Page 30 of Dangerously Deceptive

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We spendthe next couple of weeks throwing ourselves into a couple of little jobs, mostly surveillance things, or the odd cover-up. Liam considers taking on a new client, and that always involves a lot of background research while we look into whether he should take the job or not. I know he is taking on more jobs than he normally does to try and keep me busy, and it’s working. I’m grateful, the less time I have to think about her the better, but that doesn’t mean I am not counting down the days.

As each day passes it seems to go slower and slower, until I only have one more day to go. Today I fly home, and tomorrow I have a date to meet my girl. Liam and I have talked about the situation quite a lot over the last couple of weeks, and he has been helping me process how I feel. I’m nowhere near ready to say I’m in love, but I am fucking ready to admit I’m aching for her. I miss Shayla so fucking much, and I do feel something for her. Enough that I am prepared to do whatever it takes, to help her battle whatever demons she will be bringing back with her, to find out if we have anything. One day at a time.

Ican’t believe the day I have been waiting around for is finally here. It’s been a long thirty days, no matter how good it was to see Liam. I can’t remember the last time I looked forward to anything, but here I am, practically buzzing with the nervous excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. Not that I knew much about that. I didn’t have a dad growing up to dress up as Father Christmas, and the first few years with just my mum were a blur. I loved living with the Doughtys, but they were hardly the type of family to enjoy events like that. I mean, we definitely celebrated, but work never stopped for Desmond, even if that meant shooting a room full of people he believed wronged him at a Christmas party attended by a group of kids. True story from when I was around twelve. So, I am not using the term based on experience, but I can guess this is what kids would feel like.

I actually had that moment where I didn’t know what to wear. Yes, I felt ridiculous, and yes, I was worried Liam would have ripped me a new asshole if he had seen, but it genuinely happened. I looked at my jeans and t-shirts, then my jumpers, and even my smarter shirts, and I tried to decide how I wanted to look. Obviously I wanted to look good, to show her exactly what she has been missing these last thirty days, but I don’t want to look different. I want her to know nothing has changed. No matter how much she has endured, or what she has gone through, nothing has changed.

As I pull on my dark ripped jeans and tight black t-shirt that will go well with my leather jacket, I take a look in the mirror. Despite riding a bike, I look nothing like a Reaper. I have muscles, but not in the way they do. I’m lean where they are all beefy and big. Not that I'm intimidated, I just want her to see that we are different.

Driving to the meeting point we set all those days ago, I hope she has been able to hold on to the many amazing memories we created that day. I know I had, and I didn’t really need them. We had hoped we would be able to keep in touch, but that lasted for just a few hours. We were texting when she was getting settled back into her room on the compound, and she didn’t really say much more. Next thing I know, all her messages stopped. I kept texting, no doubt blowing up her phone. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I did run a trace on the phone, so I knew it was still turned on, and was still inside the compound. So, either they had taken it off her, or she was choosing not to reply. Whatever the answer, if she was making that decision, I couldn’t blame her. I’m not sure messaging and the odd phone call would have made our time apart any easier.

I get to Travis’ Cafe, the one she told me to meet her in, around fifteen minutes before ten in the morning. I look around, hoping she is here already. Or should I say, wishing. That would have been a more realistic word. I tried not to get here too early, I didn’t think I would like sitting here, just waiting. Even though fifteen minutes isn’t a long time, it felt like hours.

I order a latte for myself, and decide against ordering something for Shayla. She could have whatever she wanted when she got here. Truth be told, I had no idea what she would want. We spent a lot of time together in the three or so weeks between meeting and her having to go back to the Reapers, but most of it was spent in the hospital, or cooped up in a motel room. When we did become sexually involved, we were already on a clock. There was no time for dates or getting to know each other. Thankfully, we can do that now.

After a short while, I start to get antsy, the nearer it gets to the meet time. I deliberately chose a seat by the window so that I could see her coming, but now all that’s happening is I'm watching people come and go, or just walk past, and each time my nerves escalate more.

The further the minutes pass by our meet time, the more my leg starts to jig and my heart starts to race. My brain is running a mile a minute, and I can’t help but come up with all these worst-case scenarios that are definitely not making my anxiety any easier. Maybe she decided to stay? Maybe she chose Jamieson? This has always been a big fear since I saw them together. It’s abundantly clear that he loves her, and I think a long time ago she loved him. But for some reason, which they have never discussed, Jamieson patched into the Reapers, while Shay continued striving for her freedom. Whenever they talked about this, I don’t think they could see it, but I knew that there was a whole fucking lot more to their story. I don’t know if knowing why Jamieson did what he did would ever change the way Shayla feels, but I suspect it would. Which is why this is one of my biggest fears. You can’t fight against childhood sweethearts.

As I finish my latte and order another, close to an hour has gone by. Now my thoughts were getting a lot more sinister. Were they kidnapping her? Had she chosen to stay there? Is she dead?

If I had my kit with me, I would have hacked into their security feed within a heartbeat. Instead, all I have is my phone. Don’t get me wrong, I still could do a lot of damage on my phone, but I’m still faced with the same concept Liam had been drilling into me for the last couple of weeks, that maybe I didn’t really want to see inside. So I settle on calling and texting her number incessantly, something I haven’t done since the first couple of days.

