5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Samuel

The sound of my phone vibrating on the bedside table wakes me from my slumber. I reach out to pick it up, feeling like a bear coming out of hibernation.

"Yeah?"

"It's me."

The sound of Aidan's voice on the other end of the phone that woke me has my groggy stupor lifting immediately.

"Yeah," I repeat, sounding like a broken record.

"Not a morning person," he chuckles, and I frown, surprised by his chirpy behaviour. "I have what you need."

Fuck, that was quick. That's why they're the best of the best. Information that would have taken months—and lots of paperwork—for me to get, recovered in a week.

"Okay," I say, trying to hide my surprise and awe at how good they are.

"Meet me at ten a.m. at Hot Coffee."

The line is silent for so long that I'm ready to hang up, but before I do, Aidan's voice comes through again.

"Don't be late." Not a request, but a fucking order.

I open my mouth with a comeback, but this time, the line disconnects before I can speak.

Slowly, I rise from the bed and walk, zombie-like, to the bathroom. Once I'm done with the shower, I'm back to being human, even if inside I still feel like a punching bag after a day of training.

I ponder calling Keegan, but when I glance at the phone to check the time, I change my mind pretty quickly. That bastard gave me just enough time to grab a shower and get there.

I don't have time to waste drying or styling my hair, so Aidan will have to survive my uncombed appearance. I pull on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, then walk to the door after pushing my feet inside my trainers, and I'm out.

I don't even attempt to take the car, as it'll take hours to get there. Instead I rush to the Tube, hoping I won't have too long a wait.

When I walk into Hot Coffee and find Aidan—with his high-end, well-pressed suit, so out of place in this café—I'm forced to look at myself in the window and regret not taking the time to make myself a bit more presentable.

The grin Aidan welcomes me with has me scowling at him. He knew I'd be forced to come as I was and now he's enjoying my discomfort. I shake my head and take a seat in front of him.

"Glad to see you can follow orders." His satisfaction makes me vibrate with anger.

Why is he able to get under my skin so well? And why is he trying so hard to do it?

"I need the info, otherwise I'd tell you where to go." He's even a master at getting the worst out of me.

"You should be nice to people who hold the info you so desperately need." His face is now a mask made of ice or carved in stone. Maybe both, if that's even possible.

"I'm here as you asked. For one moment, please stop being a b—" His raised brow stops me from calling him a bastard to his face. "Play nice," I say, trying to change direction and avoid poking the bear in the eye.

The girl at the counter approaches the table to take our order and I watch, stunned, as Aidan transforms from a heartless killer to a charming business owner, all smiles and nice words. The waitress is swooning and half in love with him by the time she leaves the table.

Once she can't hear us anymore, Aidan pushes a folder towards me without a word. I open it, convinced I'll find the first name. Instead, Rory's face is there, looking back at me.

"I'm sure you had someone checking him out, but it won't be as extensive as the folder you have in your hands." There is no pride, no mocking in his tone, just conviction as to the accuracy of the information provided. There is no space for mistakes in his line of work.

"You should read it. If, after you're done, you're still convinced he deserves to know that name, I'll tell you." Again, no emotions are showing that I can feed off and evaluate for the correct course of action.

He would make a fantastic criminal.

Oh, wait. He is a criminal. One of the good ones, but still a criminal.

"I don't have anywhere to go," he tells me. With no other choice, and without raising my head, I open the folder again, while trying not to be an open book for the man sitting in front of me.

His eyes never leave me, not even when the waitress returns with our drinks, and I close the folder so she can't peek inside, opening it when she's gone again, trailing hearts from her pores.

Submerged by the chatter of the other patrons, I discover who Rory was and is, and more than once, I want to close the folder and avoid reading more. Anger and empathy at our similar experiences make me continue until the last page.

The first thing that pops off the page is how lonely he's been. Neglected by his parents, and then moved to a foster home with no chance of being adopted. He never had the opportunity to find a lovely foster family. He left the place as soon as he turned sixteen and started working as a barista in a coffee shop. Everything changed for him when he met John, and they moved in together pretty quickly.

Then the happy ending morphed into tragedy when they were involved in the accident. John died just before arriving at the hospital, and he was kept hooked up to the machines until his parents agreed to donate his organs. While Rory lay in a coma for three weeks, unaware of what was happening around him.

When he regained consciousness, his first thought was to ask about what happened to John. Reaching out to his parents gave him a few hours with the police and a restraining order.

Then, his quests to the hospital to get information from them so he could say a last goodbye, to no avail.

If I hadn't already known what had happened from him, if I hadn't looked him in the eyes when he told me, I would have had a different impression of the person he is and was. Or maybe it's because we had similar experiences, and he's a better man than me, trying to find his closure.

I close the file knowing more than I did before, but recognising that a few minutes with Rory has given me more than these papers could ever do.

"How many lies did he tell you?" Aidan's leisurely voice reminds me he's still here.

"None," I reply. If I wasn't focused on him, I would have missed the flash of surprise filling his eyes, quickly cloaked by his usual cold attitude.

"So, do you want the name?" Aidan asks me, with an unreadable smile. I take a deep breath to avoid having my blood going to my head.

"Yes, I want the name."

"Hope you're trusting the right person, because this choice could cost you your job."

"I'm sure." I really am. In some incomprehensible way, I trust him.

Maybe helping Rory will help me get over my own heartache, and come to terms with my responsibility and the guilt of losing my partner.

Aidan pulls another folder out of thin air and places it in front of himself. He spends a few moments observing me, as if trying to decide if I really deserve the papers, but more than that, his trust. Then he seems to reach a decision and slides the folder towards me.

