Page 45 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

For years now, his mother and brother had been obsessed with winning that bloody gold medal, so he wasn’t surprised that, even now, lying here seriously injured, it was foremost in Charles’s mind.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

Charles’s face twisted in pain and his body spasmed.

Alex held on to his hand helplessly, desperately afraid that he was losing him. “Charles? What do you want me to do?” he repeated. He could hardly tell the doctors not to test Charles for banned substances.

“Tell them I wasn’t driving,” Charles said hoarsely. “Say it was you. Please, Alex.”

He wasn’t in any frame of mind to consider the consequences of such a lie, or understand what he was agreeing to. He just wanted to give his brother comfort in his hour of need.

“Of course. I promise. Now, don’t worry about it. Please, Charles, just stay with us. Don’t leave me.”

In the distance, he heard sirens. Thank God. He levered himself to his feet, slowly, scanning the horizon and feeling a wave of relief when he saw the ambulance. A jolly-looking giant of a man stepped out, accompanied by a medibot.

“Our duck crashed,” Alex told him hoarsely. “My brother was thrown out, and my mother, too, but there’s nothing you can do for her.”

That’s when it sank in and his legs gave way. The giant reached out and caught him just in time, calling to his companion to bring a stretcher.

“Alright, mate. Just sit down here for a mo. Do you have a name, son? I’m Graham.” He knelt down in front of Alex, instructing the medibot to begin examining him.

“I’m Alex. We’d been for lunch at the pub. I don’t know what happened. The duck just tumbled over and over, then hit that tree. Mum…” He gestured up the road. “She’s gone. Charles can’t feel his legs. Please help him. Leave me. I’m fine.”

“Alright, Alex. You just sit here for a second, okay?” Graham glanced at his companion, who was already kneeling beside Charles .

“Shit…” Graham took a good look at Charles and then turned back to Alex. “Is that Charles Lytton?”

“Yes, he’s my brother. Please help him.”

“Don’t worry, he’s in good hands. We’ll get you both to the hospital. Now, what about you, Alex?” The giant touched the gaping hole in Alex’s ripped jeans where blood was still streaming down his leg.

“I’m fine. Please, help Charles.”

“We will, don’t worry, I just want to be sure you’re not seriously injured, too.” Graham gave him a reassuring smile.

“I was driving,” Alex told him urgently, needing to make good on his promise to Charles. “It was all my fault.” It was in a way. He should have been driving. If only he hadn’t taken all that croc.

Oh, shit, what had he done?

He drifted out of the memory to find the moon had travelled halfway across the sky.

What would happen if he told Tyler the truth?

He’d always shut down that thought before, his greatest fear being that Tyler would turn the full force of his wrath upon his beloved brother instead.

There was no point in them both suffering at the man’s hands, and Charles had surely suffered enough.

Besides, he’d promised Charles, and that was a promise he’d never break.

So no, he’d never tell Tyler, or anyone else for that matter.

Not now. Not ever. It was a secret he’d take to his grave.

There was no point in telling Tyler now, anyway. Even if the man believed him, too much water had passed under the bridge, and what lay between them had evolved far beyond his obsession with Isobel’s death. They were trapped in Tyler’s sticky web together, neither of them able to break free.

Alex lay on the cool stone beneath the dark night sky for what could have been days but was probably only a few hours. Somewhere in the distance he heard the whirr of helicopter blades, and then he felt gentle fingers on his face .

“Mr Alexander, sir, Mr Tyler said you’d fallen. Please, let me be of assistance.” Jabir went to put down his torch, giving a startled gasp as it flashed on Alex’s face. “You are injured, Mr Alexander. Tell me where it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt, Jabir, but thank you for asking.”

“Let me help you up.”

Alex tried to rise but his legs wouldn’t work. In the end, Jabir managed to haul him to his feet and half walk, half carry him back to his room. He set Alex on the bed and gently eased off his shoes.

“Poor Mr Alexander. Poor dear man.” He washed the blood off Alex’s face, brought him painkillers, helped him out of his stained clothes and put him to bed. Then he stood by the door, his hand hovering over the light switch.

“I will be just outside if you need me. Call me if you do, please,” he said, his face desperately sad. “I’m here for you.”

Jabir took care of him for the next few days, helping him to wash, bringing him food, and offering massages. It was as if they’d travelled back in time to the first occasion when Tyler had left.

