Page 6

Chapter Two

Josiah

He rolled over in trepidation, but there was no sign of his IS. A delicious scent wafted up the stairs from the kitchen, and he realised, with relief, that he wouldn’t have to face Alexander just yet.

He reached for his holopad and saw that Reed had posted an update. He read it as he cleaned his teeth… then stopped and put his toothbrush down in surprise. The court records on Alexander’s servitude had been released, revealing his first houder to have been George Tyler.

Josiah took a moment to consider that – Tyler was a household name, a famous businessman, and fabulously wealthy.

The surprising element was that Alexander had been working for Tyler when he stole that money.

Why on earth had Tyler forked out ￡160 million for a man who had deceived him so appallingly?

Reading on, he saw that Tyler’s family had a long history with the Lyttons.

Josiah wiped a towel across his face absently – this was starting to feel personal.

He finished the update and put his holopad away, wondering what it meant for the case and his understanding of Alexander Lytton.

This would clearly take some time to digest.

He took a shower and shaved, enjoying the fact his head didn’t feel tight and fuzzy anymore and his eyes weren’t stinging from lack of sleep.

He felt like himself again, which made the intense emotions of the previous night seem distant and alien, as if they belonged to a different person.

He winced at the memory of that wild, passionate kiss; he would have to apologise to Alexander and make it clear it wouldn’t happen again.

Dressing in a charcoal-grey suit with a lilac shirt, grey waistcoat, and purple silk tie, he glanced at himself in the mirror.

He looked better than he had in days: the shadows under his eyes had disappeared, and his eyes were clear and bright.

There was some colour to his skin, too, and the bruises on his jaw weren’t nearly as stark.

The knuckles of his aching hands were in far worse shape, but he could hide them behind gloves again.

He almost had a spring in his step as he jogged down the stairs.

He paused at the bottom; his shoes, which had been covered in mud and gravel from his trip to The Orchard the previous day, were neatly positioned at the foot of the stairs – clean, gleaming, and freshly polished.

“Alexander!” He picked them up and strode into the kitchen, brandishing them.

His indie was standing in front of the hob, washed, shaved, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight blue tee-shirt that showed off his toned arms and chest. “Did you do this?” He waved the shoes.

“They were dirty, so I cleaned them,” Alexander replied with a shrug.

“What time did you get up?” He sat down at the kitchen table to pull on the shoes.

“Six. I did my yoga, polished those, tidied up down here, took a shower, and then came back down to prepare breakfast. ”

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Josiah chided. “I’ve looked after myself perfectly well for years. I don’t need help.”

“I know, but you work hard, and isn’t it nice to have someone to do the boring stuff?”

“It’s too nice. That’s the damn point. I can see how people get so used to this kind of thing they come to expect it, and before long…”

“They have a whole team of indies taking care of their every need? Yeah, I can see it, too.” Alexander grinned at him. “But honestly, it’s nice to be useful.”

He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “So… about last night.”

“Hmm?” Alexander arranged two plates on trays and began serving breakfast.

“I want to apologise.”

“Why?” Alexander glanced at him curiously.

“Because I lost control.”

“And that’s such a bad thing for you, right?” Alexander raised an amused eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to make excuses. I was upset and confused, but I shouldn’t have behaved like that.”

“I didn’t mind.” Alexander shrugged.

“Well, I do – and I want to be clear that it won’t happen again.”

“Okay.” Alexander shrugged again. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

He felt wrong-footed by Alexander’s complete lack of reaction to what had been such a huge deal for him. “Um… yes.”

“Good. Here.” Alexander handed him a tray. “I thought we’d eat in the dining room as it’s such a nice day.” He jerked his head at the sun shining through the kitchen window. “Unusual for this time of year – we should make the most of it.”

Josiah followed his indie into the dining room, which he never used because it’d always seemed pointless when there was only him, eating alone.

Besides, it was where he’d shared many long, convivial meals with Peter through what felt like the perpetual summer of their marriage, with the patio doors open when it was warm, and Hattie flopped out on the cool paving stones leading to the lawn.

The table was already set for breakfast – there were even fresh flowers in the vase on the big oak table.

Alexander opened the patio doors, while Josiah sat down silently because he couldn’t think of a good reason not to.

His indie was right – it was a lovely day.

