Page 16 of Deep Waters

Harry agreed. “But only if you let me take you out for a proper lunch one day next week.” He grabbed a notepad from the cabin and scrawled their orders. Turkey and stuffing on a white roll for Tom, crab salad on wholemeal for his dad, together with their drinks.

The tide was low. He climbed up the slippery ladder to the dock. “Won’t be long. Text me if you think of anything else.”

The early drizzle had moved away, though low clouds hung over the town without a chink of sunlight, threatening more rain at any time. There were no more storms in the forecast, at least for the rest of the week. The weekend didn’t look too promising, but that could change. What mattered was the next few days were clear. Harry wanted to get the boat back out to sea as soon as possible. Yesterday had been an aberration…a blip. He couldn’t let it shape his future. The boat was his livelihood, and he had to get back to it.

It was doubtful Christian would want to resume his excursion along the coast, but Harry had a fishing charter booked in for Friday, and he needed to get back to his best. He intended to take the boat out tomorrow—alone if he had to.

Christian. He wondered how he was getting on.

The older man hadn’t been far from his thoughts all morning. As he’d busied himself with physical work, his mind had drifted back to the past night.

How close had they come to going to bed together?

Damn near all the way. In the pub, Harry had been hot and horny for him. He’d recognised the urge for sex for what it was, a longing to defy death. He’d experienced it before, but that didn’t mean his desire for Christian wasn’t real. Harry would have gone with him willingly, and he’d have had no regrets about it today. Even now, he couldn’t deny that he still wanted the guy.

If the news of the second murder hadn’t killed the mood, they would have gone through with it.

A double dose of death had beaten the need for life-affirming sex.

It didn’t have to defeat him now.

He paused at the edge of the dock and pulled his phone from his pocket. He composed the text quickly, before he had a chance to doubt the wisdom of it.

Hi. How are you today? Fancy catching up later this afternoon? Are you free around five?

It sounded good. Caring, but not too needy. He hit Send and shoved the phone back in jeans.

The worst Christian could say was no. Maybe he had woken this morning, grateful to have dodged a bullet. They could still be friends. Harry was genuinely concerned about him after their experience. Sure, Christian was a journalist and would have encountered far worse violence in his career, but he would be used to reporting on things after they had happened, rather than playing an active part. It would only be natural for him to be affected by what he’d been through.

He wondered what kind of man Christian really was. Yesterday might have fast-tracked them to an intimate place, but they barely knew each other. Their conversations on the boat, prior to finding Niko, had been friendly but professionally distant, and they had both been emotional and raw in the pub afterwards. Neither of them had seen a true representation of the other.

Harry was torn between his need to see Christian again, to sleep with him if the attraction continued and leave him well alone. Life was complicated enough right now. Did he really need a love affair, however brief, to confuse things even more? Christian would be here for a few more days. Surely the best thing to do was to keep their relationship on a simple and professional level.

Harry sighed.Who the hell even knows what’s right or wrong anymore?

As he crossed the bridge towards the Seagull Café, he spotted a familiar face on the south bank, heading in the other direction—Antoni Nowak, his ex-boyfriend of three years. Harry was familiar with every part of Antoni and had no trouble recognising him from behind.

“Hey,” he hollered, hurrying to catch up. “Antoni. Hang on.”

Antoni turned and saw him. He raised his hand and came back towards him, his long, rangy legs quickly covering the distance.

Shit. He looks knackered.

Antoni’s light-brown hair was dishevelled, sticking up in wild curls on top of his head. He was usually immaculate when he stepped outside. His dark-grey eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. When he stepped up to Harry, his smile was tight and appeared forced.

“Hey, how are you?” Harry put a comforting hand on his arm. “Sorry I missed your calls last night. It was…well…you know.”

Antoni gave an imperceptible nod. The sadness in his eyes was clear. “It’s okay. I understand. I know you’ll have had a lot of questions to answer—the police and all that.”

“Are you all right? I know you’re friends with Niko’s family.”

“I was just with them. His mother Anna, she is devastated. They all are. This…whole thing makes no sense to anyone.”

“I know. I’ve turned it over so many times in my head, and I can’t get it straight, either. I’m not even sure I really slept last night. Whenever I shut my eyes… I didn’t know Niko well, not like you did, but he seemed like a nice kid.”

“He was a good boy—not the kind to bring trouble to his parent’s door, you know what I’m saying. Everyone loved him.” Antoni let out a long gasp. “I don’t know what I can do or say to help them.”

“I’m sure they appreciate everything you’ve done.” The Polish community was small in the area, but Harry had seen during his time with Antoni just how supportive and loyal they were to each other. “I’m heading to the Seagull to pick up lunch for my dad and Tom. Have you got time for a coffee? You look like you could do with one. It will do you good to sit down, if only for a few minutes.”

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