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Cross My Heart
A. M. HARTNETT
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
Mischief
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
An eBook Original 2015
Copyright © A. M. Hartnett 2015
A. M. Hartnett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780008148775
Version: 2015–06–03
Contents
‘Sneaky, sneaky.’
The deep voice coiled around Evie from the darkness. She gasped, her heart slamming against her chest three times before her common sense banished her panic.
It was just Seth.
She leaned against the metal rail of the fire escape and grinned at the man in the window. He wasn’t entirely in darkness: there was a light on in the bedroom beyond, but his living room was unlit and the shadows cast over him made him seem like a devil. Add to his long-haired and bearded appearance the arms darkened by ink, the glow of his cigarette and the black cat draped across the windowsill in front of him, and he might as well have been a devil or a warlock greeting her at the gates of Hell.
‘I thought you quit those.’
‘Where would you get an idea like that?’ he replied with a chuckle. The end of the cigarette glowed angry red as he took a long drag. He blew a stream to her left, stroked the cat with his free hand and cocked his head. ‘I don’t know why you sneak around like this. You can just walk up the stairs or take the elevator.’
‘You know why: I don’t want Mrs Boyd giving me that look. The one that says she knows I’m about to do something sinful under her roof.’
‘It’s not her roof, it’s mine. My building.’
‘As far as she’s concerned, after forty years here it’s her roof and she just lets you own it.’ Evie let go of the railing and bent down to give Marco a scratch between the ears. The feline vibrated and purred as his tail flicked like a small whip. ‘Besides, he leaves the window open for me.’
‘What will you do in the winter?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.’
She glanced up. She could see the blue flicker of the television Ryan had no doubt fallen asleep in front of, a beacon calling her to continue her ascent to his bed, to him.
Still, she smiled back at her landlord. ‘Care for a quick drink before I head up?’
Seth shook his head, took another drag, then stubbed his smoke out in the coffee can just outside the window. ‘Can’t. It keeps me awake, and I already have trouble sleeping these days.’
‘Since when?’
He hesitated, and she wished she hadn’t asked. Ryan had mentioned something about the anniversary of Rita’s death coming up. No matter how many times Seth said it was OK, it never felt OK to talk about it.
‘A few months ago I started to notice it,’ he told her. He got up from his chair and hauled the cat into his arms. ‘Must be the hops or something. Though if you want one, I’ll sit with you.’
‘No,