Page 139 of Everything That Kills Me
Zeph gasped. “What? But why? How is he involved?”
“Better that you don’t know. If you want to keep Jack safe, then make sure nothing interferes with him doing his job.”
And you doing yours.Zeph head was aching. Was Thomas even telling him the truth? It might all be lies to stop him interfering.
“Give me your phone number. I’ll give it to Jack.”
Zeph did but wondered if Jack would ever get it.
“Neither of us kill innocent people.”
“Does that mean you never have?”
Thomas gave a grim smile. “No. But we’ve both done all we could to avoid it.”
“Can you give me Jack’s number?”
“No. Don’t bother following me. I won’t be returning to that hotel.”
Thomas strode off and Zeph’s shoulders fell. He wasn’t sure how well he’d handled that. He didn’t want to go straight home. What if Thomas followed him? The idea of being a body in a suitcase made Zeph shudder. He couldn’t trust anything Thomas had said.
Zeph went to The Dog and Partridge. Partly to give himself an alibi, albeit a shaky one, and partly because he just didn’t want to go straight back to his flat. He couldn’t say anything to anyone, particularly Evan. But he wasn’t there, so Zeph sat with a group from work, drank a half-pint of lager and joined in a conversation about wild swimming with his brain on an entirely different track, then made his excuses and left.
By the time he got off the train in Greenwich, his state of mind had not improved. He’d had nothing to eat and now he was almost at his building and couldn’t remember what he had in the fridge. He’d kept hoping Jack would call, but he hadn’t. He shouldn’t have said any of that to Thomas.Oh God, I’m going to lose my job. I might go to prison.The assassin bit had been a guess but it was all that was left if it wasn’t witness protection.
Except, what if the authorities didn’t want Al-Talib dead? It was quite possible they just wanted details of who he met. So whowouldwant the Saudi dead? Who’d paid Thomas?
Stop thinking about it!He’d been so busy worrying, he’d forgotten to do any countersurveillance and had no idea if Thomas, or anyone else had followed him back. Zeph groaned. Too late now.
He went up on the lift on a slow journey to the seventh floor because he’d pressed every button in a last-ditch attempt to throw off anyone following. As he opened his door, he smelt soy sauce. That was weird. He took one step inside and panicked. There was no reason for the aroma of soy sauce to be in the air. He’d not eaten Chinese food for weeks.
Ah.Zeph took a deep breath, closed the door and took off his coat. His heart thumped. But not with fear. He doubted assassins would consume a Chinese takeaway before they dispatched their target.
Was this Thomas or Jack?
He stepped into the kitchen and the ache in his heart eased, as did the pain in his head. Jack looked the same. A little older but still jaw-droppingly attractive. His, but never really his.
“Hello, Zeph.”
He wanted to fling himself into Jack’s arms but his feet appeared to be stuck to the floor.
“I bought dinner. I’ll heat it up.”
Zeph watched as Jack took bowls from the cupboard and chopsticks from the drawer. He knew where everything was. How long had he been here? Jack poured two glasses of water and pulled out a chair for Zeph to sit down.
“How do you know where I live?” Zeph asked. “I only gave Thomas my phone number.”
Jack shrugged. He put two plastic containers on the table and put two more into the microwave. Zeph sat down.
“How did you know?” Zeph repeated.
“I’ve always known where you were.”
“You’ve been stalking me?”
“I’d never hurt you.”
Oh God, Jack, you’ve hurt me so many times.And every time, Zeph had forgiven him. Maybe not straightaway, but…
