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21

K evin finished whatever job he was doing and texted me before lunch to say he was heading straight to the gym for a workout. He’d be over later.

Three o’clock swung around and he still hadn’t come by.

I went into the back garden and distracted myself by lobbing some tennis balls for Phil—ten of them, one after the other across the lawn. I wasn’t allowed to bring Phil’s toys out of the house or he got anxious and rushed them back in, but tennis balls were okay.

Although Phil was (mostly) a guardian breed, he also liked to herd. He wasn’t a retriever or a catcher. I’d tried tossing the balls to him a few times. They just bounced off his reproachful face.

And you could forget about throwing them and expecting him to chase them.

No. Phil wanted to gather them into a safe little flock, then lie down and watch them.

The weirdo.

He was noodling around in the flowerbed at the bottom of the garden, looking for one of his lost lambs, when I heard the back gate open behind me. I turned and smiled at Kevin, forgetting that I was annoyed with him for his abrupt departure that morning.

He stalked over with long, agitated strides, and didn’t stop coming until he was plastered against me.

“Hi?” I said.

He took my face between his palms and lifted it even as he ducked down to kiss me.

Based on his dramatic entrance, I’d expected something overwhelming. What I got instead was soft, tender, and oddly beseeching.

“Kevin,” I murmured, resting a hand on the side of his neck.

He nudged me gently, tilting my head and deepening the kiss.

I didn’t fight it. Why would I? He was a spectacular kisser. I only had two other guys to compare him with, true, but I really didn’t see how anyone could top this.

His lips were firm, his tongue slid lazily along mine, and he held me exactly where he wanted me. It was perfect. All I had to do was take it.

He pulled away with a laugh and glanced down to where Phil stood patiently with his lowered head jammed into the back of Kevin’s knee, waiting to be acknowledged. “Hi, Phil,” he said, reaching down for a gentle pat. Eyes still on Phil, he said, “I’m really sorry, Charlie. Please don’t break up with me.”

What? “Why would I break up with you?” I squinted at him suspiciously. “What have you done?”

He looked up. “Uh, I was a dick?”

I searched his face. “This morning?” I said after a moment.

He nodded.

“That was you being a dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. So. Hmm.”

He looked anxious.

“No,” I said quickly. “No, no. We’re good. I’m not breaking up with you. I just wouldn’t have said that was particularly dickish behaviour. You were a bit abrupt and you kissed me to shut me up. Big deal. I’m not exactly known for my sunny personality and polite manners.”

Kevin sagged with relief.

“You’d have to do something monumentally stupid or really fuck up my life to make me break up with you,” I said with a reassuring clap to the shoulder. “Then it’s game over. But otherwise, we’re good.”

“Okay.” He beamed. “I’ll try really hard not to do anything stupid or fuck up your life. Now, I brought my sledgehammer. Cool if I go and knock down your bedroom wall?”

I blinked at him. “Uh?—”

He let go of me and bounced lightly on his toes, shaking out his arms. “It’s that, or I’ll have to go back to the gym before supper. I’m still a bit wound up from Craig pissing me off. Some demo will see me right.”

I made a face. “Couldn’t you…wouldn’t you rather have sex?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “But I think I’d better burn some of this off first, or I might wreck your hole.”

My stomach plunged.

Every now and then, Kevin busted out some of his terrible dirty talk, most of which I thought it was safe to assume he’d picked up from porn. Or Adam.

It was objectively awful.

It worked on me every time.

Kevin knew it. He grinned at me. “Rough handyman pounds his big hammer in twink’s virgin hole,” he said.

“Oh, for god’s?—”

“Taken by the tradesman: sassy twink nailed to the wall like a sexy picture?—”

“You hang pictures, Kevin, you don’t nail them. If you don’t know that much, then I have some serious questions about your qualifications.”

“I’m the best,” he said confidently. “Can I have a go at your wall, then?”

I was torn, I really was. I wanted to make Kevin happy. However, I also wanted to go to bed in a few hours not on a building site, which was what my room would turn into if I let Kevin and his sledgehammer anywhere near it. “I don’t know, Kevin.”

“It’s got to be done some time. Why not now?”

Yes, it did need to be done sometime. But why right now?

Kevin slid a hand from my hip around to my front to cup my groin. “Oh,” he said. “Like that is it?”

