Vowed (24 page)

I take my time and put on a bit of foundation, sweep mascara over my lashes and some lippy too. I fiddle with the eyeliner a little and manage a thin line just above my lashes. I thank Megan
silently for these lessons in girly things because today, after too little sleep and too much fretting, I need a pick-me-up.

I stuff my notes and notebook into my messenger bag and head downstairs, just as Kyle opens the door to Dante.

They both turn to look at me as I jump down the last few steps, momentarily forgetting about my bruised ribs. I wince and mutter under my breath and Kyle wordlessly hands me some ibuprofen from
his back pocket.

I take the blister pack from him and smile brightly at Dante, who is looking handsome and well put together in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and leather jacket. Going for the casual bad-boy
look, complete with messy hair and stubble.

‘Hey, want to come in for a second? I just need to take some painkillers.’

Dante nods and moves forward as Kyle dithers by the door. He spots the grocery bags Dante’s holding and frowns.

‘Looks like you brought groceries.’

‘I’m making you guys breakfast,’ he says. ‘Pancakes, bacon and maple syrup.’

‘Kyle’s already eaten,’ I point out spitefully, ignoring my surprise that he’s decided to make breakfast, rather than us going out somewhere to eat.
‘Cheerios.’

There’s only a moment of hesitation from Kyle before he speaks. ‘Yeah, but Kit, the dude’s making pancakes. I mean, pancakes trump Cheerios any time of the day.’

‘True.’ I swallow two tablets and gesture to the clean kitchen. ‘This is where you can play,’ I tell Dante.

‘Cheers.’ He dumps his shopping on the counter and looks around. ‘I’ll need a mixing bowl, a sieve and two frying pans.’

Kyle hands him the utensils and steps aside, his eyes huge.

‘Where did you learn to make pancakes?’ he asks.

‘My foster parents. They love baking and so it was the first thing they taught me: how to make pancakes and brew proper cowboy coffee. Really, I was forced into child labour so they could
sleep in on Sundays.’

‘They sound nice,’ Kyle says, his tone wistful before he can catch himself. ‘Mostly our brownie, Mrs Evans, looked after us at the Manor.’

‘Kyle’s parents travel a lot,’ I put in. ‘They’ve been in New York most often lately.’

Dante looks between us and smiles. ‘Look, I’m not here to pass judgement on your family. Or to ask questions about them – let’s be clear about that. I’m just here,
as a friend, making you breakfast.’

The doorbell rings again and Kyle pales slightly, shooting me a worried look. ‘I’ll just go and get that,’ he says weakly, practically running to answer the door.

‘Who?’ Dante asks me, nodding towards the empty passage.

‘I would guess it’s Aiden.’

‘Your not-boyfriend?’

I grimace just as Kyle leads Aiden into the kitchen. Aiden’s dressed in his trademark black jeans and T-shirt and casual hoodie. I shiver from cold just looking at him but as usual he
seems untouched by the weather. Behind him I see Kyle’s anxious expression and my heart softens towards him just a little bit. He knows he’s screwed up, inviting Aiden over without
clearing it with me, and now we’re faced with two very large bristling males in our kitchen. The place isn’t small but it feels overcrowded with all of us there. Aiden’s doing
that wolf-thing he does, when he looks taller than his six-foot-one and broader in the chest too. I’ve seen his dad do it in the past, dominating a room and everyone in it. When Aiden does
it, it’s sexy and kinda cute, but when his dad does it, I just want to run and hide and pull a duvet over my head and wait for the growling and snarling to end.

‘Aiden, this is Dante Alexander. Dante, this is my friend Aiden.’ I stand between them and even as a bigger girl, as someone who can handle herself in a fight, I feel overwhelmed by
the testosterone in the room.

‘I’m the not-boyfriend,’ Aiden says, his voice containing a definite growl.

‘I’m the partner,’ Dante answers not missing a beat, shaking Aiden’s offered hand briefly, as he openly assesses Aiden. ‘Are you staying for breakfast? I’m
making pancakes.’

A look of confusion crosses Aiden’s features and he looks at Kyle.

‘Sorry, he just showed up,’ Kyle says. ‘
And
he’s making pancakes. That’s pulling out the big guns, Aiden.’

‘He’s not lying. I really did force my way into the kitchen. Standard Spook protocol. Conquer those who doubt by cooking them a meal.’ Dante is so charming and looks so at home
wearing the silly apron, which neither Kyle nor I ever wear, that I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me.

‘Aiden will stay, for sure. Pancakes are his favourite.’

