some fresh sea air somewhere hot, and coming home and settling into a fresh new life. This feeling overwhelms me, a weightless optimism and happiness rising from my stomach through my chest, and forcing its way into goofiness on my cheeks.

I run on the spot, pumping my arms up and down and grin. That was… embarrassing. Like in those cringe movies. But hey, what do I care? Got a problem? Take it up with Nik.

Thirty Eight

Nik

I hit speed dial on my phone and he picks up within two rings, he always does. Probably one of those “Diamond Client Experience” things.

“Good morning, Mr Kraft, what can I do for you?” the white-collar professionalism of a person who makes a percentage of my net worth’s increase every year, plus his flat fee. I imagine I contributed handsomely to the Aston Martin he’s now driving. He’s a good bloke. Very useful to keep around, and completely legitimate.

“Hello, Frank. Can you go ahead on those viewings for me, mate… yep that’s the one… oh and can you forward me on the confirmations for Tenerife… five-star…? Excellent, and that one was all-inclusive, wasn’t it” I quickly wrap it up before Ghost and Reaper accost me “Thanks, mate, sorry, got to run - love to Linda and the kids” and I hang up.

Just because she always gets the choice, doesn’t mean I can’t have a pretty good prediction of where she’s going to land. I feel what she needs in my bones.

That’s why I made the calls and got everything arranged before we went yesterday. So that whatever she’d picked, and I knew Dan would be off the table, her choice of holiday and houses were available whether I was with her in person or not.

With the ominous duo stood in front of me I sigh a little, it’s time to pay the piper. I’m a man of my word, and they did everything they promised, and some. They’ve been poking for years. Now I owe them, and I pay what I owe.

“What did she say?” Ghost asks, his face searching mine for reaction

“Told you, he hasn’t told her!” Reaper

“Not yet” I reply dryly “Soon. As soon as we get back”

Ghost nods, and Reaper slaps my back.

Epilogue

My toes curl, gripping the ultra-plush carpets as I cross the threshold into my walk-in wardrobe and dressing room. It’s beautiful. The definition of millennial-chic, white shelving, everything in cute boxes with bows, folded and perfectly presented.