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Seven minutes. She thought she recalled a magician once saying that you could actually hold your breath for seven minutes, if you trained. After thirty seconds, Sarah opened her eyes. She could see the ceiling through the hole her head had left in the foamy water. Slowly she pushed herself back to the surface. Alex sat watching her on the edge of the tub.
Her glare was met by his sad gaze. It confused her, his apparent ability to feel and have a myriad of layers. He was a cold-blooded killer - these emotions were surely a mask.
‘They found Ray.’
Sarah didn’t voice the question. He would figure it out.
‘Ray was… with Brodie.’
She raised her head, acknowledging the dead man.
‘They’re looking for us.’
‘Was Heather mentioned?’
‘The report said one woman has been released from hospital and another is missing.’
Sarah closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks that Heather was okay.
‘The news is suggesting you didn’t go willingly. Grave fears, etc.’ Alex was still speaking, pushing his hair behind red-tipped ears. ‘They’re reporting that I’m the alleged executioner for The Devils. Armed and dangerous. Don’t approach.’
Executioner. The word sounded so evil. So unlike the Alex she knew. But it was accurate. An executioner was someone who killed. Alex was a killer. A bitter tang rose in her mouth.
A thought floated into her head. ‘Alleged?’
‘What?’
She looked up at him, perched on the edge of the tub, concern etched into his features. He’d never been arrested in Australia for any of these crimes. Maybe the police had no evidence? They needed proof. Would her testimony be enough? Maybe she could turn Alex in and then she could go back. To her job, her friends, her family.
A tremor of uncertainty nestled low in her gut. Could she ever forgive herself if she put the man she loved in jail? Alternatively, how could she love a killer?
‘You could go to the police.’
Her breath hitched. It was as if Alex had read her thoughts again. Dark shadows hung under his eyes and his shoulders sagged. He crossed his arms.
‘I wouldn’t stop you. But I couldn’t protect you. Sarah, they would want to know what you knew. The Devils, that is.’
The bath was still warm but Sarah felt her blood go cold. ‘The police would protect me.’ Indignation seemed an adequate position from which to negotiate.
‘Yeah, ‘cause all cops are good.’ His voice was heavy. Sarah’s uneasiness forced her from the water. At least he had the decency to turn away from her nakedness.
‘Hand me a towel,’ she commanded to his back.
Alex did as she asked. ‘There’s a robe behind the door,’ he said as he left the room.
Sarah’s heart hammered inside her chest. What was she thinking, saying she would go to the police?
What police—in Holland? No. She’d need to get back to London, but how? And then what, just walk into the closest police station? She’d never even had a traffic ticket, let alone cause to speak to a detective before.
She fumbled with the towel, the fabric thick and cumbersome in her shaking hands, before she gave up and wrapped the robe around her body and a second towel around her hair. She ignored the expensive looking moisturizers and returned to the main room.
Alex was waiting for her, having claimed his position on the end of the sofa. She sat down carefully, facing him.
‘Alex, what if you keep running but I go back and tell the police what happened? Not just in London, but how you got mixed up with The Devils in the first place.’
He rolled his shoulders back. ‘We’ve been through this, Sarah. That will just get you killed.’
‘But what if—’
