The rain pounded against the Velux window above my head in relentless, hail-like bursts. The journey home from work earlier had been a blur; the dated underground carriage lurching from side to side as I stared through the window at the dark tunnel walls and thought over my options.

It was only early evening now, but the sky above was already a murky grey colour and within half an hour it would be pitch black. I had to warn Liam, that much I knew. I needed to let him know that somehow, he had attracted the interest of the NCS. Certain ex-offenders were, of course, monitored upon release, but it was unusual to get a file request from so high up after a full year had passed.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled through old Whatsapp messages until I found a thread from six months ago; a few texts that I had exchanged with Terry Inglis, a senior NCS detective. We met when I attended court with a former client who was recalled to prison for breaching parole conditions. Over a coffee after the hearing, he had asked for my phone number. The messages fizzled out after I dodged a date with him, and nothing ever came of it, but I wondered now whether I could get in touch to do some subtle digging. I couldn’t stand by and watch Liam go back to prison, regardless of what he had done to attract the NCS’s attention. As reckless as it was, I didn’t care.

“Do you want a cuppa, babe?” Claire’s voice sailed up the stairs.

“No thanks,” I shouted. “I’m nipping out.”

I didn’t want to text Liam and leave a trace that might later cause trouble, so I ordered an Uber and quickly changed into my running pants and an oversized hoodie, tucking my hair into a baseball hat. The thought of going to his place unannounced and potentially finding him with someone else – like maybe the girl from the intercom – sent a wave of nausea crashing over me, but there was no alternative.  

--

The car dropped me off a few blocks from his apartment. The Christmas lights around Kensington were still up, reflecting off the damp pavements like glitter as I ran down Queensgate and past the Albert Hall, cutting through the concert goers who were queuing up for an evening with an opera singer.

I paused for a moment before dialling his apartment number in the intercom, trying to get my thoughts in order and control my breathing.

“Hello.” It was him.

“It’s Nat,” I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being watched or overheard. “I’m sorry to turn up like this, but it’s urgent.”

He paused for a few seconds and then exhaled, sounding mildly annoyed. My stomach felt like a ball of pizza dough being kneaded.

The intercom crackled but he didn’t speak. “Liam?”

“One sec,” he said. I could almost hear his mind racing. “I’ll be right down.”

Annoyance crept over me as he walked through the lobby and buzzed the glass doors open. Here I was, risking my neck to help him and he was probably upstairs sipping Clicquot with a nubile blonde.

“Nat, hi,” he said, kissing me quickly on the mouth and looking distracted. He was wearing a plain grey T-shirt and baggy tracksuit pants. “I didn’t get a message from you or anything. Are you okay?”

“I need to speak to you. It’s important,” I said. I took the baseball cap off and smoothed down my hair. I was warm now from the run. “Bad time?”

“Kind of.”

I shook my head and a short, sharp laugh escaped my lips, louder than intended. “Right.” I pressed the exit button and waited for the doors to slide open.

“Wait,” Liam said, grabbing my hand. “Come up, I’m sorry. Look, there are a few people up there that aren’t exactly the kind of people a lady like you should be meeting with, if you get my drift.”

I nodded, my mind buzzing and heart in my throat. He wasn’t screwing someone, then. Any scenario was preferable to that.

“Okay.”

“Just go along with whatever I say.”

--

Liam cleared his throat as he led me into the apartment, catching the attention of the woman and two men who were sat on his sofa. I was surprised to realise he was still holding my hand, despite the company.

The coffee table was littered with takeaway boxes and wine glasses. I could see several white powdery lines that looked like scratches and a rolled-up fifty. I knew immediately I was out of my depth.

I hadn’t been back to the apartment since the first night we spent together, just two weeks ago, even though it felt like months.

They looked up in unison, surprised. The woman was a similar age to me, with long dark hair that was filled out with expensive extensions and the two men were in their forties, smartly dressed in designer polos and dark jeans, which appeared to be a sort of uniform for the well-heeled criminal.

“This is Sam,” Liam said to the trio, sweeping his arm towards me. “Sam, meet Tosh, Max and Suki.”

I smiled politely and gave an awkward wave. Sam?

The woman stood up and smiled widely. She had a crinkle over her nose: the unmistakable calling card of too much Botox. Dressed in skinny jeans and a clingy camisole, she teetered towards me on heels. She looked like a footballer’s wife and smelled strongly of Chanel Chance, which I recognised as I occasionally wore it too.

“Well, well, well,” the woman said slowly and dramatically, kissing both of my cheeks and looking mildly repulsed as she touched my damp hoodie. “I knew it. I just knew it. I knew there had been a change in him, and it must be down to you.”

I recognised the accent immediately; she was the woman whose voice I had heard on the intercom that morning. Are we expecting anything? She was marking her territory, making sure that I was aware of their friendship; that she knew him well enough to notice even the slightest shift in his behaviour.

