do whatever was necessary to get it back. He’s called Sandy McNab.”
Sandy McNab? I knew that name. He was what we called “a local businessman,” but in his case, the term should always have been in quotation marks because that’s how he’d been described by his lawyers the few times he’d landed in court charged with money laundering. Each time he’d been cleared, but there’d been talk of jury tampering and brown paper bags under tables.
Tommy adds: "Unless McNab’s found face down in the River Clyde, we should stick together because he will come after you. You’re a loose end and he seldom leaves loose ends.” He pauses to let his words sink in. “Do you know that woman in the witness protection program who was found drowned in her bath, despite having police protection?"
I do. It'd been all over the papers with suggestions as to why she'd been killed.
"The rumors are she was ratting on McNab. She saw some dodgy business deal going down and she was going to spill."
Damn. This was worse than I thought.
"We can stay at my place," says Tommy. "They don’t know about me. Yet. You’ll be safe there."
My head feels like it’s about to explode. This was a nightmare. But, it was my nightmare.
"You've done your bit. You can just drop me off somewhere. You don't have to be any more involved that you already are."
Even after all that I've heard, I can't expect him to put his neck on the line for me. If he leaves now, McNab might never find out he was the one who took out two of his men and saved me.
"Sick of me already?"
The car's stopped at the traffic lights and Tommy's smiling. He's not taking me seriously.
"No," I snap. How can I have a sense of humor after what he's just told me? "I don't want to drag you into my business, that's all."
Tommy fixes me with an intense stare. "I'm already in your business." He pauses to let his words sink in. "Now, do I drop you at a bus stop, or do you want to stay at my place where no-one will find you?"
Arguing with him is pointless, so I don’t bother. I’m physically and emotionally drained, like a cloth someone’s used many times to wipe a counter with and wrung out. I need sleep and my stomach’s rumbling away, old man style. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
"Okay," I say, "I can sleep on the couch."
He grins. "That’s disappointing. We could have shared my bed. I have mirrors on my ceilings, you know. Think of all the fun we could have."
I throw back my head and chuckle. "Yeah, right."
It feels good to laugh because I haven’t laughed in so long.
For the rest of the journey, we travel in silence.
Tommy’s apartment was the epitome of a bachelor pad. There were two gaming chairs in the living room, a huge beanbag, a plasma telly the size of a cinema screen and a décor designers would describe as “minimalistic,” but I’d call impersonal. It proved he was single, because no woman would live in a place this.
There was a drinks cooler nestling in the armrest of one of the gaming chairs and he delves inside, grabbed a bottle of Becks, and asked me if I wanted one. I shake my head. I need to stay alert; to concentrate.
Five minutes later, he’s made me some hot chocolate and toast and I’m curled up in a chair, wrapped in a duvet and watching Tom & Jerry cartoons .
For the first time in a long time, I feel safe and I want to sleep. But there are things I need to know.
"Tommy, who are you?"
He puts on a goofy grin. "I’m the Scottish Jack Bauer. Jock Bauer’s the name."
He says it in a Sean Connery voice.
"Very funny. But who are you really? Why did you help me and not just contact the police? You could have been killed."
A wry grin lights up his face. "I’m the guy who saw a photo of someone’s sister and thought I’d like to meet that girl."
He leans across and presses his lips to mine and I don’t resist. As our tongues entwine and I inhale his musky scent, I have an urge to run my fingers through his hair. When his
Sandy McNab? I knew that name. He was what we called “a local businessman,” but in his case, the term should always have been in quotation marks because that’s how he’d been described by his lawyers the few times he’d landed in court charged with money laundering. Each time he’d been cleared, but there’d been talk of jury tampering and brown paper bags under tables.
Tommy adds: "Unless McNab’s found face down in the River Clyde, we should stick together because he will come after you. You’re a loose end and he seldom leaves loose ends.” He pauses to let his words sink in. “Do you know that woman in the witness protection program who was found drowned in her bath, despite having police protection?"
I do. It'd been all over the papers with suggestions as to why she'd been killed.
"The rumors are she was ratting on McNab. She saw some dodgy business deal going down and she was going to spill."
Damn. This was worse than I thought.
"We can stay at my place," says Tommy. "They don’t know about me. Yet. You’ll be safe there."
My head feels like it’s about to explode. This was a nightmare. But, it was my nightmare.
"You've done your bit. You can just drop me off somewhere. You don't have to be any more involved that you already are."
Even after all that I've heard, I can't expect him to put his neck on the line for me. If he leaves now, McNab might never find out he was the one who took out two of his men and saved me.
"Sick of me already?"
The car's stopped at the traffic lights and Tommy's smiling. He's not taking me seriously.
"No," I snap. How can I have a sense of humor after what he's just told me? "I don't want to drag you into my business, that's all."
Tommy fixes me with an intense stare. "I'm already in your business." He pauses to let his words sink in. "Now, do I drop you at a bus stop, or do you want to stay at my place where no-one will find you?"
Arguing with him is pointless, so I don’t bother. I’m physically and emotionally drained, like a cloth someone’s used many times to wipe a counter with and wrung out. I need sleep and my stomach’s rumbling away, old man style. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
"Okay," I say, "I can sleep on the couch."
He grins. "That’s disappointing. We could have shared my bed. I have mirrors on my ceilings, you know. Think of all the fun we could have."
I throw back my head and chuckle. "Yeah, right."
It feels good to laugh because I haven’t laughed in so long.
For the rest of the journey, we travel in silence.
Tommy’s apartment was the epitome of a bachelor pad. There were two gaming chairs in the living room, a huge beanbag, a plasma telly the size of a cinema screen and a décor designers would describe as “minimalistic,” but I’d call impersonal. It proved he was single, because no woman would live in a place this.
There was a drinks cooler nestling in the armrest of one of the gaming chairs and he delves inside, grabbed a bottle of Becks, and asked me if I wanted one. I shake my head. I need to stay alert; to concentrate.
Five minutes later, he’s made me some hot chocolate and toast and I’m curled up in a chair, wrapped in a duvet and watching Tom & Jerry cartoons .
For the first time in a long time, I feel safe and I want to sleep. But there are things I need to know.
"Tommy, who are you?"
He puts on a goofy grin. "I’m the Scottish Jack Bauer. Jock Bauer’s the name."
He says it in a Sean Connery voice.
"Very funny. But who are you really? Why did you help me and not just contact the police? You could have been killed."
A wry grin lights up his face. "I’m the guy who saw a photo of someone’s sister and thought I’d like to meet that girl."
He leans across and presses his lips to mine and I don’t resist. As our tongues entwine and I inhale his musky scent, I have an urge to run my fingers through his hair. When his
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