Safe House Read Online Free

was most likely a temporary guest. So unless he told me otherwise, I was going to focus on getting the hot water running again, leaving the sales pitch for another day.
    Behind me, Rocky slumped on to the cement floor and lowered his head on to his forepaws. Then he whined like he could tell this wasn’t going to be one of those jobs where a quick fix was followed by a long walk through the woods.
    ‘Sorry, pal,’ I said.
    Rocky closed his eyes and rolled on to his side. So this is what my business partner was contributing to the situation. Nap time .
    *
     
    An hour later, the rain had settled into a hard patter and I’d managed to suck most of the crud out of the boiler with my vacuum cleaner. I also seemed to be wearing a lot of grease and dust and oil. That was when the side door to the cottage opened and an angel walked in.
    Sickening, I know, but trust me, compared to Mr Shades, she was a huge improvement.
    Her smile hit me first, and it was so unexpected that I almost dropped the socket wrench I was holding. Wham . Neat white teeth, full lips. She was blonde, the kind of light blonde that only comes from years of sunshine. She was tanned, too, a soft caramel tint that was like a rebuke to the cheerless rain. She had on a pink vest top, frayed beige corduroy trousers and flipflops.
    Dainty , that was the first thought that came to my mind. I won’t tell you the second.
    Rocky stirred and sidled over to her. He leaned into her thigh and she tickled the back of his ear in that way that drives him happily nuts. Oh, right , I thought. You can sleep through an hour’s worth of vacuuming, no problem, but the moment a stunning blonde enters the room, you’re super-attentive.
    ‘Ooh, you are so beautiful,’ she said, and I recognised traces of the same European accent I’d heard from Mr Shades. ‘And your ears are so soft. What is your name, handsome one?’
    Rob, I wanted to tell her. And then I wanted to roll over on my back and have her tickle my tummy.
    Rocky beat me to it.
    ‘He’s called Rocky,’ I said, as she knelt down and circled her palm over his abdomen. ‘And I think he likes you.’
    She smiled and glanced up from beneath long, curling lashes. ‘Would Rocky like some water, maybe?’
    I had some in the cooler in my van. I knew it and Rocky knew it, too. But he looked at me like he’d crap in my bed if I said as much.
    ‘That’d be nice,’ I said.
    ‘And you?’ Her fine blonde hair had fallen across her face. She tucked it behind her ear. ‘Would you like some tea? It’s been some time since I made tea for an Englishman.’
    Now true, I could have told her I was Manx, but I couldn’t see the harm in letting it slide. I nodded and she gave Rocky a last pat before straightening and turning for the door.
    ‘Come,’ she said. ‘And bring Rocky, yes?’
    The dog was gone before I’d cleaned my hands on an old rag. I knocked the worst of the dirt from my clothes, took off my work boots (trying to ignore the way my big toe was poking out of my sock) and made my way into the kitchen.
    It was a cramped, dingy room, with small windows that were positioned too low in the walls. Rainwater sluiced down the glass. A bare ceiling bulb cast a weak light across the aged pine units and cheaply tiled countertop.
    Rocky had his head down at a bowl in the corner, doing a good job of spilling its contents across the linoleum floor and acting as if this was the finest tap water he’d tasted in his entire life. The blonde was standing beside the sink, filling an earthenware mug from a steaming kettle. And at a round table in the middle of the room sat Mr Shades and a second man I hadn’t seen before.
    I was looking at the man from behind. He was big and muscular, with a shock of peroxide blonde hair and a colourful sleeve tattoo escaping the left cuff of his khaki T-shirt. The T-shirt was so tight he might as well have been wearing body paint. I got the impression the guy lifted weights and that he liked