His hand tensed slightly around mine as she playfully tapped his arm. The men on the couch laughed along, but didn’t seem nearly as interested in me as Suki. Maybe it was jealousy, or perhaps she protective of him, or they had history. All three scenarios chilled me slightly.

I didn’t know how to respond to her, so I leaned against the kitchen island and just smiled, narrowing my eyes a little into a smize.

“You must be a very special lady,” she said, jangling her gold bracelets as she grazed Liam’s arm for a second time. “He’s not normally the girlfriend type, are you, Li?”

The men at the coffee table appeared to have resumed their own conversation and were glugging back the last of their wine. Liam draped his arm over my shoulder and gave Suki a hard stare. Something passed between them that I couldn’t quite decipher, then he smiled and said, “You’re right, she’s incredibly special.”

Suki arched an eyebrow and gently elbowed me, as though we were sharing a joke, then walked back to the sofa and pulled her coat on.

“We should go, Tosh,” she said, perching on the edge of the sofa next to the stockier man and making a show of glancing at her watch. “Fluffy needs walking.”

--

Relief flooded me as the door closed behind them. I helped myself to a glass of water as Liam whisked the food boxes and evidence of recreational drug use off the coffee table. I pretended not to notice and sat down, curling my legs up under me.

“Sam?” I said, tilting my head as he sat beside me, angled in my direction.

“Don’t really want them knowing your name, to be honest.”

“Suki seems like a character.” I knew I was fishing but I couldn’t help myself; I wanted to know what passed between them in the kitchen.

He moved his jaw from side to side. “She’s fine... don’t worry about her.”

I took another sip of water, knowing that I would soon need to launch into a monologue about why I was here. I had almost forgotten. I knew it was unlikely that Liam was already under surveillance, given that his file had only just been requested by NCS, but the tiny possibility that he was, made my chest tighten. I couldn’t tell him in here.

“Is there somewhere else in the building we can talk?” I said, putting the glass down next to the dusty marks.

“Rooftop pool?”

--

The view from the roof was even more spectacular than the view from Liam’s penthouse. With no glass in the way, the city shimmered in HD below. We sat inside a cabana at the edge of the heated pool, on a comfy daybed, and Liam dragged a patio heater over.

“Okay. You have my full attention,” he said, lying down beside me, head propped on the palm of his hand.

“I think you’re being investigated,” I said, trailing my words and feeling his body stiffen as I finished the sentence, although his expression remained fairly neutral.

“What makes you say that?”

My thighs were shaking uncontrollably, like they always did when I was nervous, muscles going into spasm and rippling against my skin. “Sorry,” I said, drawing a breath.

“Hey, relax.” He placed his hand on my thigh to keep my leg still. “Chill. You’re making me nervous.”

I blurted it out. “Your file was requested by the NCS... National Crime Squad. My boss came in for it today.” His eyes briefly swept upwards, then back to mine. I watched him closely, studying him for any hint of panic.

“Okay.”

“I don’t have details, but it normally means something’s happening, like maybe an investigation or some kind of ops.”

I moved my hand to the back of his neck and absently grazed it with my fingers, thinking carefully about my next words. The pool lights were casting a rippling blue glow on the white cabana drapes and the heater was radiating against our feet. He didn’t speak, seemingly lost in thought at the information I had disclosed.

I carried on, “I’m not suggesting you have anything to hide, but if you need to... tie up any loose ends, then I’d do it now.”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the canvas roof, from where an ornate Moroccan-style lantern hung. It creaked a little with his movements and swung a few inches either side, like a large rectangular pendulum.

“I see,” Liam said. His eyes were fixed on the lantern and his breathing was slow and steady.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. I was pleased he was focusing on the ceiling and couldn’t see my eyes, which were swimming now.

“Telling me this is a big risk for you.” He shifted back onto his side and caught me off guard by kissing the top of my cheek, where a fat teardrop was resting, preparing to roll down. “Let’s say I did have something to hide, you may have used your position to jeopardise a major NCS operation.”

The way he spoke, it was as though he were both reconciling this information for himself and making sure I also understood what I was doing.

“It won’t be my position for long. I’m resigning.”

“Because of me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, wiping my eyes on the end of my sleeve. He smiled and the mood lightened a fraction. “You’re a contributing factor, yes... but not the only one. My heart just isn’t in it. I’ll temp for a while and decide what to do.”

I was about to tell him my Terry Inglis idea, but something stopped me. I knew he would warn me off it, not wanting me to take any further risks on his behalf or draw attention to myself.

“Thank you.” He traced a line from the middle of my forehead, down my nose and to my chin. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done anything for me like this before.”

I don’t know how I had expected him to react, but certainly not as calmly as this, although I supposed he was hardly going to start calling business associates from the cabana and admitting to me that he had reason to be worried.

“Just be careful, that’s all,” I said. I sniffed and then ran a finger under my eyes, inspecting the skin for mascara streaks.

