Flirting with Danger, Bev Hardy [best ereader for pc .TXT] 📗

they did live different lives. Working for MI5 was the one thing that had brought them together, wasn't it? But now she wasn't working there anymore, and neither was he. So where did they go from there?

They could be friends. What, see each other every now and then for a coffee? Nah. He wanted to see her every day, like he had before. He wanted the thrill of not knowing what each day would bring working with her, who they would foil, him and Charlie. They had been unbreakable. How could they bring two totally different lives together now though? So what if they found the surveillance discs tomorrow and that was it? What was he going to do? He couldn't just turn and walk away from her forever.

He felt that dilemma even more intensely witnessing her tears. He hated seeing her like that. She always seemed so strong; she was strong enough to deal with hardened criminals for goodness sake! But seeing her so distraught like that made him suddenly realize her vulnerability. If he could just think of the right thing to do or say, maybe it would make everything right again between them. He knew what he wanted to do, but the physical contact hadn't exactly gone too well earlier that evening.

Despite that however, he instinctively took one hand out of his pocket and reached a hesitant arm out to her, catching hold of one of her hands. She lifted questioning eyes to him but the expression of concern on his face took away any caution she might have felt. He uncurled her fingers with his and they held onto that small contact, their fingers clinging to each other's as the moments passed, both hesitant and unsure, until a single tear spilt out over her lashes and dripped down her cheek. It was all the prompting he needed.

"Come here," he said finally, taking his other hand out of his pocket and standing up. She was drawn to him as he placed an arm around her shoulder.

It was meant as the friendly gesture of an ex work colleague, who he had shared a lot with, wanting to provide some comfort during a difficult time. But as soon as he felt her near, and her body shaking with grief, his instinct was to hold her closer, to take that pain away if there was any way he could. He felt her cling on to his shirt and that was enough for him to move his other arm around her waist. Now their chests and stomachs were touching in an incredibly warm and intimate way, emphasizing their closeness. God he'd missed her! He could feel her stomach shudder as her grief poured out and he tightened his hold on her, unsure of which he wanted more: to comfort her, or to stop her from slipping out of his life again. He felt her arms creep around his waist and he knew, for at least that moment, that she wanted him there.

Maybe she shouldn't have taken his hand and accepted his embrace, but it seemed silly not to. He knew her; he'd known her for a long time, and, no matter how long he'd been gone for, nothing changed that. There was something so familiar about him, something comforting. Forget all the flirting and innuendos, this was something tangible and real. In whatever unconventional, backhanded way, they could confide in each other. It worked, and it made her feel better…

"Luke, he was just…he was the person who loved me the most in this world," she said, feeling the panic of her father's absence. "I'm afraid now that he's gone," she confided tearfully.

What if everyone left her and she was completely alone?

His arms held her to him a little more closely then. "You don't have to be afraid," he whispered into her ear. "And, I do know too," he assured her. "Charlie…" he hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to say what was in his head. He decided to risk sharing. "I lost my mother also."

"What?" she pulled away from him then with a frown and covered her mouth. "Oh God, and here I am going on about…"

He shook his head and pulled her back to him. "It's okay. I just wanted to let you know you aint on your own in this." After a short silence he spoke up again. "It's weird, I always just thought she'd be there. Dumb eh."

She felt a sudden pang of guilt for focusing only on her own fears and loneliness, prompting her to verbalise the thing that had haunted her the most about her father's death.

"He was alone…" she admitted, "when it happened. I should have been there. I can't bear to think of him alone," she sobbed. "I don't know how to cope with that."

He had no answers either, his only answer was to lean his head towards hers, brushing his cheek against her temple and resting it there, willing his presence to take away some of her pain.

Her head fell against his shoulder then as she gave into her grief and accepted the support he was giving her.

Now that he felt so close to her, again his fears about them parting came back. There was another reason though why he couldn't just walk away from her. He wasn't leaving her with that Richie guy. For a start, he didn't trust him. There had been something bugging him about the guy and the whole situation for a while. And anyway, even if he was genuine, would he know what made her tick? Would he know when she was being too stubborn and proud to show any weaknesses, when she really needed comforting? Would he sense when there was something wrong and not give up until he found out what it was? Would he know her like her partner did, the person who had faced so much with her, the person who knew her probably more than she knew herself?

