Hot Blooded (21 page)

I felt her body going rigid under my hands about a second before I felt the first of many sweet, needy pulses of her pussy around me. And that was all it took. I locked my hands onto her hips and held her there as my cock twitched and then exploded into her.

"Yeah, Callum. Please. Please."

She begged for me as she came, her body becoming almost an extension of mine as I held her in place, giving her the one thing I knew she needed. When I was empty and she was able to move, she stood up very gingerly and put her hand between her legs, giggling as my semen ran down one of her thighs.

"Shit, hold on."

"No," I said, "stay here."

I stood up, wobbling for a second as the blood rushed back to my head, and went to the bathroom to get her a roll of toilet paper.

"I don't really want to clean this up," she commented, smiling a little shyly as she wiped at her thighs.

"No? Good. I like you all messy. I like you all covered in
my
mess."

"Me too."

"You needed that, didn't you?" I asked, unable to keep the smirk entirely off my face.

She held up the soiled tissue and threatened to throw it at me. "Yeah, as if you didn't, Callum Cross."

I crawled up over her body as she lay back on the sofa and pushed my tongue into her mouth, kissing her slowly. "I
always
need that, Lily."

"Do you?" She asked, her tone suddenly serious.

"Yes," I replied, kissing down her neck to her collarbone. "Yes, I do."

It was a little chilly in the room, so we threw most of our clothes back on and I turned up the heat. Then I pulled her down onto the bed and curled my body around hers from behind. She managed to fall asleep even before I did.

When I woke up, it was nighttime. The orange light from the street spilled through the window, illuminating one side of the room. Callum was still asleep, breathing deeply and evenly, one arm thrown over my hip. I didn't want to wake him up. I didn't want to ever leave the hotel room or face any of the things I knew we were going to have to face. I wished we could’ve just lived in that hotel in Wembley for the rest of our lives.

"Mmmph."

Callum stirred. I rolled over and watched him wake up.

"Oh, God, you're so sweet," I whispered. I reached out and stroked his face as his eyes opened. He smiled sleepily.

"Mmm. Lily." He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingers, one by one.

All I wanted was to stay there in bed with Callum, wallowing in the safe warmth of our connection. But a feeling of foreboding threatened to crowd everything else out of my mind, and I couldn’t push it away.

"Morgan," I said. I still couldn’t stop smiling.

"Hmm? What?"

"Morgan. My last name is Morgan."

Callum stretched out in the bed like a satisfied lion. "Oh, yeah. Is it? Lily Morgan. I like that. I guess you had to give me a fake name? Are you sure your first name is Lily? It's not...Bertha or Tarquinette or something is it?"

I shook my head. "No, it's Lily."

"Well at least you trusted me enough to be truthful about that."

I made a face and turned away. "Callum, don't. I didn't even know you when I walked into the Streatham Club that night. It wasn't about you, then. It was about work, and there's nothing immoral about that."

"Well how much of it is about me now, Lily Morgan?" He asked."Give me numbers. Is it eighty percent work and twenty percent us? Sixty-five thirty-five?"

He was only half-joking, but I knew I couldn't blame him. Of course he was curious, of course he was wary.

"Listen, Callum. Yes, my job is important. I don't want to lose my job. Is that what you're asking me? My job is pretty much the only thing I have that gives my life meaning - or," I stumbled slightly on my words, "it used to be the only thing. But I don't think you did what they think you did. So we have to prove it. And I hope you can help me do that."

Callum sat up and stuffed a pillow behind his back. "Why
do
they think I did it, anyway? I didn't even know that woman, Linda something. That was Wayne's business, and I don't think I ever exchanged more than two words with that bloke."

"Linda Trout," I said, because it felt important to me that Callum knew her name. She wasn't just some side issue. "Her name was Linda Trout. She left behind a five year old son. And they think you did it because they found DNA on a coffee cup near the scene that matched yours."

That woke Callum up completely. He turned and looked at me like I'd gone insane.

"What? DNA? Lily, I never met that woman in my fucking life. How the hell did they find my DNA? There must have been a mistake. Or - where did it happen? Was it in Streatham?"

"It was miles away from Streatham."

