Page 70 of Indie

“A real gun?”

“Aye. A pistol. He’d bought one off a guy. Wanted to know if it worked.”

“So, he aimed it at you?”

“Nah. The bloody thing didn’t fire. Not at first. He’d stopped pointing it on the targets he was supposed to be aiming at, and started messing around with the gun, working out why it was a dud. Whatever was stuck, he unstuck, and it fired right into my arse. Couldn’t sit down for a week. You can imagine the shit the lads gave me for it.”

But even with the lightness in his voice and the laugh that sat around the edges of his words, there was a sense of darkness.A half-truth. Something he wasn’t going to tell me. And maybe I didn’t need to know. He’d been in the army. He had wounds. So, I stopped asking questions I didn’t know whether I wanted the answer to, such as why Fury bought a gun in the first place.

Indie padded away to the far side of the room, disappearing behind a door, the sudden sound of water cascading over a hard surface.

“Want first shower, Spuggy? Or we can just share?” Indie asked, poking his head back into the room.

“I…errr… I don’t mind.”

“Then I reckon we should share. Saves on the water bill.”

“No. You just go; I’ll jump in after.”

Indie turned, then stopped, stepping back into the bedroom.

“If this is something about you being naked in front of me, then I’m not accepting first shower.”

“It’s not that.”

“Is it not? Then prove it. Get over here.”

“I…,” I looked around, at a room with mirrored wardrobes, my clothes nowhere to be seen, a duvet too heavy to swipe off the bed to cover myself with.

“Tick Tock, Spuggy.”

Indie stepped towards me, absolutely naked, the light streaming in reflecting off the mirrors on the wardrobe doors so that not even a shadow covered him. His tattoos bulged over muscles, his skin perfect, his scars hidden mostly by ink. But they weren’t the same scars as mine. He didn’t stop or slowdown, marching towards me as I sat clutching the duvet over my body.

“On your feet, Emmie,” it was a command, a tone I’d heard him take with his club members, but never with me. “Now.”

My stomach leapt and tightened and leapt again and I stared at the hand he stretched towards me, waiting for me to place mine in his. He wasn’t going away. That was clear. And I didn’t think he was going to let me stay covered by the white quilt. But if I ran quick enough and stared straight ahead, at least I didn’t need to see myself.

Pushing back the covers, I leapt out of the bed, fixing my eyes on the bathroom door and ignoring the palm offered to me. One step. Two steps. Two more and I could make a dive across the remaining space. Yet, as I took that next step, I felt fingers close round my wrist. A sudden pull.

“Please,” I whispered, not daring to look to my right, shaking at the grip on my arm.

“Emmie,” his voice was a low warning.

I shook my head in answer. An answer that was ignored. Indie pulled at me, almost rough enough to spin me towards those wardrobes and into his body. I could feel him against me. Skin on skin. His warm flesh against my back.

“Open your eyes, Emmie.”

I bit my lip, taking a deep breath, and did as he wanted. He stroked a hand under my breast, cupping it, his fingers reaching for my nipple.

“You have beautiful tits.”

“They’re small and they sag.” I desperately wanted to look away.

“They’re perfect. They fit right into my hands. They’re fleshy. I don’t expect them to stick out and poke me in the eye. These have fed babies. They’ve provided a better service than anything my body could do.”

“That’s not true. You were in the army. Fighting. Protecting our freedoms.”

“I was killing while you were bringing life. There’s no joy in what I did.”