by Leah Ashton
“But they might get him off from kidnapping charges?”
He shrugged. “I hope not,” he said which didn’t really answer her question. “But there are others tangled up in the drug shipment – many others. This is a way to shut down the biggest importers of Ice into Western Australia, Beth.”
She nodded, because what he said made sense, but she still didn’t like it. Not at all.
“He’ll kill you, and me,” she said softly. She looked down at her hands. She’d showered, and now wore borrowed clothing, but her wrists wore the evidence of her kidnapping, with subtle red marks still on her skin from the cable ties.
“Not me,” Damon said.
Beth’s eyes shot up. “Why not?”
“I’m already dead,” he said, still looking at her like the Damon from the desert. “Or at least, Todd Frawley is. The media is going to announce my death along with the other Notechi deaths – Todd was shot just prior to the rescue, and he later died from his injuries. Knife and the Notechi will have no reason not to believe that, as he still doesn’t know I’m a police officer.”
“That’s smart,” she said. “But what about me? Faking my death is impossible.”
“I agree,” Detective Potts said tightly, seemingly intent on wresting control back of this discussion. “So instead, you will be put into witness protection until the completion of the drug operation, and up until after you testify in court in relation to the kidnapping charges.”
“Pardon me?”
“Please understand, Ms Banfield,” Detective Anand said gently. “This is an extremely sensitive situation. I imagine this is somewhat of a shock—”
Beth shoved back her chair, and it squealed on the linoleum floor. She stood and marched away from all of them, hugging herself as she stared at the blank, beige-painted wall.
“Being kidnapped is a shock,” Beth said softly. “Attempted rape is a shock. This – this – is unacceptable. I have Year 11 calculus to teach at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, Detectives. I have a life. I just went out on Friday night because I was jealous of my damn ex. I didn’t sign up for this, not for any of this.”
She realised she was crying when a tear ran from her cheek and plopped onto her pair of cheap pharmacy-issue thongs. She stared down at her feet – her blistered feet with toenails still painted a vivid, shiny – chipped – pink.
A door clicked shut, but she didn’t move.
“Beth …”
It was Damon, standing close behind her. She knew without looking that they were alone. That he would’ve told the detectives to leave.
She spun around to face him. “This is crap, Damon.”
“I know. It’s fucked.”
His description was better.
“I’m sorry, Beth. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
She met his gaze. “Of course I do. You’ve been destroying yourself over everything that’s happened, I know that. But I don’t blame you, Damon. I blame the Notechi. That’s it. Not you.”
He looked like he was going to argue with her, but she shook her head slightly. His lack of culpability in her eyes was not up for discussion. However, her immediate future was. “How long will I be in witness protection?”
“It’s hard to say,” he said. “Probably at least six months. Maybe twelve.”
Beth’s knees wobbled, and she needed to step back and lean against the wall.
“A year,” she whispered.
A year without her career, her friends, her family. And another year older and further from her dream of having her own family. A dream, she was realising – and maybe had already realised when Trent had called her on Friday night – might never happen.
Time was running out, and the Notechi had just stolen a year of her life.
“No,” she said, but with no force behind it.
For what were her other options? Of course she couldn’t go to work tomorrow. She couldn’t go home – for all she knew the Notechi had already ransacked her place. She wouldn’t be safe for a minute until Knife was behind bars.
“What happens now?” she said.
“You can see your family briefly, they’re waiting for you, but you can’t tell them anything. It won’t be safe for you to see them, or speak to them while you’re under witness protection.”
She was crying again, and she didn’t bother to swipe the tears away.
“You’ll be taken to a safe house temporarily while we sort out your new identity. If you want to, you’ll be able to work. Witness Protection will do their best to place you at a high school. You’ll be able to still have a life, you just can’t be in Perth.”
“Or use my own name.”
“No,” he said.
She stared at him. She could see the regret in his gaze, and the guilt. “What about you?” she asked. “What happens to you now?”
“They’re giving me today off,” he said, not looking overly pleased about it. “Then tomorrow, I’ll probably get a haircut, then go to work ready for my next assignment.”
“A haircut?” she asked, grabbing onto the least consequential thing she’d been told in the past five minutes. She reached up and ran her fingers through his shaggy hair. “Did you grow it for the Notechi assignment?”
He was perfectly still as she combed his hair with her fingers. “Yes,” he said. “I usually keep my hair very short.”
“Was your hair long when you were a teenager?” she asked. “I can’t remember.”
“Yes,” he said, holding her gaze. “It was.”
“And you’re not that boy any more,” she said, finishing his sentence.
He shook his head, dislodging her hand.
“Haven’t we been over this?” he said. “How can you possibly pretend you don’t know what I told you? What I did? Who I am?”
But he didn’t move away from her. He didn’t move at all.
“I’m not pretending anything, Damon.”
He just kept looking at her, exploring her face, her gaze – as if searching for something. Evidence that she had as low an opinion of himself as he did.
