The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

and used a traditional vintage safety razor with a single replaceable platinum blade. It shaved far smoother and closer than modern multi-blade razors, and had the distinct advantage of converting to a weapon or survival blade if needed. It was the life he had led, that had shaped his decisions in such a way. Nothing was taken on face value and he always made decisions based on what-ifs. King left nothing to chance.

He stripped off and stepped into the shower. He ran the water cold for a while, targeted the muscles he had worked. The icy water would repair the damage. King had lost count of the times he had sat in iced water baths when he had boxed semi-professionally and in prize fights as a younger man, and he’d lost count of the times he’d done the same in some dingy hotel in some fly-ridden country, recovering from secret battles nobody would ever hear about.

Eventually, he turned up the heat and played the water on his neck. He shampooed and soaped himself and leaned his hands against the wall as he rinsed. He was using the time to think. Play over the events of the past two days. Two days, was that all? It felt like much longer. Meeting Amanda Cunningham, seeing the bodies at the farmhouse, the body of Sir Ian Snell on his patio. Then the attack, the man he’d killed and the destruction of his cottage. The sight of Snell’s wife and her Russian lover yesterday, the autopsy, the drive back, the fight on the train… He shook his head, water hitting the shower screen forming rivulets of which ran down, clearing pathways through the condensation. Too much had happened to draw conclusions, he’d barely had time to draw breath.

“Now that’s a sight I’ve wanted to see…”

King spun around, smiled when he saw Caroline standing next to the bath. She was naked, wearing only a smile.

“Ditto,” he said, trying and failing to hide his excitement at seeing her. “It’s good to see you…”

She smiled. “I can see that,” she said, stepping over the edge of the bath and into the shower’s spray.

They kissed, tenderly at first, but soon built in both passion and urgency, their tongues exploring and probing as if it were the first time. In truth, it had not been that long, but at the pace in which they had both been working, and with entire continents between them, it had felt like weeks. Caroline took his hands and placed them on her, then slid her own hands slowly down his torso. She fingered at the scar on his waist, ran her hands over the rough tissue. He moved her hand away. He always did this, but she couldn’t help it. She thought of how it had happened, how she had nearly lost him. Touching it reminded her how fragile life could be, and in doing so, she felt more alive. She took his cue, moved her hand lower, hovering teasingly, then taking hold of him, kissing harder as he grew in her hand.

Caroline wrapped around him, positioned herself, taking the lead and letting him know exactly what he should do. Despite his rigorous exercise, King was strong and fit, and he didn’t struggle as he held her, was able to take his time, but as the passion built, so did his pace and together they soon peaked, and as they ebbed and relaxed, King let her go and they embraced, kissing more softly, and far more tenderly than before.

Caroline broke away first. She smiled as she stroked his muscular chest. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

“I noticed.”

“Miss me?”

“Didn’t you notice?”

She giggled and kissed him again, but this time it was a quick peck on the lips. “Right, get out, I’m taking over the shower,” she said, and slapped his backside as he stepped out onto the mat. “And get some coffee brewing.”

40

 

King had made an espresso for Caroline and a tea for himself and they had made short work of the pastries, as Caroline had told King what had transpired in South Africa. King had given her a brief synopsis of his past two days. He had included the destruction of the cottage and the gunman, but had omitted to tell her that Amanda Cunningham had come over for dinner. He had told her about the fight on the train, but had skipped over removing the man’s finger. She’d only just had breakfast.

Caroline had changed into a navy trouser suit with a white blouse. King had put on his cleanest jeans and a shirt.

“Not wearing a suit?” she smiled, sipping her coffee.

“Funerals and weddings.”

“You’re struggling with this, aren’t you?”

“With what?”

“This new role,” she said. “They won’t like you attending a meeting at that level wearing jeans and a shirt.”

“And a leather jacket,” he quipped.

“I mean, if this doesn’t suit you…”

He shrugged. “It’s not so different, I’ve killed a man and fought two more in as many days.”

“Well, I top trump you there,” she said quietly. “And isn’t it two men?”

“No. He hit his head.”

“Technicality?”

King shrugged. “This chap, Ryan Beard, I want to find him and say thank you,” he said.

“You’ll do no such thing!” she put the empty coffee cup down and stared at him. “I’m not your property! I thanked him myself, both times.”

“I just…”

“I know what you just!” she said. “Christ, Alex, I’m an experienced agent carrying out my duties. It got hairy, MI6 were the closest friendlies, they helped because that’s what we would do.”

King held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay!”

She stood up from the table and hovered at the coffee machine, glancing at her watch. “We’d better be going, we have to meet at nine.”

“I’ve made it ten, thought it would give us a bit more time.”

“What?” she asked