Page 48 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“There’s a difference between prank and assault.”

“Okay, officer,” says Freddie touching his wrists together to be cuffed.

“Are you going to join us?”

“I’ve got a headache. I need to rest.”

“Okay, well, tapas is in an hour. Will you join us for that, your Royal Highness?”

“Yes. Now get out before I tell Liam you tried to suffocate me with a pillow.”

“I’m going,” he says. The heavy stale body odour leaves the room and I for the first time, take a breath since he entered.

I stand up and pace to my suitcase. I need to get a message to Fergus. There was no way I could take the chance of using a phone on the boat. Once we docked in Morocco, I’ll find a phone and get a message to Fergus.

I take out the dog fur I’d brought with me, unlock the zip-lock bag and lift up the mattress on Liam’s side, spreading lots of the different coloured hairs all over the base of the fourposter bed. I lift Liam’s pillow case and stuff some hairs inside. Next, I push some hairs inside the air conditioning unit built into the wall above the door. I lay back down plotting my next move.

Moments later, Liam comes back to the room and changes silently whilst I pretend to be asleep. He lies on the bed next to me in his new brown suit and kisses the top of my head. I pretend to stir awake, sucking in salvia.

“How are you, gorgeous?” He asks, rolling me by my shoulder towards him.

“I feel better,” I lie.

“I’m happy to hear that. I think you should wear the white dress this evening. I liked that one on you the most.”

The white dress had a plunged cleavage. He wanted to show my assets off to other men, just those under his control.

“Your wish is my command,” I say.

“And after dinner, you know what’s going to happen?”

He presses his lips to mine, demanding my lips to part. I open my mouth, letting his tongue massage mine.

He brings his hand down my face, runs it down my body towards my sex. The back of his hand glides over me.

I hate myself for feeling turned on. Liam peeked at some desire in me that had not been satisfied over the years of undercover work.

I dress and Liam and I go upstairs to where an elaborate dinner service is laid out on a long white wood table decorated with gold painted shells and a string of low hanging fairy lights. The surrounding sunset is postcard worthy, orange and red and pink sink into a deep violet floating above the ocean’s horizon.

Tanya is already indulging in what looks like prawns with chilli and coriander. “Have some of this, so good, better than sex.”

Freddie’s ears peek up at the mention of sex, but he stays in whispered conversations with the admiral.

Liam takes the seat at the top of the table and I sit next to him on the side. He runs his hand over mine as a waiter offers us two flutes of champagne.

Liam raises his flute of champagne.

“To Lucky,” says Liam, looking to the sky.

“And all who sail in her,” says Freddie

After eating all manner of small seafood dishes, including lobster and scallops and fish with names I couldn’t pronounce, the conversation turned to business. The admiral was keen to impress a point on Freddie he didn’t want to hear.

“It’s not just the Spanish authorities, Freddie, that’s what you fail to understand. We are going into Moroccan ports and we need to pay the Moroccan authorities.

“While the Moroccan dirham is on the floor, it should be much cheaper than the Spanish.”

“And it is. But there’s more of them. More mouths to keep sealed.”

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