Книга - Twice In A Lifetime

Twice In A Lifetime
Kierney Scott


A second chance at redemption…A lifetime ago, Sarah and Liam were childhood sweethearts in a dingy Edinburgh block, dreaming of making it in the big wide world. But reality called. Sarah stayed to make a difference in her community, while Liam forged a career in international finance and never looked back.Ten years on, a friend in crisis brings Sarah and Liam together in Dubai. There’s no trace of the boy she once loved – the man Liam has become is hard, mercenary, infuriating… and arousing. In an opulent desert city far away from everything she knows, can Sarah take the heat?









A second chance at redemption


A lifetime ago, Sarah and Liam were childhood sweethearts in a dingy Edinburgh block, dreaming of making it in the big wide world.

But reality called. Sarah stayed to make a difference in her community, while Liam forged a career in international finance and never looked back.

Ten years on, a friend in crisis brings Sarah and Liam together in Dubai. There’s no trace of the boy she once loved – the man Liam has become is hard, mercenary, infuriating…and arousing. In an opulent desert city far away from everything she knows, can Sarah take the heat?




Twice in a Lifetime

Kierney Scott








Copyright (#uf55d7861-120f-5496-a799-89cb795eaf75)

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2013

Copyright © Kierney Scott 2013

Kierney Scott asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2013 ISBN: 9781472018199

Version date: 2018-07-23


KIERNEY SCOTT is originally from California, but moved to Scotland to enrol in the PhD programme in Educational Research at the University of Edinburgh. Four days after she arrived, she met her husband, who persuaded her it would be more fun to get married than to write a thesis. After the birth of her daughter she decided it was time to go back to school, but soon she discovered all she wanted to write was romance novels. She admitted her literary proclivities to her husband, who promptly bought her a laptop and told her to start writing her book.

When she is not writing, you will probably find her at a spinning class or baking (read eating) cupcakes. Her butter-cream icing is legendary, if only in her mind. If you want her recipe, or you just want to chat, you can contact her at KierneyScott@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter at Kierney Scott @Kierney_S


This book is for all the people who have endured my unedited work: Gloria Maxwell, Marguerite Kaye, Lindsay J Pryor, Mavis Graham, Laura Borthwick, Flo Nicoll, Fiona Wilson, Nathan Chan, and Alistair. Especially Alistair…

And thanks to Dr Monika Rashid for answering all my questions and explaining how I could suitably torture a man without killing him, a useful skill.




Contents


Cover (#u89a326ad-348e-59c7-8159-dda0f3999a92)

Blurb (#ueb8f5f80-6f32-5e6b-9939-130666633f37)

Title Page (#u0c4ce6ee-6cb6-5328-a00b-06462ba88c24)

Copyright (#ub25380d0-12f1-5ca6-bf02-f974f9ffb155)

Author Bio (#u21c83d72-f64e-5e36-a7a4-7d952512877a)

Dedication (#u90ad9021-9a8a-5723-a1c7-dace51b00db5)

Chapter One (#u4970a448-791c-5c49-920e-5b89a8773ab8)

Chapter Two (#ucbc8b325-127b-5cfd-b3bf-1e001763d69e)

Chapter Three (#ud8a7c20b-e4d5-538e-b0e0-3238ea77df2a)

Chapter Four (#u9758198b-9523-524d-8cbe-8067efee6987)

Chapter Five (#ubab6ced9-004e-5b43-9fed-8b1641b9f6e0)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


Sarah Campbell tapped her fingers on the massive marble desk that separated her from the most unhelpful secretary in Dubai, and quite possibly the free world. Sarah could feel a very strongly worded letter coming in the secretary’s direction when she got back to Edinburgh, a letter with a lot of exclamation marks. She added ‘write nasty letter of complaint’ to her to do list. Second on her list would be to stop biting her nails and third might be to put on a bit of make-up, because she looked like a vagrant next to the perfectly groomed creature in front of her. To be any more flawless, the woman would need to be shellacked. There was no denying the secretary was beautiful—perhaps that was the requisite quality for employment here, because friendliness certainly wasn’t.

“As I said before, Mr McPherson is not free to speak to you. If you would like to leave a message, I will pass it along,” the woman ground out through a smile that bore more than a passing resemblance to a grimace.

Sarah took a deep breath and pushed her annoyance as far down as she could, until she could feel the familiar knot in her stomach tighten. Why did things have to be so difficult? She had spent seven hours on a flight that she could not afford, to a country hotter than the surface of the sun. The clothes that were perfect for the Baltic Scottish summer she had just left were drenched in sweat and clinging to her, her feet hurt, and now she had to deal with Officious Barbie.

Ten minutes, all she needed was ten minutes to speak to Liam. She glanced at the door. He was thirty feet away.

Screw it. She had nothing to lose. She grabbed her hand luggage and made a dash towards his door. Too late she considered the possibility of security, but of course he would have security—he was worth more than the GDP of a small country. As she reached the door the office was filled with the shrieking of a high-pitched alarm. It blared out in long piercing notes.

“Fantastic,” Sarah muttered under her breath.

Bureaucratic Barbie was two paces behind and closing in quickly. Sarah was definitely going to be hitting the gym when she got back to Scotland; being outrun by a scrawny girl in stilettos was completely unacceptable.

She pushed open the door with the same vigour as a sprinter crossing the finish line of a hundred-metre dash, but without the grace, and more laboured breathing.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him. All the air in her lungs left her body with a painful whoosh. It was Liam, only different. She didn’t know what she’d expected but this wasn’t it. She had been so focused on getting a meeting with Liam she had not thought of what it would mean to come face to face with him again after over a decade.

Liam pushed his chair away from his desk and stood. He had changed so much.

Gone was the tall skinny kid, replaced by six feet three of hard muscle. Even through his crisp white shirt, she could make out the lines of pecs over a flat stomach. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing tan flesh. His face had changed too. Once upon a time he was never without a cheeky smile, but now his full lips were tightened in a humourless expression. His sandy hair had gone lighter in the desert sun. Soft lines fanned out around his eyes, but they did nothing to soften the sharp angles of his face. Everything about him was encased in a raw masculinity that was as threatening as it was alluring.

“Sarah,” he said. His eyes widened and then quickly narrowed again. If he was shocked to see her again, he was covering it well. But he always had been good at keeping his feelings guarded.

“Mr McPherson, I am so sorry. Security will be here any minute. I can’t believe she just barged past me,” the secretary shouted as she pulled at Sarah’s arm.

With some effort, Sarah twisted her arm away; the scrawny girl was stronger than she looked.

“I can,” Liam said. If she was not wrong, there was a hint of sadness in his tone. “It’s fine. I knew Ms Campbell in a previous life. She never did let anything get in the way once she had a notion.” This time the only thing his tone betrayed was antipathy. His voice had become so much deeper and his accent had become so faint, it was almost impossible to place it as Scottish, while hers had become broader and her vernacular more common. It was an occupational hazard of being a drugs counsellor on Salamander Street. No one was going to trust her if she sounded like a private school twit—not that she was. She grew up on the same council estate as Liam, though no one would ever guess that the man in front of her had ever laid eyes on a scheme. He was perfectly polished and in control. For the first time Sarah felt self-conscious about the way she looked and sounded. But why should she be ashamed? It was Liam that changed and turned his back on everyone he knew.

