But who the hell would come all the way out here just to check on a few dollars put on the meter?
“It should be fine.”
Nadia wrinkles her nose. “Ah.Should.Sounds like that word’s doing a lot of heavy lifting. What about washing? Can I clean my outfit for tomorrow?”
“There’s a change of clothes in the car,” I say, then realise that anything Razek picked for me will hardly be suitable for her slight frame. “Try the attic. The guy who owns this place leaves a lot of stuff stored up there.”
“Does your gang use this place a lot?” She chews on her lip for a second. “Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
She leaves the room as she mutters that last. Just as well. My mind isn’t exactly laser focused when she’s standing so near to me.
Six months inside doesn’t sound like a lot, but apparently, it’s enough to turn me into a mess at my first encounter with a woman.
I try to pull my mind back into focus but even with her out of the room, I can’t concentrate. My head tilts, listening to the flush of running water. Imagining her peeling off her matronly dress, slipping out of her bra, sliding down her underwear. The underwear that probably reeks of sex.
Goddammit.
Pushing myself away from the table, I turn the volume low on the old radio and flick it on, turning the bandwidth button until I find a station broadcasting news.
Politicians, blah blah. Celebrities, blah blah.
“The armed offenders’ squad has been called into a residence near Rolleston where the body of a man was found, earlier today. Police have not yet confirmed if it’s connected to the prisoner who escaped custody, taking a woman hostage. The corrections officer injured during the escape is in ICU, though doctors confirm he’s now in a stable condition.”
I listen closely to the article but there’s no real information. The only useful thing I glean from the broadcast is that Nadia is forty-five, a schoolteacher, and Joshua is her only child.
I’m about to flick it off when the newsreader adds, “Nadia Ostend previously came to local attention following her husband’s disappearance a decade ago. Despite extensive police inquiries and numerous leads from the public tip line, he’s never been located.”
No wonder she’s so concerned about Josh. Her family unit is being whittled down, one by one, and soon she’ll be the only member left.
Guilt hits that I’m letting her believe he’s in danger. Manipulating her just like her shit of a son got men to twist her love into drug smuggling.
But I need something in my arsenal. She’s smart. Quick witted. Has a wealth of life experience. A weapon doesn’t give me enough of an upper hand.
The shower turns off and most of my head is absorbed with listening to the faint sounds that tell me what she’s doing. The rustle of a towel wiping her body dry. The purr of fabric being pulled on to cover her naked skin.
I’m on a life-altering mission to visit my first, probably only, child, and instead of being excited about the birth, I’m listening out for the sounds of a woman dressing like I’m a perve for aural erotica.
Forget that she’s a plain Jane, old enough to be my mother. According to my cock, she’s got the world’s best OnlyFans account and I’m ready to pay for some action. I stare until he wilts, then watch his renewed interest as the bathroom door opens and her light footsteps pad downstairs.
If she wanted you, she would have run.
I throw myself in a chair, pulling it close enough to the table to hide whatever the fuck is going on with nether regions. When Nadia steps into the room, she shouldn’t notice anything amiss, but she stops short, face puzzled.
“What?”
“I thought I heard a radio.”
Relief stamps out the last of my inconvenient desire and I jerk my chin at the bench. “You can take it to another room if you want to listen but there’s not much information about us yet.”
“Right.” She frowns again, then steps forward, passing me a stack of clothing. She’s changed into a tee shirt and some cargo shorts that desperately need hitching up. “I found this upstairs, but I don’t know… You’re so big I wasn’t sure anything would fit.”
“I’m not big,” I say, standing to take the bundle from her.
Her neck tilts back ninety degrees as she stares up at me. “Sure. You’re practically petite.”
“I meant…”
She giggles and her face transforms in an instant, losing twenty years and every worry she’s been lugging around. “I didn’t mean you’re fat. You’re justhuge.”
