This one went a bit near the knuckle, even the clean version. I just couldn't fully cut the scene though, because it is far too much fun to write competitive Joetina. Anyway, a lot of silliness and fluff in this one, before some serious stuff goes down next chapter.

26

The daydreams of Joey Boswell

Joey lay awake for a while in that night, Martina dozing in his arms, reflecting.

Her revelation had astounded him, and yet, when he looked back, it made sense of a lot of things, knowing she'd loved him all this time – he really should have seen it. Should have looked.

Her devotion, though she'd carefully concealed it, was humbling. Joey was overwhelmed with appreciation for her, though he didn't think whatever mortal level of appreciation he could conjure with his actions could ever do justice to how he felt, nor could he ever do enough to be deserving of her. To find that the woman he had just realised he was in love with not only reciprocated those affections, but had loved him with a devotion most men would kill for, was staggering.

He cradled her closer, pressing his face to the top of her head.

'Shame you never said, sunshine,' Joey murmured into her hair, still pondering. 'We could have had years and years, you and me.'

He traced his fingers over Martina's shoulders as he considered – toyed with possibilities of what might have happened if Martina had admitted something to him. All that time he'd never let himself truly pursue anyone else, even though he remembered vividly a time, when he'd thought Roxy was gone for good, when Martina had caught his eye. He wished he'd acted on that, wished he'd realised the true implications of I'm out to get you, Mister Boswell, wished he'd taken some steps towards being out to get her as well – if he could have redone the past five or so years… then what? Could she have been sitting around the table with him? Standing beside him as his person when they belted out a Happy Birthday at Grandad's door, or went abroad, or when they all traipsed up to Lord and Lady Bowford's country manor house and made their position on hunting clear?

No, Joey thought, his mind wandering through the past. Every time Roxy had put in an appearance, his heart had lunged at its leash to get to her. The only way he could ever have been cured of that, he realised, was to go through what he had. To free himself of the delusion that Roxy would one day settle down, give up the mind games and the threats and accept his love for his family, and that they would live out their days in a cloud of contentedness. It had taken the searing, ripping, crushing, grinding agony of being abandoned in Scotland to make him realise that Roxy was never going to change. That she would keep on stringing him along, that even marriage wouldn't change that, had they even got that far. Without that revelation, Joey would have followed her with his tongue hanging out forever.

And, though it was still a gravelly sting in his chest even now, Joey was astonished to find himself grateful for that heartbreak. Without it, the woman in his arms would have remained a stranger, someone to flirt with and tease and occasionally resent for belittling his family, and he would never have experienced the depth of that unwavering love of hers. And though he had wasted those years without her, he'd found his way to her now.

'Better late than never, eh?' Joey whispered, reaching up to brush a wave of hair from her neck.

'What yer say?' Martina slurred sleepily. She raised her head a little, squinting at him.

'Nothing, sweetheart,' Joey held her tighter, shifting her against him and kissing her forehead, feeling her relax and soften in his arms again. 'Nothing.'

She slept soundly after that, though Joey's mind raced.

Unlike his typical sleepless nights, which were usually born of paranoia about the family, a sense of foreboding about the future or a sense of despair about the past, tonight was different. His insomnia was born of a giddy, almost delirious sense of happiness, his brain running off ahead of him playing with fantasies of the rest of their lives.

It was wonderful, having her—surpassing everything he'd felt in the past. What surprised Joey the most, he mused, was how vastly different being in love could be, depending on the person you were with. With Roxy, the feeling was wild, fiery and torrid, the passion always bubbling near the surface but fraught with danger – rather like going for a romantic sail in a turbulent ocean full of piranhas. With Martina, in spite of their playful enmity, it was vastly calmer, gentler. The passion was there, thrumming in and among and between their words and actions, but it didn't threaten to consume or destroy him, and Joey got a comfortable sense he'd never experienced before – of certainty, of this being where he was meant to be.

'Is this real love, d'you reckon?' he murmured, though she wouldn't hear him. 'I don't know what that is, but…who knows, eh?'

It was too early to tell, he supposed, but either way, he was more contented than he had been in years.

Joey settled down to sleep, feeling the weight of her against him and the flutter of her hair against his shoulder as he drifted off, sinking down into a dream that, for once, contained no pain, but hope.

Martina woke to find herself still in Joey's arms, his chest warm against her back, remnants of last night's bliss still floating around her mind.

This was far more like it. It was what their first encounter should have been, had they not had Joey's past pain and both their desperation and uncertainty to try and work through. Last night had been wonderful, something out of one of her fantasies of old, Joey powerfully passionate and yet simultaneously gentle and loving. Recollecting the night's events sent a warm shiver through her body and carved a smile on her face; waking up this morning and feeling his slumbering body against hers, his arm tucked around her waist and cradling her against him, just capped off a perfect evening.

