Page 71 of Worth the Wait
Come here. Now.
Alfie stood as if waking from a bad dream. The two lads didn’t notice, too busy arguing over something, low and sniping.
Nathan moved back, silent as a ghost, slipping into the shadow of the hallway.
Waited.
One breath. Two.
Alfie slid out behind him, quiet as a whisper, and Nathan tapped a finger to his lips. Alfie nodded. Once. Maybe the boy had some instincts after all. So Nathan kept the signals minimal. Slicing two fingers through the air.Move, now. Field gestures he’d used clearing compounds in Helmand, instinctive and urgent. Alfie must’ve caught the vibe, even without formal training. Some things were in the blood.
Alfie swallowed, glanced once behind him, then crept forward.
They moved fast and low, hugging the wall, retracing Nathan’s path back up the stairs towards the sidebathroom. But as Nathan reached the door, a voice bellowed from downstairs.
“Oi! Alfie! You want in on this or what?”
Nathan spun, grabbing Alfie by the back of the hoodie, and yanked him bodily into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them. In one fluid move, he shoved open the narrow window he’d slipped through earlier, twisted Alfie out first, feet scrambling for purchase, then hauled himself after.
They dropped.
No time to control it properly. No graceful exits. They hit the cold concrete of the alley in a tangle of limbs, hard and fast, knocking the breath out of each other. Nathan got up first, dragging Alfie to his feet, pushing him back into the cover of the alley wall as headlights swept past the end of the street.
No shouting yet.
No alarms.
They were clear.
Nathan held Alfie by the collar a second longer, making sure he had him, grounding them both. Then he shoved him ahead, low and fast, towards the shadows and out of sight. He stopped to check, then pressed a hand over Alfie’s chest, the wild hammer of his heart under his palm matching his own.
And for the first time in years, Nathan felt the soldier fall away, and the father step in.
* * * *
When Freddie slid back into the car, Becca glared at him.
He couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’tdealwith anything yet. Words jammed somewhere between his lungs and histhroat, refusing to budge. So he sank lower in the seat, trying to make himself small, invisible, as if it might calm the chaos tearing through him, trying and failing not to replay that damn kiss.
God, Nathan could kiss. Kissed as if it was the only thing he ever wanted to be good at. And, Christ, he was. He could tear Freddie down and rebuild him with just his mouth. And the situation —Jesus fuck, the situation — had amped it up. The radio crackling low with DI Carrick’s voice in his ear, the heavy drag of his uniform, the live-wire tension of beingon duty, on a bloody surveillance job. It was stupid. Reckless. Unforgivable.
Yet it wasperfect.
It made him feel seventeen again, sneaking into Nathan’s room, curling under his duvet, kissing him senseless with Ron downstairs, a thin panelled door with no lock away from catching them and blowing everything apart. Freddie hadn’t cared then. And he didn’t care now.
He closed his eyes, dropping his head back on the seat with a dull thud.
Fuck.
He was absolutely fucking fucked.
Through the tangle of the hedge, movement snagged Freddie’s eye. Two figures slipping through the darkness. Low, fast, tactical. Nathan hauling his kid like a soldier extracting a wounded man off a battlefield, shielding Alfie without hesitation. Freddie’s throat clenched so tight it hurt to swallow.
Thank Christ. They were out.
His earpiece buzzed, too loud in the tense quiet. “All units, standby for breach. Five minutes.”
Beside him, Becca shifted, tension rippling off her as her eyes swept the street. “What the fuck is going on, Webb?”
