He emitted another harsh laugh. Given the state of their mother, drug gangs were people Malachi had never, ever worked for.
‘No, never drugs. I don’t know everything he did, you’d have to ask Mal, but things like being a runner for bookies. They trusted him because of our dad. Maybe he did things which were a bit dodgy but not outright illegal. Even as a kid Mal was always unshakeable on that.’
‘He seems so quiet.’ Anouk shook her head, evidently trying to absorb it all.
No judgement. No false sympathy or drama. Just...her. Listening. Caring. It should have concerned him more that he was letting her get so close, but he couldn’t bring himself to back away. Even emotionally.
He told himself that he knew what he was doing.
‘Mal isn’t as quiet as people think. He has this inner core of steel, I’m telling you. Even as a kid he handled himself with those guys. Enough to make sure that I kept going to school. Believe it or not, I was always better with the discipline than he was.’
‘Sol, the playboy, a good schoolboy?’
She offered him a soft smile and he realised she was teasing him. It was like a lick of heat.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’
‘So how did he get away with not going?’
‘Mal has a true eidetic memory. He didn’t really need to be in lessons to keep up with school. I used to...persuade some lads in his year to get copies of the work.’
‘Persuade as in employ some of the fighting techniques your father had taught you?’ she guessed.
‘Only in the beginning.’ Sol made no apologies. Not even to this woman. ‘With those ten-or eleven-year-old lads who had trouble accepting a polite request from an eight-year-old. They rarely had trouble the next time.’
‘I never realised.’
‘Why would you?’ Sol pointed out evenly. ‘The point is that we got by, and if he hadn’t done all of that I wouldn’t have stayed in school, and without him I wouldn’t be in medicine, let alone a neurosurgeon.’
Neither of them could have imagined even a half of what they had today. Or just how far the two of them would pull themselves out of the gutter. Together. The way it had always been.
‘What happened with your mum?’
He tensed; it was impossible not to.
‘He got her the help she needed, but it turned out it still wasn’t enough. She died when I was seventeen.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ He shrugged, ignoring the odd scraping sensation deep inside his stomach. One that he was sure had more to do with the soft way that Anouk was looking at him than anything else. ‘In some ways her death set Mal and me free.’
She stared at him for another long moment and he had to fight the urge to turn away lest she see right down to his soul. Down to where he still felt like that socially awkward, ashamed, inadequate kid.
‘Is that where the playboy image came from? Not wanting to commit to someone, or settle down, or have kids because of your experience with your mum?’
Sol didn’t answer.
He couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Either way, the net result was the same.
He swung away to stare at the tiled wall, his hands resting on either side of him on the counter top. Behind him, he heard her slide off the granite surface. He could sense her approaching him and he turned, unable to help himself.
Suddenly they were facing each other, everything rending apart as Anouk placed her hands on either side of his face as if to make him look at her. He definitely didn’t want to talk any more.
He forgot that he’d been doing all this to make her trust him. That he’d been waiting for her to need him so badly that she begged him, as she had the night of the gala.
‘Confession time is over, zolotse,’ he growled, snaking his arms to her waist and hauling her to him.
She didn’t object. Especially not when he snagged her mouth with his.