I follow on quiet tentative feet behind them deeply regretting opening the door.  What would have happened if I'd just ignored the knock? Why on earth didn't you?

Dan walks straight ahead into the living room, goes towards the couch and sits down.  Relaxing back into it, legs spread, his position is very much at home.  Like he's been here a million times before.  Like he owns the place.  Christ, maybe he does? Was that even a possibility.  I glance around the flat with a newly curious eye.

One of the men, a huge bear-like man with a large tattoo covering almost the entire circumference of his neck scrapes out one of the bar stools and perches his great weight on the edge of it.  The other, far smaller than he'd first appeared actually, is oddly average looking.  He's about Jake's age and has a clean cut and rather bland appearance, and he gazes about Jake's apartment like a bored estate agent.  He walks directly across to the large circle top window and looks out at the view of the Thames and nods, impressed, before turning back to face the room.

Jake's spacious open plan living area feels very claustrophobic all of a sudden.  

Dan turns himself to face me, still smiling that same warm smile he had at the door before something catches his attention. He skirts his eyes down to it and then around the area surrounding the sofa and coffee table letting out a sniff of amusement. 

Oh god...

Jake's trousers and shirt are in a heap on the table, and my dress is in a puddle on the floor, and although I can't see them from here, I know that my underwear is discarded somewhere close by where he sits. Christ he's probably sitting on them. My cheeks flame as he brings his eyes back to mine and arches a questioning eyebrow at me.   It makes me feel like a silly young girl who's been caught kissing her boyfriend by her dad.  Except this man isn't my dad.  This man is nothing like my dad.  In fact, this man is as far removed from my dad as any person could get.

For one, he's younger than my dad — late forties early fifties perhaps, and dressed stylishly in a dark grey Harrington jacket, white T-shirt, and dark blue jeans. His hair is mainly grey but there are patches of dark brown on top and sprinkles of white at the temples and it contrasts sharply with his tanned skin.   He also has a smattering of grey stubble across his fairly handsome face. 

His face isn't one I'd ever imagine belongs to a crime lord.  He looks like a middle-class bank manager, not a gangster.  Yet that's what he was. 'London's most notorious gangland leader 'Danny Aldous Ward' was shot while sitting in the driver's seat of his car in a Mile End petrol station...' I suppose the only hint of what might lie underneath is the thick accent; more east end than Jake's was in those moments when the affected layers came away.  Danny Ward doesn't affect his accent at all, he makes absolutely no attempt at hiding it.  His amused expression transforms into one of expectancy. 

"Um, I'll just go up and wake him," I nod.   "Let him know you're here."

"Appreciate that Alex," he smiles politely.    The smile seems so fixed there, so perfectly natural there that I wonder for a brief moment what he might look like the rest of the time.  What does this man look like when he's angry or murderous?  I swallow down that curiosity and turn on my heel away from the three sets of staring eyes.  

Bunching my fists by my sides, I take the stairs in as casual a way as possible despite everything in me wanting to bolt up them two at a time.  As the staircase winds around I chance a brief look down.  Dan is gazing around the room as the two men stare at each other with blank impassive looks on their faces.  Blank impassive looks shouldn't make me nervous but they do.  My stomach feels tight and my shoulders as though they're level with my ears from how tense they are. 

When I get up there I expect to find him still fast asleep and peacefully oblivious but the bed is empty. I look from the bed to the wardrobe where he's pulling a pair of jeans up his legs, no boxers or belt as he fastens them hastily over his modesty.  

He looks like he always does, strong and powerful, but for some reason, the sight of his half-naked body, bedhead and bare feet give him a fraction of vulnerability. They've come here unannounced and he's unprepared.  It contrasts sharply with their well turned out, swaggering  appearances.  

I hurry towards him and he turns around, giving me a crooked smile.  "I know," he nods before I even open my mouth.   He doesn't look scared or unsettled, just tired.  Very very tired. 

I put my hands out to touch him somewhere, whether to comfort or protect him or have him comfort and protect me I'm not sure.   Most likely the latter.   "How many are with him?" he asks.

