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Back The Last Guests Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONE
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. DEADLY SAS RAID IN AFGHANISTAN UNDER SCRUTINY
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. PART TWO
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. DANIEL MOORE: ‘A SINGLE BLOKE, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, A BIT OF A DUNCE BUT WITH A GOOD HEART,’ BEST FRIEND SAYS.
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. THIRTY-FOUR
  43. THIRTY-FIVE
  44. BREAKING: POLICE CONFIRM DANIEL MOORE ACTED ALONE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. SECOND ARREST MADE IN WESTAY HIDDEN CAMERAS CASE
  50. EPILOGUE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  52. Discover More
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. Also by J. P. Pomare

I squeeze my lips closed. I was certain I saw someone, not just a piece of wood floating on the water. We go up the stairs together, I insist on being in front of him. I make him come in the bathroom with me when I brush my teeth. I imagine it really was a man out there. Your mind is your enemy. One of Cain’s tattoos. A mantra when he was training for the SAS and underwent the gruelling selection process. He’d trained almost half his life for selection, knowing the dropout rate was over ninety percent. He ended up with the emblem tattooed over his heart. The sword, the wings, the banner emblazoned with ‘Who Dares Wins’. My brave soldier. So why do I feel vulnerable now, even in my own house? I can’t tell Cain about Daniel, the texts. Maybe my eyes were playing a trick on me. Maybe there was nothing out there in the night but shadows shifting in the wind, driftwood on the black, moon-tinselled lake.

SIX

CAIN HAD ONE of his bad dreams last night, he was moist with sweat, tangled in the sheets, panting until I gently shook him awake. I’d wanted to go downstairs and get him a glass of water, or to at least turn the light on, but I couldn’t summon the courage to venture out of bed alone. This new fear has come on suddenly. My phone, as usual, was on flight mode while I slept, but still I kept thinking about what messages I might find in the morning, or Cain might find while I slept. Each time Cain jerked beside me and woke me, I turned my phone off flight mode to check if a new message had arrived, holding my breath in the dark, waiting. But there was nothing.

Now the morning has come and Cain is already awake. He’s sitting there, looking at the curtains as if working out what time it might be by the intensity of the light passing beneath them. ‘What’s up?’ I say.

He scratches his shoulder, turns back to me. ‘Oh, not much, I got up early and had a walk. Couldn’t sleep and now I’ve just come back to bed.’

‘Mm,’ I say. ‘I noticed you tossing and turning. You want to talk about it?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘Not really. Same shitty nightmares. They all blend into one, only now sometimes the war is here, in this country in this house and it’s you I’m trying to protect.’

I don’t know what to say, this is the most he’s revealed about his dreams in a long time. ‘You’re safe now, Cain. You can always wake me, and we can sit up together and talk.’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I’ll keep that in mind. You sleep well?’