Deep Water, Mark Ayre [e novels to read online TXT] 📗

would love to take you for lunch. It doesn't need to mean anything. To be honest, it would just be nice to spend time with someone beyond my family. And it would help me stop thinking about Louis and Aurora."

Abbie wagged a finger. "We call that emotional blackmail."

Tony flushed. "Sorry. That's not what I meant to do."

"I know." Abbie searched for a reason to see Tony again. Would it not be helpful to learn more about Angel, who was now after Abbie? Or Ana, who might come seeking revenge? Abbie wasn't sure. Liking him wasn't reason enough. As ever, she needed to remove emotion from the equation. A task she was finding increasingly tricky in all encounters.

"I might call," she said, raising a hand to forestall the growing hope in his eyes. "But don't count on it. Assume I won't, and focus on your mother."

Tony presented curious eyes. "Has she agreed to let you help?"

Abbie looked at the house. Part of her wanted to rat Alice out, to tell Tony his mother planned to walk headfirst into a mortal situation this very evening. But that wasn't fair. It would be selfish. Abbie would be doing it because she couldn't face losing the subject of her latest dream rather than because it was right. In their short time together, Abbie had come to like Alice. She would not betray her now, even to her worried son. Besides, the victims she came to save rarely died on day one. It had happened only twice.

"Unconfirmed," said Abbie. "She's on the fence but don't worry, whatever Alice says, I'll protect her.“

This was honest. Maybe Tony read the truth of her intentions in her eyes because he smiled. She guessed he could have stayed out the front of his house with her for the rest of the morning, but it was cold, and she had to go. Their talk had reached an end.

"I need sleep," she said. “In the meantime, I meant what I said about Jacob and Kyle. Speak with your mother. Ask that she put her feelings about Louis to one side and consider what Angel and Ana might do next. Alice must have connections of her own. If someone can keep an eye on the boys, they should. Right now, you don’t know Louis killed your sister. You need to avoid a war.”

“Forget war; I don’t want my family responsible for the death of innocent teenagers. I’ll speak to mum,” Tony said. “And when you wake, if you want to get lunch…”

"I'll call. "

Tony wanted to say more but nodded. Abbie wanted to say more, but anything else would be driven by emotion, not what Ben would call operational need.

"Go to your mother," Abbie said. "Assume I won't be able to help."

"You want me to protect her?"

"I want you to spend time with her. Tomorrow's her birthday, and she might not live to see the end of it. Ignoring that, she's your mum, and she loves you."

She gave him a piercing look then showed him a piece of herself, completely unplanned.

"You have no idea what I'd give for a mother like that. No idea at all."

Abbie went straight to the hotel, booked a room, and placed the do not disturb sign on the door before locking herself in.

The room had what Abbie needed and no more; double bed, armchair, ensuite wet room. The single window was small, and the curtains did a top job denying access to the weak morning sun.

Abbie undressed, dumped her clothes and bag on the bed, her phones on the bedside table, and entered the wet-room. Under boiling water, she waited until her skin reddened, then got out, wrapped up in a towel, and returned to the bedroom with wet hair clinging to her back.

After mostly sorting her hair with the pathetic dryer that came with the room, Abbie lay in bed and checked her phones.

One message.

Bobby.

It was just after nine in the morning. Abbie was exhausted to her bones, but her mind remained restless, energetic. Her brain was a jumble sale of different considerations and memories. She had to push through thoughts of Harry and Paul and Ana and Angel to get to what mattered (Louis and Alice) and what she cared about (Bobby).

When she closed her eyes, the fragmented memories and plans and considerations scrambled over one another, battling to be top of the pile. They screamed and yelled for Abbie's attention. The din of ideas was almost enough to drive her insane.

One image rose above the others: Alice in the face of Angel's fury.

Abbie would deal with whatever Angel threw her way. No problem. More worrisome was what might happen with Louis and Alice. Having been unsure whether it was worth saving Alice, Abbie now found it an intolerable thought that the woman, sixty tomorrow, would not live to see the end of her birthday.

Abbie remembered Alice talking about her first husband, implying she had killed him. Then, later, talk of how her anger at her daughter, Ana, could only have come from experience. These two incidents were linked. Abbie was sure.

She and Alice were alike in many ways. That made Abbie more determined than ever to ensure the older woman's survival.

That Alice's image, not Bobby's, climbed to the top of the thought pile and would not be removed told Abbie much. More than anything, it confirmed what she had to do.

Taking her illicit second phone from the bedside table, Abbie unlocked it and checked Bobby's message.

Morning you, how's it going?

Abbie closed her eyes, forced Bobby forward. That smile; it was like a knife to the heart.

She typed a simple message.

I can't see you tomorrow or talk for the next few days. I'll explain more later. Bye.

Send.

It wasn't as definitive as she would have liked. Hopefully, it would dissuade Bobby from sending multiple messages or calling. Once Alice was safe, Abbie would cut ties properly. Permanently.

It had to be done.

Chucking the phone back on the bedside table, Abbie pulled the duvet close around her