“By that previous life, do you mean the one before you sounded like a toffee-nosed Yah?”

The taut muscles in his jaw clenched and then relaxed again; a smooth smile took shape on his full lips. His gaze darted to the secretary. “Thank you, Gemma. That will be all.”

The woman opened her mouth to speak, presumably to ask who the lunatic he had allowed into his office was, but then snapped it shut and spun on her heel.

“Liam, I need to—”

He cut her off by indicating the alarm that was still blaring. When the ringing stopped he gestured to her to sit downand asked, “What brings you to Dubai, Ms Campbell?”

Her back stiffened. Ms Campbell. He could pretend she was nothing to him in front of his staff, but she would be damned if she let him pretend they were nothing to each other when they were alone. A shared history meant something, even if he wanted to pretend it didn’t. “Just wanted to see if Niddrie Nae Socks had got too big for his britches. But I can’t even find him.” She sat down on the leather couch.

“Still the same Sarah, I see. Nice to know life has not softened you any. But it is a long way to come just to take the piss.”

She had to shake her head. She had changed a lot but he wouldn’t know anything about that because he had left her and never looked back. “You never responded to any of my calls or emails.”

“Did you email me? I didn’t get it,” he said, the annoyance written plainly on his tanned features.

“No, it has been a few years.” She was perplexed by his sudden change in emotion. Why would he care if he had missed an email from her? It wasn’t as if he had responded to any.

“And phones have stopped working in Scotland?” he asked dryly. Gone was any hint of emotion. He was all business again, his gaze hard and calculating. She could see how the man in front of her had become one of Britain’s wealthiest exports. She could not imagine it of the Liam she knew, but this wasn’t him. This was a stranger who bore a striking resemblance to the boy she once loved.

“Would you have answered?” she asked.

He stared through her. “Why are you here, Sarah? Is it your granny? Is she unwell?”

She shook her head. “No, Granny is fine. Well, as fine as any whisky-drinking eighty-five-year-old can be. Still smokes twenty a day. I have given up trying to get her to stop. What’s the point at this stage?”

“Indeed.” For the first time, a smile tugged at Liam’s mouth. His whole face softened. He looked younger when he smiled, softer somehow, more like her Liam. “So why are you here?”

Her pulse quickened. In an instant she remembered feelings she had spent years learning to forget. She shook her head. It wasn’t the same person and the sooner she remembered that, the better. He had fooled her once but he would not be getting the opportunity to fool her again. “It is nice to see you too, Liam. Interesting to see your new accent didn’t come with manners.”

“Is it nice to see me?” he asked. His knuckles brushed against her cheek as he pushed back a strand of hair from her face.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her mouth was suddenly dry and it was hard to concentrate on anything past the heat radiating from her core. How could he still do that to her? With a simple touch her body forgot all the hurt and betrayal. It would be so easy to lean into him and see if he tasted the same.

Lucky her heart still remembered.

She pulled her hand away as if she had just grabbed hold of a stinging nettle. “It is always nice to see someone from home that has done well.” She shifted away from him. She needed to put some distance between them. She didn’t need the task of trying to get over him again; once was enough for any woman.

“I don’t suppose you see many of them,” he said simply.

She opened her mouth to protest but he was right—she did not know anyone else from their council estate in Niddrie who had even managed to get off the dole, let alone make something of themselves. She looked past Liam, to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sparking cerulean waters of the Persian Gulf. Past the marina, luxury yachts dotted blue horizon. There was no denying Liam had accomplished more than anyone could have ever dreamed. “You’re the only one,” she admitted.

“Why are you here, Sarah?” he asked again.

“I need your help, Liam. I don’t know if I have the right to ask for anything from you after everything, but you are my only hope.”

A look of terror washed over his face; for a second there was a pained expression that she knew too well, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He pushed his sleeves up further on his arms and sat down beside her on the leather sofa. “What do you need, Sarah?”

She didn’t know where to start. A decade was a lot of time to cover. She took a breath. “After you left—” No, that wasn’t important. This wasn’t about her; it was about helping Sam. “After uni, I became a social worker.” She stopped for a moment to reflect on the irony of the situation. The last conversation they’d had, they had been planning their future together, and now she was catching him up on the life she had lived without him. “I am a drugs counsellor now at a place called Fresh Start. We are based in Leith but we have clients from all over Edinburgh. It is a small rehabilitation unit…but thriving. We are doing really well… I still don’t know how we managed to get enough funding to open our doors, but we did.” She was rambling now but it was hard to summarise everything that had happened since she had last seen him, since he had left. She clenched her hands together in her lap and pressed her short, ragged nails into her skirt.

Liam nodded and encouraged her to continue.

“My service users mostly have problems with heroin. Not much has changed on that front—still lots of working lassies trying to support their habit on the game,” she said. He flinched at her words and she realised too late what she had said. “Sorry, what I meant to say is—”

He cut her off. “I know what you meant to say. Nothing has changed, nothing ever will. That is exactly why I left.”

“Liam, I am sorry.” It was too late; his demeanour had changed, grown unfathomably harder. His blue eyes were cold as his stare bore down on her, pinning her in place.

“Don’t. That part of my life is over. I made a choice not to wallow in the shit of my childhood. Shame you could not move on from it.” His words were clipped, his tone caustic.

Sarah took a sharp intake of breath; his words stung like a slap. Now it was clear she was not dealing with the same boy she had grown up with. Her Liam would never speak to her like that. Her Liam was sweet and kind.

And gone.

“Look, I am sorry—”

“Just tell me what you need.” He cut her off again.

She took another deep breath. This was where it was difficult. She had to be economical with the facts without lying. Even after everything, she would never lie to Liam. “One of my service users has been arrested here on suspicion of drugs trafficking. No, that’s not right…” She shook her head and started again. “There is no suspicion—he did it. He had just under a kilo on him when he was caught trying to sell to an undercover police officer.” She held her breath as she waited for Liam to speak. But he didn’t. He just stared at her as if he was scrutinising every word, every movement. His gaze fell from her face to her clenched hands.

“You still bite your nails when you are stressed,” he said.

She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

He reached for her hands. His long fingers gently coaxed her palms to flatten against his. Heat radiated through her. Her pulse quickened. He was inches from her. It had been over ten years since he had been this close to her, but the effect was the same. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to have a mouth she never tired of kissing and hands that felt perfect against her body? No, it wasn’t just that; it was something else, something more primal that drew her to him. They were like magnets drawn to each other, pushing aside everything in their path.

“You are stressed a lot, it seems,” he commented as he lifted her hand and examined her nails.

“I am going to stop once I get this sorted,” she said. She pulled her hands away and pushed them to her sides, away from his reach.

“No, you won’t. You will move on to another cause, another victim. There will always be someone you need to rescue.”

Her back stiffened. Those were the same words he had said when he left. God, she was so stupid. Nothing had changed. He was still the same man who ran when things got tough, just like her dad, and her granddad, just like every other man in her life. “Some of us see a problem and try to fix it. Others run.”

“No, some of us are smart enough to get out.”

She sighed. The trip down memory lane was getting her nowhere. “I just need your help and then I will go back to—what was it you said?—wallowing in the shit of my childhood.”

