The Stranger, Mark Ayre [microsoft ebook reader .TXT] 📗

Another glare. Once more, Eddie pushed on without chastising. What a champ.

“Before I get you, I’ll have to find a way to explain all this to Jess. Christ, what’s she going to say?”

“Jess is your wife?” Abbie ventured.

“My pregnant wife,” Eddie said, as though this was an important distinction. “Which is to say she’s all over the place emotionally. One minute she’s sobbing her eyes out, then screaming in my face, then dragging—“ He stopped. His face flushed.

“You into bed?”

A third glare, only for a second, then his eyes softened. Once again, he took the time to examine Abbie's face. If he noticed her discomfort, it didn’t bother him.

“This is such a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“I’m guessing you don’t have a pregnant wife—“

“Don’t assume.”

“—Because if you did, you’d know bringing a beautiful woman to the home you share with said pregnant wife is not a smart play. Ever. But especially at four in the morning.”

“Four is worse than three?”

No glare. This time a sigh.

“Sorry,” said Abbie. “Using humour to deflect from my embarrassment at you calling me beautiful. I’m very insecure.”

“Self-aware, too, huh?”

“When you spend 95% of your time alone, and you don’t have Netflix, self-analysis becomes a major hobby.”

Eddie shook his head. Frustrated. Exasperated. Abbie tended to have that effect on people.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Your wife won’t think we’ve had sex. Unless you like it real rough.”

“What?”

Abbie reached across Eddie, and he flinched as though afraid she was about to unzip his fly. Instead, she reached up and pulled down the sun-visor on his side of the car. Behind a grey flap, she found a mirror, revealing it to Eddie.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Ah. Might want to wash that off when we get in.”

Raising a hand, Eddie touched his face as though sure the dried blood must be an illusion. Somehow, under the power of the light, it didn’t look quite so bad as it had in the darkness of the tunnel. Still, it was immediately noticeable. As was the fact that his nose was out of shape. After touching his cheek, Eddie reached next for his nose and tapped the end, then winced in pain.

“Jess is going to go mental.”

“I can fix that,” said Abbie, gesturing to Eddie’s nose. “Want me to?”

She had her hand up. When Eddie saw it, he shook his head with a vigour that suggested Abbie had offered him an aggressive rectal exam.

Abbie shrugged. Said, “Fine,” then whipped her hand across the car and shoved the nose back into place.

Eddie screamed.

“Oh, don’t be a baby.”

“You bitch.”

There were tears in his eyes. But using the mirror, he could tell the nose was at least back in place. He pressed it again, winced, then wiped the tears with a hand that was also stained with blood.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get inside. Give me a few hours sleep, then I’ll drop you at the hotel and collect Danny. Then we can move on with our lives.”

Stepping from the car, Abbie looked to the house. A nice place. Nothing special but a decent first home for a young couple looking to start their lives together. Baby on the way. Eddie had it all. Abbie truly wished she could leave him to get on with his life.

He had no idea how much danger he was in.

“What did your brother do? Why does Francis want him?”

Locking the car, Eddie shook his head. “No. We’re not talking about this. Our involvement is all but over. I don’t care how you know Francis or what your issue with him is. I only care about my brother, and I’m dealing with that.”

Abbie wanted to push, but her relationship with Eddie was at a delicate stage. She needed his trust, and frustration could snap that like kindling. Best bet was to go along with what he wanted and hope for a chance to win him around after a few hours sleep.

As they approached the door, Eddie removed his keys. Arriving at the stoop, he looked again at her hoody.

“Don’t suppose you’re carrying a surprising amount of weight under that top, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just Jess,” he said. “That hoody doesn’t give anything away, so the tendency is to imagine you’re hiding a model’s body beneath all that warmth.”

Eddie’s eyes held on the hoody a little too long for Abbie’s liking. She began to wonder about his imagination and where it might be taking him.

Pointing to the keyhole of the front door, she said, “Why don’t you focus on the task in hand.”

A beat, then he turned. “Yes, right, of course.”

With extreme caution, he opened the door. It was almost soundless. Turning back before he crossed the threshold into the house, he whispered to Abbie.

“Follow me upstairs. I’ll take you straight to the spare room. And be silent. I’ll get you set up, then wash my face. Jess doesn’t need to know anything until the morning. Got it?”

Abbie nodded. Though she didn’t particularly enjoy being managed, she was willing to do as he asked for the time being.

Eddie stepped into the house, and Abbie followed. The front door opened straight into the living room. The room was dim, lit only by a lamp on a coffee table. The coffee table was next to a comfortable looking sofa, and on that sofa sat a woman Abbie could only assume was Jess.

“Ed,” she said, rising. “What have you been? What happened to your face?”

She paused, looked over Ed’s shoulder, pointed a finger at Abbie as her voice raised an octave.

“And who the hell is this?”

Five

It took some time for Eddie to calm his wife. At first, it seemed she would only become more and more worked up until she was ready to run into the kitchen, grab the sharpest blade she could find, and start hacking people up.

Everything changed when her agitation reached a peak, and she took two storming steps towards Abbie with her arm outstretched. Abbie, who had stayed out of the conversation and was trying not to look at Jess’ bump,