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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

O ver another cup of masala chai, Nina scolded her heart. It had been fluttering ever since the alley. Not with fear but with anticipation.

Nina groaned, debating not for the first time whether she should just go to bed or wait for Robert to return. The tea had helped soothe her. But it hadn’t helped her arrive at a conclusion. After fighting off their attacker, she was running on adrenaline. That adrenaline had led to their kiss – she was sure of it. If she’d been in her right senses, she’d have realised the issues with kissing Mr Good Cop.

They were bound together in a one-bedroom flat, their lives intertwined because of a horrible accident.

He was a cop and she a killer. They wouldn’t work – ever.

But then she pictured his broad frame, those eyes, lips and that need to be nice to people. Robert genuinely cared. He cared for Billy, for his friends, his wife and for Nina. Another man would’ve grown world-weary or faded away. But not him.

She set the mug down and rubbed her forehead. Who was she lying to? She had feelings for Robert… the heart-fluttering, doe-eyed kind of feelings.

Ever since she’d moved to the UK, she’d ensured none of her relationships ever grew serious. But Robert was the sort who thrived on serious.

If it had been a mess before, it was worse now. Much worse.

Nina checked the clock. It was over an hour since she’d returned to the flat. Robert would be back soon, surely. He could’ve sent Cheryl to keep watch over Nina – that DI seemed to be on his side – but Robert hadn’t answered Cheryl’s calls earlier.

She pushed off the sofa, no longer able to sit down and think. This was her chance to make a run for it.

Sure, Robert trusted her, and if she ran away, she’d break that trust, but their little stint today had endangered his life. Shah could slice her throat, but Robert had nothing to do with her. And he shouldn’t pay for trying to protect her.

And most importantly, like she’d thought in the alley, she wouldn’t have Robert’s death on her conscience.

Nina stalked over to where her backpack lay at the foot of the other chair.

The nightmare/dream she’d had about jumping off a roof with Robert came to mind. She’d followed him to the edge of the roof without so much as a niggle of doubt. It had seemed preposterous then, but now she’d confessed her crime to him; now she stood on the edge. What guarantee did she have that he wouldn’t return with his cop pals in tow?

Nina secured the backpack on her shoulder. She didn’t trust easy, and now wasn’t the time to start. Even if the man made her feel… rosy.

She sighed. For some people, love and such fancies were never meant to be. If she wanted love, she’d watch a romcom.

Nina clutched the handle of the front door and twisted it open. ‘Ah!’ She jumped back.

The movement caused her backpack to plonk onto the floor.

Robert stood in the doorway, taking up the entire space. The lamplight from inside the house illuminated his features – the sharp line of his mouth, the frown between his eyebrows and the storm in his eyes. He saw the backpack, and then his gaze moved to her coat. In her defence, she hadn’t taken it off since returning – the chill from outside and perhaps the shock had kept her wanting its heavy embrace.

But Robert put two and two together. ‘Fuck no.’

He bent and snatched up the backpack. Then he kicked the door closed and stalked towards Nina. She backed away, her heart rate kicking up at the darkening of his eyes.

His muscles clenched, emanating that strength she felt whenever she touched him. Nina took another step back, bumping up against the sofa.

Robert didn’t stop – no, he advanced on her, gripped her arms then tumbled them onto the sofa. His body pressed down on hers, his weight the perfect embrace.

Nina blinked up and saw him staring at her. Oh my — Fuck . He was hot with that stubble on his stern jaw.

She reached up and ran her fingers over his skin, and he leaned down, bringing his lips closer to hers.

Nina’s breath caught, anticipating the explosion – but he pushed off her, turned and began pacing.

His footsteps were muffled on the carpet, his face contorted into a scowl. And those kissable lips were pressed in a thin line instead of having their wicked way with her.

Nina made a sound of protest. ‘For fuck’s sake! Stop it!’

Robert halted. ‘Why should I?’ He spoke in a low tone, so calm you’d think he was conducting a meditation class.

Then he faced her, and Nina saw the truth – he was raging alright. But instead of vocalising it, Robert was suppressing his anger. He stomped back to where she sat, his phone screen held out so she could see his call log.

He’d received calls from just two people – Joshua and Cheryl – on repeat. And all of those calls were highlighted in red. Missed calls.

‘I was raised by a single mother. She died a few years ago. We had no one else. Then I met Anne. So when I was told Anne had died, do you know who was there for me?’ Robert stabbed a finger at the screen.

When he didn’t continue, she muttered, ‘Joshua MacLeod and Cheryl Spiers.’