Aiden’s dark eyes meet mine and I plaster a smile on my face. ‘It’s fine, really. I’m fine, we’re fine. Everything’s okay.’

‘That’s not what Kyle said,’ he mutters, turning his back on Dante, effectively excluding him from the conversation and crowding into my personal space. ‘You got into a
fight this morning, jogging?’

‘I did. But I’m okay.’

Dante swears as he drops a spatula.

‘You were attacked this morning? What were you doing?’ His gaze meets mine over Aiden’s shoulder and I have the good grace to feel only slightly ashamed by the accusation I see
on his face. ‘What happened? Are you hurt?’

Three pairs of eyes regard me steadily. Dante’s expression looks annoyed and I try and shrug casually but it hurts me to do so I give half a shrug and most of a grimace.

‘The guy got a lucky shot at my ribs.’

And then everyone gets to talk at once, except me. I look at their faces, hearing their voices raised at me and I consider just walking out of the door. Admittedly, a part of me likes the fuss,
but another part feels angry at how much noise they are making over nothing. I’m fine; I took care of it. One of the attackers is now tucked away in a pookah larder, which isn’t the
usual thing that happens to people who fight me. However, I’m not about to kick up a fuss and cry about it because it was me or him, and he had it coming.

I watch all three of them trying to out-bellow the others and eventually it just gets tiring and I hold up my hands. Their voices peter out and Kyle looks as relieved as I feel, sagging against
the fridge.

‘I will tell you what happened once I’ve got at least one pancake inside me, okay?’ When both Dante and Aiden open their mouths I hold up my hand. ‘No. Breakfast. Then I
will tell you, then there will be no shouting because I dealt with it.’

‘Fine.’ Aiden turns his back on me and focuses on Dante, pursing his lips. His expression is so done with me. ‘So, Spook boy, do you need help?’

Dante hands him the pack of bacon. ‘Fry that up, if you’d be so kind.’

‘Where’d you learn to cook?’

‘My foster parents.’

‘Huh, you’re adopted?’

‘Yeah. You?’

‘No, I’m the youngest of four brothers. You got siblings?’

‘A baby sister.’ There’s a beat. ‘But she died.’

‘Fuck. That sucks. Sorry to hear that.’ Aiden cuts open the packet, finds the tongs in the drawer (who even knew we had tongs?) before turning back to the pan. ‘My mum’s
always said she wanted girls but that just never happened for my parents.’

‘Are you guys close?’

‘My dad and I are very close. My other brothers are all out of the house, working or studying at uni.’

I roll my eyes at Kyle and he looks miserable. Who would have thought it? His plan had backfired badly. Instead of sworn enemies, Aiden and Dante are bonding over making us pancakes. Kyle holds
his hand out to me and I grab it and we tiptoe out of the kitchen, back to the dining room.

‘That’s just weird,’ he says. ‘I thought Aiden would be like, you know, on our side or something.’

‘Your side,’ I point out to him. ‘Crappy move, by the way, bringing the wolf in. What would have happened if they’d really taken a dislike to one another? Aiden is fond
of doing some very stupid stuff.’ Like getting into fights in nightclubs and then having to run from the cops.

‘How did I know you’d let the Spook come here to cook for you? Geez, it’s like you guys are dating or something.’

‘Shut up.’

‘You shut up.’

‘I hate you.’

‘I hate you more.’

We scowl at one another over the computer screens. Kyle ducks his head and starts tapping his keyboard loudly and angrily. ‘I’ve been looking at other disappearances, of kids going
missing.’

‘Did you find anything?’

‘Ask a stupid question,’ he sighs. ‘There have been disappearances going back twenty years at least.’

‘At that estate?’

‘No, in the south of England. There are other disappearances too, obviously, but none quite like what we’ve seen reported recently.’

Something that’s been nagging me, at the back of my mind, leaps forward.

‘Dammit, I forgot about Diane’s auntie’s scrapbooks.’

‘Who?’ Kyle asks me distractedly as he looks up from his screen.

‘Dante, do you have the scrapbooks with you?’ I yell out to be heard over the clatter in the kitchen.

‘Yes, in the boot. The keys.’ He steps around the corner and tosses them to me. I quickly run out to the car parked a few doors down. The boot’s a mess, I’ll be honest,
but as I dig through the shirts and the large (and well-equipped) first-aid kit I spot the scrapbooks. When I lift them up I notice a batch of files beneath them. They’re all held together
with a ribbon.

