Groaning at the God damn jack hammer going off inside my skull, I roll one eye open. Where the fuck am I? Licking my lips, I try to rid myself of the awful taste in my mouth. This always happens when a hangover hits.

Bed sheets rumpled around me, it takes me a second to recall. A cheap hotel. Max, my mystery man, and the most amazing sex of my life. An empty space indicates he has been gone awhile. The silence from the bathroom is another tell-tale sign.

“Thank fuck for that.” Flopping back down, I drag the pillow over my head. It’s better this way. Attachments are something I don’t need. I am not the girlfriend type. Not with the line of work I do. It’s only a complication, a responsibility I can’t have. People you love can become targets.

Avoiding the awkward morning after is something I never hang around for. Usually I slip out before dawn. Max beat me to it. For once, I’m on the other end and it feels hollow. That’s the only word for it. Is this what my one-night stands experience when they discover me gone in the morning?

Wincing as I stretch, I try to enjoy the aches. Max certainly made me work out. The positions he bent me into would make a world champion gymnast blush. Mr. well-endowed has definitely left me with a lasting impression. He’s left me used and abused. A shame I won’t be seeing him again.

Crawling off the mattress on all fours, I go in search of my jacket. It’s times like these I’m glad I carry for emergencies. Fumbling in the pocket, I find the silver packet. This is just what I need.

Tossing two painkillers into my mouth, I swallow them down. Not good on an empty stomach, but it will have to do. Food is something I can find later. Right now, I need a shower.

Somehow, I find a way up onto my feet. Stomach see-sawing, I manage to not throw up. This is the down side of drinking. How Leo can do it all the time is beyond me.

Finally, making it onto my feet, I stagger for the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror confirms I'm a fucking mess. Red hair sticking this way and that. I look rough. Skin pale, you can see dark smudges under my eyes.

Lifting a leg, I clamour into the tub. The shower curtain takes two attempts to slide into place.

Twisting the knob above the bath the pipes rumble behind the thin wall.

Water hits my skin. It’s hotter than I usually like, but I know I need this to wipe away the lingering effects of the evening before. Closing my eyes, I bow my head. Tension seeps from my shoulders. Motionless, I remain suspended like that for or I don’t know how long. It’s a haven of steam and silence.

Sighing, I collect the soap from the side. It’s tiny. Won’t last long.

Robotically, I wash away the scent of sex, Max’s smell. The marks he’s left on my breasts won’t disappear so easily. Bites of passion have left purple hickeys and bruises in their wake. Soaping my tits, I moan softly as the touch stirs memories of pleasure.

Max really helped work away my stress and all the latent energy that was hanging around from my last job. It’s better than a massage. A good filthy fuck and I’m ready to start my day. I’m feeling good. Really good.

It doesn’t take long to wash my hair. After drying off I’m back in my clothes from the night before. It’s not ideal, but will do until I get back to my apartment to change.

With my bike still at Cease Fire, getting home means the bus or the tube. Neither form of transport appeals.

Leaving the hotel, I avoid eye contact with the new guy behind the desk as I return the room key.

He probably thinks I’m a hooker turning tricks. God knows enough of them use this place. At least it’s safe. Better than servicing their clients down an alley or behind a car.

Stepping outside, I breath in the chilled November air. London is cold and grey. Already the streets are stirring with life. Londoners on their way to work. The Christmas buzzing is in full swing. Decorations popping up in windows.

Max’s car is gone. Not that I expected it to still be there. He probably does this more than me. A serial one-night stander.

Diving into a local cafe I secure my caffeine fix. Clutching the polystyrene cup, I bring it to my nose. Inhaling the smell, I make a small hum. It shakes away the lingering hangover. Sealing my lips to the little slit in the plastic, I take a long sip. Hot, thick, and bitter the liquid snaps at the back of my throat. Heaven. There’s nothing like coffee first thing. It’s satisfying. A ritual I never do without.

Today is a day off. Gabriel knew we wouldn’t be any use to him getting hammered last night. None of the others will be up before noon. Even then, they’ll be nursing hangovers from hell.

A Tube ride later and I’m back at my flat. Chiswick has the feel of a town hidden among the greater city. It’s why I picked it. The hustle and bustle of the centre fades away here. It’s my bubble of peace. I go unnoticed. Just someone in the crowd.

Tossing my keys into the bowl on the sideboard in the hallway, I close the door. Silence. Taking a big breath, I let myself relax fully.

