Page 30 of The Reaper

Hannah’s mouth made an O but no sound came out. They were both silent for a moment, regarding each other.

“There’s a lot more to this than you think, Hannah. If you are who you say you are…” He emphasised that, looking sideways at her with a sneer. “You walked into a wasp’s nest,” he said.

She gawped, her mouth open. “You set the fire alarm off, a distraction to escape-”

“That’s bullshit. I didn’t set the fire alarm off. You did,” he countered.

“I didn’t! I tell you Jack, you drag me out in front of the Bratva and say my life for yours, they’ll laugh in your face, they’ll shoot us both on the spot.”

He looked up the corridor, as if he could see a way out, for a second, she wondered if he would take it. Just turn and run, from her, from the mess she’d made.

Yet he looked back at her. He clenched his jaw, she saw the muscles flex slightly in his face, willing to listen.

So she carried on earnestly. “I’m telling you the truth, I’m afraid I was just put in a tight spot and grabbed at the only lifeline I could find. You. I prayed for a get out of jail free card, and you landed in my lap. I couldn’t believe my luck, a good looking man who could-”

“Do really hot sex?” Jack offered with a raised eyebrow.

She blinked at him for a moment. Had he just made a joke? A cheeky joke at that? She blushed. “Yes, okay, a very strong physical connection to-”

He scoffed. “Hot sex.” He corrected her. Could she almost see the trace of a smile on his lips? “You just wanted a good pounding-”

“Jack!” She exclaimed, but smiled, despite herself.

It shimmered there, between them. The physical. What they had together, what they felt when they were together. Every groan of pleasure, every touch that felt like it soothed the exact right spot. The release, The relief. She saw it in his eyes as he looked at her, finally, properly. The surprise, the elation at finding someone to experience that with. To have had that experience at all. That was truth, that was reality. She knew it and she could see that Jack knew it, too. None of that was made up, that had all been 100% real. And she could see he trusted that.

She smiled gently and put a hand onto his cheek. A soft touch, a touch to his soul. He let her, not only let her, he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a little noise. The quietest little sigh of relief. She had him back again. She sighed, too.

He seemed to almost nod slightly, just a tiny movement, but it felt different now, between them.

“Come on.” He tilted his head in the direction of the corridor, and they both set off together.

“Who-” she began but he hushed her. He went to put his hand over her mouth again but she shot him a murderous look, and he took it away.

“In here,” he said, propelling them into a room off the corridor.

It was a locker room for the staff. He looked about, grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall.

“What are you-” she started, but stopped and squealed quietly as he pounded the fire extinguisher on one of the locker locks. The sound echoed loudly, she thought her ear drums would explode. The padlock spun off into the room, the light clanking on the tiled floor a relief to her ears. He repeated this twice more.

“Get in, stay silent,” he hissed, grabbing her forearm, shoving her into one of the lockers.

She opened her mouth to argue but got a face full of someone’s coat. He closed the locker behind her. She was crouched, in the dark, in a locker. She heard another lock open and close, she assumed he’d stepped into one himself.

She didn’t dare to move, or breathe. Her heart hammered loudly in her ears, in her chest. She couldn’t hear anything. She waited. There were some slits, air vents half way down the door. She was crouched anyway so turned and could just peer out into the room. She waited.

And then finally the door off the corridor opened. The handle dipped, quietly, carefully, and the door gently nudged open.

The first thing through the door was the barrel of a gun. A chill ran down her spine.

An MI5 agent, a man, fully kitted out, slunk in after the gun. What had Jack said, they were the Bratva? How high did this corruption go? The man walked on his toes first, silently, gun poised in front of him. He looked well-built, but a lot of that could have been his gear, he had a strap around his thigh with a pouch, and a knife shelf. Gear around his waist too. She couldn’t see his eyes, he was wearing a black helmet that said MI5 in bold white letters on the forehead. He stalked further into the room, passing her locker. Her breath felt like it was going to explode in her lungs, she couldn’t breathe in or out without fear. She closed her eyes, dreading him flinging open the door, seeing her. Killing her.

Nothing happened. She opened her eyes, he had passed her. He was approaching the other lockers now. One of them she was sure had Jack in it. The MI5 agent paused, stood more normally now, and turned round, dropping the gun to his side. He reached for something on his belt. A radio.

“Inspecting locker room, over,” he said.

And that was the moment Jack burst out of the locker, jumping on the man from behind. She gasped now. They both collapsed on the floor and struggled, legs, arms, grabbing each other, trying to hit. They were both scratching at each other, clawing. the violence, the strength they had. She felt a wave of nausea. They were trying to kill each other.

Jack landed a knee to the man’s ribs, winding him. He doubled up but recovered, punching Jack in the face, hard. Jack ricocheted away, but only for a second, and came back down on the man hard. The man got Jack in a stranglehold, he was gasping, choking, struggling.

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