| |
I wait until I hear the shower running then hurry to the kitchen and pick up the phone Slater just gave me. I enter the code, then dial my father’s number, my hands shaking. I press the handset to my ear, waiting.
‘Papa?’ I whisper.
‘Princesa? Are you OK?’
Papa sounds happy; he doesn’t sound worried sick, like I expected.
‘Yes, Papa, I’m OK. Slater told you what happened?’ I ask him to be sure.
‘He did. Are you all right, my angel? Where are you?’
‘I’m with Slater.’
I sigh, the fear of the night before coming back to me, causing a thin layer of perspiration to cover my body.
‘I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there. That man was in our house.’
‘I heard, Princesa. I heard. But Marcel was there. He’s the best in the industry. I knew no harm would come to you if I left you with him.’
‘When are you coming home to get me, Papa?’
‘In a few days, my angel. I need to arrange the flights.’
‘But what about me?’
‘Marcel will take you home. It’s safe there, now.’
‘No, he won’t. He says it’s not safe...’
I pause, realising the shower’s stopped. How long ago did it stop? I panic, cut the call immediately and drop the phone on the counter, then grab a pen and add to the list of things I need. Slater comes out of the bedroom, his damp hair combed back.
‘Shall I make you something to eat?’ I offer quickly, my heart pounding. I study his face, trying to find a sign that he heard me speaking, but I see nothing in his eyes.
‘Sure.’
I open the fridge. ‘A sandwich, maybe? You don’t have much food.’
He hands me his phone with the supermarket app.
‘Order anything you want. There’s a drop-off place close by, I’ll pick it up.’ He takes out a prepacked salad bowl. ‘I’ll have this.’
‘You buy them like that? You don’t make your own food?’
‘Cooking isn’t my thing. Food is just fuel.’
‘Don’t let Maria hear you say that. She’d consider that blasphemy.’
He smiles. ‘Sure, she would.’ He peels the cover off the salad and grabs a fork. ‘Help yourself to anything.’
‘I need to call Maria, she’ll want to speak to me, but I don’t know her number.’
‘Write her a letter with the number of the burner on it. Tell her you lost your phone. I’ll get Bram to leave it for her when he goes round.’
I peer into the fridge and take a salad for myself.
‘Can I come with you?’
‘Where?’
‘To the gym.’
He shakes his head.
‘I can work out myself, or something, I won’t be in the way.’
‘I’ll be teaching, I won’t be able to look after you. It’s too dangerous.’
‘Dangerous? In your own gym? Please, I can’t stay here on my own. I’ve got nothing to do.’
‘No.’
He doesn’t even look up from his food. His elbows rest on the table, his muscles flexing every time he lifts his fork to his mouth.
‘Can’t we go and pick up my stuff before you go? Then at least I can study while you’re out.’
‘I told you, tonight. Bram will go this afternoon and your things will be here for you, tonight.’
There’s no point trying to change his mind. His tone tells me there’s no negotiation. I leave the salad bowl on the side and walk to the guest bedroom.
‘Why don’t you read a book?’ he calls after me.
‘Because I haven’t got any books with me,’ I tell him.
‘In the cupboard under the bottles.’
I go to the cupboard and open it. There are shelves of paperbacks. I glance at the titles. They’re arranged in alphabetical order of author. There’s John Le Carré, Lee Child, Jocko Willink and more.
‘Wow. I didn’t realise you like to read.’
‘Why not? Because I didn’t go to university, like you and your friends?’
There’s resentment in his voice.
‘No, I just didn’t expect it.’
I take The Art of War by Sun Tzu from the shelf then walk to the guest bedroom and lie on the bed.
Does he seriously think my father had something to do with that man trying to kill me? I know my father. He may not let me live my life the way I choose but that’s his way of protecting me. He wouldn’t allow me to get hurt. I don’t know why Slater thinks he would be involved. It doesn’t make sense. Slater just doesn’t understand him.
I look at the book in my hand. And I don’t understand Slater. That cupboard full of books is the last thing I expected to find. I assumed he wasn’t into reading. I realise I know hardly anything at all about him. Except I do know I’m attracted to him and he is to me, but nothing’s going to happen between us. He told me in as many words. That makes me feel weird, because I do want something to happen.
