He takes a knee in front of me before I can formulate a response. “I won’t let anything happen to you here, Hawkins.” He juts out his chin. “You may not have any family here, but you have Bes and me. And we protect our family, to whatever end.”
I grab his hand, wishing he’d said this in front of his father yesterday.
Maybe it’s because I’m still half-asleep, but I decide to share a part of myself with him. “Youarethe only family I’ve got here, Cec.”
He actually blushes. “Glad we agree on that front. You shouldn’t dismiss Bes so quickly, though. Not that you want him as your actual family, of course—that would be quite a scandal. But the stubborn bloke doesn’t open up to people often.”
“Why is that?” I wonder.
Cec moves to the bed, removing his hand from mine. “That’s a complicated question. He’s had a difficult past, to say the least.” Cec sighs. “He should be the one to tell you this, but he hates to talk about it.” He presses his hands together tight before continuing. “Bes was born in Egypt, raised by his parents until he was eight, when his mother brought him here.”
My brow furrows. “What happened when he was eight?”
Sadness draws down his mouth. “His father was murdered at the market by a British soldier who claimed he caught him stealing a pair of earrings red-handed. The vendor who sold them didn’t dare contradict him, and his father knew they’d have no money to buy food if he was arrested. So, he ran.”
“Shit,” I swear softly.
“The worst of it is that he bought the earrings for Bes’s mother once she returned home from her dig, with money he’d been saving up for months.”
I wince.How awful.And preventable. I know what it’s like to lose a parent… it never leaves you. But for Bes’s father to choose the more likely outcome of death over life? Over his family? That does something to a person.God, poor Bes.
“And I thoughtIhad a complicated family history.”
“There’s more, but that story tells you all you need to know about why Bes is the way he is. Despite his deep-seeded hatredfor the British because of what they did to his father, he chose to go to school there. Even fully adopted their accent and their love of brooding, all without making a fuss about how much it killed him to do it.”
My chest aches for Bes. He had to do whatever he could to fit in, to not stand out. His father tried to defy those in charge, and it got him killed.No wonder he likes to follow the rules.
I cross my arms over my chest. “How do you explainyouraccent, then.”
“I have an excuse,” he claims. “I’ve been going to school in London all my life.”
“Then why does he do it?” I ask.
“The uncomplicated reason is he had no choice. Bes is like a chameleon—his natural state of being is doing whatever it takes to blend in to his surroundings. To go unnoticed and survive for as long as he can.”
Just as I thought.
“Wouldn’t that be a sight, Bes with shifty eyes, a tail, and a long tongue,” I mutter wryly, while also lamenting Bes’s lost childhood.
Cec chuckles. “Wake him up from a deep sleep and you might.” He pats my hand. “Give him a chance, Hawkins.”
I want to take Cec’s advice to heart, but I don’t open up easily either. I can’t deny the attraction between us, yet I’m not certain I could allow it to be more than that.
“I’ll consider it.”
He nods. “Good, perhaps he’ll stop brooding then.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever stop brooding.”
Cec laughs and makes for the door.
“Oh, and Cec? Anders isn’t the spy.” At my words, he pauses in the threshold. “I feel it in my gut.”
“Even if he is,” Cec reasons, “best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, eh?”
“Another motto of the order?”
“That’s my own personal one.” He glances back and points near me. “Don’t you forget it, either.”