The question and the casual delivery of it unnerves me further.   I search his face carefully for signs of worry or fear but there's absolutely nothing there.  Or he's very very good at masking it.  All I see on his face is latent sleep, his hair ruffled with it too and the whites of his eyes tinged faintly with red. He sees something on my face and stops moving and pulls me into him. As he presses his lips to the top of my head I lie my head against the warmth of his chest.  His scent is immense from here.

"Two," I reply. "A huge man with a neck tattoo and a smaller one that looks sort of like an accountant," I tell him.  Estate agent come account. I feel his chest move with a soft laugh. 

"An accountant?  Staffy can't count to ten without a fucking calculator," He jokes. Why is he making jokes? 

I pull back to give him a perplexed look.  "Jake what are we going to do?"  I ask in a whisper.   He drops his hands from me and turns back to the wardrobe.  He pulls open the top drawer and yanks something out of it which he then holds out to me. 

"You're going to stop worrying for a start," he gives me a look of warning.  "And you're going to put these on — can't believe those fuckers saw you like this."  He glances down my body and back up and makes a displeased grunt.  

When I don't move right away he gives me an impatient look and I reach out to take the soft cotton jogging trousers from him and pull them on.  He looks me over once more before reaching out to button another button on his shirt, and then another.  When he grunts again it's in approval this time.  Then he takes hold of my hand and pulls me with him towards the stairs.  

I squeak my surprise.  "Jake, what are you doing?"

He throws me a confused look, as though what he's doing is perfectly obvious.  "Introducing you to him properly. I'd have kept you away from him entirely mind you but here we fucking are,"  he mutters darkly but pulls me forward again with him. 

I trail after him, holding tight to his hand as he takes the stairs down to the living room with an energy I hadn't seen in him a moment ago. Dan looks up as we descend and when we reach the bottom he stands up from the couch and comes towards us.

The two men stay exactly where they are but lift their eyes to Jake, keeping their expressions as impassive as ever.   The small one keeps his eyes on us alert and focussed, while the large one drops his eyes back to his phone almost immediately and begins scrolling, his breathing heavy and loud and unhealthy sounding.  

"Here he is, sleeping fucking beauty,"  Dan says as he comes toward us. 

"Might have told me you were coming Dan — would've baked a cake or something," Jake sighs, scrubbing a hand through his ruffled hair. 

"Nah. You know I'm trying to watch the old love handles," he says patting his midriff.  There isn't much evidence of love handles that I can see. In fact he actually looks to be in quite good shape for an older man.  "You look fucking tired son. That have something to do with this lovely lady here?" He winks at me.   "Hope you're looking after him the rest of the time?"

"I'm trying to,"  I offer awkwardly.   Jake moves a little closer to me and wraps an arm around my body and pulls me into him. 

"Dan, this is Alex," Jake says, turning to me. His eyes look bright with something, sparkling pools of green fire as he squeezes my hip tenderly. 

"Nice to meet you, sweetheart," Dan says, eyes lingering on my face and then Jake's.

"Baby, this is Dan, that over there is Maryck and the accountant by the window is Staffy." Jake says.   Staffy by the window looks confusedly at Jake for a moment but says nothing.  I pull my back straight and my chin up as all three men assess me with renewed curiosity.  Dan's is still by far the most curious and calculating of stares.  

"It's really nice to meet you all, so sorry about the mess," I glance uncomfortably at the sofa. "We weren't expecting visitors."

Dan smiles wider and waves a dismissive hand.  "Don't worry about it darlin, we're not here for breakfast.  Was actually starting to think Jay was makin' you up if I'm honest, but you look real to me."

"Definitely not made up,"  I smile, the tension easing off a little more.   I'm certain that's to do with Jake's presence by my side, but it's mainly to do with the fact that no one has tried to kill him yet either.  Dan nods slowly and moves his eyes back to Jake. 

"So..." he lets out a loud exaggerated exhale.  "Sal said he 'ad a visitor the other night — someone looking for you."  It's not a question but the inflection still makes it sound like one. His mother. Jake flattens his palm on the base of my spine and begins to move it in a slow circle.  It's comforting, but I'm not sure if he's trying to comfort me or himself. 

"Yeah," Jake says with a curt nod.  "Need to speak to him about that."

"Told 'im you would," Dan says.  "You doing alright, son?" The concern in Dan's voice is so genuine, so blatantly warm that it takes me by complete surprise.  Jake gives a nonchalant shrug and pulls me a little closer.