“The olive grove looks very pretty. Would you like to walk there with me?” Jabir offered when Alex was back on his feet again. He threaded Alex’s hand through his arm and refused to take no for an answer.

Jabir took him right to the edge of the olive grove, to an old wooden door set in the high stone wall, and then spoke to him in a low, quiet voice.

“I know the movements of the security guards. When you are fully better, I can arrange to leave this door open and a parcel beneath this tree with food and a passport.”

Alex glanced around anxiously.

“We cannot be overheard here, and if we are seen, it will simply look as if we are walking, which we are.” Jabir moved Alex on slowly, as if he was simply helping him to regain his strength.

“Thank you.” Alex smiled and nodded serenely for the benefit of the camera on the wall that was following his every move.

“But I wouldn’t risk you or your family.

If Tyler found out…” He was back in that room, watching as Tyler smacked Solange and she fell.

He flinched, hearing the crack her head made as it hit the fireplace.

“It is a small risk.”

“No!” He spoke more heatedly than he’d intended. He calmed down, smiling for the camera. “No. I can’t risk it. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, or Maura and the children.”

“Mr Tyler has always been a generous and decent employer, unlike some others,” Jabir said darkly.

“I do not believe he would harm us.” Then he frowned.

“Yet I know he harms you.” His worried gaze took in the bruises that were slowly fading on Alex’s face.

“I thought, maybe, this was a personal matter between the two of you. You are lovers, yes?”

“He uses me for sex, if that’s what you mean. Lovers…” Alex sighed. If that term had ever been accurate, it certainly wasn’t now. “I don’t know that you’d call it that.”

“Some people are very passionate. It is not my place to interfere with my employer’s personal affairs.” Jabir’s gaze travelled to the ID tag attached to Alex’s necklace. “But…” He paused, uncertainly. “I don’t understand the system in your country. We don’t have it here. You work for him, yes?”

“Yes. Or at least I did. Now… I don’t know. He hasn’t made me work for a long time.”

“No, I think he is still making you work,” Jabir said softly, his gaze never leaving Alex’s face. “I am uncomfortable with this situation, Mr Alexander. It tests me. I pray for you every night. I discuss it with Maura.”

“It’s not your responsibility, Jabir. It’s nothing to do with you,” Alex told him firmly. Leaning heavily on the other man’s arm, he directed him back towards the house.

“No man is an island,” Jabir murmured unhappily. “The bible says, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ I cannot in all conscience ignore your suffering, my dear Mr Alexander.”

“It’s my cross to bear,” Alex replied, using language he thought Jabir would understand. “But thank you. My father’s church only cared about sin and punishment. I’d forgotten that some people live their faiths differently.”

“Then I’m glad to have at least shown you that, as little as it is,” Jabir said softly. “You have seen the worst of people, I think, Mr Alexander.”

“And the best, too.” Alex thought of Joe and Peter, of Solange and Ted, of Barney Bates.

“I hope that is true.”

They reached the courtyard, and Alex slid gratefully back onto a sun lounger to rest with a blanket pulled up over him.

When he awoke a few hours later, he lay gazing up at the cloud of sweet-scented bougainvillea that hung above him and wondered about the old wooden door in the olive grove.

It was a way out other than the death he’d been anticipating – should he take it?

He’d given up on the idea of obtaining justice for Solange, so why not just leave?

He was paralysed by his own indecision. On the one hand, it was a way out; on the other, it felt exhausting to even consider it.

How far could he reasonably expect to get in an unfamiliar country where he didn’t speak the language?

He’d utterly failed to escape in the UK, where the odds had been much more in his favour.

He didn’t even know where in Spain they were.

He knew nothing except the inside of this compound where Tyler kept him a closely guarded prisoner.

Jabir was as na?ve as Solange had once been when she’d helped him escape, whereas he’d seen first-hand what Tyler was capable of.

No, if he ever made an escape attempt, it wouldn’t involve help from anyone else.

He couldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t have any more dead bodies and ruined lives on his conscience.

“Explain to me the significance of the tag you wear,” Jabir said to him the next day as he massaged his hands. “I’ve heard there is a system in your country which prevented you all from killing each other after the Rising. We envied you that in the beginning. How does it work?”

Alex explained, and Jabir listened as he massaged.