I don’t know if I expect an answer, or if I’m just hoping for one, but the more I stare at my screen, all I can see is the time. Time ticks by so slowly, yet it doesn’t feel like very long until I have been sitting here for two hours, and the waitress is asking me if I’m okay. I know it’s lunchtime and they are starting to get busy. She probably wants the table I have been occupying with just coffee for the last couple of hours. I order another latte just to get her to leave me alone, but the idea of drinking another damn coffee is making me feel sick. Or maybe it could be the fact that I’ve clearly been stood-up.

Picking up my phone, I try ringing again, and when I get no response, I try ringing another number.

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. Aren’t you supposed to be all loved up and ignoring me for days?” Liam asks with a chuckle as soon as he picks up the phone. When I left his place I told him I didn’t know how long it would be until I called him, as I wanted to give Shayla all my time, and I wanted to stay in bed with her for as many days as was acceptable. Trust Liam to remember that.

“She didn’t show, Liam. I’m sat here in the cafe, where we arranged to meet. I got here early, so I know I didn’t miss her. I’ve been waiting for over two hours. Something is wrong, it’s got to be. There’s part of me that just wants to drive home and hack into the compound feed, but the stupid part of my brain that seems to like listening to you, well, that part is hesitant. You would think that’s the more logical side, but right now he is considering storming the main gates, so I’m not sure either of those versions of me are thinking logically. What do I do, Liam? Please, help,” I ramble down the phone, trying to keep my voice down. At the first mention of hacking into the compound feed, I may have said it a bit too loud as the older lady on the table next to me with blue-rinse permed hair looks over at me with very judgemental eyes. I mean, you know your life has taken a turn for the shitter when a woman wearing a floral blouse that clashes with her fifty-year-old perm is judging you.

“Okay, first, take a big, deep breath,” he says, waiting for me to do as I’m told.

Taking a short, sharp breath, I snap back at him, “Happy, now what?” I don’t have time for his bullshit meditation or whatever the hell else he is going to try getting me to do.

“Kellan Jacob Burke, for once will you do as you are told?” Liam snaps down the phone, making him seem more like my dad than best friend—Liam is only a couple of months older than me. Whenever he full-names me, I know that I’m in trouble.

I make a show of doing a couple of slow, deep breaths down the phone, which again earns me a funny look from the old woman nearest. To be fair, it doesn’t exactly look normal. This is probably the sort of meltdown I should be having in the privacy of my own home, instead of in the middle of a cafe, but I can’t bring myself to leave.

“Happy now? Oh, and just so you know, that whole heavy, deep breathing thing down the phone has gained me a fair few dodgy looks, so thanks for that,” I reply, earning me a laugh from Liam.

“Where are you?”

“I already told you, I’m at Travis’ Cafe, waiting for Shayla.” What the fuck is wrong with him, it’s like he isn’t even listening, and I can’t help snapping at him. “I already told you this. For fuck’s sake, Liam, what are you doing that is more important than following this bastard conversation?” My voice has risen well to way above the acceptable level for a public cafe, and there are more than a few eyes on me now.

“Young men nowadays and their disgusting bad language, should be ashamed of themselves,” the old lady with the perm chunters on to her friend, who at least has the balls to look embarrassed. She is trying to look anywhere except at her friend, or at me. The only problem is that I am no longer behaving rationally. My nerves are fried, my patience has worn beyond thin, and I am a ball of nervous energy. My leg hasn’t stopped jigging, my free hand that isn’t holding the phone is fiddling about with a salt shaker, and my heart feels as though it is going to beat out of my chest.

Turning to face the old lady, my face contorts angrily as I see the way she is looking at me. Like I’m shit on the bottom of her shoes. “Who the fuck are you to say that to me? I’m a paying fucking customer here like everyone else. What gives you the bloody right to look down your shitty little nose at me, you nosey old battleaxe?” I snap, on a roll, using more swear words than I would normally in a sentence. Now everyone in the cafe is staring at me. I can hear Liam shouting in my ear. I must have zoned him out before, but now I can hear him clearly. I can also see a couple of the waitresses, and what looks to be the manager, huddled in the corner, pointing towards me. They can fuck off if they think I’m leaving,

“Kellan, what the hell is going on?” Liam shouts again, extra loud, grabbing my attention.

“I’m still in the cafe waiting for Shay, but some snotty woman sitting next to me is getting pissy about the amount of bad language I’m using. But, you don’t see me getting arsey about her abysmal blue-rinse perm, or the floral blouse she’s wearing that is so bright it actually hurts my eyes. No, I kept my mouth shut about that, so why the hell she feels she needs to chunter on about me, I will never know.” My words are just rambling out like verbal diarrhoea and it’s clear I am doing nothing to make this situation any easier. I can hear Liam sighing on the other end of the phone, and as a man dressed smartly in a suit begins to approach me, it’s clear he’s the manager. My brain is working a mile a minute as I try to work out what to do. I know he is going to kick me out, but I also know I'm not leaving.

“Kel…”

Before Liam has a chance to lecture me, I cut him off, updating him on the changing situation. “Liam, I should probably tell you the situation has escalated. There’s a manager approaching, no doubt asking me to leave, and I can tell you right now I am not leaving. I need to wait here for Shayla.”

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