This is where I can be myself. My domain. With two bedrooms it’s airy and comfortable. I’ve never been one for clutter. Everything has its place. Most of my furniture comes from Ikea. Putting it all together was annoying at first until I got the knack.

Shrugging out of my jacket, I hang it up on a coat hook.

Days to myself are rare. It leaves me restless. Work keeps me busy and feeds my need for blood lust.

Drifting into the kitchen, I check the message on the land phone. With a beep the machine spring to life.

“It’s your mother.” The voice is cold. Void of natural warmth. “I wanted to wish you happy birthday and I’ll see you soon.”

A lie. She hasn’t been interested in me for the last twenty years. I’m nothing but a burden. Something to be swept under the carpet.

“Hey kiddo, it’s Uncle Dane. Happy Birthday. Wanted to let you know I’ll be in London next month for a week or so. Thought we could spend some time together. Go see Nate. Drop me a text when you get this.”

He’ll want to stay here. It’s fun when he does. We get talking about old times. Dane loves checking out any new gear I have. He may be retired, but the urge to hunt prey never dulls. It’s in our blood. A need. A talent we both possess.

Opening a cupboard, I retrieve a couple slices of bread from a plastic bag. Popping it into the toaster, I watch the red-light flick on.

Nathan. I need to go and see him today. It’s been over two weeks. Every time I’ve thought about seeing him I’ve changed my mind.

Sighing, I take down a plate, then butter from the fridge, and a knife.

Fuck. This shouldn’t be something I dread, but I do. It’s the hardest part of my life. Put a gun or knife in my hand and tell me to kill something I’ll have no problem. When it comes to my brother things get complicated. Emotions. Messy feelings are involved. At any other time, I can shut them off. Pretend they aren’t there. With everything I do I have learned to live without them.

But with family? They know how to draw them out. Bring them to the surface in a painful, sometimes uncontrollable wreck.

“Fuck it.” Rescuing the toast before it can burn, I slap a thick layer of butter across the blackened surface.

Washing, cleaning, whatever else I can fucking think of can wait. Procrastination has never been my thing.

Finding some resolve and munching on breakfast, I make a quick decision.

An hour later and changed into something fresh to wear, I’m standing outside the white bricked building in Kensington. It’s a private resident home. Expensive, exclusive. The best money can buy.

With a polite smile, the receptionist at the main desk greets me with a cheerful hello.

Signing in, I head down the familiar corridor. I’ve been here a lot over the last four years. Not much has changed since then. Not even the staff.

The soft sound of music floats from the main room. It’s something classical. A tune meant to lift the spirits of those who are kept here.

Not lingering, I move on. My feet follow the hall all the way down. Nathan’s room is at the back of the building with a view of the courtyard. Halting outside the door, I take a second to try and relax. This is never easy.

Adjusting the bag on my shoulder, I push open the door, a smile tacked on my face. “Hey, Nate.”

My breath catches in my throat. He’s been positioned in the chair at the end of the bed. Chequered pyjama's I bought him last Christmas emphasize the paleness of his skin. Even with physical therapy it hasn’t stopped his muscles from wasting away.

We don’t look like each other apart from our blue eyes. Where I’m a natural redhead under all the dye, his hair is so blonde it’s almost white.

A few days after his rape he slipped away from reality. Lost himself within the confines of his own mind. Twelve years old and he was no longer there. Now at the age of thirty-three he’s still the same. A living ghost.

Bridging the distance, I slowly take the free seat opposite his own. “I’ve brought you some comics.”

He never replies. I wish he would, but the doctors have told me not to get my hopes up. The trauma he suffered has locked him mentally away inside with no indication that he might come back out.

Blinking, he continues to stare unfocused, out into the bare winter garden beyond the window. If he knows that I’m here he gives no sign.

“Superman, your favourite.” Holding up the magazine, I wiggle it in front of his blank face. “I’m going to read them to you in a bit. Mum sends her love and apologizes that she can’t come see you. Uncle Dane said he would stop by next month and say hi.”

They’ve given up. Twenty years on and they can’t stand to see him like this. It hurts me too, but I’m not willing to walk away and leave him forgotten in a care home abandoned until he dies. He will always be my big brother. Family.

“I’m still saving the world trying to make you proud.” I continue, clearing my throat. “Gabriel’s still being a dick, but he’s not such a bad boss.”

Nathan knows all about Cease Fire and my team. I’ve told him. Whether he hears me, I don’t know, but in my heart, I hope he does.