Martina stretched contentedly, nestling backwards into him as he began to stir. His arm tightened around her, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

'I love you,' the whisper was so faint she might have imagined it, had she not felt it against her skin. A thrill coursed through her body, a delightful little flutter she wanted to preserve as long as possible – but even so, she had a reputation to maintain, and naturally, sending a few notes of her stern Social Security voice his way only seemed appropriate.

'Er, I'm afraid I didn't catch that, Mister Boswell. Could you say it again, please?'

'Didn't catch it, eh?' Joey was awake and alert in such a flash Martina barely had time to blink. With an agility astounding for someone who'd woken up not one minute ago, he'd grabbed her, flipping her against the pillows so suddenly that Martina hadn't even registered it until she felt the thump of the mattress against her back. Joey leaned over her, a triumphant, almost predatory satisfaction playing about his mouth.

'I'll just have to rectify that won't I?'

His lips touched hers briefly, tantalisingly lightly.

'I love you, little DSS lady,' he announced with relish.

'You're enjoying sayin' that, aren't you? Or are you just enjoying the sound of your own voice?'

Joey pretended to consider.

'Oh, a little from Column A, a little from Column B…'

'I suppose I'll 'ave to get used to that,' Martina teased. 'A life of the three of us – you, me and your incorrigible gob.'

'You make comments about my gob, sweetheart,' it curved into a cheeky smile, 'and I'll just have to employ its powers to silence you.' He was kissing her now, pouring such a wonderful cacophony of tenderness and aggressive desire into it that she quite forgot what she had intended to say in response.

'I've got work, you know,' Martina gasped when they came up for air.

'Not today you haven't,' Joey still had her pinned; she couldn't have sprung up and started getting ready for work even if she'd really wanted to. 'I'm gonna teach you one of life's important skills today.'

Martina raised an eyebrow.

'Oh, yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'The life that involves being devious, you mean?'

'No, it's called the real world, and it begins outside the workforce, out there where people have to find other means of survival.'

'Let me get this straight,' Martina wriggled beneath him, wresting her arms free enough to prop herself up on her elbows. 'You want me to skive off work today…'

'Well, if you say it like that it sounds dodgy, doesn't it?'

'So you can show me all the chicanery and sneaky little deals you get up to now you think I'm no longer a threat?'

Joey had hesitated – and she was enjoying making him falter. Her words had caused him to lose his upper hand a little.

'Because believe me, Mister Boswell,' she could feel an almost vampirish grin come to her face, 'you would be very much mistaken in that assumption.'

'No,' Joey rallied disappointingly quickly. 'that wasn't what I intended at all. Don't get any ideas in your pretty little head about me showin' you what I do to keep me strugglin' family in basic necessities. But one of the principles of the self-employed is worth teachin' to you.'

'Which is?' Martina pulled herself up higher, so her head was level with his. She wasn't sure how well she was pulling off her stare, given he was clearly holding onto a snicker, but oh, well. She'd do what she could.

'That when you work for yourself, sweetheart,' he was easing her back down now, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, 'there's no clockin' on and clockin' off. You can dictate your own hours. And if you wanted to, say, spend all day in bed and then go and collect your pennies later, you would be perfectly at liberty to do so.'

'The flaw in your little plan, Joey, is that I do in fact have to clock on at nine, and –' Joey's finger had descended on her mouth now.

'Which, as I explained, is why you'll be skivin' today.'

It was a bit difficult to argue – if she'd even wanted to – when he'd replaced his finger with his lips again, his hands were sliding down her body and in the course of this conversation she'd become incredibly, unbelievably aroused.

'And if I go along with this,' she reached up to caress his face, 'this devious little idea of yours, you'd better make it worth my while.'

'Guaranteed,' Joey grinned. 'That a yes, then?'

Tempted as she was to let this lead to its logical conclusion, the practicalities still had to be dealt with first. Martina pushed against him, struggling to sit up again.

'I'll have to phone them, you know. I can't just not turn up to work – there are procedures we have to follow.'

Joey tutted, smirked, shook his head, but he sprang up again, and Martina heard him fumbling around with the clothes on the floor.

'I do realise,' she teased, 'you're a stranger to such things, thinking it's acceptable to…oh, say, ignore your allocated time to sign on and prance off to Scotland for two weeks, but most of us can follow basic protocols.'

'Oh, that does it,' Joey re-emerged at the foot of her bed, his mobile in his hand and an impish grin on his face. 'I was going out of me way to make things convenient for you, but for that remark, sweetheart, you're gonna pay.'

