SIX
Harry didn’t speak muchfor the next four days. He had a lot to process, a lot to digest and internalise, analyse. And because he didn’t fucking want to.
Asher spoke enough for the both of them anyway.
Although Harry had to give him credit. He seemed to know when Harry needed some space and time, and he gave it. Not that their small room afforded much space. He couldn’t say the same about time.
So much time.
So much time for ignoring Asher. For ignoring the looks, the curl in his belly, the way his heart thumped a little too hard when Asher’s eyes met his, when their fingers brushed. The way Asher looked after him, all still while maintaining all the space he could.
Maybe what Asher had said on day one was true: he had been alone too long.
Harry kept his foot up like a good boy, and he could tell his ankle was feeling better. Mr Sadik had delivered a boot to stabilise his whole foot, and Mrs Sadik had kindly kept them fed.
She’d even stopped cursing them.
Which probably had more to do with Asher trying to charm her with his ridiculous smile and good looks than anything Harry had done.
Maybe she appreciated not seeing Harry much at all.
But by the end of day four, Harry had had enough of sitting still, of staying put. He felt safer on the move.
Especially if what Asher had said about his government was true.
Harry didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe the lies or that he was used as a pawn in personal political games that served no purpose to his country. He didn’twantto believe any of it.
Yet he had a bitter, sinking feeling that it might be true.
Asher had joined some dots, yes. Convincing, too. But Harry wanted actual proof. He wanted to see his handler, look them right in the eye and see the truth for himself, face to face.
He didn’t like his chances of that happening, but it was the only way he’d know for sure.
Asher had spent most of the last few days glued to his phone. Waiting on more information from his informant but also keeping an eye on any news out of Madrid.
The police had found the four bodies, which wasn’t surprising. A quadruple homicide was always going to cause a stir, but what was remarkable was that as soon as it was discovered the deceased were French and Russian, and most likely military, the story disappeared.
Funny that.
But Harry had done as much sitting still as he was able. He put his booted foot on the floor and stood up slowly.
“Where are you going?” Asher asked, barely looking up from his screen.
“I’m taking a piss. Is that okay?”
Asher chuckled. “Need me to come hold it?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Asher’s smile widened, as if being cussed at was his favourite hobby.
Harry made it to the bathroom, his ankle feeling a lot better. When he was done, he went to the front door and opened it.
“Where are you going?” Asher asked, looking up from his screen now.
Harry pointed to the small yard in the compound. “To walk some laps and get some air. Some sunshine. I can’t sit in this room any longer, listening to you mumble to yourself for hours as you look up god knows what.”
“I don’t mumble to myself.”