“The guys threw me a party for my birthday at the pub. I wish you could have been there.” Taking his warm limp hand, I lace my fingers with his. “Nurse Carter said you got upset yesterday. You want to tell me what happened?”

Nate doesn’t move. The dreamy, far away expression I know so well remains fixed and unchanging on his gaunt face.

Disappointment is sharp. I’d give anything to have him answer me back. To see him smile.

“Nice to see you, Mavi.”

Glancing up, I find nurse Carter standing in the doorway. A calm, patient aura radiates from her like no other person I know. A little older than me her expression is serene. She’s got that kind of beauty that you think is plain at first. But the more you look the clearer you see her inner glow. You know people like that have risen to their calling. This is her gift to help troubled patients.

“You look tired.” I notice.

Her smile isn’t as bright as it normally is. A dim replica.

“I haven’t been sleeping very well lately. Bad dreams.” Stepping over the threshold into the room she makes her way to my side. “Superman, his favourite!”

Nathan’s bookshelves are already over stuffed with magazines. It’s something I bring him every visit. Something else we can share. A connection I so badly need.

“I know he has tons already, but these are collectables.” I defend.

Carter’s eyes widen as she loops a short blonde lock of hair behind her air. “Hey, you don’t have to explain to me. I’m a Doctor Strange fan myself.”

“About yesterday...”

I need to know. Every time he’s become aware I’ve never been here. It’s so unpredictable and has only happened a handful of times.

“You want to know what happened.” She says, mirroring my thoughts.

I nod.

“He was in the TV room with some of the other residents and seemed to lose it.”

“He got violent, you mean?”

“Yes.” Carter wraps her arms around her waist as if the images she’s recalling are unsettling. “His eyes were wild. Something fierce. The roar that came out of him scared the hell out of everyone. Then he started smashing things. It took six orderlies to get him down, even then, he wouldn’t calm.”

I release a long breath before speaking. “Did he say anything?”

“No. Never spoke a word.”

Clasping my brother’s hand tighter, I blink back tears. I carry the guilt of this. It’s my fault he’s here. That afternoon, twenty years ago, I didn’t save him, but condemned him to this. Whatever he saw that day I can’t remember.

A hand touches my shoulder. It’s light, caring. Makes me want to cry all the more, but somehow I suck my misery back inside.

“Hey, he’s ok and he didn’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“I just wish I knew what was going on in his head.” I admit in a whisper. It’s selfish wanting him to absolve me of the guilt I’ve harboured since that day. It’s my burden to bear.

“I love you, big brother.” Placing a kiss on his cheek I can’t resist ruffling his hair. It’s a gesture from our childhood. One he would always do to me. Mostly when he was teasing.

“Ok, let’s see what Superman gets up to.” Snatching up a comic book, I flip to the first page.

“Have fun.” Carter murmurs as she leaves.

Four hours later and I feel drained. It’s always the same when I visit him. Affects me every time. Arms wrapped around my middle, I trudge tiredly out into the car park. Seeing my brother has left me in a pensive mood. Emotions I normally keep hidden have burrowed to the surface.

My phone vibrates. Checking the screen, the number calling is unknown. Humming in displeasure, I debate whether to answer. The amount of people who have this number I can count on two hands. It’s for personal use. Business contacts are transacted through untraceable emails handled by my Boss. Leo, Snatch, and Caesar have it for emergencies. Although they are happy to bug me with drunken texts. Nathan’s care home, Gabriel, my uncle and mother are the only others.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mavi.” Deep and sensual, that voice is hard to forget.

Max.

My steps falter to a halt leaving me standing in the middle of the street. I don’t like being caught by surprise. It’s an unpleasant feeling.

“Max, how did you get my number?” Suspicion is heavy in my tone.

“Would you be offended if I told you I stole it from your phone while you were asleep this morning?.”

I smile. Sneaky. Something I would’ve done. “No, I’m not offended, but I am curious why you wanted it.”

“How else could I ask you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Dinner?” I repeat the word as if it’s something new and unfamiliar. Why is Max the only male who can make me tongue tied? This is far beyond my normal routine. It usually stops at the bedroom door. He wants a date? I haven’t been on one of those since I started accepting hit jobs at eighteen.

“Mavi? Are you still there?”

Realizing I have let the silence stretch too long, I clear my throat. “I’d love to.”

Strangely, I find the idea appealing. Why shouldn’t I see Max again? He’s phenomenal in bed, charming, handsome with a dirty mouth. Did I mention the sex? One more time won’t hurt. A birthday present to myself before I walk away.