Page 22 of Hold On

Married to a man and not happy?

Still in the closet?

Suffering from a mental breakdown due to one or more of the above?

Was he sick?

Dying?

Had his significant other died?

Had he lost a child?

Accidentally killed someone?

Fucked up his job?

Committed a crime?

Ren took a deep breath. It had nothing to do with him. Though that didn’t stop him thinking about it. Maybe Dominic was just the distraction he needed. His dark blue eyes had odd silvery flecks, his black lashes were long and thick, as dark as his hair. In his early thirties. Same as Ren. He couldn’t pinpoint his accent, which was unusual. Neutral southern, maybe.Like me.Though Ren could be anyone he liked. Accents weren’t difficult. Nor were languages. He could speak five. Speaking Georgian had made him a shoo-in for that job.What luck!The words of his boss, Foster, still rang in Ren’s head. Not lucky at all, as it turned out.Though I’m still alive.

He’d sort of expected Dominic to tell him what he did for a living, but then Ren hadn’t done that either. Nor was he going to. Not the truth, anyway. Confessing he’d worked undercover was a no-no. When he could be anything he wanted to be, what should he choose? What would Dominic believe? And what would Dominic tell him? Truth or lie?

Two degrees was…interesting. If one had been through the Open University, did that mean Dominic had been ill or was he just a really clever guy?

Why didn’t I just ask him what he did for a living?

Because then he’ll ask me.

Sticking close to the truth made the most sense in nearly every conversation because it avoided getting caught out in a lie. Ren had been…ill. He had. He was taking some time out from his job. He was. He was in—

His trowel clunked against something hard and Ren paid more attention to what he was doing. Will would gnash his teeth about any damage Ren caused, trowel marks would give away carelessness and he’d never hear the last of it. In front of him was a piece of worked stone. Probably just a fragment, but as he continued, it became clear it was something bigger. He should have called Brett over or his brother, but he didn’t. He kept moving the soil until he’d exposed more of whatever was buried.

It turned out to be two solid pieces of carved stone. The bust of a young woman, her hair in a braided pattern, with the head broken away from the shoulders.Not by me, thank God.Ren wanted to keep going until he could lift it out, but an awareness of how that would really irritate Will, stopped him. He pushed himself up and made his way over to his brother.

“Uncovered anything rude?” Ren asked. “What did it say in that bar in Pompeii?Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity!”

There were a few titters but Will sucked in his cheeks. “How old are you? Fourteen? It’s Achilles and his horse.”

“Oooh. Kinky.”

That won him a couple of laughs.

“No, it’s not kinky,” Will said. “Did you want something?”

“Two things. Will you bring your helmet back when you next go home, please, and secondly, you need to look in my hole. I have a surprise for you.” Ren had no idea how he’d managed to keep a straight face when he said that.

Will followed him back across the site. “So not fourteen years old. Eight. Dickhead! Is it a Mars Bar?”

“Once, I did that, and don’t deny you weren’t thrilled when you found it.”

Will laughed. “You were such a little arsehole.”

“My hole has turned out to be fascinating. Well worth you inspecting. Fingertip search necessary. Poke around a bit. Then get—”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“You’ll want to get in there. It’s going to give you a boner, I—”

---