'Oh, you think, do you?' she said as he climbed back in next to her. 'I must say, I have to wonder how you're gonna achieve that, Joey.'

He held out his mobile to her.

'Ring them.'

Martina shrugged, taking it from him and beginning to punch in the number. She was halfway through dialling when she felt Joey's lips at her neck, his arms around her from behind, stroking and caressing her, and she realised exactly how he planned to make her pay.

'Oh, I hate you,' she growled.

Joey's chuckle in response was muffled by the skin of her neck. His hand found her hip.

'It's inappropriate, Joey!' she shoved her elbow backwards, doing her best to thump him.

'They don't know what you're doin', do they? They can't see you down the phone.'

'I think they'd be able to work it out.'

'Why?' that challenging tone of voice was trouble if ever she'd heard it. 'Think you couldn't pull it off?'

That gave her pause. Maybe they were just as bad as each other, she thought to herself, and maybe he was right that she couldn't leave well alone when he teased her, but a remark like that couldn't be allowed to stand.

'What makes you think I couldn't?'

'Your lack of confidence, that's what. Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Put your money where your mouth is.'

Martina rolled her eyes and dialled the last two digits, Joey resuming planting kisses down the side of her neck.

Oh, when she got through this she was going to kill him.

There was a strangely guilty pleasure in making breakfast at half past eleven, wearing Joey Boswell's shirt, Joey Boswell's arms round her from behind, the man himself wearing her robe. It was another scene straight out of one of her guilty fantasies from a few years ago – well, apart from the part where she was trying to dish out porridge in peace and Joey was sniggering at her crockery.

'Little pink bowls!'

There was a loving note in his voice, it was true, but there was a hint of taunt and a far too cheeky smirk as he scrutinised the portion she'd just given him.

'Stop it,' Martina snatched the bowl from him. 'When you've got your own flat, Mister Boswell, you can furnish it with whatever coloured items you like.'

'Point taken,' Joey held out his hands. 'Could you return my breakfast, please?'

'Are you gonna mock the bowl you're given it in?'

Joey's eyes drifted upwards, avoiding hers.

'Well?' Martina pushed.

'All right, sweetheart, I concede,' he held his hands out again. 'My starvation is overwhelming me wit at present.'

'Starvation?!' Martina snorted, but she handed the bowl back to him anyway. 'You can't play that one, love. That food cupboard in your family's house is overstocked.'

'Well, Mam usually makes sure we eat before nine…'

Martina laughed in disbelief. 'And what happened to dictatin' your own hours? All this rubbish that pours forth from your gob, Joey…you just make it up as you go along, don't yer? You've no more got a free schedule than I 'ave.'

The kettle's whistle did a good job of drowning out whatever protest he came up with. If only she could somehow boil it at work – it was surprisingly effective. Martina reached into the cupboard for a pair of mugs, cringing when she realised all she had clean were two dark pink ones.

Cheeks flushing in mild mortification, she held Joey's out to him, already anticipating his ringing laugh.

'One comment about the colour of your mug, Mister Boswell, and I'll ensure certain parts of your anatomy match it.'

Still laughing, Joey got up from the table and wound his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace Martina couldn't decide whether to savour or be annoyed about. The former was winning out; it was wonderful beyond words to find herself nestled up against his chest, an affectionate hand in her hair, a physical manifestation of a love for her she'd given up hope would ever exist.

'You little softie, you,' Joey's hand rubbed up and down her back.

'Eh – watch who you're callin' soft,' it came out more of a purr than a growl, but it was difficult to be threatening when his caresses were bringing back that sense of giddy, fluttery joy again. 'Don't forget, you're still in trouble from earlier.'

'What for?' his face suggested he knew exactly what for, though.

'Cast your mind back to when I was on the phone with my superiors.'

'Come off it. That was great fun.'

'Yeah, a laugh a minute,' Martina deadpanned.

'You got away with it, didn't you?'

'No thanks to you,' she glared, though she could feel her resolve to pretend she was cross slipping. 'I ought to thrash yer for that.'

'Or you could forgive me,' Joey had a face on him like a naughty child, and Martina found it harder than ever to keep her face straight.

'And why should I?'

'Make it worth your while.'

'You've used that one already today,' Martina smirked. 'Running short of material, are you?'

'And who said it wouldn't be new material? I possess an extensive repertoire of skills.' Joey looked absolutely roguish, and the DSS lady knew she wasn't coming out of this conversation with the upper hand. Nor, come to think of it, did really she want to. May as well throw down her arms now, given the outcome would be the same either way.