I swatted him away with an irritated tut and headed back inside.

He crowded behind me. “I will definitely have sex with you,” he said as we went into the kitchen. “Don’t worry. You’ll get yours.” He slung an arm around my waist and gnawed briefly on the back of my neck.

I couldn’t keep back the wanting noise it drew out of me, and Kevin turned me in his arms. He stared at me in silence.

One side of his mouth curled up.

I rolled my head back and glared up at the ceiling. “Fine,” I said. “You can sledgehammer my bedroom wall.”

“And then you.”

“And then me.”

“If you really don’t want me to go at your wall today, Charlie, I won’t. I can always go and have a poke around in your loft instead.” He gave me a winning smile.

“You are so nosy.”

“You are so not. I can’t believe you’ve been here all this time and you haven’t even peeked!”

“I’m busy. Besides, what do you think is even going to be up there? My money’s on old clothes, books, and Christmas decorations.”

“You never know what you might find,” he said.

“Happy to remain ignorant,” I said. “Are we doing this or not, because?—”

“Yes!” He pecked a kiss on my lips and rushed off, yelling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna get my stuff!”

I watched him go, shaking my head.

Ten minutes later, Phil was napping in the kitchen, Kevin had hauled his ‘stuff’ into my room, and I was stretched out on my bed, watching him roll out what he’d told me was carpet protection film. It looked like a supersized roll of clingfilm, and I winced at the thought of what would come up when he removed it.

If I’d known he was going to come over today and give my bedroom carpet a Brazilian, I’d have at least hoovered.

I tried telling him not to bother. The carpet, like everything else, had come with the house, and getting rid of it was on my epic list of home improvements.

He did a bit of heavy breathing when I mentioned the list, but he was in professional work mode, and he wouldn’t be swayed. He taped up the area in front of the wall and tossed an old sheet on top of the film to catch the majority of the debris, talking me through it as he did so.

He really, truly, was into this.

I’d known it, of course—he’d already done my cabinets and front door, and it hadn’t been just to get into my pants. And let’s not forget, while my list of home improvements was still in my head, he had an actual project plan in a binder. He’d mentioned it often enough.

I did my best not to lounge there perving on him while he was being a professional, but it was hard. The man was on all fours, for god’s sake. His arms bulged. His cargo trousers strained over his firm, round arse.

I wanted to go over there and drape myself over him.

That was it. Nothing else. I’d mount him, and die happy.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

I crossed my arms behind my head and shuffled down the pillows. “I most definitely am, thank you.”

He flexed to his feet. “One day, I’ll do you with just my tool belt and boots on if you like.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue.

“Maybe these, too?” He held my gaze as he slowly dragged on a pair of heavy-duty work gloves. “They really help with your grip.”

Oh my god.

“Maybe now?” I said.

“Mhm.” He sauntered over to the bed and lifted my chin on a finger. “Think I’m gonna make you wait for it.”

I floundered for a witty comeback and couldn’t seem to bring my brain online. Kevin gave me a cocky grin and sauntered back over to his tools.

I’d made him a latte earlier. While I was doing that, he’d isolated the upstairs circuits in the fuse box and used a multimeter to check for any wiring or pipes that might be behind the plaster, even though there were no power outlets on the wall.

“Normally,” he said, crouching down and balancing on the balls of his feet as he fiddled with his drill bits, “I’d use a pry bar to take the skirting board off first, but since we’re just having a little explore to find out what’s up with the hollow areas, I’ll drill a couple of holes and cut a section out.”

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s not a load-bearing wall?”

“Yeah. But even if the original wall is load-bearing, I’m not going to do any damage to it. I’m not gonna touch it. This—” he laid a hand on the wall by his shoulder, “—is a false wall. It’s not the actual wall. It’s not part of the structure of the house. It’s an add-on, and I’d guess it was done sometime around the seventies.” He paused thoughtfully. “Were you born then?”

I glared at him. “No.”

He rapped the wall and frowned. “From the sound of it, I’d say it’s plywood sheeting with some layers of plaster on top.”

“You can tell that…from the sound?”

“I’ve handled a lot of materials in my time. You get a feel for things.” He rapped again, then spread his fingers wide and gave it a cheerful slap before sorting through a small duffle bag that sat alongside his toolbox. He pulled out a dust mask with elastic straps and tossed it to me. “Put that on.” He took out another one for himself, and slipped a pair of safety goggles over his head.