"Yeah, fine, no big deal.  So what's up? You didn't come here for that?" he casts a look at Staffy by the window and then Maryk on the stool before smiling a little at Dan.

"No, I didn't,"  Dan confirms.  "Need your help with something that can't wait," he throws a look at me then, "That's if you can spare him a few hours, sweetheart?"  His tone is playful but there's something else in it. Something Jake notices because his hand stills its hypnotic caress on my back and I feel his body tense.  It makes me tense too.   I want to say no.  Of course, I can't spare him.  Christ just the idea of Jake going off with these men makes me feel sick. Is this what separation anxiety feels like? I slide my arm around Jake's waist and drop my head against his shoulder and hope instead that Jake will be the one to say that no, he can't go, I can't spare him.      

"What's up Dan?" He asks with a flick of his head.

Dan's eyes flick to Jake and something dark moves over them.  "We'll talk about it in the car.  Go get dressed, yeah."  He orders. 

My whole body stiffens.  I'm certain I hear my spine snap with how quickly it straightens. Jake says nothing, does nothing, but I feel it - the dull rumble of tension in his body.  Then I feel him squeeze my hip again.   Don't worry baby, is what the touch says.   I want to scream that he could have those words tattooed all over his body and still they would mean nothing to me.

Dan lets his stare linger on Jake a moment or two more before turning to me and letting that warm smile seep back into his features. "Alex, sweetheart, it was an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, sorry for barging in on you at this ungodly fucking hour." 

Despite panic inside my head I manage to smile back at him.  It's tight and I feel my lips shake nervously.  "Oh, don't worry. Just get him back to me in one piece please." I joke, deadly serious. I turn to smile at Jake but he's not looking at me, he's still looking at Dan, his jaw tense and an almost petulant set to his mouth too.   "It was really nice to meet you too Dan,"  I say turning back to him. 

Dan nods and runs a hand over his scratchy grey stubble and goes to move away from me but stops suddenly as though he just remembered something of deathly importance. My body freezes once more, agitated and on high alert. "Here, I mentioned to Jay about us all having dinner sometime? I reckon you and my Steph would get on like a fucking house on fire, what do you think Jay, son?"

Jake doesn't respond and so the invitation hangs in the air a moment too long.  My overbred politeness forces me to step in and catch it before it smashes on the floor.

"Oh, really? That sounds like a lovely idea," I nod eagerly, hoping it masks my hollow voice.  

"How you both sorted for next week?" He asks me. 

When I turn to Jake he is still and impassive.  All I can think about though is that if Dan is inviting us to dinner then he isn't planning on hurting Jake anytime soon. Otherwise, why bother with the pleasantries? Of course it's a stupid, empty naive thought but it settles some of the roiling black pit of fear bubbling deep in my tummy.       

"I'm free," I hear myself say.  "Jake?"

He hadn't wanted this, for me to be in any way involved with Dan, but like he had so aptly pointed out upstairs, here we fucking are. We'd been extended a dinner invitation and it was only polite to accept that. Not wanting to answer for him, I squeeze Jake's waist to urge a response.    

He blinks once and then nods finally, nibbling on his bottom lip.   "Yeah, sounds good.  Let's do it,"  he says. The impassive mask is so firmly set over his face that I've literally no clue how he feels about accepting the invitation. 

Dan grins wide and claps his hands together.  "How does Wednesday night sound? My place?   I do a mean spaghetti meatballs don't I Jay?" he tells me proudly.   "Got the recipe from an Italian friend of mine."  

Beside me Jake makes an almost inaudible sniffing noise which Dan doesn't hear.  

I smile up at Dan.  "Well, I love Italian so that sounds lovely, I'll look forward to it."

He nods, throwing a look at Jake before moving off towards the door again.  "Okay, we'll wait downstairs for you.   That coffee place that does the cronuts open on Sundays Jay?" He asks him. 

Jake nods, looking a little more relaxed. "Yeah, but what was it you just said about the love handles Dan mate? About 2000 calories in a fucking bite of one of those fuckers."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta live a little — most of us ain't ever gonna look like you,"  He says with a sigh of what sounds like despair.   "Might have had the decency to put a fucking top on? Making the lads and me feel inadequate here ya know." He throws a withering glance over Jake's topless form.