‘Dale?’ Slater calls from the kitchen.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve changed my mind. You’re coming with me.’
I get up and hurry to the kitchen. He’s standing by the door.
‘Can you do something with your hair?’
I run my fingers through it. I washed and brushed it this morning. I had to borrow Slater’s shampoo and there wasn’t any conditioner, so it’s not as soft as usual, but I don’t think it’s that bad. I look at him, puzzled.
‘Put it up somehow, so no one can see how long it is,’ he says.
‘Oh. A bun. OK.’
He grabs a baseball cap and T-shirt from his room and hands them to me.
‘Put them on.’
I turn from him, shrug off the blouse and pull on his T-shirt. It’s loose on me, the sleeves hang long on my arms. It smells of fabric conditioner and washing powder, and Slater; a hint of his aftershave lingers, even after the wash.
I use the hairband from around my wrist and pull my hair into a low bun. I’ve only got one band so it’s kind of messy. I put the cap on then look at him.
‘Here.’
He hands me some sunglasses. I put them on and he nods his approval.
‘Let’s go.’
I follow him to the car and he holds the door for me to get in.
‘Isn’t this a bit much?’ I ask, when he gets in beside me.
‘Someone tried to kill you, remember?’ He pulls the car out of the parking space and speeds away.
‘How could I forget.’
I look out of the window at the buildings. I don’t know Rotterdam well as I rarely go out and have no idea which part of the city we’re in.
‘What made you change your mind?’
‘About what?’ He glances at me, his eyes covered by his own sunglasses, and he looks all the more alluring, his tanned, tattooed arms on display.
‘About letting me come with you.’
‘I felt sorry for you.’
‘Oh. Thanks, I guess.’
We drive on in silence for a few moments.
‘Can I take this off now?’ I say, as I remove the cap.
‘No.’
His tone is sharp, so I quickly put it back on.
We pull into the car park behind a one-storey building. There’s a light-up sign that reads ‘The Take Down’. I go to open the door, but Slater puts his hand on my arm.
‘Wait.’
He gets out of the car then comes around to my side and opens the door.
‘Stay close to me.’
He pulls me to his body. Adrenalin pumps through me as I stick to him, the scent of his aftershave strong in my nose. I don’t know what’s going on; is there someone here? Watching us? I feel panic rising in my throat, and I cling tighter to him. His arms grip my shoulders as he strides into the building through the back door. It’s locked, but he has the key. Inside, he releases me. We’re in a corridor.
‘This way,’ he says, walking away from me.
He opens a door on the left, holding it for me to go in. It’s an office. There’s a large antique-style desk made from heavy polished wood facing the door, and two leather sofas.
I take off the sunglasses, then look at Slater. He nods, so I remove the hat as well.
‘You can wait in here.’ He picks up the phone on the desk and says, ‘Tell D to come through.’
Moments later there’s a knock and a man puts his head around the door. He’s got dark blond hair, long on top with an undercut, pulled back in a ponytail. I recognise him as one of guys Slater was with at Paradiso the other night. Slater motions for him to enter. He slips around the door. I see both arms are tattooed and exposed to mid-bicep by a dark polo shirt with a company logo on it.
‘Hey.’ He shuts the door behind him and extends a hand to me. ‘I’m Dylan.’
I take his hand, my eyes on his tattooed forearms.
‘I’m Dale.’
‘I know.’
There’s kindness in his smile.
‘I’m going to take the class. Stay with her, D, don’t let her out of your sight.’ Slater drops his keys on the desk.
‘Yes, Coach.’ Dylan turns to me and winks.
‘Dale?’
‘Yes, Slater?’
He walks to me and takes hold of my wrists. He bends his head so he’s level with my eyes. His face is close to mine, so close our noses are almost touching. The darkness of his eyes matches his stubble; goosebumps ripple across my skin.
‘You should have everything you need in here. There’s a bathroom. There’s a fridge with food and drinks. Make yourself at home.’ He glances at Dylan, then back to me. ‘D will look after you. You’ll be safe here with him. But do not leave this room until I get back. Under no circumstances. Do you agree?’
I nod, not daring to speak. He goes to the wardrobe and takes out a white martial arts suit.
‘I’ll see you in an hour,’ he tells me as he leaves.