Emma spent the morning in a sleep-deprived caffeine-fuelled haze staring at her laptop screen and constantly checking both her own and Joe's phones to see if either Marcus or Kirsten had called back. The first thing she had tried was to google Kruzel but nothing had come up but endless pages of harmless Americans of Polish descent.

Around mid day the doorbell rang and made her jump out of her skin. She sat frozen in her chair gripping her laptop in a frenzy of indecision hardly daring to breathe. What should she do? Answer it? The last time it had rung she'd answered it and look where that had got her. Then there was a desperate knocking on the door and a voice yelling her name. She ran to it and yanked it open and there was Joe. He had dark shadows under his eyes, a darkening bruise on his cheekbone and he was still wearing the filthy jeans. She saw with horror that his feet were still bare.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I had nowhere else to go."

"Come inside before you freeze to death," she said and asked, "How did you get here?" looking over his shoulder to a thankfully empty street.

"They dropped me off."

"What? Those bastards with the guns?

"Can we just go to bed?" he asked imploringly, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

In the bedroom he immediately stripped off his clothes and collapsed into the bed, curling into a fetal position under the duvet. Emma watched him and something inside her let go as she realised that all she could do was get in with him and hold him until the fear subsided and they both blocked out the world.

She woke hours later, Joe sleeping heavily in her arms, the lights of passing cars sweeping over the ceiling, a distant car alarm wailing. Who was this man curled around her? And how had she got in so deep so quickly? She pressed a kiss on his golden forehead and breathed him in. Here he was a real, very physical presence but she couldn't help feeling that he was about to disappear once again and the lack of control made her head swim.

He stirred against her and opened his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked as if he woke beside her every day.

She squinted at the clock. "Six," she said and realised that time had ceased to move in any normal way.

"In the evening?"

"Yes."

"I have to get up," he said, not moving, his breath caressing her shoulder. "I have to make a phone call."

She stroked his shorn hair and kissed him again. "Joe?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"You have to tell me what's going on."

"I'm either going to have to tell you everything or nothing at all."

"How about everything."

He moved away from her and sat up. "What I should really do is walk out of this house and never come back," he said not looking at her.

She put a hand on his smooth back and felt the warmth radiating from him. Tracing a finger along the tattoo snaking down his spine she said, "Is that what you want to do?"

He turned and fixed her with his green gaze, "God no. If I could, I'd stay right here in your bed, forever," he said and his eyes were filled with such feeling that her breath caught in her throat. "Emma, I came back here to see you but there was another reason. Kruzel made me come here."

"Why?" she asked.

"He wants me to find Marcus, to bring him back to London."

Emma was confused. What did any of this have to do with Marcus?

"He thinks you're Kirsten."

And how on earth did Kruzel know Kirsten?