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"She's gone now, right? Reggie mentioned her to me."
"Yeah. A few years back. MS."
I winced. "That hardly seems fair. He's a lovely man. Seems like he deserves big love."
I felt rather than heard Drake’s chuckle. "He's helping me keep you here, and yet you think he's lovely?"
"Well, because he clearly doesn't want to," I said. “He’s trying to save your soul or something.”
Quietly, he added. "Don't get it wrong. I didn’t want to bring you here either."
"Yeah, your vibe is more of a you'll do whatever it takes thing, and that's not him. He's got markers. Lines he won't cross."
"I see you've already got a good read on him."
"Well, yeah. He's easy to read. Unlike you."
He chuffed softly behind me. “I’m easier to read than you think.”
He finally finished detangling a section and tried to move on to the next, but I stopped him.
“Oh wait. You’ll need to twist it first.”
He hesitated. “Like a twist tie?”
I giggled. “Sort of. Take the section, split it in two. Then you have to hold it taut and twine the pieces together like a rope.”
His level of concentration was so endearing I had to smile as he twisted. When he got to the end, he paused. “How do I keep it from unwinding?”
“Oh, you coil the ends around you index finger, the curls will clump together.”
When the twist was done a thick twist hung down my back. “Well, that is handy.”
His self-satisfaction made me smile. “If I’m trying to use twists for a style I make them smaller, but for now that’s great. Good job.”
As he worked, he continued our conversation. "I'm not hard to read. Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to do things right. You know, make my dad and mum proud. Make Uncle Charlie proud, and Reginald, too. There was black and white when it came to doing the right thing. But somewhere along the line, things got murky."
"Isn't that what being a spy is all about? Working for the greater good and all that?"
He chuckled low. "You'd be surprised. There are a lot of wankers who are in it for the glory."
"Is there glory?"
"For those in the know, yeah. While you are alive, the glory is the sweetest nectar."
Thirty minutes later, I had been conditioned, detangled, rinsed, and my head was in a towel. Drake held up a towel for me to climb out of the tub and resolutely turned his gaze away from me. When I was all wrapped up, he nodded. "When you're finished, there's a blow dryer in the bottom there. And it's got one of those… I don't know what they're called. You know, they look like a little octopus with hands, with tentacles, spikes or whatever sticking out."
I laughed. "A diffuser."
"Yeah, one of those. I’ll dry your hair.”
I bit my lip. He’d just taken better care of me than my own mother. And the realization was making me emotional. He’d laid a lot on me and I needed a moment to process. “Actually, can you let me do it? I think I need a little time on my own if that’s okay.”
His brow creased. He looked like he wanted to finish, but he let me have this one. “Sure. Head on downstairs when you’re done. Or call if you need more help.”
“Thank you.”
He walked out and quietly left me behind after he picked up all the bits and bobs from our hair session, and I wasn't even thinking about an escape right then. All I could think was that the man who just spent the last hour and a half or so washing and detangling my hair and cleaning me up was not the same man who kidnapped me. There were two sides to him. So which part of him was real?