He’d never find it.
“So, you just cut your hair and go back to your normal life, then?” she said.
“I know it’s not fair, Beth, but I have to.”
She twisted her fingers together. “So I won’t see you after you leave this room?”
His gaze was direct and dark – just as it’d been in that SUV when he’d told her they were over. “That’s correct,” he said, in what she imagined was his policeman voice. A professional, distanced tone. “You won’t see me ever again.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said firmly.
“Beth,” he said. “We both know this would never work between us.”
“I agree,” she said, and his forehead creased in question. “I’m not talking about you taking me on a date, Damon,” she said. “I’m talking about you not abandoning me to a group of strangers, to whisk me away to a new life that I didn’t sign up for, without a backward glance. That’s not okay.”
“Beth,” he said, “I’m so sorry—”
“No,” she said. “I don’t want your fucking apologies, Damon!”
His eyes widened as she swore, but the word felt totally appropriate. Fucking appropriate.
“I want you to come with me to this safe house, and I want you to stay the night with me. Because I’m fucking terrified, Damon, and I’m handing my life over to a bunch of cops I don’t know. Give me one night before you go back to your own life, one night more where you keep me safe. Please.” She took a deep breath, knowing what to say to make it impossible for him to say no. “After all that’s happened, it’s the least you can do.”
There was so much she could read in his expression – frustration and guilt mostly – but also, also heat.
Even now, he wanted her. He wanted another night with her, as badly as she did.
And his guilt was going to override whatever his misplaced reasoning was for abandoning her.
&n
bsp; It’s over he’d told her only hours ago.
But now, he nodded.
It’s not over yet.
Chapter Fourteen
Damon made sure he maintained a professional distance from Beth during the drive to the safe house.
The safe house was maybe an hour south of Perth, on the edges of Pinjarra, a little town sitting on the banks of the Murray River. The house itself was nondescript, built maybe forty years ago, with pale beige bricks, a red roof, and a bunch of straggly roses growing near the front steps. The close-cropped lawn was tinged yellow by the heat of summer, and the street itself was neat and tidy with the air of being occupied by house-proud retirees.
The house had a brick double garage attached to it, and the unmarked police sedan parked there so that Damon and Beth could enter the house without being seen from the street. On the drive there, the officers from Witness Protection had explained how the house was protected – mainly from a state-of-the-art alarm system with monitored cameras filming every inch of the land surrounding the house and every possible entry point.
No one is getting near this house without us knowing, they had promised Beth. The house is under surveillance twenty-four seven.
But even so, Beth had sat tense in the back seat of the car beside him, barely saying a word.
Usually, an officer or two would’ve been staying in the house with Beth, but for tonight, it would just be him.
Eyebrows had been raised, but Beth had insisted.
I’m the one giving up my life for some police operation, and I don’t want anyone but Damon with me tonight. It’s the least you can do.
It’s the least you can do. And those words had been just as effective with Witness Protection as they’d been with him. She was totally innocent, and her life had been turned upside down through no fault of her own.
No, the fault had been all his.
An officer from Witness Protection gave them a tour of the house, including the fully stocked fridge and freezer, and the mobile phones they’d each been provided with. Damon had been briefed on his duties, but when it came down to it – the protection officers who stayed in the safe houses didn’t have to do much other than assist the witness and respond to any threat, as unlikely as that was out here.
He could definitely do that.
Soon, they were alone. The cameras were monitored from a van nearby, but other than the occasional check-in via phone, he and Beth wouldn’t be disturbed.
Beth dumped the bag of clothes she’d been given into the main bedroom and then headed for the kitchen. He followed her, unzipping his overalls as he walked so that the heavy fabric hung down from his waist, revealing the grey T-shirt he wore beneath and making him instantly cooler. He hadn’t thought to pack a change of clothes, so he didn’t have a pair of shorts or anything to change into.
He watched as Beth searched through the fridge, yanking out jars and packets as she went.
“Aren’t you starving?” she asked.
He was, actually. It was still light, but nearly 7:00 p.m., and neither of them had eaten since E-SWAT had provided them both with lunch.
“What do you feel like?” she asked, looking at him.
She stood on one side of the kitchen counter – it was the original kitchen, with a beige laminate bench top and faux wood veneer cupboards. She’d laid out some meal options – frozen pizza, ravioli and a jar of pasta sauce, fish fingers, and a bag of salad greens.
“Just choose what you want,” he said. He stood on the other side of the counter but a few steps away, deliberately keeping his distance.
“No,” she said, “I’d like to know which of these delectable options we’ve been provided with that you would prefer.”
“Pizza,” he said, just to say something.
She pulled a face. “I wanted the ravioli.”
“Then we’ll have that,” he said.
“Nope. Let’s go crazy and have both.”
She smiled at him, a big smile that made her blue eyes sparkle.