“If he was involved in drugs trafficking, he should be punished. There are consequences to every decision,” he said pointedly.

She didn’t have time for this. They would never see eye to eye on this or anything else that mattered. Liam always thought addicts should be punished and she saw addiction as a disease. “He doesn’t deserve to die. He could be executed. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”

“Perhaps he should have considered that before he started dealing drugs in the UAE.”

“Honestly, Liam, you should know better than anyone—”

He put his hand up to stop her. “Let’s get one thing straight. Don’t ever tell me what I should know or not know. Unlike you, I do not live in my past. If you mention it again, I will have you on the next flight to London. Do you understand?” A chill ran down her spine. His voice was so low she would have struggled to hear him if she were not sitting beside him, yet he made the threat clear.

She nodded. He had changed so much. Liam was impossibly hard now. Once upon a time she could read his face, feel every emotion he felt. There was never a need for words; she just knew. But now everything about him was granite and impenetrable: his body, his face, his feelings. The realisation pulled at her, reminded her how much she had missed him. Even now, after all his betrayal, there were few things she wanted more than to spend another day with the Liam she knew before. She tried for years to forget him but seeing him now made her miss the boy she had known even more because he had not just left her life; he didn’t exist any more.

“Do you understand me?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“Good. Give me his name and I will make a few phone calls. I can’t promise anything but I will see what I can do to save your latest stray.”

She took a deep breath; relief washed over her. He had agreed to help. She had managed to get him on side without needing to lie to him. But now she needed to tell him. A nagging sense of guilt pulled at her. She should have told him who it was before, but she couldn’t. He would not have agreed if he had known who he was helping, but once Liam made a promise, he honoured it. “It’s Sam.”

“Sam Ashton?” he asked incredulously, the anger etched in his tan features.

She ignored the consuming desire to run, mostly because there was no place to go. She forced herself to look him square in the eyes. “Yes, Sam Ashton.”

“Christ, Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair and swore. He was silent for a long time, just scrutinising her, and then he asked, “Are you screwing him?”

Her jaw dropped. She was sideswiped by the question. Why would he ask that? It took her a moment for her brain to engage again.

“Are you?” he demanded. His accent had slipped, gone broader.

“Careful—your Scottish is showing.”

“No, if I wanted to sound Scottish I would have said, ‘Right, hen, dinnae tell me you shagged him.’”




Chapter Two


It did not escape him that Sarah had effectively avoided the question, but he wasn’t going to ask again. It was none of his business; she had made her choice years ago.

The years had been kind to her. She looked the same, except for the dark circles under her pale green eyes. He hated to admit it, but she was still beautiful. Her honey-coloured hair was pulled back in the same hairstyle she always wore. He used to love it when she would take it down and let it flow in waves down her back, but she rarely did. Even then, Sarah was all business, sorting out the world.

“The answer is no. I am not sleeping with Sam,” she said.

He exhaled; muscles he didn’t know were tensed, relaxed. It didn’t matter to him, he reminded himself. “Glad to see your taste in men has improved,” he said casually.

“It could only get better.”

“True,” he said, knowing she meant anyone was a step up from him. He felt a smile tug at him despite himself. He missed the banter he had had with Sarah. She was never shy about cutting him down to size. It had been years since anyone had openly insulted him; everyone was too busy kissing his ass.

They had been good together, but she had thrown it all away. She should have made it out too. Suddenly a bolt of anger tore through him. It was near enough the same scenario as a decade earlier and Sarah was choosing Sam again. She would never change. But he had—he expected it from her now.

“Very clever not telling me it was Sam I was agreeing to help. Just this side of a lie though, wouldn’t you say?”

“I told you everything you needed to know. I knew you would never agree to help Sam.”

“How do you know? I have never needed to. You have always been there picking up the pieces, enabling him to piss his life away.”

Her eyes narrowed. Colour rose in her cheeks, two red flags painted high on each side of her face. “How dare you say I enabled him? I have spent my career helping people. The only thing I am enabling them to do is live better lives.”

“Your help seems to have done wonders for Sam. I hope you have not have been as helpful to all your clients. But I suppose that is another way to deal with the problem—just coddle them until things spiral out of control.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” she said sadly. She looked at him with a combination of confusion and pity.

“I will tell you what I get. Life is about making choices and following through.” Christ, why did she look at him like that? He ran one of the most profitable hedge funds in the world; hundreds of people were dependent on him for their livelihood. By anyone’s definition he was a success but she still looked at him as if he were the chavy kid who needed pity.

“Trust me, I know about choices. You made yours and it seems to be paying dividends. Congratulations, Liam. You have everything you ever wanted.”

“Not everything.” He had once been stupid enough to want her more than anything. But that was a long time ago. He had wised up; now the only thing he wanted was to show Sarah how foolish she had been.

“Near enough, then. Keep working at it. I am sure you’ll get there in the end. You always do.”

“Sometimes you realise what you wanted was nothing more than a juvenile mistake.”

She winced. “True.” She stood and picked up her hand luggage again and then turned to face him. She reached her hand out to him to shake. “I am glad to see you, you know. I have wondered about you. I never really got…closure, I guess you could say. But now I know things worked out the way they were supposed to. Thanks for helping. I know you are really busy. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I will email you and you can keep me up to date on progress with Sam’s case. That is probably the best.”

He stared at her hand in astonishment. That was it. She walked into his life, sirens blazing, and then she expected to walk away again, no questions asked.

No, that was not the way it was going to play out this time.

The annoyance mounted in him. What did she think she was playing at?

She was going to see all the things she missed out on by choosing Sam. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her head snapped up to meet his gaze. “I have a return flight booked. I need to get to the airport.”

“Cancel it.”

“I can’t cancel it. I can’t afford to change my flight. I can’t even afford this flight.”

“Lucky I have a private jet.”

“Congratulations. I have a mortgage I can’t afford and a cat that won’t stop peeing on my carpet. I guess you win,” she shouted over her shoulder as she made her way for the door.

“If you leave now, I won’t help Sam.” It was blackmail and he was not above it.

She dropped her case and spun around on her heel. “You said you would. You are many things, but you have never been a liar.”

“It has been a long time—you have no idea what I am capable of. You didn’t expect to come in, demand I help your tearaway friend, and then leave again. Oh, I can see by your face you did. That’s not the way things work here in the real world. If you want me to help him, you will stay until it’s done.”

“I can’t afford to take any more time off work. I have service users—”

“Make time. Life is about choices, Sarah. Stay and I help Sam or go and see what justice the Emiratis have in store for him.”

She looked him square in the eyes; defiance flashed in their aquamarine depths. “Why? Why do you want me to stay?”

Liam let out a breath. Sarah was here. After a decade of wondering where she was and what she was doing, she was here with him. And he wasn’t ready to let her go again, not yet. Ten years had passed but the emotion was still there, as raw and palpable as ever, all the hurt, all the anger, all the betrayal. And all the passion. He just needed a few days with her, maybe a week. She wasn’t the only one who needed closure.

Christ, why did he want her to stay? Because he wanted her to see what life could have been, because he wanted to punish her, because the idea of helping Sam made his skin crawl, or maybe because, even though he could never have her, he never stopped wanting her?