I watched Callum's reactions closely, without even fully intending to. Even then, I couldn't put aside that part of myself. He shook his head, looking for all the world like a genuinely confused man.

"Lily, that's impossible. I mean, I don't know what to tell you, but that is literally impossible. Unless someone planted a fucking coffee cup that I used at the scene? Or...? How did you even get my DNA?"

I could have made a dumb joke at that point, but I bit my tongue, realizing it would have been badly received.

"I collected pint glasses from the club. That night you took me to the top of the tower block."

"Did you?" Callum asked, sounding both impressed and annoyed at the same time. "Jesus, you were gathering evidence
that night
?"

I shrugged and felt myself getting a little annoyed in turn. Mostly because Callum's tone made me feel unaccountably ashamed. I could feel my back going up.

"Callum, yes, I was gathering evidence. What part of 'undercover police officer' don't you understand?"

As soon as I'd said it I was sorry. I put my face in my hands for a few seconds, trying to get a hold of myself.

"OK, I'm sorry. That wasn't fair."

Callum looked out the window. "It's OK, Lily. We're both getting used to this new situation, aren't we? I'm getting used to the fact that you think I killed someone and you're getting used to the fact that I know that."

"I don't think you killed her," I reminded him.

"Why? If there's a DNA match - why not?"

"Well..." I inched towards him on the bed, but he pulled away. "The DNA match is only partial. The lab said it could be a close relative. But mostly I don't think you did it because - because I just don't think you did it. I don't think you're that kind of person. In fact I know you're not."

Callum looked at me, his expression hard. "How do you know that?"

I suddenly felt defensive. "I just do, Callum. I just do know it. And fuck you for even asking me. You know why."

I watched his expression soften. "OK, Lily. I'm sorry. I'm just - I'm fucking angry about this. I mean, I didn't do it. I definitely did not kill Linda Trout. Which means whoever did do it - and it was probably one of Wayne's or Gazza's associates - is getting away with it. What did you say about the partial match again?"

"The lab tech said it wasn't necessarily you. She said it could be a close relative. Have you, uh, your brother-"

Callum cut me off, laughing, knowing what I was going to ask. “Jake? No. No way. Jake has gone out of his way his entire life to have nothing to do with the Streatham Club or Gazza or anything remotely similar to my father's business."

That was the only the second time Callum had ever mentioned his father. The first time it had only been very briefly, to tell me he had no idea where he was or if he was even still alive. He definitely hadn't mentioned anything about his father's 'business.'

"Wait," I started gently, aware of the fact that I was on volatile ground, "your father's business...?"

"Yeah, my father was in it. At least according to my mum. I have no memory of the man. All I know is he left before Jake was born."

I could feel my heart rate increasing. "He was in it, Callum? What do you mean? He was involved with the Streatham Club?"

"Yeah, apparently. Before he fucked off, anyway. Obviously something went on, but mum just flat out refuses to talk about it. And to be honest, I'm fine with that. I have less than zero interest in my father. He's probably dead. Why are we even talking about this?"

Very quietly, I replied. "Because of the DNA, Callum. If you didn't do it and Jake didn't do it, how did that DNA get on that coffee cup? Oh my - oh my God, Callum. What if your dad didn't leave? What if he's still-"

"No. No chance. Lily, I've been around the Streatham Club since I was a kid. There's no way I wouldn't have heard something if my father had still been kicking around. Sorry kiddo, but that's a dead-end."

I heard what he was saying. It made sense. But there was the DNA. A male relative, the lab tech had said. By that point my heart was racing and I was doing everything I could to keep my excitement from Callum. Partly because I knew I could be wrong, but also because I didn't want to dredge up old pain without good reason. Still, it was a possibility. One that had to be followed up on. I slid my hand into his.

"But Callum, the DNA. They said it was either you or a close male relative. If it wasn't you and it wasn't your brother, who else could it be? Do you have any cousins?" Another possibility entered my head at that moment. "Do you know if your dad had any other kids? With another woman, I mean?"

Callum looked at me, shaking his head, but he didn't say anything. I knew what I had to suggest, but I didn't know how to suggest it. I took a deep breath.

"Do you think maybe we - or just you if you prefer - could talk to your mum? I know this is difficult, and I know I don't know your family history or understand any of this, but I want you to know I'm just trying to help. I want to find who actually killed Linda Trout. And I want to prove it wasn't you."