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he skirted around the counter and turned on the elderly oven, then ripped open the pizza box. Beth stood still for a moment, as if she was going to say something, but eventually she moved, found a saucepan, and set the pot on the cooktop to boil.
They sat down together to eat.
The dining room had heavy burgundy curtains that were pulled shut, and the space felt strangely formal, with the dining table an inexplicably elegant antique thing, with high-backed chairs and a tacky chandelier with half its globes blown hanging above it.
“Are we really going to be weird all night?” Beth asked him before she’d even taken a mouthful of her pasta.
He made a point of taking a bite of his pizza and chewed slowly, trying to work on what on earth to say.
“I think it’s for the best,” he said. “What’s the point of—”
“Of what?” she interrupted. “Pretending you don’t want me and I don’t want you?”
“Pardon me?” he said, which was dumb – he’d heard what she’d said. He knew it was true.
She glared at him. “What’s the point of pretending you didn’t tell me all that stuff about yourself? That I know more about you than anyone else?”
He almost choked on his pizza. “How do you know that?” he said.
“Am I wrong?” she asked simply.
He couldn’t lie to her. “No.”
She nodded sharply. “What’s the point of us pretending that what happened over the past few days didn’t change us?” Her gaze had softened now, her lovely eyes full of emotion. “What’s the point of pretending it didn’t mean something?” She paused. “You were right when you called me out for overthinking my attraction to you out in the desert, and the way I tried to pretend it didn’t exist. So please don’t pretend now, Damon. Don’t pretend the last few days didn’t change you too. That it didn’t take who we each thought we were and whittled us down to who we really are, deep inside.”
He finished his slice of pizza, not tasting it at all.
“You saw me, Damon,” she said. “You saw me. A version of me I didn’t know existed. A strong, resilient me who knows I deserve more than I’ve been settling for my whole life. You know, I actually believed what you told me. I believed it when you told me I was magnificent – I believed it. And yet, you say something like that and you can walk away. Decide that it’s over.”
“But, you don’t really want me, Beth—”
“No,” she said, and he realised she was gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white. “Don’t you dare decide what I want, Damon. Don’t you get it? Before you, I settled for nice, for comfortable, for attainable. That was my life, my marriage. I’m not doing that again. I’m not settling again. I know what I want now.”
“You can’t want me,” he said. “Why would you want me?”
After he’d told her everything?
But he shook her head when she opened her mouth to speak.
“I can’t give you what you want, Beth,” he said, and fuck, it hurt to say those words. Why? When he knew that they were true? “I can’t give you the life or the family you deserve.”
“I know,” she said, and her gaze was full of need, and want, and desire. “I know. But we almost died, Damon.” She swallowed. “Remember back at the homestead? How you wanted to kiss me just one more time, but I turned away? I regretted that immediately, as I sat in the sun waiting for you to maybe never return. And I regret it now, despite all the kisses since. Because it was the wrong decision, Damon. It was stupid. And acting like you don’t give a damn about me tonight is the wrong decision too.”
“Beth,” he said, and closed his eyes. She was right, he knew. He was being stubborn and weird because he’d already decided what they had was over. And he kept telling himself that, again and again. “I want this to be over,” he said, slowly and carefully. “I need this to be over.”
“But it’s not,” she said. “Not yet. Not tonight.”<
br />
“No,” he conceded. “It’s not.” He opened his eyes. “But tomorrow, it has to be. This is too hard, Beth, I …”
He didn’t even know what he was saying, or how he was feeling, or what he was revealing to Beth. But it didn’t really matter, did it?
He stood up, and so did she. Then a moment later, he was beside her and then she was in his arms.
And she felt so good. So right. She fit perfectly against him, and the way she slid her fingers into his hair was achingly familiar. He bent and kissed her, kissed her long, and slow, and thoroughly, but when he would have slid his hands lower to cup her arse, she pulled away.
She smiled. “Just let me eat some dinner first,” she said. “I’m starving.”
First, he laughed, but then he took his seat across for her again, and this time they ate dinner talking and smiling.
And touching. He reached for her hand across the table, and Beth kicked off her thongs to slide her bare feet up his overall-clad calf.
It was intimate, comfortable, perfect.
Just for tonight.
“The bedrooms don’t have cameras, do they?” Beth asked, as Damon led her to the master suite.
“No,” he said, “witnesses deserve their privacy, too.”
Witnesses.
Eating dinner with Damon had felt so normal, so easy that she’d almost forgotten the mess her life now was. If she let herself think too much about what awaited her tomorrow – no more Damon, no more life as she knew it – she thought she’d burst into tears. So, she did what she knew was the best way to temporarily forget such things: she reached for Damon.
“This is kind of like a onesie, isn’t it?” she asked, as she curled her fingers around the edge of his folded down overalls, sliding her hands around his waist as she tried to work out where the zip was.
“It is nothing like a onesie,” Damon said in mock reproof. “It is an honour to wear Elite SWAT overalls, I’ll have you know.”