No, it was because this time when she left, he wanted to be able to close the door for good. He wasn’t going to waste any more of his life chasing ghosts. “Because nothing in life is free.”

“I can’t stay.”

“I already told you, I would let you use my company’s jet.”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it, then? Is there someone waiting for you in Edinburgh? Do you have a boyfriend?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I have real responsibilities. I think you can understand that.” She gestured to the large office space that lay just outside his door. “I have people that need me. I have my work. I have Dave. I have—”

“You just said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Dave’s my cat,” she said.

“Of course he is. Christ, Sarah, you sound like a spinster. You can’t go away for a week because you have a cat. Can you hear yourself?”

“Yes, I can hear myself. Can you hear yourself? You don’t even sound Scottish any more.”

“Thank you.”

“It is not a compliment,” she said.

“I don’t think speaking properly is an insult.”

“You don’t speak properly any more. You sound English.”

“Because I went to university in Cambridge. This is what you would expect me to sound like.”

“Well, good thing I didn’t go, then,” she bit out.

The colour was intensifying in her cheeks, going from pink to an angry scarlet. It had always been her tell; she wore her emotions. “If your goal was to spend your life in the gutter, then, yes, it was a good thing you turned down your place at Cambridge.”

She balled her hands into fists. “I turned down my place at Cambridge because my friend, no, our friend needed us. But you left and never looked back.”

It was his turn to be angry. She made it sound as if he abandoned her. “Is that the way you really see it, Sarah? Because if you do you are remembering someone else’s life. That is not how things went down. Let me remind you how it really went. We worked our asses off to get places at Cambridge. We had our lives mapped out and then you chickened out at the last minute. Sam was an excuse. You never had any intention of leaving.”

Sarah took a deep breath. She tapped her foot and silently counted to ten in an attempt to control her rising anger. “How dare you? I would have left but someone needed to be there for Sam.”

“Why did it have to be you? Why do you always have to rescue people?”

“Because I don’t see anyone else queuing up for the job. First sign of weakness from Sam and you cut him off, the same you did with me.”

Liam grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. “I am not the one who jumped ship, sweetheart. That was all you. You turned your back on us.”

She didn’t pull away; it had been so long since Liam touched her, and she didn’t care if it was only anger fuelling him. She could feel his hot breath against her. Somewhere in there was her Liam. She needed to see him again, any small part, to prove to herself she had not imagined it. “I didn’t turn my back on us. I turned down my place at Cambridge. There is a big difference.”

“No, there isn’t. We had a life planned and you gave up on it.”

“It’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it, Liam?”

“Yes. And you could have had it all too.”

She shook her head. No, she couldn’t. Liam had left. He was always going to leave; she shouldn’t have been surprised. That was what men did, after all. She’d thought he was different, but it turned out her mum was right: men were all the same. “Look, Liam, I am tired and hungry and more than a little annoyed. I just want to get home to my bed.”

“I can’t help with the annoyed, but as luck would have it I have food and a bed. It all came with the new accent, package deal.”

The sound of a bed, his bed, made her stomach do a back flip. She needed to get away before she did something stupid like start to believe sharing his bed was a good idea. “I can’t just leave Dave.” It sounded pathetic even to her but entirely plausible given her lack of social life.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Make another excuse. Call whoever you left in charge of your cat and tell them you will be home in a week.”

“I didn’t—”

He cut her off again. “Don’t lie again, Sarah. It really doesn’t suit you. We both know you would never leave any creature unattended. You’re a bleeding heart—even the thought of someone in distress upsets you. You will have given someone a key just in case you were held up and didn’t get your flight back.”

He was right but she was not going to admit it. “Fine. Dave is fine. I just don’t want to spend any more time with you.” The truth was she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him, and that was what scared her. Despite his harshness, she could already feel her heart opening to him, searching for the connection that had been severed too many years ago. Spending any more time with Liam would be too painful.

“You really need to stop lying, Sarah. You’re rubbish at it.”

“Liam, I don’t think it is a good idea for me to stay here.” That much wasn’t a lie. It was a horrible idea. It was as clever as ripping off a scab just to pour acid on it. “I can’t afford a hotel.”

“Then it is lucky for you the new accent also came with a penthouse. Amazing the things you miss out on when you choose a life filled with addicts and prostitutes. You too could have had more than a cat and a two-bedroom terrace in Craigmillar.”

She pulled away from him and he did not stop her. “How do you know where I live?”

“I know a lot of things, Sarah. I must say I am disappointed—you couldn’t even make it a mile away from the scheme. You have got to learn to set the bar higher. You couldn’t even manage a new postcode.”

She clenched her jaw until her teeth began to ache. She wanted to scream but instead she took a deep breath and pushed her anger away. “Look, Liam I don’t want to be here and you don’t—”

“Stop telling me what I want and what I know. You don’t know the first thing about what I want.”

“What do you want, then, Liam? Tell me.”

Liam ran a hand through his hair again. His office was suddenly hot. He loosened his tie and undid his top button. What did he want? A good question, one he had been asking since she walked in. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to bend her over his desk and make up for lost time. He wanted to make her regret choosing Sam. He wanted to get her out of his system once and for all. He wanted to show her the life she could have had. But most of all he wanted her to regret choosing a life without him. And when it was all over, he wanted to not wonder about her any more, he wanted to stop caring so bloody much about a girl from his past. “I want you to stop fighting me on this.”

“What will it accomplish, me staying here? Other than winding each other up.”

“Consider it a holiday.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “If it was a holiday I would have packed sun cream and condoms, and I would be with someone whose company I enjoyed.”

“I remember you enjoying my company quite a bit,” he said as he pushed back a strand of her golden hair that had escaped its clasp. The smooth skin on her cheek was as soft as he remembered. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what else felt the same. “So lucky for you I have a medicine cabinet full of Durex and SPF thirty.”

Her eyes widened. It was hard to tell if she was surprised or angry; he would settle for either as long as it made her squirm. He had forgotten how much he loved making her blush. And he had loved that she gave as good as she got. They really had been good together. She would realise she had made the biggest mistake of her life by giving up on them. And this time it would be his choice when things ended. He wasn’t going to play the daft laddie again. He knew what he was getting into this time. He would have seven days to get her out of his system once and for all.

He picked up her case and led her to the door and past Gemma’s desk. “There is a lot to do in a week. Best get started now. Gemma, I am off. Please phone my driver and tell him I am on my way down to the car park. I am on my mobile if there is anything pressing, otherwise I will see you in the morning. Have a nice night.”

Gemma’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall. “What? I mean—but the American market hasn’t even opened yet.”

“Lucky my Bloomberg works at home too.” He smiled.

“Yes…of course… It’s just that you never leave before the market closes. I just thought…” She looked from Sarah to Liam and frowned.

“As stimulating as the closing bell is, I have more pressing issues to take care of tonight.”




Chapter Three


They were driven to a hotel ten minutes from the office. Even through tinted windows, the bright sun made Sarah squint. She noted the lack of pedestrians on the streets; everyone must have been indoors or in air-conditioned cars. She didn’t blame them—the air was so hot, she could feel her lungs drying out with each breath. Somehow the streets were lined with lush green gardens with bright pink and purple flowers; clearly there was not a hosepipe ban in effect here, unlike back home, where if it didn’t rain for a month everyone was told to stop watering their lawns and conserve water. It didn’t look as if there was much conservation of any sort going on here.