Callum swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started to get dressed. "I know, Lily. I know. I mean, if you think my mum could help then yeah, let's go talk to her. I'm warning you, though, she won't say much. You have no idea."

That was all I wanted. He didn't need to be happy about it. We just needed to pursue everything until we got the truth. If everything went the way I desperately hoped it would and Callum was cleared, then I was dead set on doing everything I could to make him happy.

When he was dressed he walked over to the sink and splashed cold water onto his face."Let's go talk to my mum, then,” he said.

"What, right now?"

"Yeah, let's just get it done. I can't go back to my flat, and Gazza's probably got people keeping an eye on my mum's place, so we're going to have to meet her somewhere."

"OK," I said, as my brain started to shift back into investigatory mode.

While Callum called his mum, I slipped into my clothes. Then called Akin to tell him I was going to be away from the safehouse longer than I thought. I did not tell him who I was with, or who I was going to see. When I hung up, Callum had finished speaking to his mother.

"She's coming up into town, to that pub we went to, the Dog and Duck."

"Did you tell her what it was about?"

"Fuck no. I told her I was in trouble - a lot of trouble - but that's all. She'd never show if I told her I had a Met officer wanting to question her about my father."

"Do you think it would be easier if you did most of the questioning?"

Callum shook his head. "Lily, I'll be surprised if she doesn't do a runner the minute either of us brings it up."

We had our work cut out for us, then.

Traffic was heavy in central London, and we spent most of the journey to Soho in thoughtful silence, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. I wasn't even thinking about Callum's mum, or what she might or might not say. I was thinking about what I'd said - what I'd
felt
- earlier at the hotel. About my work no longer being the most important thing in my life.

Was it true? It hadn't even occurred to me before I’d said it to Callum. But then again, I’d always had a knack for avoiding truths that might shake the neat, ordered certainty I seemed to crave so much. Of course, being in a car on the way to talk to Callum's mother about her possibly very interesting past gave me an excuse not to examine my thoughts too closely. Later, I told myself. That would come later.

Callum's mother was already at the Dog and Duck when we arrived, and Callum introduced us.

"Mum, this is my, uh, friend," he said, stumbling slightly over his words."My girlfriend. Lily Morgan. Lily, this is my mum, Helen Cross."

Helen Cross offered me the sternest of smiles and shook my hand. She was younger than I thought she would be, but her rough hands and the lines on her face spoke to a hard life. She also gave the immediate impression of being a person who took no shit - at least when she looked at me. When she looked at Callum her expression softened instantly.

"What the bloody hell is going on then, Callum?" She demanded."You scared the hell out me calling like that out of nowhere, telling me you're 'in danger.' What is going on? What danger?"

"Mum, I have to tell you something and I don't want you to go mad, alright? We're in public here. Can you promise me you'll let me finish before you say anything?"

It was becoming clearer to Callum's mother that her son's phone call hadn't been hyperbolic in nature and that he was actually in some kind of real danger. Her eyes darted continuously between Callum and myself as she waited to hear what was going on.

"Yes, alright, Callum. Just tell me what's going on. I need to smoke.” She began to pull a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. "Can we smoke in here?"

Callum shook his head. "No, ma."

Helen put the pack of cigarettes away and looked at her son, her face creased with worry. "Go on then, Callum. Let's have it."

"Alright. The police think I murdered someone, mum. They think I murdered someone and they have evidence."

Callum had failed completely to beat around even the tiniest of bushes with his mother. Her face had darkened before he had even finished his too-brief explanation.

"What?" She leaned across the table and snatched the collar of Callum's shirt in her wiry hand. "What did you say, Callum Cross?"

But Callum knew his mother had heard him. We both sat across from her, waiting for her to say something else. Her eyes moved quickly to me.

"And why is she here? What does she have to do with this? Callum, what have you gotten yourself into?"

I decided to follow Callum's lead - he knew his mother better than I did - and be direct. "I'm Lily Morgan. I'm a DCI with the Met."

Helen Cross stood up immediately and began gathering her things.

"Mum, sit down, it's alright, please-" Callum said. He reached up and tried to pull her back down onto her chair.