Trust: A London Gangland Romantic Suspense Novel by Pj Adams

Author:Pj Adams [Adams, Pj]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01DUKJBCO
Publisher: James Grieve Press
Published: 2016-04-03T23:00:00+00:00

13

“Hey there.”

I had to concentrate on every muscle in my body to stop myself from going to Dean when I spotted him.

He stood there, in a gap between two rows of terraced houses, an alleyway that must lead around to the back gardens. That dark blue suit, the slim tie, white shirt; the way it all hung so well off that lean, strong body.

More than anything, the smile. The way it wasn’t just a smile that pulled at his mouth, but spread across his face, lit up his eyes.

Whereas DI Glover’s smile earlier had clearly been fake, Dean’s smile was the real thing.

“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t...” I stopped.

“Just slipping quietly away?”

I was. I had been. Originally. But not now. I shook my head. “Just stuff in the car, you know.”

He nodded.

“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” I told him. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I went to see Lee,” he said. “Had to make sure he was okay after last night. Doctor Malik’s got him at a clinic by the park in Bethnal Green. He’s been keeping an eye on the kid.”

I felt bad then. When he’d slipped away that morning I’d assumed he was getting away from the aftermath of a one-night stand, giving me the opportunity to leave without any fuss. I hadn’t given a thought to Lee...

Now, Dean put a hand to his own bruised face and grinned. “Got the doc to check me over, too. I’ll live.”

“That’s a bonus.”

“Coffee?”

§

It was still mid-morning and the Old Duchess was locked up, but Dean let us in and immediately went round the bar to the coffee machine.

While the machine hissed and spluttered away, Dean peered up at me and said, “So. You going to tell me some more about yourself? Like where you’ve been all my life?”

It was a deliberately cheesy line, chosen to cut through some of the awkwardness that had descended upon us. That morning-after thing, I supposed.

“Not a lot to tell,” I said, and something dark flashed in his eyes. For a moment it felt like when I’d first come here: the suspicion, the way he hadn’t seemed to believe my story. I realized my answer must have sounded evasive.

Feeling the need to convince him, I plunged in. “Private school for a time – my parents had the money. Got kicked out for supplying booze to the girls. Other than that, it was just a normal suburban upbringing, I guess. Seaside holidays. Visits down here when I was younger. The usual ups and downs. Until...”

I needed to ask him about my parents. I needed to ask him about the crash.

“Your folks?” he said. “You told me you went off the rails after that. So how did you get from there to here?”

I thought back.

“Funny how it goes,” I told him. He brought the coffees round the bar and we went to a table at the back. “How one simple choice leads to everything else.”

“Like what?”

“I walked out on my grandparents. The day of the funeral. They hadn’t gone to the service because Gran wasn’t well.

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