His hand lifted to her head then as she rested it against him. He brushed her hair aside, so that his fingers could find her neck, where he caressed her gently in soft comforting strokes.

She really should move away now. He didn't seem inclined to move anytime soon though. Well, a few more moments wouldn't hurt. She should just accept tonight for what it was and not think too much about it. It was neither of their faults that they had been locked in there after all. And anyway, after they had sorted out this murder, she'd probably not see him again. He'd disappear somewhere. She was okay with that…

She reached for him then, grasping onto his arm, and he glanced down at her for a moment, reacting by tightening his hold on her in return. He wanted so much at that moment to know every way that he could comfort her most. He sighed, his breath warm on her neck. He bent his head so that it was next to hers again, his lips hovering on her neck where his fingers had been. He ached to feel her skin against his lips, he suddenly couldn't think about anything else. They were so close to her neck, her soft skin, it was so incredibly hard for him to hold back, but his fear of her withdrawal from their physical contact earlier stopped him.

He held her there in silence for as long as he could, until finally, begrudgingly, he was forced to release her. His embrace lightened and his arms slipped to her waist as he stepped back, still reluctant to give up that last contact.

His eyes were soft and smoky, and when he spoke, his voice was not much more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you," he said.

She knew that had come from his heart and it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

"And me for you," she replied, suddenly regretting the loss of those seven years.

He reached out and wiped a tear away with his thumb. "And I know it aint makin' up for nothin' Charlie, but I'm here for you now," he said. Chapter 9

 

There must have been an inch between them at best... an inch of air that quickly warmed, so much so that she was no longer sure if his body was in fact touching hers or not. She could hear him, almost feel him, breathing.

 

 

 

"Good Lord, think we should tidy up a bit," Charlie said suddenly, glancing around the room and anticipating the cleaners' reaction in the morning when they opened the door.

 

She moved away from him then, busying herself with clearing away the food and replacing the chess set. Besides, if she stayed where she was for any longer, she'd be in tears again.

 

So, what would happen next? She'd make the room as spotless as she could and then settle down on the sofa for the night. Then it would be morning. He wasn't sure he was ready for that... ready for the whole Borelli mess to rear its ugly head again, or ready for what to do about the Charlie situation. Besides, he did most of his thinking at night lately, sleeping only when it was necessary.

 

He watched her systematically gear them closer to departure.

 

"You want a drink?" he asked her, holding up the whiskey bottle as she swept past him.

 

She glanced down at it briefly, contemplating their assault on Doug's alcohol reserves.

 

"Luke, we really oughtn't…"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, poor old Doug. So you want a drink or not?" he asked.

 

He thought she was being uptight. Well, if she didn't want a drink, she wasn't going to have one. But… considering… it hadn't exactly been an easy night.

 

"I'll have one," she stressed, slipping the chess set back onto the shelf, picking up another whiskey glass, moving back to the desk and taking a seat on the office chair.

 

Thank God! He poured her a drink and leant back against the window ledge on the other side of the desk opposite her.

 

"So," she began, taking a sip of the whiskey and trying not to wince at its effects, " do you have any ideas as to who would want to murder Roberto?" she asked.

 

"Yeah," he replied, "me."

 

"Very funny Adams, apart from you?" she pushed.

 

He sighed and shook his head. "No. You have any ideas?"

 

She thought for a moment. "Well, someone from your neck of the woods I would think," she replied. "Someone from the same mob who probably wanted to take control?"

 

"That don't make no sense," he contradicted.

 

She took a sip of the whiskey and thought for a moment. "But who else would have motive?"

 

"Donno," he replied, "but if they wanted to hit Roberto, they sure as hell wouldn't come here to do it. They'd want to do it on their own turf, and let everyone there know about it," he reasoned.

 

"Okay, then who?" she asked.

 

"Someone here?" he questioned.

 

"But who? Why?" she came back.

 

He had some ideas but he wasn't going to air them at that moment.

 

"Look," she began, "chances are that it's someone from that mob, and maybe they thought he was an easier target here."

 

"Nah, it don't work like that. It's all about territory and showing you're in control out there; they wouldn't want him to be an easier target. Aint no