Find Me

by Nell Grey

  “Thank you,” he twinkles. “I look forward to it,”

  “Us too.”

  Shaun shakes his hand.

  “You’ve been a lifesaver, Joe.”

  He will never know how true that is.

  I get out of the car, trying my best to hide the pain as I put my ankle to the floor and wave him cheerfully away.

  We perch ourselves on a picnic bench next to a family enjoying a picnic.

  Seeing me eyeing up the chicken legs on the next table Shaun hands me the muesli bar from the rucksack.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  I split it with him.

  “What next?”

  ◆◆◆

  The two Poms weren’t at the lodge.

  Cobra King’s boys had taken hours. Precious time had been ticking away. What with getting new spark-plug leads in town and then hangin’ around the lake on the way back watching out for them.

  “What about the dead-end tracks? Did someone check them out?”

  Nik glanced shiftily at an older biker standing by the quad bike, his inked arms folded defensively.

  “All the blind cut-offs had been already marked out.”

  “What the..?”

  Nik nodded back at the biker and they all waited apprehensively for King to speak.

  “Get the boy here. Now.”

  “Aw, King…”

  The boss gave the older biker, Rawiri’s father, a withering look.

  “Leave it, cus,” the guy next to him mumbled.

  The father hung his head and spat.

  “I’ll go get him.”

  Rawiri was over by the dogs mending the broken shed.

  He’d seen the men coming and going all morning. Keeping out of the way, making yourself busy was harder than it looked.

  “Boss wants to see ya, son.”

  The look in his dad’s eyes confirmed he was in deep shit.

  ◆◆◆

  Eleven and a half thousand miles, two days solid stuck in a seat in the air to be told on arrival that Sion Edwards and Claire Williams had slipped through the net.

  Irish slammed his boot hard into the flimsy side table, sending the tea and coffee tray flying across his Dargarei motel room.

  Bollocks!

  Slamming the door behind him Irish left the motel and started marching into town, trying to manage the rage welling up inside of him. They couldn’t be far. A couple of Brits fresh off the plane. They must stand out like sore thumbs in a place like this. Like him.

  He paced angrily along the bank of the muddy river, following it towards the centre of town. He had to get on top of the problem. Find out more. If these bloody amateurs couldn’t do, he’d have a pop at them himself. Do the job and then go home. Easy peasy. Calmer now and with the kernel of a plan, Irish walked along the main street of this Hicksville town.

  Something about Dargarei reminded him of back home. Not now, but back in the day, before the malls and the internet. It had the kind of locally owned stores where everyone knew you, like The Beatles wrote about in Penny Lane.

  He strolled into a large cafe bar halfway along the street. Its name, big and bright on the front hoardings gave him the impression that this was the main joint in town. And there were a fair few punters in there from what he could see from the outside. Surely, Sion or Claire had found their way in here?

  He ordered an Americano at the counter, spying as he did so the whisky bottle on the top shelf.

  “And a double shot of that Red Label,” he said pointing to it.

  The whisky was Scottish but it’d do.

  The long-haired woman with a big green necklace behind the counter raised an eyebrow.

  “Tough day, huh?”

  She passed him first the coffee, then the double generously poured out without a measure.

  “Yeah, summat like that.”

  “You’re not from around these parts, eh?”

  He instinctively clammed up and then checked himself, forcing a smile.

  “I’m looking for a Claire Williams. She’s a friend of mine. Don’t happen to know her, do ya? Or where she’s stayin’?”

  “Yeah, hun, just happens I do.”

  The attractive woman beamed back at him and then pointed to a row of canvas photographs on the wall.

  “She lives there.”

  Irish studied the row of canvas photographs on the wall. They were the same shot taken at different times of the day and mounted in sequence, moving from the pink light of misty dawn through to a golden sunset out over the water. The girl had talent. Pity that those photos would be her last.

  “That’s some place.”

  “Claire did those. Haven’t told her yet. The canvases came yesterday and they all sold in less than an hour. I’ve kept them up until she can order more and I’ve sold ten more of the early morning one.”

  “Can you give me directions?”

  She scrawled a basic route for him onto a paper napkin and he pocketed it in his jeans.

  “And you are?”

  “Irish.”

  “Is that even a name?”

  His icy stare sent a shiver running through her.

  “So, how exactly d’ya know Claire, again?” she uttered a little shakily.

  Knocking back the whisky in a single swallow Irish left the coffee untouched and handed her a fifty.

  “Keep the change, love.”

  On his way out of the door he tried not to stare at the tough young man with a fully tattooed face striding past him into the cafe.

  “Nik.”

  Tia smiled uneasily as she turned back from the till and saw her cousin coming through the door.

  He sat down on a stool at the counter, sweeping away the full coffee cup and the empty glass in front of him.

