“Who’s that?” He’s frowning as he asks us.
“That’s Finn, Memphis’ best friend—or he was. I’m pretty sure Noah has filled that spot after all communication stopped when my boy came back here.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Should I have stayed in there? I don’t want any bloodshed.”
I don’t know where they’re standing because we can’t see them through the window. I don’t know what could’ve happened. I wanted to keep an eye on Finn, but Royal told me to leave him alone. It must have something to do with Matt and his court case, and them not having to give evidence because he pled guilty. There’s been a discord between them since Memphis came back here for good. Finn is probably still feeling guilty for being a part of it. Maybe he’s here to make amends.
I can’t stand and wait; I’ve got kids here wanting to kickbox. “Fill me in later.” I tap Royal’s shoulder. His eyes are glued to the office window. He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Sorry, you lot. Okay, let’s go through the moves we learnt today.” I spend the remainder of the session with the boys and girls as they practice. There’s laughter alongside the hard work; they’re a great bunch.
By the time the session is finished, I have them groaning and sweating as they put everything together. “Okay, kids. That’s it for today. Get a shower—no one wants stinky teenagers—and remember to leave the locker room as clean and tidy as you found it.”
There are groans from the boys, nasty creatures that want to stay sweaty. “Sir, do we have to?”
“Yep, you’ll never get a boy or girlfriend if you smell.” Some of the lads blush and move more quickly.
By six o’clock, the gym is empty of kids, and the regulars take their places. I wander into the office to say goodbye. Royal is sitting on the sofa with Memphis tucked up on his knee.
“What’s going on? Is this because of Finn?” I ask, annoyance bordering on anger flooding through me.
“Yeah, he’s had a rough time and didn’t want to stress me out. So, he stopped calling and stayed away.” Memphis talks in an almost whisper. Royal kisses the top of his boy’s head as his hand runs up and down Memphis’ arm. I don’t even think he’s aware he’s doing it.
“What happened?” I know the answer, as much as I was told to keep my nose out of it, the nosy part of me wasn’t going to let that happen.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all over with now,” Memphis says and then shifts on Royal’s lap and stands up. “I want to go home now.”
I let them go past me, then follow them out to the car park. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I call out as I reach my car.
I can’t settle. I’ve showered and sorted out my laundry and everything else mundane, and I’m still fidgety. This is about Finn and what he came here to say. Has he gone back to Lincoln, or is he staying for a while? I hate not having the answer.
Eventually I force myself to sit down and watch the telly, some cop show that’s been good, but tonight, it doesn’t hold my attention.
The intercom buzzes. I’m not expecting anyone, so for once, I use the screen to see who’s here rather than just buzzing them up. I stare for a long few seconds as Finn moves from foot to foot, looking up into the camera.
“I know you’re looking, Drake, so open the door for me,” he says without malice; he has a small smirk tempting the corner of his mouth to lift. If only he wasn’t so fucking sexy, I’d be able to easily ignore him. Send him away without a second thought. He intrigues me, and after asking a little about his and Memphis’ club in Lincoln, I discover my suspicions are correct: he’s a Dom. Another part of him to like. What kind of Dom, Memphis didn’t really say. Is he like Saint? He doesn’t exude hard man the way Saint does, but he’s not a Daddy, otherwise he and Memphis would’ve at least tried something together. That was a topic Memphis was very clear on—they tried it once, and he says it didn’t go well. All they are is best friends.
The faces of two police officers surprise me enough that the piece of toast I’m trying to swallow tries to choke me. They wait, almost smiling as I cough and splutter for what feels like five minutes but is probably only five seconds.
“Sorry about that,” I stammer. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Constable Fisher, and this is Constable Greene. We’d like you to come to the station with us. We have questions about the abduction of your friend,” the skinny one asks, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat as he squeaks the words out. He blushes and repeats himself.
“Um, questions? I’ve already given my statement.” What more can I tell them? I don’t know anything else. I wasn’t there.
“It won’t take long.” There’s a finality to the woman’s words.
“Okay, let me grab my jacket.” I turn from them and take my jacket off a hook on the wall rack. I walk between them to the police car. “Can you elaborate? What else do you want?”
“It will all be explained at the station,” she says calmly. Too calmly.
“Do I need a solicitor?” This is not sounding good.
I’m led directly into an interview room. It’s small and has a table with some kind of recording device, the chairs sit twoeither side of the table. There’s a camera attached to the wall in the top corner opposite the door. “Take a seat. Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?”
I decline the offer, and they leave me alone. A couple of minutes later, the two officers that were at the hospitalthatnight walk in. They take the chairs opposite me, and with a click of a couple of switches, all our conversations will be recorded.
“Okay, Mr Masterton, thanks for coming in. Is it okay to call you Finn?” Sargeant asks with a polite smile. I nod but stay quiet. “Where were you the evening your friend Memphis was abducted?”