"Yeah well I almost came down with my cock out, so thank yourselves lucky yeah?" Jake smirks before moving away from me towards the stairs.   I have to prevent myself nodding in agreement with him on that.   Jake's size definitely wouldn't do anything for any man's feelings of inadequacy.  He was blessed in that department - and by virtue of that fact so was I.  

"Cheeky fucking prick," Danny mutters, looking amused nonetheless.  "See you downstairs in ten.  Dressed." He warns loudly so Jake can hear from his position half way up the stairs.  "Alex sweetheart, I'll see you on Wednesday evening. Was a pleasure to meet you," he gives me a sort of sailor salute. I just nod and smile my affirmative, watching with relief as all three men retreat away from me down the hall towards the front door.

I wait until I hear it close before rushing upstairs to Jake.  He isn't in the bedroom but the bathroom door is cracked open, the sound of the shower and wisps of steam floating out through the crack.   As I open the door he's naked again and just about to step inside the cubicle.  He turns round and gives me a long look before dipping his head back under the spray, closing his eyes as the water runs over his face. 

"What are you going to do?" I ask as I cross the bathroom to stand by the cubicle door.  The sound of the spray is loud and I don't want to miss a single syllable of his response.

"Well, first I'm going to wash the smell of you off my body, then I'm going to do what I was told to do and get dressed," he says.  He looks angry again, a dark glint in his eye as he scrubs a hand over his face.    

"So you're just going to go with them?" I ask, a slight lilt of disbelief to my voice.  "With no clue what they want your help with?"

He dips his head back under the water and reaches for the shampoo, squirting it loudly onto his hands before moving them into his hair.  "Yes."  He replies.  

"And what if he's lying? What if it's about Kevin? About what happened last night? What will you tell them?"  I put my hands on my hips and glare at him.  Not that he can see my glare.  He has his eyes closed as he squirts some shower gel now onto his hands and begins turning it into a lather.  

He sighs.  "I'll tell them the truth."

"Aren't they his friends?  Won't they be angry with you?" I ask.

He opens his eyes and gives me a look, a look that tells me I know nothing. It makes me feel naive and foolish.  "No baby, they aren't his friends. They aren't anyone's friends."

He closes his eyes again and goes back to washing himself, hypnotic circular motions of his hands over his body, under his arms, between his legs, and I watch hypnotised. When he reaches his penis my breathing changes of its own accord, a shift upwards in the gear of my heartbeat.   He cleans himself in the way he would pleasure himself, moving his fisted hand up and down the length in long slow strokes. His eyes are closed and his head tilted under the spray and it makes me feel as though I've wandered in on him in an intimate moment, him seemingly oblivious to the sight he's giving me. So glorious is the sight, that it momentarily distracts me from everything else outside of this room. 

He's breathtaking.  Beauty incarnate.  Strength incarnate.   It occurs to me then that maybe he does know the sight he's giving me and that maybe he's doing it precisely for the purpose of distracting me from everything else.  It's working too.

No, Alex, he's having a bloody shower that's all. Stop ogling him and worry about him instead.

He finishes rinsing the soap from his body and reaches behind him to turn off the shower.  As he steps out of the cubicle, his body dripping loudly on the stone floor, I reach behind me and grab the large grey towel from the rack and hold it out to him. 

"Okay well, then what if they don't see your side of this?  Or what if he got to Dan first? They're not friends but I assume Kevin is of some use to him?  You rendered him useless last night."  My voice echoes around the damp stone room Jake stares at me for a long time. I'm certain I can hear his brain moving, shifting all manner of considerations to the forefront and then back again, sliding others into their place.

"Dan won't give a fuck about what I did to Kev, that isn't something you need to worry about." He says finally.  

"Why not?"  I ask. I'm not sure why I care but there's something about the heaviness in his tone and the way he's avoiding my eye that makes me curious why not.  He's hiding something.  Still not meeting my eye, he moves the towel over his chest and arms before he switches it to his other hand and rubs it over his stomach and between his legs. When he looks at me again there's a warning there.  I ignore it.  "Why not Jake?  Why won't he care?"