  Tia began hastily clearing the cup and glass. Nik stretched his hand out, covering her arm and clamping it fast against the countertop.

  “So… Claire Williams?” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “Heard that she’s a mate of yours?”

  “Uh …Yeah, Nah, Nik …Why you askin’? What’s it to you? The pale fulla you passed at the door was askin’ the same thing?”

  “He was?”

  “Yeah. Called himself Irish.”

  Nik spun around, even though he knew the guy was long gone.

  “Nik? Cus?”

  He turned back and she met her cousin’s eye, holding his gaze.

  “You gotta minute?”

  Nik nodded.

  “Not here. Upstairs. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 21

  ---------✸---------

  “Wait here and keep watch.”

  Shaun kisses me lightly on the lips then dashes from the bushes where we’re hiding, across the track and up towards the lodge and the barn.

  Three bikes came past us when we were on the road to the lake, but Shaun needs to be sure that they’ve not left one of their biker goons as a watchman.

  Ten minutes later he’s back.

  “I think they’re gone but for now, we’re best hiding in the barn.”

  “The barn?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I hold onto his shoulder and we move cautiously across the yard.

  On seeing me, the hens scratching in the coop start to squawk, totally giving away our position.

  “Traitors,” I hiss at them as we pass.

  He shakes his head.

  “In all my special forces missions, I’ve never been sold out by a bunch of hens.”

  Inside the barn he leads me through to the second chamber in the shed and gets the ladder out, leaning it carefully against a beam.

  “Is your ankle alright to climb up?”

  “Yes.”

  I carefully step up the rungs, intrigued.

  “Woah! It’s a good job I didn’t know about this.”

  At the top of the ladder is a concealed loft space kitted out with camping basics. A mattress and pillows, a blanket, a lamp, a basic stove.

  “Why?”

  “Ce
lia told me off for accepting the job over the internet without doing checks on you first. She said how did I know that you weren’t some weirdo who locks up women in basements. Or sells them to the Asian sex market, whatever that is.”

  “She said that about me?”

  His bright blue eyes widen.

  “Not exactly. She told me you were a real nice bloke.”

  “Oh she did, did she?”

  He flashes me a flirty smile.

  “And let’s not forget, you’re also completely gay.”

  “And if you’d have seen this place after she’d said all of that?”

  “I’d’ve run a mile.”

  “I'm glad you didn’t. This lodge was used by the Brits for witness protection. So it makes sense that it’s got a hideout,” he explains, pulling the ladders up after him.

  “It’s the best shot we’ve got for now.”

  I sit down on the mattress and hesitantly take off my trainer to examine my ankle. The bruising is coming out and it’s swollen up.

  “Here, let me see,” he says, easing over beside me.

  “It’s a twist that’s all.”

  Taking my ankle gently in his hands he checks it over too.

  “Best you keep it raised. Lie down flat,” he says pushing me back lightly onto the mattress.

  He takes the rucksack and puts it under my foot.

  “I’ll go over to the house and get some ice for it.”

  He hovers over me for a second, gazing down at me.

  I’ve waited so long for this man, the last thing I want to do now is to lie injured with a bag of peas on my ankle.

  Stretching my arms up around his neck, I draw him down towards me.

  “The ice can wait. But I can’t.”

  I’ve lit the fuse.

  Heat floods my core as his strong hands lift me back up onto him and he takes me in his arms.

  Our lips crash together, his hand cradling my head as our tongues greedily duel. His fingers feverishly bunch my hair as my mouth begins to trail kisses along his jaw.

  “Oh God, Claire. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

  Bolts of electricity fire through me as I feel the power of his desire building up inside him and his hardness rubbing against me as his hand pulls me even closer onto him, lingering under the curve of my ass.

  I quickly free him of his t-shirt. Then mine’s thrown off too. Soon most of our clothes lie in a heap beside us as we strip each other in a frenzy of pent-up passion and desire.

  “Ahh!”

  It escapes from deep within him as my breasts brush up against his chest, my nipples pebbling at the touch of him. I’ve waited too long to feel this too. Skin on skin. His warm body up close next to mine.

  “I was gonna be wearing something fancy. Satin and lace.”

  “I saw them,” he whispers into my ear, moving us back down to the mattress. “I love the purple ones.”

  His mouth along my neck makes me shiver, and flames of longing and need lick through me as his fingers fervently feel their way, paying zealous attention to my breasts.

  Then, his lips are on them. He teases first one then the other nipple, sucking and nipping in pain and pleasure, driving me even crazier for him as his lips travel southwards.

  He makes short work of my plain black panties, casting them away. My breathing quickens and soon I’m lost to him. My mind is mangled as he claims all of me with his mouth until finally, I’m on the edge. And he senses it too. He pulls away and watches me, seeing my whole body trembling for him to finish what he’s started. It’s delicious torture that makes me even more desperate for his touch.