"Don't blame me if you blow your life for a stranger."

"I won't. I'm old enough to live with the results of my choices," I say to him, while taking long, calming breaths.

"Okay." His demeanour doesn't change, but his voice tells me how little he cares for me.

I stand, taking the folder with the name I need and leaving the other, my actions saying a big ‘fuck you' to Aidan. I shouldn't act like this because I want to keep the folder, but I'm tired, in pain, and pissed off. I hate his way of teasing me to see how I'll react.

"We will discuss your problem with me another time," I say to him, and without waiting for an answer, I walk away. Annoyed with Aidan's bad attitude, but grateful for the info.

"I'm sorry." His apology stops me.

"What for?" I ask, as I'm not sure where he's going with this conversation.

"For not getting there in time to save you." His face is once again a blank mask. Even looking with a magnifying lens, no cracks would show there.

I open my mouth to dismiss his words, as it isn't his fault what happened to me, but he beats me to it.

"You can go now." He dismisses me.

And the intention is gone. I turn around and walk out, but not before murmuring something for his ears only.

"Asshole."

His rich belly laugh makes me mad and smile at the same time.

Once out, I pick up my phone to call Rory. Better start soon, so it'll be done before I'm back to work. Before I lose my mind from the empty, boring days.

Aren't you running from the past?

I ignore the thought. Instead, I input his phone number, but before I can press the green button, my eyes fall on the folder, and a vision of his face and address fills my mind. In a rushed decision, I put the phone back in my pocket and make my way to the Tube.

Home visit it is.

It'll give me the chance to see with my own two eyes what he's up to and know more about him. Aidan is not stupid; I really am putting my job on the line with this stunt. But I can't stop myself from helping, as it's both for him and for me. I'm hoping that by helping him heal, I'll be able to do the same.

Twenty minutes later, I'm in front of his door, and I'm no longer sure of the decision I'm making. His younger, happier face appears again, just like when I open the folder, but overlaps with the one I saw the other day, and I can't avoid comparing it with his aged, troubled face. That's all I need to push myself forward. To bring peace, to bring order, to bring serenity if it can be done.

The door opens before I can knock, and I'm left with my arm raised. I soon put it down at my side when a scent wafts towards me, and I inhale deeper to breathe it in before noticing what I'm doing.

What I'm looking at is the top of his head because he's looking at the floor, something I would never do with all the training I've had. Danger can come at you at every turn. If only I had followed those rules and used them before it was too late.

When he looks up, I ignore the surprise on his face, because my gaze is attracted to the vein on his neck where his accelerated pulse is in view for everyone to see. Why that makes me uncomfortable is beyond me. Other than that, his body is like a piece of steel, unmoving.

I clear my throat, hoping to get him out of this frozen spell he's under so we can talk business.

"Hi." His voice has an effect on me that I don't want to explore.

"We need to talk," I say, and take a step towards him to avoid any discussion before I'm inside. I don't want anyone listening to our conversation.

He moves back into the apartment, but his body doesn't lose the stiffness from before. However, his face is saying he's ready for whatever I'm going to dish out.

He accompanies me to the sofa, and I take a look around. The place seems to be freshly cleaned, or at least, it is today. I can't avoid spotting the pile of clean dishes and loads of clean laundry lying around.

Did he spend all day cleaning? Does he do like I do when I can't keep still?

No. I don't want to know, and I don't want to find more similarities between us.

I spy him, noticing his freshly washed clothes, nearly normal appearance, and how the scent emanating from his warm body gently fills the room.

"Do you want something to drink?" Rory asks, but I shake my head.

"Tell me everything I need to know. Don't skip any details." Better get down to business before I get too involved in his pain and try to do even more to help.

"What do you need to know?" He looks surprised by my question because we both know he answered them all before.

"I want to know what's not in your criminal record. I want to know what happened that night, before the accident. I want to know that I can trust you."

"I met John when I was still a barista at a coffee shop. I was trying to save the money to find a nice place to live and maybe do some courses. He swept me off of my feet in a moment." He smiles, remembering something I'm not privy to, something that can, from the look of it, still make Rory sparkle with love.

His smile dies soon enough, probably remembering how life kicked his ass once more.

"We were both surprised, excited, and so damn in love that we didn't care about anyone or anything. That was, until the first time I went to dinner at his parents' house." Not smiling anymore, but a hopelessness that speaks of witnessing the same thing many times.

I don't say anything to disturb his train of thought. He's telling me as much with his behaviour as he is with his words.

"They didn't like me. They thought I wasn't good enough for their precious son. I couldn't even deny their assertion because I agreed with them. John knew, but didn't allow me to think ill of myself. We left the house with the promise, made by John, that we'd never come back until they could respect us both." Rory's face shows both pain and pride for what his lover did for him.

"I loved him even more at that moment. He was the first person to fight for me. To show me I was special, and he believed I deserved to be respected."

A long pause, hinting at something big coming.

"I should have known that something so good wouldn't last. Six months later, John was dead, I was in a coma, and his parents had taken control."

Another long silence, and I'm ready to speak when he does it.

"Is this enough?" His voice carries the suffering, rage, frustration, and especially the love they shared.

"Yes, that's what I needed. If I risk my neck, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"Do you trust me?"

I ignore his question because I'm not yet sure if I do. There's something he's not telling me, but I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't remember or because he doesn't want to share. Anyway, I've boarded the boat, and now I'm going to row.

"I have a name," I say instead, taking the biggest fucking jump of my life and hoping to land on my feet.