"Because Dan wants him dead Alex." There's no emotion to his voice.  The reply is delivered so casually that I think it is why I also barely react. Why would dan want him dead? That doesn't make sense? There's lots I don't know of course, lots I don't want to know too but why wou-- it comes to me like a punch to the gut. There in the silence of the bathroom the memory is loud. The memory of the lie Jake told Mark in the hotel room at Illeam Castle, Mark's look of terror and suspicion, Jake's calm assuredness that he was safe and that no one suspected him of anything.

I take a step back from him as the gasp leaves my mouth. 

"Oh, my god... he thinks Kevin made the deal with the police." I state.   "Dan thinks Kevin is the informant... and you've let him think that..." I bring my hands up to my face and cover my mouth, half turning my body away from him. When I look back he's watching me carefully, expectantly.  "Jake this is dangerous, so bloody dangerous I can't..." I shake my head. This is like some kind of alternate reality where things from movies bleed into real life.  How is this real life? How is this my life?  How did I become tangled up in this?

As he moves toward me and wraps a set of still damp arms around me I know how I got tangled up in it.  Because I got tangled up in him. Because I fell into the dark with him. Because I fell in love with him.

"It was always dangerous baby, you knew that," he says gently, pressing his mouth to the top of my head.  "Nothing's changed. I know what I'm doing, you just have to trust me."

I do trust him but no matter how carefully you plan and how organised you are, and how much you think you know what you're doing, things could still get out of your control. It happened with me when I met him. It happened last night. Things had gotten out of his control. What had he done?  Improvised? Or was it simply adaptation? Jake was certainly adaptable. His whole life had been a cycle of horrible events and difficult decisions. But he had survived. He'd been stronger than his circumstance. He'd come out on top.

He knows what he's doing. I have to trust him.  I need to be stronger than this.

Pressing my cheek to the warm skin of his chest, I close my eyes and wrap my arms around him. "I wish we could just leave, go somewhere far away where no-one knows us..." I whisper.  More than ever I wish we could do that.

"Where would we go?" he asks, pressing another touch of his lips to my head. 

"California,"  I reply.

I'd lost a million minutes or more imagining another life for us there, where Jake's name and what it meant was nothing but a distant memory.   When we were apart I'd spend hours in that fantasy.  A house by the sea, a back porch that opened up onto the beach, long walks at dawn or dusk hand in hand, Jake tanned and relaxed and free.   It seemed more like a fantasy now than it ever had.

"I'm going to fix this.  I'm working on it.  Not much longer I promise," He says.   "Stay with me baby.  I need you."

I tilt my head to look up into his eyes.  There's a fierce determination in his and I try to match it.  "I'm not going anywhere, not unless you're with me,"  I tell him.

He responds by sliding a hand around the back of my neck and pulling my mouth up to meet his.  He moans softly against my lips.  He untangles our tongues gently and steps away from me to go to the sink.

"So dinner with Dan... and his twenty-three-year-old girlfriend," I muse.     How is that likely to go?"  In the mirror, I see something flicker over his eyes but it's gone almost instantly. 

"Either it's going to go well, or really fucking badly,"  He shrugs. 

"Well, that's helpful Jake.." I give him an eye roll to which he responds with a lopsided smile.   "Should I have made an excuse?  Said I was busy? I know you didn't want us to go..."

Another shrug, in defeat this time.  "He'd been pestering me about meeting you since we got back together. I'd been ignoring it.   We'll go.  We'll eat spaghetti — he does make a good spaghetti," He admits. 

I nod and gaze about the bathroom feeling useless while he brushes his teeth.  Despite his assurances and revelations, I still feel tense and edgy about what they want him for.  Also, the idea of him going off with them at all makes me uneasy.   But then I remember, this is what Jake's been doing his entire life.  Long before me.  These men were his life before me. They're still his life when he isn't with me. 

He wipes his mouth with the towel and walks naked into the bedroom.  I follow behind him on anxious feet bunching and un-bunching my hands together. 

"What will you do after?  After whatever it is they need you for?" I want to know what he plans to do about Kevin.  I want to know if Kevin is alive.   

"Then I'm going to come home to my girlfriend.  Everything else can wait."

"Jake."

