Stuart MacBride - 45% Hangover

‘Will you shut up and focus? We didn’t do this — Alec Bloody Hadden did.’ Logan reached up with his spare hand and ran his fingers across the back of his skull. Winced as a hundred needles tore through his scalp. There was a lump back there that felt the size of a hardboiled egg, the hair spiky and stiff. Probably dried blood. ‘Ow...’

She scowled at him. ‘Who the hell is Alec Hadden?’

‘He was the scumbag buying you whisky last night.’

The expression on her face didn’t change.

‘The Regents Arms? Remember? You staggered in half-cut and tried to pick a fight with Kurt Murison?’

Steel curled her top lip. ‘Kurt “The Mangler” Murison? God, I must have been drunk.’

‘Had to carry you to the car. Then sodding Alec Hadden battered me over the back of the head.’ And when Logan got his hands on him, he’d repay the favour with a stiff boot in the testicles. Hadden was going to come down with a bad case of resisting arrest. There was a second bump, beside the first. More needles. ‘Ow...’

‘Well stop poking at it then!’ She raised her head from the pillow and grimaced. ‘Look at it: pink! No’ even a nice pink — Barbie pink. Who paints a bedroom Barbie pink? What are they, six?’ A sniff. ‘Where’s my clothes?’

‘How would I know?’ He nodded to himself. ‘Right, we need to get out of here.’

‘ Really ? Gosh, whatever made you think of that? You must be some sort of genius!’

‘Shut up and think. How do we get out of the cuffs?’

‘Don’t look at me. Only time I’ve ever been handcuffed to a bed there’s been spanking and safewords.’

‘Yeah, thanks. That’s a lot of help.’ Logan stared at the end of the bed, where their feet poked out from under the duvet. His right ankle was shackled to the bars, but Steel’s weren’t. ‘Why didn’t he cuff your legs too?’

She pulled her feet in, hiding them. ‘Got a verruca. Maybe he’s squeamish?’

‘That, or you’re too short and your legs don’t reach.’

‘I am no’ short! Perfectly normal size for a Scottish woman.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’ Logan stuck his free leg out of the bed and put his foot on the floor. Pushed. Nothing happened. A second time, harder this time, and the bed frame creaked, then shifted half an inch to the right. Big brass bed with two fully grown adults in it — of course it was going to be a sod to shift. Especially with only one leg.

‘Hoy!’ Steel hit him. ‘Stop shoogling about. Sodding handcuff keeps digging into my wrist.’

Again. Gritting his teeth and shoving.

‘Ow! What did I just tell you?’

He stopped and stared at her. ‘I’m trying to move the bed, that OK with you?’

‘No’ if I end up with a broken wrist, it isn’t.’

‘God’s sake... Fine.’ He took hold of her hand, lacing the fingers together. ‘Happy now? This way it won’t tug at your delicate skin.’ Logan dug his heel in and pushed.

She peered over the edge of the bed. ‘What exactly are you trying to achieve?’

‘If we can get to the wardrobe, there’ll be clothes. That OK with you?’

Another shove. Another half inch. And already the muscle in his thigh was shouting at him. One more shove and it was screaming.

‘Going to take all sodding week at this rate.’ She stared at the window. ‘What time do you think it is?’

‘How should I know...’ A final push and he slumped back, panting, leg dangling. Just going to have to take it in stages. They’d probably moved about as far as a fun-sized Mars Bar.

‘Supposed to be back on shift at five.’

‘Good for you.’ He dug his heel in and pushed again.

‘Someone’s going to notice we’re missing.’

If anything it was getting harder. ‘Come on you wee sod...’ Maybe the rug was bunching up under the bed’s legs?

‘And then they’ll come running. Batter the door down. Barge in here with their...’ She slapped a hand over her eyes. ‘Nooooo. They’ll see me in the nip. In bed. With you .’

‘How? How will they even know where we are? You were half-cut to start with. They’ll think you’re just hungover and copping a sicky.’

‘I am hungover.’

‘And whose fault is that?’

‘Oh shut up.’

‘You shut up.’

Another push. More panting. One more... and cramp tightened like a fist around his calf, twisting the muscle into a burning knot trying to rip its way free of the bone. ‘Aaaaaagh.’

‘Oh for God’s sake. Stop it.’ Steel thumped her other hand against his chest. ‘Not getting anywhere.’

The pain tightened again. He had to force the words out between clenched teeth. ‘Well I don’t see you doing anything.’

She stared at the ceiling. ‘Fine.’ Then a deep breath. ‘Close your eyes. And keep them closed till I tell you. Because if you even think of peeking...’

‘Why would I want to peek? Bad enough imagining it, never mind seeing it for real!’

‘Close your sodding eyes!’

He did, and the duvet shifted as Steel slipped out of the bed. He grabbed hold of his half and held on tight before it slipped and everything was on show.

Her feet made a soft slapping sound as they hit the floor. ‘Stark, bare-arsed naked and handcuffed to a man. Never been so embarrassed in my life .’

Then there was some grunting. Some swearing. And finally the bedframe shifted, moaning in time to Steel’s heaves. Groan. Squeal. Groan. Squeal. Groan—

A clunk from the other side of the room and a man’s voice. ‘What...?’

Logan’s eyes snapped open.

Alec Hadden stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open, a newspaper tucked under one arm and a bottle of water in the other.

‘Aagh!’ Then Steel leapt back into bed, burrowing under the duvet as if her life depended on it. But not quick enough to protect Logan from an eyeful.

He shuddered. Oh God...

Her cold skin slapped against his leg, then she recoiled to the edge of the bed, taking as much of the duvet with her as possible.

Logan held on for grim death.

She let go of his hand.

‘What are you doing?’ Alec stepped into the room. Closed the door behind him.

Steel stuck her head above the covers. ‘WHERE THE HELL ARE MY CLOTHES?’

‘Ah.’ He settled down on the edge of the bed, shoulders drooped, head bowed. ‘They’re in the wash. You were sick, like, everywhere . I mean on the car seat, in the footwell, on yourself, on your friend here. Everywhere.’ A shrug. ‘So I bunged everything in the washing machine.’

‘YOU SAW ME NAKED!’

‘Only for a little bit.’ A sigh. Then he took out the newspaper and held it up. The headline ‘UNION BACK’ sat over a big union jack flag. A shocked Salmond in one corner, a smug looking Cameron in the other. Alec gave another big, theatrical sigh. ‘Forty-five percent “Yes”, fifty-five percent “No”, and they’re calling it a decisive victory. How? How is that decisive? Yeah, it’s a decision , but that’s all it is.’

Steel jabbed a finger in his direction. ‘You just abducted two police officers, sunshine. You think that’s a good idea?’

‘Now they’re talking about backing out of all that Devo-Max stuff they promised. It’s rash. It was unwise. England won’t let Scotland have anything if they don’t get what they want first.’

‘Listen up, chuckles: you’re no’ getting away with this. They’ll already be out there looking for us. How long do you think it’s going to take them to kick in your door, eh?’

‘They lied to the Scottish people. They laid out this bowl full of promises: more power, more influence, more money, and now Westminster wants to take it all back.’