From the outside, the hotel looked like a course in modern architecture, all steel and glass, reflecting the sun. The inside was something entirely different; it was a case study in gaudy opulence. The floor was polished white marble, with thick crimson and gold rugs dotted about. Several massive pillars created a semi-circle, above which hung a chandelier the size of a grand piano, strung with thousands of crystals. Excess at its best. Covering the walls with dollar bills would have been more discreet.

A porter approached them and asked to take Sarah’s bag.

“No, thank you. She will be staying in the penthouse with me.”

The man nodded and gestured to the elevator.

“Nice place, not unlike the block we used to call home,” she said without looking at Liam. She was too busy taking in the garish surroundings; even the elevator had gold buttons. “Except back home someone would have stolen these by now. If there is graffiti in here, I would swear we were back in Scotland,” she said as her fingers brushed over the cold metal.

The elevator door opened. “Wow,” she said before she could stop herself. The walls facing out of the elevator were made of glass allowing one-hundred-and-eighty-degree views of the city and marina.

“Which one is your office building?” She could not remember which way they had driven.

“That one.” He pointed at a tall building just past a structure that looked like stair steps.

Liam took a key out of his wallet and placed it against the control panel on the interior wall.

“Good evening, Mr McPherson,” an automated voice said in a crisp English accent as the door closed.

“Did the elevator just speak to you?”

He nodded.

“If she could hand me my slippers and an Irn-Bru, this would be a decent holiday.”

“I don’t think you can get Irn-Bru in Dubai. Not that I have ever tried.”

“I don’t know which is more sad—the fact you have never tried to buy an Irn-Bru here, or the chance they might not have it.”

“I haven’t had an Irn-Bru in years.”

“Remember the time we went to Portobello and drank vodka and Irn-Bru on the beach until three in the morning. Sam was so sick, he could not stand up, and you carried him on your back the whole way home because we didn’t have money for a taxi.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. “I remember.”

The elevator door opened to the penthouse. To Sarah’s relief, the decor looked nothing like the foyer; it had clean minimalist lines. The walls were painted a crisp white and the floors were a simple polished oak. At the opposite end of the room there was a glass wall incorporating patio doors that led to a massive balcony with a full-size swimming pool and a hot tub. Her entire flat could fit on the balcony. She resisted the urge to say wow again, but that word kept repeating itself over and over in her mind. She had known Liam had done well for himself, but she didn’t really understand it until now. He really had made it. For an inexplicable reason it made her happy and sad at the same time. She wished she had been able to see him achieve it. He had wanted this life for ever. She was happy he had made it, so why could she not get rid of the nagging feeling of disappointment? Maybe it was because he had changed so much to achieve it. The Liam she knew would not have blackmailed her. He would have helped Sam because it was the right thing to do.

She shook off the sudden sentimentality. She might not want to be here but she was determined to enjoy the next seven days. She had not been on holiday for far too long, and, like it or not, this was as good as it was going to get. “I wish I had brought my swimming costume.”

“Just go naked. I do,” he said. A smile played on his full mouth. He looked far too much like her Liam when he smiled.

She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. It was far too easy to picture his tanned, lean form, naked in the clear water. She knew from memory, even the sight of him shirtless was enough to leave her breathless.

She shook her head to try to dislodge the image.

“No one can see you,” he assured her.

“You could see me.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. If it helps, I am imagining you naked right now.”

“Stop that.” She swatted at him, missed his arm, and her hand connected with the hard wall of his stomach.

“Still feisty as ever. You can take the girl out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the girl.”

“Too right. Now please stop thinking about me naked.” Her cheeks were growing hotter by the minute.

“Feel free to picture me naked.” When his smile deepened, the dimple on his right cheek appeared.

“No, thank you.” But she was. She was remembering the first time she had seen him naked and hard for her. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the scene playing in her head. She needed to stop seeing him the way he was. He wasn’t hers any more.

“Suit yourself, then,” he said as he led her past a sitting room to a large bedroom.

“Take my room. I will have the guest room at the front.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to take your room.”

“Take it. I work odd hours. I don’t want to wake you.”

“Are you sure?” She was about to say something about him being kind enough to let her stay with him and then she remembered she wouldn’t need a place to stay if it weren’t for him. “Fine. I will take it,” she said a bit more harshly than she had intended.

She laid her bag on a chair and sat down on the king-size bed, the fluffy white duvet cover puffed up on either side of her hips. She glanced at the wood and metal frame of the headboard and wondered about all the things he had done in this bed and all the women he had done them with. Why she cared was beyond her; it wasn’t as if she had been celibate for the last ten years, yet there was a smug satisfaction in knowing she was his first.

“If you want any clothes washed, just leave them in the hamper. The maid will get them in the morning. If you’re hungry, just phone room service. I have a menu in the bedside table.”

The sound of room service made her mouth water and her overdraft hurt. She pulled out the menu and was reminded again how much she could not afford this time away. She only had a single change of clothes, and those were meant for when she landed back at Heathrow. The only clothes she had packed were a wool jumper and another pair of jeans. She would melt if she put on a jumper but she doubted she could afford to buy anything else; something told her Dubai wasn’t a cheap place to shop. She glanced at the clock radio beside the bed. She still had time to make her flight. “Look, Liam. I need to get home. I can’t afford to stay here. I don’t have any clothes and I can’t even afford a starter off this menu. And quite frankly any place without Irn-Bru is not a place I want to be.” She tried to make light of the situation. It felt awkward admitting to Liam she could not afford to even visit his new life.

He looked at her incredulously. “I think I can afford some holiday clothes and a meal or two.”

“I am sure you can. We have established that. You are obscenely rich and I am still as working class as you can get. You have a jet and I have a Fiat Punto that barely passed its MOT. If you are keeping score, that is another point to you.”

“You are the only one keeping score.” He sat down on the bed beside her. He took the menu from her. “What would you like?”

She shifted along the bed so their legs were no longer touching. She would like to not feel like the poor relation. She would like to feel as if she knew this stranger beside her. She would like to be on the flight home. There were a million things she wanted and none of them were being here with him. “No, thanks. I am not hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach growling.”

“I told you I can’t afford anything on the menu.”

“And I told you I could. I feel like we are talking in circles here. Just tell me what you would like.”

“I am not going to let you buy me dinner.”

“Why not? I am going to have dinner.”

“Because…” There was so much to say but her pride stopped her.

“Because you never want to be indebted to anyone. You always have to stand on your own two feet,” he said as if he were reading her mind.

“Maybe,” she admitted. She never depended on anyone for anything. The last person she had counted on was Liam, and that had not ended well.

“It’s just dinner and some clothes. I will give you my card and I will have my driver take you to the Mall of the Emirates. You can get whatever you need there.”

“I am not going to let you buy me clothes. I don’t need a handout.”

“Why is it you spend your life helping people, giving them handouts as you call them, but when the tables are turned you refuse to accept anything?”

“It is totally different and you know it.”

“Why? Because you are somehow above needing help? Why, Sarah, I would say that makes you a snob.”