‘Exactly. They ensured I ate, showered. Hell, they even cleaned the flat and did my laundry for me.’ Robert dropped the phone on the coffee table. ‘And how do I repay them?’

Nina couldn’t say it. She’d put two and two together and yet the question left her lips. ‘Why don’t you let them help?’

‘They’re cops, Nina. If they find out you’ve killed someone, you’ll end up in custody. They’re willing to help me, but they have jobs and, in Josh’s case, a wife. I can’t expect them to give it all up for me. So I thought I could trust you.’ Robert leaned in now, until all she could see was the dark emerald of his eyes. ‘My boss told me I’d never be a good detective because I let my emotions get the better of me. You, Nina, just proved him right.’

Nina had latched her fingers on to the edge of the sofa, an anchor that would keep her from dissolving – or combusting – under the intensity of Robert’s gaze.

She dug her fingers further in, pressing so hard, she thought she might rip the cushion. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.’

‘I lost my wife, Nina! There’s nothing else left for me to lose.’

‘You could’ve died!’ Nina yelled back. ‘He could’ve killed you.’

She’d expected his frown to fall away. Instead, Robert threw his head back and laughed like she was a stand-up comedian.

Goosebumps rose on her arms at the sound. Had he finally lost it?

‘You think I care?’ He snorted.

He should. Nina tried to find a reason. ‘If you die, how will you find justice for your wife?’

Her question was met with silence. Robert’s smile dissolved, his shoulders deflating. ‘I’ll die trying.’

Nina hadn’t ever been in a proper relationship, the kind you needed to make a marriage work. But she’d had a friend who… Nina cleared her throat. ‘I can’t have your death on my conscience. So I’ve decided to leave.’

‘Is that what you do, Nina? Run away when the going gets tough?’ Robert smiled, a curving of his lips that looked more feral than friendly.

Nina folded her arms. ‘You don’t know me, Robert. You don’t know anything about me.’

‘You ran away from your dead colleague, you ran away from me at the pub, you ran away from your own flat, and you’re doing the same thing now.’

‘I was trying to keep myself alive!’ Nina pressed her palm into her chest. ‘It takes guts to leave everything you’ve ever known behind. To leave the things that tell the story of your life behind.’

Robert tilted his head, a frown forming between his eyebrows again. ‘What about the people you have to say goodbye to?’

Nina’s shoulders deflated. Of course he’d asked about that. He believed in people even when reality stared him in the face. ‘People either let you down or leave. It only makes sense that you leave first.’

Robert plopped down on the sofa beside her, the false mirth and fight gone from his body. ‘Aye, they do leave.’

Nina let go of the sofa, and before she knew it, her hand had found Robert’s. ‘Before I… left India, I had a best friend. We dreamed of becoming famous journalists, travelling the world and ensuring we always reported facts; none of those fake panic-creating stories. We both got a job interview with The Times , but my friend never turned up for hers. Turns out, her boyfriend proposed, and she went dress shopping that day. I was so angry at her.’

Robert gave Nina’s hand a squeeze.

Nina recalled that day like it had just happened. ‘I stormed to her place, yelling at her for her stupidity. And that… that idiot told me being a top journalist had been my dream. That she wanted to be a homemaker. That her boyfriend would provide for her and their future family. I’d known her our entire lives. Of course I didn’t believe her. We had a vicious argument.’

Robert sighed. ‘You never made up?’

Nina let go of his hand and wrapped an arm around herself. ‘My boyfriend thought we’d argued because I also wanted to be a wife and mother. That my entire being had to be attached to him. My family was so happy about the idea. And I… I could see my future – trapped in a lifetime of sacrifices and compromises. I couldn’t do it. So I left. The first time is the hardest.’

‘You left the country?’

Nina stared at her fingers, her ever present rings in place – but not an engagement or wedding band on them. ‘If I’d stayed, it would’ve been another man. My family isn’t the most patriarchal or orthodox, but they’d still have looked at me like I was lacking in some way. Maybe even encouraged me to get married to the next loser who came their way.’

‘What do they think of your life here?’

Nina shrugged. ‘We haven’t spoken since I left.’

Robert gaped at her, and she left him to process that piece of information. She wasn’t a unicorn in that way. Many people were estranged from their families.

After a good minute, he tilted in his seat to face her. ‘Don’t you miss them? Hell, what about your best friend?’

‘Should I have stayed, like she did, to make them happy? The day I left, I made a choice to live my life to the fullest. And you, Robert, have a similar choice to make. But you’re just flushing this chance down the drain.’