Page 139 of A Dark Fall

“Dr. Alex Marlowe,” I say for the record, and she tells me to wait a moment.

Some shitty hold music starts to play down the other end of the line. Below me, I watch as Kevin walks up to where Gemma is wiping down the glass bar, crowding into her. I roll my eyes as she startles, mouthing something smart I can’t make out. He says something, and she hits him lightly, glancing briefly up at my window.

“Alex, are you okay? You should have called my direct line.” He sounds concerned. As if he has the right to be.

“It’s Jake Lawrence. Sorry to get you all excited for nothing,” I say.

He’s stunned, because he says nothing for a minute. “Yeah, I’d say surprised is more accurate,” he replies.

“You must be pissed off then—you know, since surprises are your thing today.” I take another sip from my glass and let the Jack rest on my tongue for a second before swallowing.

“So, to what do I owe the honor?”

“Well, first, cheers for the photos. I don’t normally photograph that well, but I looked really fucking good in those. Had no idea you liked me so much.” I try to smile, but I’m starting to doubt what I’m about to do now. I’m more than halfway pissed. I’ve decided to do this under the influence of alcohol, and nothing I’ve ever done under the influence has been a good fucking idea.

Then I think about her.

Smiling at me this morning over breakfast, hair tucked behind her ear, cheeks flushed. Pale, flawless skin screaming to be touched and kissed. The ache in my chest gets stronger and louder until it sounds like a drumbeat, want and need and loss rocking my entire body.

No, it’s the right decision. It’s the only fucking decision. I’m just a coward who needs to be half-pissed to make it.

“What do you want, Lawrence?” he sighs.

“You know I’m single now, right? So, if you wanted to fuck me in the arse, you could just come over and ask. I’ll still break your jaw, but you could at least fucking ask.”

“Threatening a police officer?” he says. “You’re smarter than that. Come on.”

“Oh, you know I am, mate. You fucking know I am. Enjoy yourself today, did you? Bet you felt like a real fucking hero today, didn’t you? If you wanted me that much, you only had to ask, mate, it’s all I’m saying.”

Mark’s chuckle down the phone makes me want to put my fist through the window. I remember quite clearly the way he looked at her across the dinner table last week. I’m certain ninety percent of his visit to her was about wanting to fuck her. Sure, he’d like to put Freddie or me or both of us away, but this was mainly about Alex. Seems we have at least one thing in common.

“You’re not my type,” he says.

“No, but Alex is, isn’t she?” I say as I take another sip, circling my tongue around the Jack before I swallow it.

“Is this why you called, Jake? To talk about yourex-girlfriend?” He sighs again. The word “ex” is like a kick in the balls. “Okay then. Any tips or advice for me? Apart from not being a lying fucking lowlife, obviously. Any ticklish spots? What about how she likes it?” he says quietly, and my hand curls into a fist around the glass. An image of him with his arm draped over Alex’s shoulder eating dinner in her friend’s dining room flashes in front of my eyes, and I practically need to swallow down a roar.

Mine.

The word is strong and loud and clear.

Make it fucking happen then, coward.

“No, actually. I called to talk about Freddie Ward. You know the guy—the one from the photo you didn’t wank over.” My voice is clear, and my head is too, finally. I’m doing this.

His extended silence tells me he’s as shocked as I expected he’d be.“I’m listening,” he says eventually.

Yeah, I’ll bet he’s fucking listening.

“I’m guessing your buddies down there have been after him for a while. I’m also guessing you’ve made little to no progress on that.” I swig back the last of the bitter liquid courage.

“Are you going to get to the point?” he asks, but I can practically hear the hard-on he has over the sheer thought of putting Freddie Ward away. At being the one to finally put him down.

“Yeah. So, I might be able to help you out with that. Providing you can offer me something worthwhile in exchange,” I say in a calm, clear voice I barely even recognize. “I want to make a deal.”

And with that, it’s done. A police informant. The lowest of the low. The scum of the fucking earth.

But that means nothing now.

None of the shit I’ve lived my whole life by means anything now. She’s what matters. Having her be able to love me is what matters. I just hope it’s enough.

’Cause otherwise, I’m a fucking dead man.

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