With a sigh, Murphy carries on. “He can drive himself and Ms. Winterbourne up the Kendal way with one of the escorts. We’ll go back down and round to follow the lake.”
“And the guys?” Christopher sounds anything but sold on this idea. I feel his worry seep through me.
“They’ll meet up at the Kendal crossroads with their escorts and drive across to the estate.” Standing back from the door, Murphy waits to see what Christopher proceeds to do with his advice. “That way if we need to take different measures to lose the stragglers, they’re all together. We’re in no way outnumbered.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I can make out Freddie taking care of Fleur. She looks rough as hell. Her hair is sticking to her face despite the bitter cold. The way in which he’s standing helplessly watching her gather herself makes my heart ache.
He’s got that torn look in his eyes where he’s debating whether or not to get closer. To do more. Fighting himself not to care more than he thinks he should.
Thing is, though, in spite of his rough and taunting exterior, there’s a tragically broken heart that’s desperate to save itself. So weary of being lost—just like his missing girl.
Christopher gets out of the car. I follow suit, still taking in the scene playing out in front of me.
Handing Fleur a fresh bottle of water, Freddie picks her up and sits her back in the Range. Brushing his hair back, he walks to the front of the car, his boots kicking up flurries of ice as he toe-punts the wheel with gritted teeth. Pushing the sleeves of his black sweatshirt to his elbows, he shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it.
He’s having a meltdown, and although I know he hates people getting into his business, I have to give him some support. He’s good at hiding his hurt and the root of his demons, but once you know, it’s easy to see his struggle.
“Fleur looks like she could do without all the winding. Why don’t you take her with you? I can go with Freddie.”
“Absolutely not.” There’s no room for argument in Christopher’s sharp reply. The matter-of-fact tone pisses me off as it takes my choice away. I know I could fight him on it and go against his order, but the truth is that I’m too fucking tired to argue. We’ve done enough of it, and not only do I not have it in me to carry on, but I also want to make something easy for him.
Life has been hard enough. It’s been cruel and barbaric.
Christopher rounds the car and takes my hand, pulling me toward the Black Defender blocking the Merc behind Murphy’s Range. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Besides, we have no idea what those cunts want. If they come near you…I’ll kill them all. I want that pleasure all to myself.”
“Christopher…”
“You’re mine,” he states with unrefined, brutish intensity as he pulls me to his side and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “To love and protect. To live and die for. To save and to kill for. I’m not letting you walk away from me again.”
I swallow the air climbing up my throat, the breathy groan that vibrates up my chest.
Fuck, I shouldn’t be thinking it, but I’m burning and yearning for all that severity and fierceness to be exercised on me. I want to feel the fervour of the need steeling him coursing through me.
My mind gets lost in thoughts and memories of the way he used my body to ground himself. The way his rough, unforgiving touches brought me a pleasure so deep and wild that the mere thought is enough to bring the bite of his rough caresses back to life. My thighs rub together at the picture of his marks on my tender flesh. Always my thighs.
I don’t know what it is about that part of my body, but a simple touch is enough to make me fall to my knees and beg for more. He knows it too.
“I can fucking hear you,” he growls, squeezing me so tight to his body that it feels like mine might merge with his. “Get in the car.”
Checking Freddie is okay, I follow his instruction. It would probably be better if he had some alone time to settle his thoughts. I know Freddie well enough to know that when he gets into one of his slumps, he likes to be left to his own devices.
“What are you doing?” Christopher opens my car door again. He told me to get in, so I did. I got in the driver’s seat. “Are you purposefully trying to get a rise out of me?”
When I don’t reply because I’m still trying to dampen the heat between my thighs, he says, “Move over.”
The leather still smells fresh and new as Christopher stands on the foot sill, his arms pushing under me with a shove, and as he climbs into the car, he lifts me over the centre console, depositing me in the passenger seat.
Freddie gets into his Merc and without delay backs out of the huddle of armoured vehicles before speeding off.
“He found another lead.” Christopher sighs, his hand stroking the supple perforated leather of the steering wheel before following Murphy’s quick U-turn. “He thinks she’s somewhere in Eastern Europe. He can’t pinpoint.”
“We’ve been here before.”
“I know.”
“What do you think?” I ask, settling into the warm leather. The heated seat moulds to my body as I sink into its buttery softness.
“Freddie is a law unto himself. What I think doesn’t matter. He doesn’t listen to anybody once he gets an idea in his head.”
“He listens to your mum.” Pulling my phone from the pocket at the front of my hoodie, I check it. There’s nothing though. “Penny can always get through to him. It’s been so long, do you really believe she’s still alive?”
“For his sake, I hope not. For her sake, I hope it was over quickly, that her body gave out before they had a chance to—”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. We all know what happens to pretty young girls that get taken the way Freddie’s girl did. Snatched outside her own house. Her parents left with nothing but a lost necklace on their doorstep.
Red hair, green-kelp eyes, and milky porcelain skin…it’s a delicacy to some.