The trees in the garden were a glorious mix of oranges and yellows, and the lawn was green and fresh from the recent rain.

“When did you last even come into this room?” Alexander asked. “To sit, I mean. You obviously clean it regularly, but then keeping everything neat, tidy, and firmly in its place seems to be your thing.”

“I don’t remember.” Josiah took a mouthful of food. This morning it was a tasty paella – Alexander clearly had a repertoire.

“Don’t close up again,” Alexander said softly, pouring him some orange juice. “Last night…”

“Was a bad night for us both,” Josiah said firmly, thinking how easy it had been to talk to his IS in the dark as he sat on the swing, and then to share a bed with him. Too easy. “Today is different.”

“Yes, indeed – but you are very different with your armour on.” He gestured to Josiah’s suit. “All these years of seeing you onscreen, looking so strong and self-assured – I had no idea you were still so locked up in your grief.”

“If you think it’s a weakness you can use against me, think again.”

“I would never do that,” Alexander said sharply. “I was surprised, because I made the very mistake I’d warned you against making – of believing in appearances. I was glad to see that side of you last night, to be honest. It makes you more…”

“Pathetic?” Josiah suggested.

“Human,” Alexander said softly.

“Hmm.”

“Are you ashamed of your grief?” Alexander studied him for a moment. “No, that’s not it. You’re only ashamed I saw it. That’s the real reason you didn’t want me in your space, I think.”

“Yes,” Josiah agreed honestly.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’d never ask you to keep secrets for me.”

“Nonetheless.” Alexander shrugged.

Josiah busied himself eating his breakfast, feeling profoundly uncomfortable.

“I love the vase,” Alexander said, pointing at the glazed green ceramic vase, filled with flowers, at the centre of the table.

“The inscription is beautiful.” He brushed it with his fingertips and read out loud.

“‘To my dear friends, Peter and Josiah, on your wedding day. With all my love, Liz.’ Who is she? She sounds nice.”

“She is.”

“Did she make the vase herself?”

“Yup.”

“Are you still in touch with her? How do you know her?”

“She’s an old friend.”

“So, you do actually have friends; I was starting to wonder.”

Josiah glared at him, but he couldn’t hold it for long in the face of Alexander’s cheeky wink.

“What’s she like?”

Josiah smiled. “Very sweet, very kind, and very pretty.”

“Did you ever have a thing with her?” The indie’s eyes were gleaming, but Josiah found he didn’t mind the mild teasing.

“I’ve been gay since the day I was born, so no, I did not have a ‘thing’ with her. I’ve never had a thing with any woman. How about you?”

Alexander nodded. “I’ve only been with men for the past few years, but before then I slept with women, too. Of course, I’m an IS, so I sleep with whoever I’m ordered to sleep with.”

“That’s not entirely true. You offered to sleep with me, and that certainly wasn’t my order,” Josiah pointed out.

“I find you attractive.” Alexander flashed him a smile. “Besides, I’m an IS – it’s my job to keep my houders happy.”

“And I told you that you don’t need to keep me happy in that way.”

“I know, but it’s been a long time since I was given any choice in the matter.”

“You know how wrong I think that is,” Josiah told him quietly.

“Do I?” Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Your husband was brutally murdered by an IS, and you seem to have dedicated your career to tracking them down for crimes they may or may not have committed. You’re so good at it you’ve even earned the title ‘indiehunter’.

Now, I get the feeling you don’t like that name, but maybe I’m wrong.

You do give out some very mixed messages. ”

“I’ve never once sent anyone for trial without believing they were a hundred per cent guilty,” Josiah told him firmly. “IS or not. I’ve caught plenty of murderers who weren’t indies, but the media doesn’t care about them.”

“Justice means a lot to you, then?” Alexander leaned forward, his grey eyes blisteringly intense. “Whoever the victim is?”

“I don’t give a damn who the victim is – I track down killers. That’s my job.”

“And do you give a damn who the perpetrators are?”

“No,” Josiah replied flatly. “I don’t care if the perp is the prime minister, some Quarterlands drug lord, or an IS – my job is to catch killers, whoever they are, and I do it very well.”

“And if the killer is justified in taking a life?”

Josiah put his fork down. “Are you confessing?”

“No. It’s just a question. You seem like a man who wants everything to be black and white – I wondered how you felt about shades of grey.”