He was baiting her and damn her if she didn’t fall for it. “I am not going to owe you anything.”

“You owed me something as soon as you started calling in favours for your mate.”

“What do you want from me? Did you want me to see how well you have done? How rich you are? Because I see it. Well done, Liam.”

He stood up and crossed to the door. “I am ordering you a steak. It will be here in an hour. I suggest you use the time to get cleaned up. There are fresh towels in the bathroom. You can wear my dressing gown while I send down your clothes to be washed.”

She collapsed down on the bed. She could use a shower. But she did not want to let him think she was obeying him.

“Screw it,” she murmured under her breath. She was going to have a shower because she wanted a shower. To hell with what he thought of her motives.

She closed her eyes and let the hot water spray against her. In addition to the one large shower head, there were strategically placed jets, each one working its magic on her tight muscles. And if she was not mistaken there was a hint of mint and tea-tree oil in the air. No idea where it was coming from but it smelled divine. It was like being in a day spa, only better because no one was coming at her with hot wax. She could get used to this.

She unfolded a towel that was as big as a sheet and softer than crushed velvet. She wrapped herself up and sighed. Yes, she definitely could get used to this.

She put on his robe and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows. She glanced at the clock—seven-fifteen, which made it just after four in the UK. The office would still be open for the next forty-five minutes. God only knew how much a mobile call to Scotland would cost. She decided to be safe and text her project manager instead. A text came with the added bonus of not having to explain any of the awkward details.

Thirty seconds later her phone rang. It was Leslie, the mother hen of Fresh Start. Leslie was the one who always made sure people, namely Sarah, looked after themselves, and took a tea break every once in a while.

“Hello, lovey,” Sarah said.

“Gillian just got your text. We thought you would be back in the office tomorrow morning.” Sarah smiled at Leslie’s gruff manner. Leslie’s nastiest tone was saved for those she loved. The meaner she appeared, the more she cared. It was just her way.

“No, something came up. I have three intake meetings this week but Gillian or Tara can cover them. And I thought you could cover the harm-reduction seminar I have scheduled for Thursday, if you wouldn’t mind. I know it is short notice but you are the best trainer we have.” It wasn’t just flattery. Fresh Start could not function without Leslie.

“Aye, that’s fine. We will be fine. I just wanted to let you know about your granny.”

Sarah’s heart stopped; her chest constricted until it was painful to breathe. “Is she…did she…?” She could not get the words out. If something happened to her granny, she did not know what she would do. She was all Sarah had, the only person who had not left her.

“She will be fine. She just broke her hip.”

Relief washed over her. Hips mended; her heart wouldn’t if something happened to her granny and she wasn’t there. “Is she in the New Royal?”

“Aye.”

“Right, thanks. I am going to call now.” Sarah hung up the phone without saying goodbye. It was rude but Leslie would understand. Sarah’s heart was now pounding against her ribs. Luckily she knew the number for the Royal Infirmary by heart as not a week went by that didn’t involve a call to the hospital to check on service users.

Her call was transferred three times before it reached the staff nurse on Granny’s ward.

“Miss Campbell, your grandmother said you would be on the phone within twenty minutes of her getting through the doors and she was not far off.” The nurse laughed.

“Is she all right? No, that is a silly question, of course she is not all right. She has a broken hip. I mean is she going to be all right?”

“She will be fine. The consultant is in speaking with her right now. If there are no emergencies her surgery will be scheduled for tomorrow morning—”

“Surgery?”

“She is going to need a hip replacement but after that she should be right as rain.”

“OK. I will be on the next flight.”

“Your grandmother said you would say that. She told me to tell you, and I am quoting here, ‘Dinnae be daft, hen, I am fine. She said if you came to the hospital she would be livid, insisted you wait until she gets out of hospital because she did not want you to see her without her hair done. She also said to say hello to the prodigal son. I am not sure what she meant by that,” the nurse said.

Sarah knew what she meant. That was what Granny called Liam. She was always adamant that Liam would come home at some point. For some reason, Granny still had a soft spot for him, even though he had done nothing to justify it. Sarah put down the phone and sat on the bed. Her pulse refused to slow. She didn’t know what she would have done if Granny had died. “She is fine,” she repeated over and over again, but it did not change the fact she was eighty-five. Sooner or later Sarah was going to have to deal with the inevitable.

And then she would be alone.

It was hard to breathe again. The massive room seemed too small. She concentrated on slowly filling her lungs. She was being stupid. She was nearly thirty; she was fine. When her grandma died, she would be fine. But she knew she wouldn’t. Her granny was her rock, the one person in her life that never failed her, never left her. Everyone else left, but not Granny.

Leslie said Sarah had intimacy issues, she never let anyone in, but thank God for that, if it hurt this much, and she would much rather be alone than be dependent on someone else for her happiness.

Sarah didn’t hear Liam come into the room. “Dinner is here.” He crossed the room to her. “Sarah, what is wrong?” He wiped away a tear from her cheek. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she said. She turned away from him so he could not see the steady stream that was running down her face. Just her luck—she couldn’t remember the last time she cried and now she couldn’t stop. Trust her to do it in front of Liam.

“That seems to be your battle cry. You will forgive me if I don’t believe you.” He gently cupped her face in his hands.

“No, really, I am fine. I am tired—must be jet lag.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what is wrong,” he commanded.

His voice was so confident, his hands strong. It was easy to feel safe with him. Once upon a time, this was her safe place, in his arms. Nothing could touch her when he held her. He gazed at her with an intensity she could feel to the tips of her toes. His blue eyes had grown dark, almost completely engulfed by the dark pupils, leaving only a sapphire rim around the black centre. This was how he had looked right before he kissed her.

Her lips parted. Her muscles had memory she could not fight. Her body wanted to be connected to his. He seemed to feel it too or at least understand what she did not have the words to say. His head lowered to hers.

His mouth pressed against hers, hot and searching, his tongue teased her lips further apart, and she opened to him. She wanted to taste him and feel him. Her hands went to his sides and pulled him closer. She was desperate to close the space between them, and it had been too long. She heard a moan escape her. The dressing gown fell from around her shoulders and she did not try to pull it up. This felt right and utterly wrong: they were wrong together; she could never trust him, but their bodies fitted together as if they were made for each other.

Suddenly Liam pulled away. His breathing was ragged; she looked at him with a combination of shock and suspicion. Her mind registered a phone ringing from the other room. She pulled frantically at the dressing gown to cover herself.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself. Of all the stupid things she could do, kissing Liam took the cake. What was she thinking? She wanted to shout at herself. He left you when you needed him most. He was quite possibly the least emotionally available person on the planet. If she was going to work on her issues, it was best she did it with someone who would not leave as soon as things got hard.

“That is not going to happen again.” She said it for her own benefit. “Please don’t kiss me again. I am here because I want to help Sam.”

“Fine.” Something in Liam’s mind snapped at the mention of Sam’s name. Christ, why had he kissed her? His arms dropped to his sides, suddenly leaden. He left her sitting on his bed, and he didn’t turn back. He did not breathe until the door closed into place. Shit. He wanted to punish her, make her realise the bad choices she made, but when he saw her crying something strange happened. In that moment he did not want to hurt her; he just wanted to comfort her the only way he knew how.