“Christopher?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Lucy’s gone. Finding her…if she’s alive, he’ll tear this world to shreds. You think he’s bad now? If he finds her hurt and damaged, broken beyond repair, there will be nothing we can do contain him.” Shaking his head, his hand finds my knee, caressing softly. “What good would that be?”
It would be chaos.
We continue in silence, the radio hushed in the background, so low that the lyrics are lost to the music itself. It’s all a murmur of beats and rhythm. A whisper of life outside our world.
Chapter 31
Christopher
The snow-fogged grounds are still. Robbins and Bramblings break the eerie quiet with their song as the rising sun pierces through the clouds. They’re so thick they look like ghostly smog weaving through the rusty treeline that slowly ebbs into tall verdant pines on the other side of the lake.
A chill bursts from the inside out, my body remembering the feeling of death beneath those waters. So calm and sparkling on the surface.
How deceiving.
Getting out of the Defender, I look up at the square turrets and chimney-lined pitched roofs. Coming here as child was an adventure waiting to happen. Grandad would chase us around endless halls and corridors. Playing Marco Polo in all the nooks and crannies as it rained torrentially outside. The glass panes barely managing to withstand the beating from the downpour.
I can still hear his laughter as he walked into the room Cassie and I were hiding in. He’d spot her almost instantly, but still, he would ignore her stray foot or errant hand as he called out, “Marco!”
Cassie would quickly giggle, “Polo, Grandad!”
She was diabolical at the game. She hid in the same place every time. Thinking about it now, I bet she did it on purpose. I recall her screeches as he tickled her blue. And as much as the memory tears at me, it makes me chuckle.
“Fuck, I miss you,” I murmur, looking up to the sky above the turret that housed his office. The one room we weren’t allowed
in as children, but yet we always found ourselves in.
The icy dew coats my skin, permeating my clothes until every part of me feels as clammy as when I woke up to Casper’s hands pressing life back into me, kelp-tinged water wheezing from my mouth and nose.
A shudder runs through me, tearing me away from my thoughts and memories and pulling me out of my own head to the woman slipping her hand into mine. My woman.
“Let’s get inside.” Pressing a kiss to my arm, Arabella pulls me forward with her. “Ryan?”
“Yes, Mrs. Sinclair?”
She scowls up at me, her jaw ticking in the cutest of ways.
“Lest you forget, wife,” I tease her, urging some levity from inside me.
Cursing under her breath, her nails curl deeper as they pinch into my arm. “Fucking arsehole. As if I could fucking forget whose wife I am.”
“Mrs. Sinclair?”
She moves fast, turning to Murphy, her posture tight and coiled with annoyance. “Where are they?”
“There was an altercation, however it’s sorted, and they aren’t too far.”
“Altercation?” Fleur livens up beside him; she looks about ready to collapse on herself. “Are they okay?”
“Fine.” Smiling, Murphy holds her up. He’s almost far too gentle, something I noticed in the way he put himself between Arabella and Benedict. “Let’s all get inside. I’ve been told that rooms are ready and there’s tea and toast in the drawing room as well as fire.”
His demeanour and carry on is uncannily like Wayne’s. Going above and beyond his role of protector.
The large wooden doors open beneath the elaborate iron crown balcony rail surrounding the triple-height window above it.
“Shit.” I pause when I spot Mum pacing back and forth in the window. She’s talking into her phone, and I know she’s seen us, but she’s doing that thing where she pretends she hasn’t noticed us because she’s trying to contain her anger.
“I hope you’re ready because she’s fucking pissed at you lot.” Wayne sighs as he takes the steps down to the gravel drive two at a time. “You fuckers are the reason I’m more salt than pepper.”
He gives Murphy a nod before taking Fleur from him, giving Arabella a tight smile before he carries on back into the house.
“I had no idea they were here,” Murphy says the minute I look at him. “He didn’t say anything when I spoke to him earlier.”
“You’re all fucking idiots if you didn’t see this coming. As if they’d let us galivant away.” Arabella walks up the steps into the house. “You were shot for God’s sake!”
Her hands go to her hips with a huff. The shorter lengths of her hair bluster all over her pinched face, and my heart chooses that moment to fucking thaw. The grudges I was trying to hold on to so tight melt into fucking awe, like I need to love and admire her any more than I already do. That’s half the problem. The esteem and affection I have for her makes it impossible for me to deny her anything she asks of me.
She wanted a baby. I put one in her.
She wanted the fucking house. I bought it for her.
She wanted freedom. I gave it to her.
Against my better judgement.
Now she wants revenge. Against my better judgement, I’m going to let her have it.
Because in this moment she’s proven to be a better player than me.
Charging up the steps, I grab her wrist.
She played you.
Again.
“What are you doing?” Failing to stop me or pull away, she squeezes my arm as her Uggs slip over the stone floor. “Christopher!”
“You want to play?” I pull her down the steps towards the back of the house so fast, she has no choice but to jump the short flight, landing unsteadily on her feet. “You want in?”
“Stop it! Let go!”
“Huh? Do. You. Want. In?” Yanking her forward, I spin her to face me as I press her to the sports hall door. Hoisting her hands up on either side of her head, I pin them beneath mine.
When our stares clash, she finally realises I’ve caught on to her.
