Free An Explosive Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) by Julia Hughes Page A

across the table he slapped Wren across the face. Wren saw it coming but barely flinched.
    ‘You didn’t stop and think of the danger you were putting that young girl in? Yourself in?’ Crombie couldn’t get the words out coherently.
    ‘I didn’t know. I don’t know everything. I would have done it differently, I would have got Carrie away first. But she’s gone now’ He touched his fingers to his cheek, tracing the red marks from Crombie’s hand.
    ‘Don’t bother to apologise. You’ve wanted to do that for a long time.’
    They glared at each other across the table. Crombie had no intention of apologising, and stuck out his chin, hoping Wren would try to hit him back, because he would love another excuse to slap him again. Wren spoke first.
    ‘I’m going after him.’
    It took a moment to work out who Wren meant.
    ‘Lampton? No you’re not. That bastard’s mine.’ Crombie said firmly. His and Ricky’s anyway.
     
    The fight went out of Wren, reaching behind, he stretched into the cupboard below the sink tipping back on his chair precariously. He straightened up again, a bottle in his hand before Crombie could warn him to sit forward.
    Tipping a dollop of whiskey into Crombie’s tea then his own, Wren laughed at Crombie’s expression. ‘I know, I’ll break my back one day.’
    Crombie gave an unwilling smile, thinking Wren was more likely to get his neck broken by someone first, and that would be a pity, life would become a little less colourful. Reading his mind in that uncanny way he had Wren said. ‘I know you don’t trust me Crombie, but I think you like me a little bit.’ He raised his mug in a salute, after a moment’s hesitation Crombie clinked mugs and sipped the sweet whiskey laced tea, it tasted like nectar.
    ‘I swear to god Crombie, I never realised how dangerous Harry Lampton was.’ Below his breath he mumbled. ‘I would never have got Carrie involved.’
    ‘You should have stopped at the elephant son.’
    They both grinned at the absurdity of that statement, a companionable silence settled on the room until Wren spoiled things by talking about Lampton again.
    ‘You’re really going after him?’
    Crombie tapped the pocket holding the photographs.
    ‘I think I bumped into your mate Killer. He gave me a couple of snaps. I’m hoping to get a warrant and search the scrap yard.’
    Wren surveyed him, the strange grey flecks in his eyes kaleidoscoped turning them silvery blue, and Crombie gave an involuntary shiver.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Those photos aren’t enough. Not for a search warrant.’ Pushing up from the table he said ‘Wait here.’
    Crombie waited patiently at first, examining the table’s surface, battle scarred with old splatters of paint and scratch marks and scorches from a thousand meals, and here and there initials carved into the wood too. It must have been in the family for generations. As time dragged on he glanced at the door, thinking he’d give it another five minutes before shouting up the stairs to ask Wren how much longer he’d be kept twiddling his thumbs.
    What happened next wasn’t really his fault. Staring down at the sheet of A4 paper on which Wren had roughed out a preliminary design sketch, he noticed something written on the other side. Out of pure boredom he flipped it over. It took a while to decipher Wren’s spidery scribble. By the time he realised it was extremely personal, the damage was done.
    Carrie, (the note read) you’ll never read this, I won’t embarrass either of us by trying to change your mind. I love you beyond words, beyond worlds even, and nothing will change that. I can’t change either. To paraphrase, I can only hope my virtues outweigh the vices, and loving you sweetheart is my greatest virtue.
    Crombie could only hope Wren never discovered a middle aged detective had read his forlorn love letter. Hearing footsteps on the stairs and spotting a greasy copper sized thumbprint just above Carrie's name, crumpled the paper and