Morag kept her knife in the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She knew that Mick knew that. There was no way she could reach it before he reached her. Unless she ran. Was he armed under that ridiculous white gown?
Then it was too late and his arms were around her shoulders. “Ah, that feels good. Ye’ve no idea how long it’s been.”
She hugged him back.
“Ah had to get out, ye know? Ah couldn’t lie there another day, with mah broken brain bleedin’ bit by bit out mah nose. And things need to get done, don’t they?”
He had maneuvered her back against the wall, with a line of plastic dustbins to her right. Without the bitter reek of cigarette smoke, she had no way to block out the stench that rose ripe and steaming into the morning air.
“Still, they don’t need to get done right this minute, do they?”
Mick pressed his body against her, reaching down below her jacket.
“No, Mick. Don’t.”
He laughed. “What’s that? Come on, love. Ah’ve never heard those words from yer sweet lips before.”
She pushed against his shoulders. “That doesn’t mean…”
He slapped her. Not hard. Not as hard as he used to. But it still snapped her head around and made stars dance against the grimy brickwork.
“Now look, Ah’m in a bit of a rush, darlin’. Alright?”
She slapped him back, nails catching the flesh on his cheek and gouging three parallel lines through the stubble.
She knew there would be consequences. Her hand went for the inside pocket, but he was too fast. Laughing, he pulled her jacket down over her shoulders, trapping her arms and cutting off access to the pockets and their contents. He spun her around, pushing her upper body down onto the lid of the nearest dustbin.
“Ye always were a wild one. But what am Ah to think? Ah come out of hospital and find ye lurking in the alley behind mah flat. Knowing there’s nobody there to guard mah stash. Who were ye waiting for, love, if it wasn’t me?”
Her bare shoulder rubbed against the rough bricks of Mick’s apartment building, soft pale skin scratched open by uncaring masonry. Would she pick up an infection from the green damp oozing from a pipe high above? Or would it be the rotting cabbage and reeking cat food that burned through the lining of her lungs first? She spat out the bitter taste of humiliation.
“I was waiting for a real man.”
Mick lifted her short skirt and his long gown at the same time.
“Oh, aye? Let’s see about that, then.”
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