When he got back she was refilling her glass with brandy. He sat down, tore off a couple of pieces of paper towel and gave them to her. She smiled gratefully and dabbed at her face.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said. ‘What are you going to do?’
Nightingale took another sip of brandy. ‘Marcus Fairchild framed my sister for murders she didn’t commit. I’m pretty sure he stole the books from the basement. And he’s done God alone knows what to you. He’s not going to get away with that.’
‘So you’ll go to the police?’
Nightingale shook his head. ‘The police won’t help. And even if they did, Fairchild’s a Satanist. He’s got access to all sorts of powers. I’m sure that the police won’t be able to touch him.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘I’ll take care of it. That’s all you need to know. I’ll do whatever it takes.’
‘Promise me one thing?’
‘If I can,’ he said.
‘Ask him what he did to me. And why. Will you do that?’
‘Don’t worry. There’re a lot of questions I want answers to.’
Jenny nodded and reached for her glass again. Nightingale took her hand. ‘Please don’t,’ he said.
‘It helps,’ she said.
‘How does it help?’
‘It numbs me and that’s what I need now. I need to stop thinking.’
‘Alcohol never helps.’
‘You think I should try smoking instead?’
Nightingale laughed. Jenny slipped her hand around the back of his neck and before he could react she had pulled him down towards her and was kissing him. For a second he kissed her back but then he pushed her away.
‘What?’ she said.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ She pulled him back towards her but he resisted.
‘This isn’t a good idea,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re vulnerable. Because you’re in shock. Because you’ve been drinking.’
‘What, you’re worried that I’ll accuse you of date rape?’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘It won’t be rape, Jack. It’s what I want. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.’ She kissed him again and this time he found it harder to resist. Her tongue probed between his lips and he found himself kissing her back, but again he pushed her away.
‘Jenny.?.?.’ he said, his heart pounding.
‘You don’t want to?’
‘No. I mean yes. Yes, I want to. Of course I want to.’ He felt his cheeks redden. ‘This isn’t a good time.’
‘For me? Or for you?’
‘For either of us.’
‘I want you, Jack. And that’s got nothing to do with what’s happened today or because I’ve been drinking.’
Nightingale smiled. ‘And what about tomorrow? What happens then?’
‘Can we cross that bridge when we get to it?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Jack?’
‘Yes?’
‘Shut up and kiss me.’
Nightingale did as he was told.
57
Nightingale opened his eyes and frowned at the unfamiliar ceiling. He looked at the window. Blinds and not curtains. It wasn’t his bedroom. Then the bed moved and he realised with a start that he wasn’t alone. Immediately he remembered where he was and who he was with.
Jenny had turned on her side with her back to him. He looked at his watch. It was just after ten.
‘If you want to do a runner I’ll pretend I’m asleep,’ she murmured.
Nightingale laughed and rolled over so that he could put his arms around her. ‘Idiot,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, I.?.?.’ She didn’t finish the sentence.
‘Jenny, I’m here because I want to be here.’
‘You don’t have to say that, Jack. I was vulnerable last night and I needed somebody to be with me.’
‘I hope you don’t mean that you were just using me.’
She pushed her backside against him. ‘Now who’s the idiot?’ she said.
He held her tighter and pushed his face against her hair. ‘I guess this is going to make things harder in the office.’
‘Feels like it’s making things hard now,’ she said, pushing against him again.
‘Are you okay?’
‘In what way?’
‘You and me.’
‘More than okay.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Jack, you’re going to talk this to death if you’re not careful.’
‘Talk what to death?’
Jenny twisted around and rolled on top of him. She kissed him on the lips, her hair falling over his face. ‘This,’ she whispered and slipped him inside her.
58
Nightingale carefully carried a tray into the room and placed it on the bedside table. He sat down on the bed and gently stroked Jenny’s hair. She opened her eyes sleepily and smiled up at him.
‘What time is it?’ she murmured.
‘Eleven,’ he said.
Jenny ran a hand through her hair. ‘Shit, I’m late for work,’ she said. ‘And my boss is an absolute bastard.’
Nightingale grinned. ‘I’m sure you can twist him around your little finger.’ He nodded at the tray. ‘Coffee, and I warmed a croissant for you.’
Jenny looked at the tray and frowned. ‘Where’s yours?’
‘I’ve got to go out.’
Jenny rubbed her eyes. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve got to take care of something.’
‘What?’
He stroked her hair again. ‘Don’t you worry about it,’ he said.
Jenny sat up and pulled the quilt around her breasts. ‘You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?’
Nightingale smiled. ‘Do I ever?’
‘Frequently.’
