He'll come through

Chapter 11

Quinn was dressed and gathering their things when Lilah opened her eyes in the morning. It had been gone midnight when they finally slept, Quinn stroking her hair as she settled on his chest.

As he spotted her wake up he smiled, she stretched provocatively and the sheet fell away from her body.

                “We’ve got lots to do Miss Hussy! Are you trying to sidetrack me?”

She shook her head, “if I was trying to do that, then I’d do something like this...” Turning onto her knees she stalked across the bed and reached for his belt, immediately unbuckling it, pulling him down on top of her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Panting, he rolled onto his back and watched as she gracefully climbed to her feet, strolling across the bedroom completely, beautifully naked as she reached the bathroom she glanced over her shoulder, “I’m just going to have a quick shower, I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

He groaned, he’d showered, changed and was already to go, he glanced down at his unbuttoned trousers, the t-shirt that was thrown onto the floor. He needed a cold shower, if not another warm one. The temptation to join her in the cubicle was immense, but they had a deadline. He’d ordered breakfast to go, Amir had paid their bill via phone, the car was filled with fuel and they had a six hour drive to get them to first Amir’s then to the Embassy to get her home. Quinn jumped up to ignore the heavy feeling that the thought of her leaving gave him. Lust wasn’t an emotion, once she was out of his sight he’d be fine, he knew that.

                “You’ll need to sit low in the seat if we pass any cars Blondie, ok? We’re still fairly obvious, and we’ve no idea how far the network extends for those people who stopped the bus, not at least until Amir identifies them.”  He was firing the ignition in the hotel car park, but he knew Lilah was only half listening; her nose was well and truly stuck into the virtual hamper of food the hotel provided. Two large cups of coffee sat on the dashboard, and he already feared that one would end up in his lap on any uneven roads.

                “What do you want? There’s bread, croissants with jam...” she peered at something more closely, “no honey, and some sort of pastry with sugar on top...and cheese...” She held another package up to the light, “and THAT is something sweet and sticky! Yum.” When she realised there was no response from him, she looked up at him, “do you want anything?”

He shook his head, “coffee’s good for me.” He’d never seen someone so enthusiastic over food. He’d thought the previous day that it was purely because they’d barely eaten for days, but after eating several meals, she was still happy to order more and more food and ate every mouthful with pleasure...at this moment, pure, unadulterated pleasure. He adjusted his trousers; suddenly things were all a little more tight for him.

                “Taste this!” she breathed, holding out some sort of almond topped milk based tart. When he opened his mouth, she slid the food in and he closed his lips around her fingers sucking them both briefly.  She gulped at the sudden overtly sexual gesture and Quinn smiled, he’d wanted to get back in control! Now he was.

The drive was long and boring in parts, not that the scenery wasn’t beautiful, but it was unchanging for hours at a time, so soon all enthusiasm ran out, coupled with that they had no real music to listen to, and most of the journey there was no significant radio reception. Quinn was used to quiet, to trips like this, but he knew that in the current climate of media overload, this was a hard thing to tolerate.

                “Tell me about your childhood,” he asked her as they hit another long run of flat open dusty road.

She leaned back in her seat, and thought for a moment, “well I imagine it’s the opposite of the one you talked about. My parents tried to live self sufficiently, so we had a vegetable garden, a chicken coop, the odd pig or sheep. My father is a wood worker, he has made some beautiful crafts, and sold lots of ornaments and household goods, and when money was tight, he’d create a kitchen or a dining table, some bespoke piece, and then we’d have money for a holiday. We’d often go to Ireland and borrow a real gypsy caravan from my mother’s uncle. Ireland back then was made for slow horse drawn vehicles and I would run alongside the wagon picking daisies, then sit next to my Dad and make a daisy chain. My mother would be inside cooking stew.” She chuckled at memories, “you’d knock a door and a farmer would give you a few eggs, or a piece of bacon, we’d always take lots of rhubarb or soft berries from our garden for the trip...they were like a currency, trading and bartering.”

Quinn glanced over briefly, “that sounds like bliss! The only holidays I ever remember where city weekends, London, Berlin, the odd car trip around Normandy in France. Visiting military sites of interest, battle sites, and museums. My father rarely laughed, but he smiled on those weekends, then it was more obvious why my mother tolerated him.”

                “You must’ve had some great holidays since then?”

He shrugged, “my leave from the army I spent in the gym, and boozing with my mates, we never really travelled anywhere, but I did live in Germany, spent time in Belize, the Middle East, oh and I had to take equipment to Japan once.”

                “What about missions, secret service missions? Can you tell me without killing me?”

Dramatically widening his eyes in a menacing way he grinned, “We’d be dropped in and various locations, do the job, then head home. Not really a sightseeing trip!”

Lilah was stunned, “have you actually had any fun in your life at all ever?”

                “Funny you should mention that, but last night...” her finger on his lips stopped any further words. “I suppose I was brought up to think that a lot of things were frivolous, that’s not to say I don’t appreciate the brilliant and beautiful places I’ve visited.”

“How long are you staying out here? In Africa?”

                “I’ve been here for a couple of years, my mother remarried about a year before I left the Special Forces. Some bloody idiot who doesn’t’ deserve her, so I rarely see them. I haven’t been to Britain in the three years since I left the military.”

“A rolling stone?” he nodded, “though to be honest, I’m not exactly welcome I don’t expect. I’ve made decisions based on what I believe not politics or the people involved. I’m not saying I’m a spy or committed treason, but I’m no model British citizen.”

She thought about that for a moment, realising that this all seemed to go back to the incident with his friend dying. He’d not mentioned that, other than it had happened and changed his way of seeing things.