Luckily she was kind enough to remind him of the point of all this. He would make her regret what she had done. But first he had to sort out the mess Sam had made. Sam had managed to fuck things up on yet another continent; he was almost prodigious in that respect. And now Liam was sucked into the cesspool. Like it or not he was stuck wading through a shit storm he wasn’t even sure he could handle. He had spent years cultivating friendships and securing allies and now he was going to have to call in every favour owed to him if he was going to save Sam’s ass. And why was he doing it? God only knew. He should have told Sarah a few home truths and sent her on her way. But apparently even after all the shit that had gone down between them, she still had some pull over him. But Christ was it tempting to let Sam go down; sort him out once and for all.

Liam put his hand against the cool wood of the closed door. Sarah Campbell was in his bedroom. She was in his bed. His entire adolescence centred around making that happen. Now she was there, but never had there been less chance of actually sleeping with her. The sixteen-year-old version of himself would not have been very happy with that result. The thirty-year-old version was none too pleased either, if truth be told.




Chapter Four


Liam hesitated before he dialled his lawyer. He could not ignore the temptation to forget about Sam and let justice take its course. He tapped his fingers against the arm rest. He considered his options. There were a few ways this could play out. The easiest and most tempting was for him to do nothing. He would tell Sarah he did his best and she would be none the wiser. Or he could put himself on the line for a man he detested. The choice would be simple if it weren’t for Sarah, and the last remnants of Liam’s conscience. Sam deserved to be punished but he did not deserve to be killed.

“Hello, Sayid. I have a situation,” Liam said when his lawyer picked up at the other end.

Liam explained the circumstances in detail. Sayid told Liam he would make some enquiries and phone him back when he knew more.

Liam went into work and waited for his lawyer to phone. He used the time to research options for Sam and make phone calls. Sayid was the best corporate lawyer money could buy, but he did not have much cause to bone up on criminal law. Liam ran a hand through his hair and swore. It was a bloody mess.

Sayid did not phone back until after ten.

“How long does it take to locate one detainee?” Liam asked when he picked up the phone.

“A while when that detainee is being interviewed,” Sayid said.

“You mean being interrogated?” Liam asked, although he knew the answer.

“That is one way to put it. I would suggest the police would say they were helping him divulge pertinent information.”

“Save it, Sayid. Where is he now?”

“They are taking him to a police station.”

“Great. Send me the address. I will meet you there. I need fifteen minutes to speak to him. Make it happen.”

The police station was inhumanely hot, the only air conditioning being a free-standing fan. The heat served to heighten the intense smell of urine, while the fan played its part by making sure the scent reached everyone’s nostrils undiluted.

Sayid greeted the police officer, exchanged pleasantries, and offered the man a manila envelope. The officer opened the packet and counted the notes before he nodded and pointed to a corridor. “At the end.”

Liam walked to the end and looked into the cell. At first he could not see Sam. He was lying in the dark, his back to him. Liam could just make out his form. A presumably once white shirt was lying beside him, covered in what appeared to be dirt and dry vomit.

“Sam,” Liam said. When he didn’t stir, Liam called his name louder.

“And the torture begins,” Sam said. He sat up and slowly moved his legs over the side of the rusted bed frame.

Liam’s breath hitched when he saw him. He could not have been prepared for the change in his once best friend. Liam had seen plenty of addicts before, but he couldn’t remember anyone as ravaged by drugs as the shadow of a man in front of him. Sam was a pathetic sight. He reminded Liam of a mangy dog, beaten and left on the side of the road. His anger became laced with a strange sadness that he could not understand.

Liam couldn’t be sure how much of Sam’s appearance was down to withdrawals and how much was from years of abusing his body. Sam was the same height as Liam, but weighed at least three stone less. His cheeks were hollow and black circles encased his eyes. His short black hair was matted to his head. His arms were covered in the telltale blue ink of prison tattoos. They were layered, one on top of the other, bleeding into each other, creating the effect of one continuous stain on his limbs. And on his chest, scribbled above his heart, was the name “Sarah”.

Liam clenched his hands into fists, his anger rekindled. He didn’t care what Sam did with his life, but he was going to make sure he stopped dragging Sarah into it. “Fucking up in Scotland wasn’t grand enough for you.”

Sam smiled, but only half his mouth rose. He had appreciably less teeth than when Liam had seen him last.

“Sarah called you? Knew she would. She’s my doll, always sees me right.” He patted her name above his heart.

“Why can’t you fuck up on your own and leave her out of it?”

“You were always jealous of me. Not my fault she picked me, man.”

“You are pathetic.”

“Aye, but I got her. You got your money and your fancy job but you don’t have her. That’s what you always wanted, all that cash, and she picked me. Must have been pretty shit in bed for her to come running to me when it was done.”

Liam squeezed the iron bars between his fists until his hands drained of colour. “You are facing the death penalty. They want to kill you.” Liam thought of the expression about not wishing things on his worst enemy. He was looking at his, and he realised all the things he wished on Sam he had done to himself.

“Aye, so I’ve heard, but what can ya do? I’ve had a good run.”

“You’re just going to give up?” Liam shook his head. “That would be about right. You can’t even man up enough to try to save yourself. You’re pathetic.”

“Yep,” Sam admitted. He rubbed at the dark stubble along his chin. “But remind me again, who Sarah picked?”

“You mention her name again, and I will walk out of here and I will let you face a firing squad.”

“You still want her, don’t you? But you can’t have her. Because she doesn’t want you. You can get yourself all prettied up with your bullshit English accent and your Italian suits, but she will always know you are faking it. We all know who your mama is so you can stop pretending.”

Liam clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. He turned and walked away, and then he stopped as he remembered Sarah’s face, asking him for help. That had taken courage he hadn’t known she had. Slowly he turned back round. If it was for anyone else, Sam would be dead. “Do you want to die? Because if I walk out now you will.”

“Que sera sera,” Sam sang. He was lying down again, facing the wall.

Liam took a deep breath. His legs itched to just walk away. Sam’s was not a life worth saving. He knew that; Sam knew that. But Sarah… Sarah didn’t realise that even if they managed to save him this time, Sam would just throw it all away. Because that was what addicts did. “This is how it is going to go down. I am going to see that the evidence against you is misplaced and you are released from here and sent to rehab in America. I have found a treatment centre with security to rival Guantanamo Bay. If you try to leave or even try to call her before the year is up, you have had it. Do you understand?”




Chapter Five


Sarah woke up and glanced at the digital clock beside the bed – two fifty-seven. Given the blackened sky, it was safe to assume it was still the middle of the night, not two fifty-seven in the afternoon, but she felt as if she could have very well been asleep for an entire day. Her mouth felt as if it had been packed with cotton wool and her arms ached from having them stretched above her for hours. She fumbled with the lamp on the bedside table but gave up after she knocked it over along with what she thought was a stack of books. She searched in the dark for the dressing gown Liam had lent her but she was as successful with that as she was in finding a light. Finally she capitulated, and made her way to the door dressed only in her bra and pants. Liam would be asleep anyway and, even if he wasn’t, it was not as if he hadn’t seen it all before. Granted she was a lot younger and firmer then…

When she opened the door to the hall, she could finally see. City lights flooded through the glass doors that led to the roof terrace. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, but it was empty except for a carton of orange juice and a few bottles of wine. She got a glass of water, downed it, and filled the cup again before she returned to the living room. She should probably go back to bed to get adjusted to the time change but she wasn’t tired. She needed a book or a television. She looked around the room. Where was the telly? Even she had a telly. She found several remotes and saw speakers in the ceiling, but no television. No food and no telly—this definitely was not civilised living conditions. She reached for the control that looked the most like a television remote. When she pressed the power switch, a large screen dropped from the ceiling and sound filled the room. “Now we are cooking with gas,” Sarah said with a satisfied smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had time to sit and watch telly—no, that was a lie: it was when she was off sick. She had watched every chat show on every station. Good times. That reminded her—she hoped she had set her Sky Plus to record her shows.