“And where does this leave us?” he said, moving his hand under my hoodie and resting it on my stomach. “I can’t – I won’t – put you in harm’s way, Nat.”

The realisation hit me that – of course – any surveillance on Liam Hale would obviously lead to me, if we continued to do whatever it was that we were doing, but if I had resigned, then why would it matter? The situation was unethical, sure, but illegal? No. I knew I was a moth to the flame, but when that flame burned as brightly and warmly as he did, it would be impossible to fly off into the cold night.

“Tell me something?” I said, facing him. He nodded. “Tell me I’m not imagining what’s happening here. This,” I made a swirling motion with my arm, “chemistry.”

“You’re not imagining it, no.” He smiled, his cheeks dimpling, like we were simultaneously confessing a secret. “She mostly talks shit, but as Suki pointed out, I don’t normally turn up on doorsteps in Clapham or charter planes to Edinburgh. So if you’re asking if I enjoy spending time with you, then the answer is yes, I do.”

“Just do what you have to do, and I’ll do what I have to do,” I said, referring to my resignation, “and everything will be fine.”

I had done my bit and warned him. Surely it wouldn’t be too complicated to get his affairs in order and lie low; ride the investigation out. I blocked out the possibility of a much worse scenario, still with no idea what the NCS were investigating or what Liam actually did to make his money, or was capable of doing.

The heater had turned the cabana into a sauna and my skin was prickling. I sat up and pulled the hoodie over my head. I had dressed too quickly to put on a bra. Liam watched as I shuffled off the end and stood, sliding my running pants down to reveal a pair of lacy French knickers that hugged my backside in the shape of a W. I unclipped my hair and shook it out, then eased my underwear down and flung them to one side.

Tonight, I wanted to do something for him; make him feel good after the delivery of such shit news and make it clear that I wasn’t going to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble.

“Take your pants off,” I ordered, naked at the foot of the bed, the blue lights rolling over my breasts. “Now.”

He blinked slowly a few times and then stretched his neck back, like someone unwinding after a hard day at the office. The baggy tracksuit pants slipped off easily. He quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it to the side with my underwear.

“Don’t move, just relax,” I said. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Liam reclined against the stack of cushions and folded his arms behind his head as I crawled up from the end of the bed, moving my breasts and lips over his feet, calves and thighs. I pulled back at the base of his cock and scraped my hair to one side, before plunging it into my mouth and swirling my tongue hungrily over the length of it. I moved my damp pussy against his thigh, rubbing my clit against his muscles as I relished the feeling of him my mouth.

He lifted his head a few minutes later, warning me that he was about to cum.

“Relax,” I said.

I kept my mouth where it was, clamped over him, and sucked harder, meeting his eyes as he pulsed against the inside of my cheek.

He lay back down, letting his eyes roll with pleasure as I swallowed. “Fuck.”

Sweating now, I licked my lips. “Stay there.”

I stood at the deep end of the pool for a few moments and then dived in, swimming silently along the bottom and popping up in the shallows. Liam was laughing as I surfaced, sitting up on the bed and shaking his head.

“You’re insane. It’s January.”

“It’s heated, and anyway, I thought I told you to shut up and stay put,” I said, climbing out slowly and letting my hair drip over my arse and thighs, putting on a show for his benefit.

Away from the glare of the heater, it was freezing. My breasts tightened, nipples rock hard. Who even was I anymore: skinny dipping in the rooftop pool of an NCS target on a Monday night? My world was crumbling, but something much better was forming from the ruins.

I climbed onto the bed and stood over him, my head touching the canvas, with one leg either side of his hips and gripped the wooden frame where it made an X in the middle. He was watching me with an expression of fascination that made my pussy spasm involuntarily.

“What are you doing Wednesday night?” I said, looking down at him, his body stretched out and perfect. I was reserving tomorrow to follow up with Terry Inglis.

“Getting my criminal empire sorted, apparently,” he said, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together with amusement. “Why?”

I grazed his torso with my foot. My hair was dripping onto his stomach, forming pools of water in the dips of his muscles. “Because I’d like to cook dinner for you, at my house. I can’t fly you to Edinburgh, but I make a mean lasagne.”

“Then I’m there,” he said, reaching up with one hand and sliding it between my legs, running his fingers over my lips and clit, then wiping them over his cock.

“Good.”

Holding the beams for support, I turned around, my backside facing him and slowly lowered myself onto him, sitting all the way down so that he filled me. With my hands on his legs, I rode him selfishly until I came, listening to him groan as he watched me from behind, screwing down onto him, over and over.

--

It was after midnight when I arrived home and changed for bed. In the darkness, I unlocked my phone and composed a message to Terry Inglis. I planned to send it first thing in the morning. Knowledge was power, and the more I could arm Liam with whilst I still had connections, the better.

Terry! I had an NCS file request today and it reminded me of you. We never did have that drink. Fancy one after work this week? X