“Do I need a mask?” I grimaced at it. “I’m nowhere near the wall. I’m all the way over here. On my bed. All lonely.”

He snapped his mask on and his eyes twinkled at me over the top. “This is old, degraded plaster. It’s nasty shit. Humour me, Charlie. I’ve been doing this job for a few years, and I’ve learned the hard way that safety precautions are there for a reason. Got the scars to prove it.”

“All right, all right.” I tugged the mask into place and gave him a thumbs-up.

He got his drill sorted and moved over to the wall. “Let’s see what’s behind here, shall we?” He set the bit to the plaster and buzzed the drill.

This wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I’d imagined him marching up to my room with a sledgehammer over his shoulder, bracing his feet, and going at it like a one-man wrecking ball.

It said a lot about how far gone I was for him that I’d have had no problem at all if that’s what he wanted to do.

Instead, he’d carefully prepared the area, he’d kitted both of us out with protection, and his approach was controlled and contained.

I tried not to get too hard about it.

The drill buzzed for about five seconds before he pulled it back and stood there, staring.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh. It went in easier than I expected, that’s all.” The drill was hanging loosely from one hand. With the other, he brushed at the wall. He shrugged, then positioned the drill and buzzed it a few more times before he switched it off, put it down by his toolbox, and picked up a slender saw. He slid me a look. “You want to come on over?”

I was on my knees at the end of the bed watching him, and I nodded.

He waited for me to reach his side and slid an arm around my waist. “Is my drilling getting you hot?” he said behind his mask. I knew he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

“Of course not. This is me on tenterhooks to find out what’s behind the wall. I’m hoping for a built-in shelving unit.” I don’t think I sold it. For one thing, he must have felt my erection against his hip. For another, I was too busy gazing into his sweet brown eyes to spare the stupid wall a glance.

He dropped a hand and gave my bum a frisky squeeze. “Let’s see how you like my sawing then.”

“Drills, saws. Wasn’t there some big talk earlier about sledgehammers?”

“Yeah.” He tugged his mask back up. “But that’s for full demo, and we can’t really sleep in here tonight if I take the whole thing down. I’ll cut a section away and we’ll see what’s up. Then I’ll fuck you, we can order pizza, I’ll fuck you again, and I’ll start bright and early tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to run to the shop to close up at six, but other than that, sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

His cheeks bunched, narrowing his eyes, as he leaned his upper body towards me as if he was sharing a secret. “It’s on the calendar in my project binder.” He squeezed my butt again, then let go and picked up a small saw. “Right, what I’m going to do now is, I’m going to slip my big blade nice and slow into this tight little hole?—”

“Uh-huh.”

“—and then I’m going to shove it iiiiiiiin.” Metal teeth ripped through plaster and wood. “And drag it oooooout.”

“I think I prefer you trying to be sexy with pastries.”

“No, you don’t. Look at my biceps.”

I did.

His right arm was by my face, and as soon as I glanced at it, he flexed and pushed the saw in again. “ Uhn ,” he said softly. Exactly the way he did in bed, right before he got loud.

I stared as he pulled the blade back then pushed it forwards again with another soft, deliberate grunt. He did it a few more times before he laughed and stopped fooling around, turning his attention to doing the job properly.

It was bizarrely more arousing than the porn-version he’d just treated me to.

It didn’t take long for him to cut three sides of a small section of the wall, about a foot square at chest height. He cut through the fourth side, then put the saw down and pulled the section clean off with a splintering sound. “See?” he said. “Load of plaster on top of wood.” He dropped the section and leaned in, running a gloved finger lightly over the cut. “Yeah, look. Old plywood. And wow, that’s a fuck-ton of plaster on top. Inches thick.”

I came up beside him and peered into the dark space he’d opened up. “Is there something in there?” I said.

Kevin ducked down. “Oh. Yeah. I think there is.”

I went to put my arm in the hole but he caught my wrist.

“Nope,” he said. “Don’t go sticking your arm into mystery holes. Rule for DIY, rule for life. Let me get my torch and make sure you’re not going to cut yourself on anything.”

“Good point. Sorry.”

He nodded at me and bent down to get his torch, a foot-long, black-and-yellow monster. He switched it on and aimed it in the hole. “Huh,” he said.