He stops rummaging in the wardrobe, turns around, and sighs loudly.  "Alex, if I tell you not to worry, you're going to do it anyway so I won't tell you that.  I'll tell you something else instead -this is what I do. I've been doing it all my life.  Running whenever Dan calls my name, asking how high when he tells me to jump.  I'm good at it," his tone is defeat tinged with bitterness.  "Hiding things from people who trust me is also something I'm good at," he drops his eyes from mine for a second but I know it's because he feels guilty about having hidden things from me, not because he's hiding things now.  "and not getting caught is something else I'm very fucking good at.  I know what I'm doing, so please trust me," He says.  He pulls his boxers on and buttons his jeans over them. 

"Stop telling me to trust you Jake," I say finally. "I trust you in all the ways I can trust you.  I trust you. Who did you call to deal with Kevin last night? After." 

His mouth twitches at one corner.  "Someone I trust."

I nod. "Is Kevin alive?"

"He's alive," he says.   "Unfortunately."  

"So then Dan will be disappointed you never finished the job then," I say pointedly. Jake's mouth tightens, his eyes narrowing a little as he tries hard to see past the look I give him. We're both silent as he finishes dressing.

"He isn't what I imagined, Dan..." I admit, half to myself, half to him. Jake raises his eyebrows but says nothing as he sits down on the bed to pull on his boots.  "He seems... normal, friendly — not at all how you described him - there's, I don't know, reason to him, warmth even."

Jake looks up at me, his face transforming with a dark frown.   "No, there isn't. Alex listen to me," he stands up and comes toward me, his eyes serious. "That's what Dan does best — fools people into thinking he gives a shit, that he can be trusted, that he has even a single scrap of humanity.  He's not reasonable or warm, not by a long stretch of the imagination is Danny Ward even close to reasonable or warm.  I've known him fifteen years and I've never seen any fucking sign of it.  You think Kevin's an animal?  Kevin's an untrained lap dog compared to those men downstairs.  Those are three of the most dangerous men in London, Alex, that's the kind of men they are. They're exactly like you imagined." 

The fluttering in my chest intensifies and my legs wobble slightly as my head begins to swim with all manner of dark violent worries once more.  I'd had a glimpse of that violence, the man I love had demonstrated it in front of me.  It was real.  The locked door that was Jake's other life had been opened a crack and I had stolen a glimpse inside and all I wanted to do is pull it closed again, lock it and then burn the entire place down. Jake and I well out of reach of the flames. 

I lick my lips and fix him with a hard look of my own.  "And you?  Do people say the same about you?" 

I want to know.  I need to know.  Not because it will change the way I feel about him, not at all, we were far past that now. I need to know because it will tell me whether they too needed to be afraid — afraid of him.    

He gives me a smile then, his adorable canine flashing smile.  "Yeah, but only if they haven't seen my cuddly side."  

My smile in response is a reflex, it's small and it fades as quickly as arrived. "Jake please..."

He lets out a breath and looks over my shoulder as he considers his response. When he looks back at me, his hard determined stare sears through my own as his fingers come up to stroke at the curve of my jaw.  He rubs his thumb back and forth before drawing it down to my chin.  When he pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head back I see the strength and ferocity fall into place over his face. Power.  Danger. Survival.  It's in even the whites of his eyes as he looks down at me. He looks dangerous.  He is dangerous. These things give me strength, a much needed steely kind of strength.  It doesn't calm the worry that I live with now that I know who he is but it makes me more equipped to deal with it.

"Baby, Dan trusts me. He doesn't trust a lot of people — I can count those people on half of one hand — but me, he trusts, like a son.   He helped make me what I am, who I am." Again, as he talks about Dan his voice drips with a hot bile-like bitterness.   "And what I am is going to help me destroy him.  I know everything about these people Alex, strengths, weaknesses, what they've done, what they can do, who they know, what they know.  To them, I'm the most dangerous thing they can fucking imagine.  I'm their worst fucking nightmare."  he says.

The conviction drips from his words and floods his eyes and it settles me.  It hardens me.  I feel it like a physical change inside me; a solidifying, something soft turning to stone.  With my eyes on his I nod slowly. Then I reach up on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his. 

"Okay then.  You better hurry up, they're waiting for you." I say against the heat of his lips.