Page 98 of Savage Protector

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he rushes on. “We have our eye on a house. Four bedrooms, about a mile from here. Three acres of gardens, loads of space for two kids…”

“Sounds very desirable. How long have you been considering this?”

“A while, actually. We just think it’s time. And you don’t need me living here, not with Jack on site. I can be here, or on Caraksay, whenever you need me.”

“I guess you could,” Ethan says. “A mile away, you say?”

“Maybe less. Most of the men live elsewhere, and there are no problems…”

“Okay, okay. I get it, and I have no objections. What about you, Jack?”

“Sounds good to me, boss. I’ll be glad not to have the ugly sod under my feet all the time. I’d miss wee Robbie, though.”

Ethan grins. “Yes, I imagine so.” He levels his gaze on Tony again. “You know the rules about homes outside. High security and make yourself available whenever we need you.”

“Yes, boss. So, can I tell Jenna it’s on?”

“The move, or the fostering?”

“Both.”

“Yes. Both. Good luck with it.”

“How did you do it?Or should I not ask?”

“Do what?” Ethan gazes guilelessly at Jack a few days later, our regular briefing coming to a close.

“Abid,” Jack replies.

“Ah, yes. Abid. Such sad news from Barlinnie.”

The derisive snort is all the answer he gets. Apparently, our friend Abid has met with some sort of mishap in his cell. Attacked, it would seem, with a shiv fashioned from a razor blade embedded in a toothbrush. The murder weapon was left at the scene, still poking out of Abid’s jugular. Despite intensive enquiries by the police and the prison authorities, no one is talking. The killer or killers somehow slipped away to be swallowed back into the prison community and leaving not a trace.

“I assume it was you,” Jack persists. “You set it up.”

Ethan shrugs. “Abid had no shortage of enemies. It could have been anyone.”

Jack abandons his efforts to discover the truth. Ethan may or may not have orchestrated the sudden demise of Abid Malik, but I know where my money would go.

“Good riddance,” I mutter.

No one argues.

22

Five years later

Leila

I lean into the fridge,hoping for the best. I’ve not done any shopping for weeks, but maybe Zayn has. Just a bottle of milk and some eggs would do…

No such luck. Half a lettuce, an open tin of beans already congealed, and a dried-up bit of what might once have been Red Leicester are the best I can come up with. I sweep the whole lot into the bin and contemplate cleaning the now-empty fridge.

“Leave it. Let’s eat out.”

I whirl. I hadn’t realised Zayn was even here. “It’s okay, I can nip out to the shop,” I offer.

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