“What?”

“Looks like a side panel, maybe? You might get your shelving unit after all. Could be a wardrobe, although I don’t know why someone would seal it up.”

“Ooh.”

“Is it okay if I take a bit more of the wall out?” He put the torch down and gripped the edge in a big gloved fist. “Like…how much of a mess can I make here?”

I stared at the hole, then shrugged. “As much as you like. We can sleep in the guest room tonight.” I’d have to excuse myself while he was busy making a mess, stuff as many of the unopened packing boxes still in the guest room under the bed as I could manage, and run the rest out to hide in the garage.

He quivered with excitement. “Really?”

“Yep. You can use your sledgehammer and everything.”

“You’re the best, Charlie!” He grabbed me and kissed me. At least, he tried to. Mostly he mashed our masks together. “Sorry.” He leaned back, snatched his mask off, then mine, and pushed his tongue into my mouth.

I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck. “You really love your job,” I said when he released me.

“Yeah,” he said. “My job. God, I love my job.” He leaned in and mumbled against my lips, “Love it, Charlie,” before he tugged my mask back up, and then his, staring at me the whole time.

“Well?” I gestured at the hole. “Have at it.”

“Right. Let’s gooooo!” He grabbed hold of the raw edge of plywood, and yanked. It cracked. “You might want to stand back a bit. Don’t want you to catch any flying splinters. You’re not wearing goggles.”

“Are you…?” I swallowed. “Are you going to pull it down? By hand?”

He huffed with amusement. “Just the wooden parts.” He yanked again, biceps bulging, and cracked off another piece, tossing it to the sheeting. Plaster dust puffed up. “Can you open the window? The air’s been trapped back here and it smells bad. Really bad. Probably a mummified rat or something.”

“Oh. Yep. No problem.” I strode over and threw the window open, then returned to his side.

“Wardrobe,” he said, tipping his head at the two-foot wide gap he’d torn. “Look at that. Fancy one, too.”

“Looks like, uh. Marquetry? Is that what I mean?” The wardrobe was a deep, shining chestnut brown with an intricate black-and-white inlay.

He hummed. “Yeah. I think some of it might be tortoiseshell. Good job I didn’t go in swinging my hammer, or I’d have walloped right through it. You might make some money on this.”

Not to be mercenary or anything, but my ears pricked up at the m-word.

I could do with some money.

Money would help me pay Kevin back for the front door. I might even have some left over to pay him to do whatever else he was plotting. I hoped so; if I wasn’t firm about it, he’d do it for free.

“How much are we talking?” I asked.

“Couldn’t even begin to guess, but I know a guy who can do a valuation.”

“Please don’t say Craig.”

“No. Craig would tell you it’s junk, take it home, and sell it on eBay.” Kevin took hold of the edge of the gap again and yanked. More came away in his hands. “Okay, what the fuck is this? Hinges?”

“Wardrobes have hinges.”

“Yeah. These hinges are in the wall, though. Who hinges a fake wall? And then plasters over it?”

I looked at him. He looked at me. “A spy?” I suggested, because he seemed to be waiting.

“Could be. Let’s—oh.”

“What?”

“It’s pretty narrow for a wardrobe. It’s only, what, twenty inches wide.”

“You can get wardrobes that narrow. I’ve seen them on the IKEA website.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I know all about IKEA furniture, Charlie. I’ve put enough of it up. Old pieces like this, especially with all that gorgeous wood, they’re usually a lot wider. Other than that, it looks sort of Art Deco to me.”

“So, about a hundred years old?”

“Yeah. 1920s sort of.”

“Wonder what’s inside?” I said. “This is like those nesting dolls, isn’t it?”

Kevin paused and looked at me. His pupils shrank down to pinpricks. “Dolls?” he said.

“Russian dolls. Matryoshka. The little wooden ones where you open one up and there’s one inside, and you open that one up and there’s another inside, and so on.”

He turned to regard the wardrobe blankly.

“As in…here’s my room, and hidden inside it is a false wall, and hidden inside that is a wardrobe, and hidden inside that is…well. We’ll find out when you pull that last bit off and we open the door.”

Kevin’s happy enthusiasm seemed to have inexplicably dimmed.

“Kevin?” I said.