'Sod it,' she muttered, grabbing him by his robe and pulling him back to her, dragging him in for the most ferocious kiss she could muster. Joey kissed her back enthusiastically, clearly heartened by their exchange – and presumably his victory. The kitchen bench was starting to dig into her back, but she didn't much care; this was all far too good, long overdue gratification of every one of her old fantasies about him.

'But afterwards,' she pulled back, trying to fix him with whatever semblance of a stern gaze she had left, 'we are gonna have to sit down and go over some ground rules. There is a line, Joey Boswell, between what goes on between us at home and what I am willing to let carry over into the DSS, and we are going to discuss where that line is drawn.'

Joey flinched, his eyes suddenly pained.

'You mean not tellin' them about it.'

Poor little sod; his insecurities had rampaged all over him when he'd asked her to meet his family, and she could see them emerging now. If she ever met Roxy Hartwell, Martina resolved, she'd have a bone to pick about the state she'd left Joey's self esteem in. It hadn't occurred to her what they were going to do, with regards to the DSS knowing about them – she hadn't thought that far ahead, doubted it mattered much, other than a possible conflict of interest around her being the one to assess his claims and handle his file. It clearly mattered to Joey, though.

She laid a hand against the side of his face, keeping his eyes locked with hers.

'No, we will,' she said, putting their playful battle aside for a moment, making sure he could hear the gentleness in her voice, 'we will. I promise you, sweetheart. That's not what I meant.'

Joey wasn't usually a sweetheart in her eyes, he was a you little bastard most of the time, a Mister Boswell when she felt like annoying him (and when she was feeling generous, Joey). When he stood before her so shy and vulnerable, though, the pet name tended to roll off her tongue automatically.

Something in Joey settled; she saw the flicker of pain fade from his eyes as he calmed.

'But,' she said, feeling confident he could handle her ribbing once more, 'deliberately being devious with regard to the DSS – and trying to recruit me as a participant in said deviancy – is off limits from now on. Understood?'

Joey didn't verbally respond, but his kiss, eager and grateful and concessive all at once, was answer enough.

'Well, look who it is, Yizzel. One half of our favourite pair of launderers.'

'Launderers. Yeah.'

Joey swallowed. He'd been ready to do this for a while, had planned it out, worked up the nerve, dragged himself down to their current lair (the same place where they'd once tied up his Adrian and his Uncle Eddie; they tended to recycle their hideouts), but coming face to face with Yizzel and his mate to tell them it was over still made his nerves and adrenaline spike.

He tried not to let it show. It hadn't been Joey's intention to come alone, but Evan's youngest kid had come down with croup, and he'd been at his wits' end when Joey had rung to remind him of their plan. Still, even with no backup, it had to be done. Joey had made enough money from his cut to be shot of the whole endeavour; he'd made some good contacts in the process that rendered Yizzel and his mate unnecessary for future work; he and Evan wanted to get on with their lives and start piecing together their new business. And the sooner they cut ties with these two bastards the better. That was notwithstanding the fact that he had Martina to think of now; she was his future, he hoped, and he wanted to be doing something she could respect.

'What can we do you for?'

'Gentlemen,' Joey nodded amiably, 'I came here today to resign, on behalf of Evan and myself.'

Yizzel's mate's head slowly inclined. 'You what?'

'Unless you've got cloth ears, I assume you heard me.' Strengthened now he'd actually come out with it, Joey drew himself up to his full height. 'We've put through the amount you asked, over the time period you specified. Our work with you is over, and our agreement must therefore come to an end. That's your lot.'

Yizzel's mate was gawping as much as Yizzel himself usually did.

'Pleasure doing business with you these past few months.' Joey gave another curt nod and started for the door. And God, if that didn't feel like a weight lifted.

'Just you hang on a minute! No-one resigns from us, Joey!'

'No-one resigns.'

'Up til now,' Joey said. 'But all good things must come to an end, mustn't they?'

'You wanna watch it, Joey,' Yizzel's mate said. 'If you don't play nice with us, we mightn't see our way to playing nice with you.'

Joey laughed at that. 'You've got nothing on either of us! While we, on the other hand, have plenty now on you, having seen what you've been doin' to make all that money. Do you really wanna play that card?'

He had them there and he knew it.

'Mark my words, Joey Boswell, we'll get something on yer! Nobody fleeces us and gets away with it!'

'Since when was upholding the terms of an agreement fleecing? Good day, gentlemen.' Joey swung the door open, stepped out into the light. It was done. They were out. The sun seemed to shine brighter. He knew Yizzel's mate was still fuming behind him, but no matter – there was nothing they could do about it.

'You'll regret this, mate!'

Joey kept walking, shaking his head as Yizzel's contribution of yeah, regret, echoed through the empty street behind him.