My curiosity piqued, I lift them up and a sick feeling lodges in my stomach. There’s a memo clipped to the topmost file with the Spooks’ logo header. The issue date of the internal
memo is five days ago. The subject is BLACKHART FAMILY – CURRENT INVESTIGATIONS. They are individual files on my family. All the files look well thumbed, with tabs sticking out of the side.
Mine is on top and is the thinnest of them all. I double check the names on them. They are of my immediate family: Uncle Andrew, Aunt Jennifer, Megan, Marc, Kyle, Aunt Letitia and a few of the
younger cousins that I don’t really know as they’re living abroad. There are also ones bearing my parents’ names: Samantha Blackhart and David Hoffman-Blackhart. These files are
thick, at least an inch each, maybe more. My dad’s is the larger of the two, and I recall Jamie’s words, that he was a Spook before he met my mum. That they worked together and
that’s how they fell in love.

I consider stealing the files but there’s no way I can smuggle them into the house with everyone there, plus it would be super obvious that I’m the one who took them. I shiver in the
cold, grab the scrapbooks and walk back to the flat, wondering how easy it would be to break into the back of Dante’s car.

Breakfast with a Spook, a wolf and two Blackharts turns out to be a noisy affair. As promised, I tell them what happened during my jog and Aiden and Dante posture for a bit
about who will accompany me on my other jogs. Kyle looks super amused and I want to throw bacon at him but bacon is sacred so I stuff it in my mouth instead.

‘The pancakes are really good,’ Aiden grudgingly admits to Dante after a third large stack and gives him a hearty slap on the shoulder. ‘You may visit again. But no dating
Kit.’

Dante almost chokes on his food and laughingly holds up his hand.

‘No, it’s okay. I won’t be dating Kit, trust me.’ When he sees my look of hurt horror he clears his throat. ‘I mean, she’s too fierce for me.’

‘And young.’ Aiden glances my way as he says this and I feel murder in my heart.

‘What are you doing, Aiden?’ I hiss in annoyance. It’s hard to keep my voice level and I have to breathe deeply to keep my anger from lighting up the room. ‘Why are you
being a pest? Are you trying to prove something to someone?’

Aiden watches me from unreadable wolf’s eyes and I feel a twinge of fear crawl up my spine. I don’t like the way he’s gone very quiet, like I’ve seen him do just before a
fight.

‘Prove? Nothing. I’m just making sure you look after yourself.’

‘By goading me? Insulting me?’ I lean forward. ‘I am not three years old. I’m not a giggly helpless girl either. I know how to look after myself.’

‘You know Andrew’s asked me to keep an eye on you, make sure that you don’t get into trouble.’

I feel stung by his words and I take a deep breath.

‘You’re only a little bit older than me,’ I point out. ‘Why would he ask
you
to “keep an eye” on me? Is it because poor pathetic little Kit
can’t do anything for herself?’

Kyle and Dante look as if they want to run a mile, but, you know what? Having them there just makes me angrier still. Had they both just played by the rules and not interfered, this
wouldn’t even be happening – the fight that I’m pretty sure I’m about to have with my best friend.

‘I don’t know. Maybe Andrew thinks you’re prone to walking face-first into fights without thinking about your safety? That maybe you need back-up now and again, like a normal
person does?’

‘No.’ I suck in a breath. ‘I don’t see anyone running after Marc or Jamie “making sure they’re okay”. I wonder if anyone’s keeping an eye on Megan
whilst she’s in New York. No? Didn’t think so. What makes me the special case, then?’ I throw up my hands and stand. ‘You know, I think I’ll just phone Andrew and ask
him what’s going on. Because really, with you being a such a complete di— . . .’ I growl in frustration. ‘Idiot, you’ve completely damaged my calm. I really
don’t need this crap in my life.’

‘Kit!’

Aiden’s standing and he looks almost contrite, but not quite. The way he hesitates sets all my alarm bells ringing.

‘What?’

‘My dad called me into a meeting this morning. You must know that Andrew’s passed the Glow case to the wolves. My dad’s having me and Shaun investigate it. The little girl in
the coma? She died last night.’

I draw in a shocked breath, taking it in. ‘That was . . . is . . . my case,’ I say. ‘That poor girl.
Andrew
gave you the case? So you guys are now working with us on
this?’

Aiden shakes his head. ‘No. Just us, no Blackharts this time.’ He doesn’t say, ‘no you this time’, but his meaning is clear. ‘We’re hitting the clubs
tonight to see if we can get any further leads.’