“And, of course, Tiger.”
“And me being the perfect gentleman.”
“Exactly,” said Marshall, looking up. “Although you no longer need to be a perfect gentleman around me. I hope you know that?”
Marshall’s voice had lowered, and Spencer felt the words reverberate in his groin. He almost abandoned the drinks, but then restrained himself, comforted by the certainty that he had Marshall back in his life.
“Tell me what happened.”
Marshall pushed out a sigh, but then, in the flawless, effortless way he had of talking, relayed the story of them landing in Kryszytonia and his exclusive interview with Chairman Tobias Karimov the afternoon before his inauguration. They had been there to shoot a documentary surrounding the event, not to provide a live feed of the day, which is why other news channels—not his own—had broadcast the incident. If anything, his crew had viewed the day of the inauguration as routine because they knew they could always get archive footage for the official ceremony from other media sources.
Finally the kettle boiled and Spencer brought over mugs of steaming coffee. After watching Marshall make a big deal of sniffing the steaming drink then sipping with a frankly filthy moan, Spencer asked about his crew, especially about his cameraman.
“No, no. Colm is alive and well. In the resulting chaos, there was a lot of confusion and misunderstanding. Another cameraman, the same build as Colm, died in the explosion, thepoor guy. I’ve been in war zones across the world, Spence, seen some horrific things, but the carnage that day will stay with me forever.”
“Darcy and I watched the news coverage. Honestly, Marsh, although I didn’t want to believe it, I didn’t see how you could not have been affected, not without a miracle. They showed the press lined up at the front of the stage where the terrorist detonated the device. How did you manage to escape unscratched?”
“That’s another story altogether. Come and sit down.”
Marshall settled back and waited for Spencer to join him, an arm clamping around his shoulders, before beginning to tell Spencer about the day of the inauguration.
“Karimov’s advisers wanted him to hold the event indoors, largely due to worries about the weather but also because of security concerns. But the man insisted, said his people should see their leader sworn in under open skies, not behind locked doors. That morning, we were given the choice of setting up at the front or next to the national network, on a gantry to one side of the square. As I said, we were there to film a documentary, and we knew we’d get more candid shots of the crowd from the side. When the president made his speech, we left Colm filming. Kerry-Anne and I took a camera to see if we could speak to any dignitaries or other notable persons. I’m not even sure what made me look, but as we were passing behind a stand near the front, a wooden stall was selling souvenirs. I only slowed to look for a second then carried on walking, but something caught my eye. Did you know Tobias Karimov’s presidential mascot is a squirrel wearing a national flag waistcoat and bow tie? On one stall, they sold these two-foot-tall mascot toys. I had to stop and laugh, and told Kerry-Anne that if I didn’t buy one, I would never be forgiven and probably never get laid again. As I was paying, the bomb went off. The blast threw me into the stall,which came crashing down around myself and the stall owner. We were knocked off our feet, had a few scratches and bruises, but both escaped unharmed.”
“And Kerry-Anne?”
“She was less lucky, thrown against a concrete post and knocked out cold. I stayed with her until I could find a medic. She’d gained consciousness by then, and seemed okay, but they insisted on taking her away to a medical unit, to get her checked out. I remained behind to help the medical staff as best I could. Honestly, those guys deserve medals, the way they worked tirelessly to help the injured. A couple of times I wondered if I was in the way, but they seemed to appreciate my support. Later on, I tried to return to the team, but by then, of course, the place was locked down, with roads cordoned off all around the square. Eventually I found my way to a police station, and after a couple of hours’ wait, we were reunited. Kerry-Anne gave me an update on casualties. She also told me about some of the British teams being flown home.”
“We saw the news. You have no idea how much I wanted you to be on that plane.”
“Almost as much as I did. But by the time Kerry-Anne told us, those people would have landed here. It was well after midnight in Kryszytonia. They never told us why, but the security team confiscated our phones and computers, so we couldn’t let people know we were fine. And then we spent a long time being questioned by one officer or another, as well having them go through the footage we’d shot. I’m guessing my friendship with Tobias paid off because they didn’t keep us long. They were the ones who informed us that he’d survived the blast with minor injuries, thank heavens. And then, before we knew it, we were being bundled off to the airport, to a waiting jet. I still have no idea who laid that on for us. This would have been almost six in the morning local time, midnight here. After checking ourdocuments, we were taken to a private lounge in the airport, given back our luggage and told to freshen up before the flight. None of us had changed our clothes since the morning. Both Kerry-Anne and I looked a sight, still covered in dust and debris and blood, so the shower and new clothes felt wonderful. As soon as we joined the others in the lounge, we were being ushered off to the waiting plane, taking off as the sun began to rise over Kryszytonia.”
“And you came straight here?”
“Zipped through immigration in absolutely no time—the wonders of private air travel. I called Darcy first, because I figured you’d either be there or at home. She suggested I come straight here, said you’d been worried sick and probably hadn’t slept. Somewhat cryptically, she also told me I owed her a home-cooked dinner.”
“Ah. I might have mentioned that you cooked for me.”
“Did you now? And what else did the pair of you discuss about me?”
“Mostly about how much we both love you,” said Spencer, pecking Marshall on the lips. “Me more, naturally.”
Marshall took Spencer’s almost empty mug and placed it with his own on the table before gathering Spencer into his arms. Spencer melted into the kiss, savouring Marshall’s unique smell and warmth. When Marshall pulled his head away to yawn, Spencer let out a soft chuckle.
“I hope you don’t mind, Spence, but since sitting down the tiredness has caught up with me. Don’t think I don’t want you—you’re all I could think about this past week—but if I don’t get some shut-eye soon, I’ll be good for nothing.”
“Of course, you poor thing. Go on into the bedroom.”
“Um, I was thinking you’d join me. Keep me company.”
“It would be my honour.”
Spencer helped Marshall out of his clothes, undressing him as a parent would undress a child. Marshall simply stood there grinning, not moving unless Spencer guided him to do so. Eventually, with Marshall wearing only his briefs, Spencer pulled back the covers and directed him into bed.
“I could get used to this,” said Marshall, getting comfortable, as Spencer climbed in beside him, lining their bodies up facing each other.
“That’s my master plan,” said Spencer.
He closed the small gap and kissed Marshall, a long, measured kiss. He could afford long kisses now that his man was back safely. Something moved at the bottom of the bed, and Spencer saw Tiger making herself comfortable at their feet. Marshall’s eyes had closed, and he appeared to be drifting off, but suddenly opened them.