“Yeah.” He shook himself, blew out a breath and grabbed the last bit of wood down by the floor. He crouched, yanked it, and it came away with a loud crack. He straightened with none of that excited energy he’d been brimming with only seconds ago.

“Is something wrong?” I asked him.

He stared at the wardrobe. “No.”

I tipped my head to one side. “I don’t think it’s a wardrobe,” I said.

“I don’t think it’s a wardrobe, either.”

It was approximately six and a half feet tall, and two feet wide. No handle on the door. It was more like a long, narrow box. I leaned to the side. Hinges. I leaned to the other side. A clasp, with a hook and an eye.

“This is beautifully made,” I said, reaching out. I paused before I made contact. “I can touch it, right?”

“It’s yours. Technically.”

“I know.” I grinned. “It’s definitely worth some money. This isn’t any old pine storage box. You don’t put just anything in a fancy thing like this. So I can touch it?”

He hesitated.

“Kevin, come on. I want to look inside. See if I’m the proud owner of treasure as well as all the junk in the garage and the loft. It’s not against special worksite rules for me to touch it without gloves on, is it?”

“No,” he said uncertainly.

“Unless you want to do the honours? You did all the hard work, after all. I’d never even have known this was here without you. I’d have lived in peaceful ignorance.”

The mask and the goggles made it difficult to read his expression, but he looked oddly stricken.

“No? I’ll do it then. There are two more hollow spaces to check out, don’t forget.” I nudged him aside and reached out to the clasp.

“Three,” he said, voice wavering. “Not two. Three more. Uh. Charlie? I think maybe you shouldn’t?—”

I undid the clasp, opened the door, and looked straight into the shrunken eye sockets of a dead man dressed like a cowboy.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” Kevin screamed beside me, and bolted.

He got about two paces away before he ran back, grabbed me, and shoved me ahead of him down the stairs, down the hall, and out the front door.

Screaming the whole time.

I’d never moved that fast in my life.

Kevin pushed me out onto the doorstep, slammed the front door behind him, and set his back to it, panting roughly.

We stared at each other. He was still making a faint noise.

I was busy processing the fact that I was somehow outside and not still in my room looking at the dead man standing up in a box in my wall when Kevin went rigid and shouted, “Phil!”

He didn’t hesitate.

He threw himself against the door, popped it open, and vanished. I heard his boots pounding down the hall, the bang of what I assumed was the kitchen door impacting the wall as he crashed through it, his running feet again, and he came back out at admirable speed with a thrilled but confused Phil in his arms.

“Shut the door!” he said urgently. “Shut it! Shut it!”

“I don’t need to?—”

“Charlie!”

“Okay, calm down.” He was clutching Phil like an oversized teddy bear. Phil was loving it. I was not loving the utter panic on Kevin’s face. He was quivering. I squeezed past him and gently shut the door. “There we go. It’s shut.”

Kevin’s knees gave out and he sank to the ground, still clutching Phil.

“Kevin—” I said, crouching beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head and hid his face in Phil’s ruff.

“You’re all right,” I told him, rubbing his back. “Breathe. In and out.”

He nodded.

I straightened and eyed the front door. I had to go and get my phone, which was—thankfully—charging in the kitchen. I didn’t think Kevin would let me go if he knew what I was about to do. I straightened slowly, tiptoed away, and opened the door as quietly as I could. Pushing it wide, I paused on the doorstep.

So there’s a dead guy up there. Big deal. Big surprise.

Not a problem.

Not! A! Problem!

I strode down the hall, keeping my eyes dead ahead.

Straight ahead.

Keeping my eyes straight ahead.

No need to look at the stairs as I passed. Nothing was coming down them. No one had been unleashed.

Or awakened.

I sped up. It was fine. Dead is dead. Dead doesn’t crawl out of its fancy marquetry coffin and come rushing down?—

Fuck this. Oh, fuck it.

I bolted for the kitchen, snagged my phone as I streaked past the counter, and didn’t even bother unplugging it. The cable snapped free as I kept on running, all the way out the back door and into the garden.

I tore around the side of the house, through the side gate, and onto the drive. Kevin hadn’t noticed me leave. He was still cuddling Phil.

All right.

Excellent.

Next step.

Yes.

Next step was…police.

Yes. Call the police.

Great. Lights and sirens. Crime-scene tape. Attention.

Fantastic.

I took a deep breath and called 999.