She flipped through the channels, skipping all the news stations. She didn’t need to hear anything else depressing. She settled on an Arabic-speaking soap opera. She had no idea what the people were saying but it was the only thing on that could pass as entertainment. A swarthy man was pleading with a woman. She was wiping away a tear and looking off into the distance. He was a convincing enough actor to capture remorse even through the language barrier. But weren’t all men good at pretending to feel things? It must be encoded somewhere in the Y chromosome. “Don’t believe a word he says. They are all the same,” Sarah muttered to the telly before she turned it off again, and the screen rose into the recess in the ceiling.

She picked up her glass and went to the patio doors and looked out onto the terrace. A pool on the roof—who did that? New Liam apparently. She slid open the door and sighed as the warm desert air hit her skin. It had cooled off enough to be bearable but was still warm by Scottish standards. It was a revelation to not have to wear at least a jumper in the middle of summer. She looked around. The last thing she wanted was to be caught skinny dipping in Dubai, even if it was a private pool. They were bound to have a law against that and she had used her one “get out of jail free” card on Sam. She leaned over the rail to assess the situation. The building wasn’t overlooked. Satisfied no one could see her, she stripped off her underwear and slipped into the water. It was warmer than she expected, like a lukewarm bath.

Complete bliss.

She sighed with contentment as she sank deeper into the water until it splashed high around her shoulders. Now this was the life. If she had a pool on her terrace she would never leave her house, except to get food—a girl had to eat—or better yet, she would just hire someone to bring her meals until osmosis had drawn the last molecule of water from her body, and left her a happy, though dehydrated, wee raisin.

Suddenly the water lit up, illuminated by dozens of submerged lights casting a pattern of pale golden colour on the bottom of the pool. Before she could stop herself she screamed. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

“Relax, Sarah. It’s just me,” Liam called from the door. Because he had turned on the outside lights, the shadow of the living room appeared darker, and all she could make out was the outline of his tall form.

“Geez, you scared me,” she gasped. She took large deep breaths to try to slow her heart rate.

“They say people that startle easily have a guilty conscience. What has you feeling so guilty, Ms. Campbell?” She could hear his smile in his voice.

She ignored his question. She sank even deeper into the water and hoped he could not see her clearly. “Did I wake you up? Sorry, I couldn’t find a light… And I may have broken your lamp.’’

“Honestly? That lamp was very valuable.”

“Really? I am so sorry. I will replace it.” She would have to add that to the list of bills. Her overdraft hurt again when she thought about it.

“No, not really, it came with the flat. You broke my heart—the lamp pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “Only one of us had a broken heart that summer and it wasn’t you. Nice try though, Liam.”

“Why do you assume you were the only one hurt?” Liam asked.

“Um…because you were the one who left. We spent the night together and the next day you left for Cambridge and never looked back. You never answered my calls or emails. You just left. Call me old-fashioned, but when a girl has sex for the first time, she hopes the guy will stick around…I don’t know…at least long enough for the sun to come up.”

Liam walked out of the shadows and stood by the edge of the pool. For the first time she could see him properly. He was still wearing the same suit he had been that afternoon. “Quit the martyr routine, Sarah. You bailed. It was you who gave up on us. We were supposed to be leaving together. It was going to be you and me but you got scared and begged off. Don’t put that on me.”

It was the same argument they had earlier; he was not going to give any ground, let alone see anything from her perspective. And as good as she was at verbal sparring, it was difficult to get the upper hand naked, especially when he was making no attempt to conceal his ogling. “Fine. I get it. I had one chance and I blew it. Is that how it works in your world? I made a bad choice, so I am dead to you. Fantastic. What a brilliant way to live your life.” She squirmed and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

“At least you are admitting it was a bad choice.”

“No, that is not what I said.”

“That is exactly what you said. Are you going to take it back now? You are great at taking back promises. It is a shame that breaking your word is not an Olympic event—you could medal in it.”

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. This was an argument that required more clothing, and less water.

“Fine what? Fine you admit it was a shit choice?”

“Fine as in, fine I said it. But it wasn’t a bad choice as much as it was my only choice.”

Liam laughed. It was a bitter sound lacking all joy. “Are you serious? How was that your only choice? You had a place at Cambridge with the man who loved you, always loved you, but your only choice was staying in a fucking council estate to take care of a drug addict.”

“I am not having this conversation now,” she protested.

“You sure as hell are. This conversation has been a decade in the making. It is not going to bloody wait.”

“I am not going to speak to you while I am naked and you are fully dressed.”

“Fine by me,” he said as he tugged at his tie. It came loose in one fluid movement. He tossed his jacket on a wooden lounger and then reached for his belt.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“What does it look like I am doing? I am getting naked so we can finish this conversation.”

“Liam, stop it. For the love of God, just put your trousers back on.” She tried to look away but she was too intrigued by the sight of his taut torso. Even in the dim light, his muscles were defined by deep ridges. He had always been thin, but now he appeared to have no body fat remaining, just hard muscle and sinew. “I am warning you, I will not keep talking if your pants come off.”

“Well, that is great because so far all the excuses you have offered have been shite. Hopefully your listening skills fare better.” He tucked his thumb into his boxers and pulled them down just low enough for her to see the prominent V shape above his obliques.

Her face burned hot. Dear Lord, just when she thought the desert could not get any hotter. If that man was any sexier, he would need to come with a health warning.

“Fine, I will talk to you. Just leave your pants on.”

“Sarah, it is not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“That was a long time ago.” She forced herself to look him square in the eyes. She wasn’t sure she would be able to have a coherent conversation if he got any more naked. Just the memory of him was making it difficult to concentrate.

“And felt me before,” he continued.

“Again, that was a long time ago.”

“And tasted me before,” he drawled. “That one was a particular favourite.” He slipped his boxers off and dived into the pool before she had a chance to respond. He emerged seconds later, mere feet from her, wearing nothing but a cheeky smile.

Her breath caught in her throat. Smiling like that, with his hair dishevelled, he looked like her Liam. She stared at him mesmerised, transported to an earlier time, an easier time. If she could live in that moment she would. She had loved him so much, loved them so much. They were Liam and Sarah against the world. Together they had felt invincible. A sudden sadness nagged at her; it was like seeing the ghost of her long-lost love.

But it was an illusion.

No, Her Liam had been the illusion. He never was the person she made him out to be.

A tear slid down her cheek. She sank lower into the water, until her head was submerged so Liam would not see her crying. She could go years without crying and now twice in one day. She needed to get it together.





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