“I had to.”
“You chose to.”
Worry flickers in her dark eyes, the dawning light flickering crimson in their depths as it filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Why do you keep fighting me?”
“I’m not fighting you. I know you think I am and that to you it looks that way, but I’m not.” Her plump lips press together, colour blushing her cheeks with fear and sadness. Her audible swallow does nothing to erase her tears; if anything it makes them glisten like crystals hanging off her long lashes. “I’m trying not to lose another thing I love. And not because I want to fix things, but because if anything happens to you, Christopher…I won’t survive it. My heart isn’t strong enough.”
“Why Mum? You could’ve gone to my dad; he owes you enough.”
“Because she’s the only one that understands me. She’s the only one that has the same fear as me.” She’s trembling in my hold. I feel her pulse pound hard and fast in my hands.
It’s a heady feeling. One that’s unsteadying and distracting, as it is intoxicating.
The need to swallow her completely overtakes me. I’ve never wanted something inside me so bad…to be a physical part of me. Not like I want her.
“For someone so fucking intelligent, you are so obtuse sometimes. You’re her child and she is scared to shit that you’ll end up like ours. So yes, I told her we were coming here, and I told her you needed her. She’s our only ally. Why do you think she brought Wayne?”
I don’t know whether I want to strangle her or fuck her. I don’t know whether I love her or hate her. I have no fucking clue what’s happening because as fucking furious as I am with her for going behind my back, I’m also astonished by her guile and fierceness.
Arabella hasn’t stopped fighting for a single second. It’s ironic what we’re about to do, because I know I’ll beat her. She’ll put up a good fight as always, but in the end my mass will overshadow hers.
Letting her go I take a step back, twisting the doorknob as I push the door behind her open.
“You want to fight, right? You want blood on your hands?”
Turning around, she sighs as the sensor lights bring the room to life. The minute her eyes settle on the wall ahead, she sags a little. “Really? This is how you want to settle this? You want to fight me?”
My chest squeezes with my racing heart, the feeling of hers still pulsing in my empty hands. It’s not the first time we’ve used a bout to settle our disagreements or as a way of coercing the other to our wants. It’s how she ended up on a date with me. Now she’s my wife.
I’d say that gives me a fucking great track record on these things. And today will be the same as it was then. I’ll win to get what I want. Her submission.
Arabella won’t go down without a fight, and as much as I admire that, I want to break her. I want her on her knees, begging me to rip her apart.
Let’s face it, that’s what she wants. She’s brutally perfect for me.
“We’ve been up all night. Do you really expect me to fence right now?”
“Pick your weapon.”
Grabbing one of the masks off the hook, I throw it at her. She’s ready to catch it, and the minute it falls into her hands, she puts it on with a huff. Stalking towards me with another flurry of curses, Arabella picks an épée from wall. She slams one to my chest as she toes off her boots and then stomps off to the middle of the room.
“Muévete!”
Dropping the sword to the bench by the wall, I pull off my body warmer and the thick sweatshirt beneath it so that I’m left in my compression Henley.
I put a mask on and grab the sword, meeting her in the middle of the room. I circle her slowly. The affect that one move has on her is obvious. Even under my thick hoodie, the rapid rise and fall of her chest is noticeable.
“Pret.” I stop in front of her, knees bent, sword at an angle, and my empty ha
nd tucked at the small of my back.
Mimicking my stance, she spits, “Ready.”
“En garde!”
“Stop dragging this out! Get on with it!”
“Allez!” Casper’s voice rings from the doorway.
Leo’s leaning on the frame beside him, and they both look hyped to shit, jittery with adrenaline.
“Go away!” Barking at them, Arabella goes for a low inside attack with a lunge.
Blocking her, I round to her side, pulling back. “First to fifteen wins.”
“What’re you bouting for?” Leo asks with a low chuckle.
“My wife wants in.” I block another high outside attack, and the sweep of my arm pulls on the stitches on my shoulder. Pain radiates through my chest and my arm. I have to bite on my tongue to stop myself from crying out in pain. The fucking and now this is straining the wound.
“This isn’t fair and you know it!” Lunging again, she goes straight for the bullet hole.
Son of a bitch!
“One.” Gloating, she shimmies back and around.
“Not happening.” Casper waves us off, backing out of the door. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother waking me up, I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”
“It’s not up to you!” Shouting at him, she follows my circle.
“The fuck it isn’t!” Without warning he sweeps her up and takes her to the side. Standing her on the low bench like a child, he towers over her with a scowl. “Not too long ago you could barely fucking stand. You had sixty-one stitches…”
Everything fades around me. Sixty-one stitches. How can he know something I don’t?
I try to picture that many stitches on her stomach, and it seems impossible.
Sixty-fucking-one.
How is it possible? Sixty-one?
Then I remember the faint line at the bottom of her belly. Not only was she ripped apart, but then she had to be cut open.
I want to push Casper aside and strip her so I can see it all. I want to see every fucking inch of her scars so I know exactly what to do to the cunts that hurt her.
“If you think for one second that’s going to happen again, think again.”
Scorch (Virtues & Lies Book 2) Page 23