‘Bring me Sam Pope.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
A taste of normality would do neither of them any good.
After they’d finished making love, Singh had helped Sam to wash the fresh wounds on his body. The scars were a rich tapestry depicting the life he lived and she knew then that there was never going to be a them.
Sam was built for war.
He would never walk away from it.
After Singh had dried herself with one of the rich, cotton towels and left, Sam had turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he stared at himself, examining the cut that sliced through his eyebrow. It would leave a scar and he shrugged at the thought. It would just be another to add to the collection.
Scouring through Etheridge’s cabinet he found a razor and replaced the blade, before gliding it across his soapy face. Sam was very rarely clean shaven, but after a few weeks without any comforts, he appreciated the feel of the blade as it sliced through the thick bristles that had sprouted across his strong jaw.
They had run a pair of clippers over his brown hair before he entered The Grid and he didn’t stay long enough for the mandatory monthly trim. Thankfully, they’d shaved the sides shorter than the top, so while his hair wasn’t exactly stylish, it was neat. Flecks of grey had begun to pepper the hair around his ears, and he realised he was less than a year away from his fortieth birthday.
Apparently, life began then.
Sam was just fortunate to have made it to today.
Before he dried himself, he took a moment, contemplating the notion of a different path. There was a clear connection between himself and Singh, one that was beyond the physical. Despite the passionate sex they’d just had, they were kindred spirits, wrapped around each other like coiled snakes.
The only problem was, they were both poisonous and the chances of them fatally wounding the other was too high.
They both believed in a fair world.
They just stood on opposite sides of the line that cut through it.
Sam shook his head, knowing that he had one evening to enjoy before their paths would split, most likely forever.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, the fantastic aroma of food drew him down the stairs where Etheridge had decorated the kitchen counter with a selection of plastic boxes, each containing an assortment of Chinese food.
Sam stepped into the room, drawing a warm smile from Singh, along with a cheeky wink from Etheridge.
‘Nice shower?’ Etheridge asked, flashing a glance at the wet hair that cascaded down to Singh’s shoulder.
‘Don’t,’ Sam responded, failing to hide the smirk that cracked on his lips. Singh chuckled and soon, all three of them were laughing.
‘Dig in, buddy,’ Etheridge said. ‘I bet you can’t wait.’
‘I don’t know. The poorly cooked meat and veg of Ashcroft will take some beating.’
‘I still can’t believe you put yourself through that,’ Singh said, tipping a spoonful of noodles onto her plate.
‘Me neither,’ Sam said as he piled as much as he could onto his place, snapped his chopsticks open and begun to shovel the food in. The glorious tastes exploded in his mouth and he wolfed down the entire plate, much to the joy of Etheridge. No one spoke for five minutes, with each of them enjoying the flavoursome meal, as well as each other’s company. While the atmosphere was pleasant, there was a heartbreaking undercurrent as they knew it would be the only time this would be possible. Sensing the tension rising, Etheridge cracked open three beers, passed one each to Sam and Singh, and raised his bottle.
‘To our survival.’
All three of them raised their drinks and took a sip. Sam dropped his chopsticks on the sauce smeared plate and exhaled. A slight bit of indigestion hit and he excused himself from the kitchen, needing a hit of the brisk, evening air. As he stepped out onto the patio, Etheridge noticed Singh’s longing glance at his friend.
‘You know it can’t happen, right?’
‘I know.’ Singh sighed. ‘It was probably a mistake to go there.’
‘Not at all.’ Etheridge shook his head. ‘The world needs as much love and affection as it can get. But there is no way he’ll turn his back on his fight. It’s in his blood. In his bones. It’s who he is.’
‘I’ve thought about it, you know?’ Singh turned to Etheridge, trying hard not to show her pain. ‘Ever since Sam saved those girls last year. I thought about throwing it all away, joining him in his fight. I know what he does is wrong, but I believe in the reasons he does it. Ever since then, I’ve just felt...’
‘Restricted?’ Etheridge offered and Singh nodded. ‘Me too. After you saved my life and they repaired my knee, I gave up everything. Sold the business. Divorced Kayleigh. None of that mattered anymore. It’s what Sam does to you. He infects you with his mission until you can’t see another purpose. But, Singh, even if you tried to do that, there is no happy ending there. Not because he doesn’t care. But because there is only one place his path is leading him.’
At that moment, Singh felt her heart break. Throughout her life, she’d dedicated herself to her job. To rise through the ranks of the Metropolitan Police, to experience every part of the job, and then build the career she wanted. At no point, despite her strict Hindu parents’ wishes, had she ever considered settling down. Her sister, Priya, had given them the grandchildren they craved and settled down to a life of luxury, married to a successful lawyer.
But as she glanced at Sam, who stood looking out at the darkness, she saw her only desire for that life.
As Etheridge’s phone buzzed, Singh sighed, finished her beer and decided it would be best not to spend the night.
The quicker she cut the cord, the quicker she could heal.
The look on Etheridge’s face as he scanned his