                “Tell me about your friend, the one who died?” He’d avoided discussing him before, and she knew that this might be a turning point for her and him, if he could trust her, let her in a little, suddenly leaving and never seeing him again didn’t seem like the future she wanted. “Had you known him all your career?”

He groaned slightly, “he was a she.” He didn’t see the shock of possible jealousy on her face, “we were taken into the same task force at the same time, we were buddies for missions, always had each other’s backs...She, Johnny...Sarah John, was a crack shot, strong, yet tiny. She could do anything a man could and more. She was awesome....I’ll never forgive myself for not being there for her. She died alone.”

He looked devastated, the wounds were still fresh, even though it was several years ago. “Did you two ever....” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words, to think of him with another woman whilst he was still in her presence.

He laughed, “And there’s me thinking that it’s only men who think of sex!” Exhaling he nodded, “nothing happened, but I wanted her so badly! It was unreal! But I think the fact that we never slept together is what bugs me even now. It sounds so selfish, so egotistical, and so disrespectful to her memory, but.....Shit.” He shook his head and accelerated a little harder.

What did all this mean? Lilah wondered as Quinn gripped the steering wheel harder than ever essential, his face an angry mess of emotion. She knew that there was no future in this relationship, even if she was getting a little attached to him. Now there was this huge ghost of a beauty, a perfect woman who’d never blot her copy book sat slap bang between them. She was just glad to know about this now, before she got too involved, she supposed. Because she was getting involved, the tug of pain in her chest told her that, in case she hadn’t realised.

They arrived at the edge of the metropolis of the capital in the same awkward quiet; neither knew how to break it. But fortunately there were no further events either between them, or from the group who could be chasing them.

Amir’s apartment proved to be the top floor of a small building of terracotta stone, nestled between a larger apartment block and a more modern building. Quinn parked on a street a few blocks away, still keen to make it difficult to follow them. The only belongings they had were the two bags that the hotel had provided clothes in the previous day. He led her silently into the foyer and up the two flights of stairs to the ornate wooden door.

Amir introduced himself immediately as he smiled at her, “Hello, I am Amir, I’m glad you are here safe!

Lilah reciprocated the greeting then followed him in to the hub of the apartment. A desk top and a laptop adorned the desk in one corner, various charts and maps were pinned to the walls, it was as close to a spy den as she’d ever get, and she couldn’t resist staring at everything.

Quinn broke into Arabic, talking to the smaller dark haired man in great detail. Amir paused turning to Lilah, “in this room,” he pointed to a door, “is the spare bedroom, I have arranged for clothing, things you may need, there’s also a bed. If you are tired?”

She was angry now with Quinn, since mentioning this Johnny’s death he’d barely made eye contact, let alone spoken to her. She wanted to get away, but she also wanted him to feel some of the pain she was suddenly feeling. Nodding anyway, she slipped into the spare room, leaving the men to discuss their plans.

The room was homely, a large bed against one wall, and on it some bags containing various items of clothing, a toothbrush, various toiletries. There was also an adjacent en suite bathroom, so grabbing the toiletries, she headed into the shower. 

She was brushing through her wet hair when the door opened and Quinn looked in though managed to avoid meeting her eyes, “we’re getting some food if you want to come?”

Lilah shrugged, “if I won’t be in the way.” The sharpness of her reply cut into Quinn, he knew he’d been rough to her, left her in the lurch, alone. Hell he’d blamed her for reliving the painful memories of Johnny. Even now the thought of his best friend caused pain, he hated he hadn’t protected her, hated that she’d pushed him away, hated that he’d never told her he loved her. Now he was here, looking at the woman who’d driven him wild in and out of bed for the last few days, and he’d hurt her too.

But the word sorry, or any type of apology just wouldn’t come. With a nod, he left the room.

It was dark when they finally left the apartment, Amir trying to spark up conversation with her, Quinn in her opinion, sulking like a child. The restaurant they visited was in a back street, dark yet homely, and they were shown to a table in the back of the building, quiet and secluded.

                “So,” said Amir once they’d ordered food and were drinking the tea provided by the waiter. “We’re planning to head to the Embassy tomorrow Delilah. But you need to be there to be safe, there is rumour that the gang who kidnapped you, ‘the family boys’ they are known as, have been desecrated by their rivals. There was almost genocide five days ago; fifty families were slaughtered in a South border town. It’s rumoured again that the weapons were supplied by Mr Smith.”

                “Gavin?” she asked, unable to believe that he’d cause this level of devastation. A hand flew to her lips and she fought a wave of tears, “I can’t believe it!”

                “Believe it!” snarled Quinn, “because old lover boy is anything but the angel you see him as.”

                “Excuse me Amir,” she smiled at the smaller man for a second then turned to Quinn, “don’t patronise me! You bastard! I am under no illusions as to what a bastard Gavin is; I have after all been kidnapped then holed up with YOU for a few days! As for lover boy, at the last count YOU were the only lover boy in my life, but never again. Whatever Gavin did was nothing different to anything you’ve done. You’ve turned from Mr Charming to an arrogant pig, purely because you’re in love with someone who died years ago. Nothing to do with me, and not my fault.”

He was staring at her open mouthed gawping like a goldfish trying to formulate a response when she added the piece de resistance.

                “I’d fooled myself that I meant a little more to you than an adrenaline fuelled shag, but I can now see that charm and compliments fall out of your lying lips as easily as Gavin’s. And to be honest, I can’t wait until tomorrow. So I’m getting a taxi now...to the embassy, I’m not waiting for you two to decide when I can head back to my life. Ok?”

                “You haven’t got money....” his protest was worse than weak to his own ears, but for someone who normally was never short of words, he was desperately stuck and unable to say a word.

                “I can sort that, or you could give me some?” she glared at him for a moment, and again his tongue was tied. So he reached into his pocket and retrieved a wad of notes reeling a few off for her. Then watched her walk away.