  “Shaun!”

  I’m not too proud to beg.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs and then I fall apart as he takes me one more time.

  And then it’s my turn to discover him completely too. Exploring the ridges of his muscular body; his sculpted chest, his abs, tasting all of him. Massaging him gently with my fingers and my mouth, I work my own brand of torturous teasing, bringing him to the brink too.

  “Claire. Stop.”

  He lets out a shaky breath.

  “I want you so badly, but I don’t have any...”

  “Shh …it’s okay.”

  We’ll talk later about all of that. He’s a keeper and I want him so much too, I can hardly breathe. I can tell by the desire in his eyes that he can’t help himself any longer either.

  Flipping me onto my back, he covers me with his body. And then, it’s me kissing him. And there’s no more talking to be done as I wind my legs around him, feeling his shivers of anticipation. I’m not letting go. My eyes gaze into his and I urge him on, savouring the moment as he fills me.

  “Ahh! Claire.”

  Then, moving together as one he takes me with him, slowly, gently at first. Then harder and faster. Sweeping me away with him on an insistent ebbing and flowing tide, rocking me back to a deep primal place where I can no longer help myself. And where I find myself crying out his name, tensing tight and letting go. He joins me there too, finally drowning with me under the crashing waves.

  ◆◆◆

  “Can I help you?”

  Frank Plunkett wandered over to the pale-skinned man eyeing up the hunting knives in the cabinet by the counter in his camping store.

  “Can I see that one?”

  The dark-haired stranger pointed at the seventeen-inch razor-sharp bowie knife.

  “Err... Sir? May I suggest this one?”

  Frank unlocked the cabinet drawer and pulled out one of the more modest blades to the right.

  “Stainless steel, gripped handle to prevent slipping. It’s probably a more practical option for your needs up here. Guttin’ fish and stuff.”

  The freckled man gave him a cool stare.

  “How do you know what my needs are?”

  Frank nodded.

  The stranger spoke like one of The Beatles, but there was none of that famous cheeky humour in the accent of this Liverpudlian. This man was all business.

  “Yes, S’pose you’re right,” Frank conceded and returned the smaller knife into the cabinet. Reluctantly, he extracted the bowie knife and placed it on the counter.

  Irish picked it up and ran the long blade along his other hand meditatively. It wasn’t a razor, but it would do.

  “And do you stock guns here too?”

  “Got a gun room out back,” Frank said cautiously. “For customers with a firearms licence.”

  “Of course.”

  Irish put the knife back onto the counter’s glass top and turned his attention to other items in the store.

  Browsing, he cast his eye over a hat and then his eyes fell on an expensive backpack balancing up on a high hook above him to the right of the counter.

  “Here, let me help you with that.”

  He stepped back to allow Frank past to stretch up high for the large travel bag.

  In one sharp move, snatching the bowie knife off the countertop, Irish launched himself onto Frank from behind. Riding his back to overpower him, he pulled him down to the ground.

  Then, with Frank face down, prostrate to the floor, he straddled him, his knees pressing into Frank’s arms, pinning them down on the ground to the sides.

  He pulled Frank’s head back expertly and held the razor-sharp blade to his throat as if he was about to give Frank as a sacrificial offering to the gods.

  “Gunroom. The keys. Now.”

  “They’re in my pocket.”

  With the knife held firmly to his neck from behind, he moved himself free of Frank’s pinned down torso. Then slowly he pulled Frank up from the floor.

  “Which pocket?”

  “The left.”

  “Gimme them. You try anything and I’ll slit yer throat.”

  And he would too, Frank had no doubt about that. But, there was no way he would roll over and take this either if he had half a chance.

  Reaching slowly for his pocket, Frank reluctantly pulled out the set of keys.

 
; Irish snatched them from him, looking twitchily around him and until finally he clapped eyes on some Gorilla tape over on a stand to the side.

  “You and me. We’re gonna take a little walk over there.”

  With the blade close to his artery, Frank did as he was told.

  “Now, get down on the floor!”

  Frank went to kneel, but as he did so, he saw his opportunity. In one desperate lunge, he flung himself back onto Irish.

  “Gimme the knife you little…”

  The slick blade sank into Frank’s soft abdomen like a skewered marshmallow. The blood came after. It took a moment or two, but when it came it flowed in an incessant, gushing stream from the large hole in his abdomen.

  Frank looked down at it in horror.

  Futilely, he tried to stick his fingers in to stem the bleeding. He had to stay still. Try to patch it up. Hope that he wouldn’t lose too much blood. Pray that help and an ambulance would get there soon.

  “If you’d have done what I said.”

  He callously wiped the bloody blade clean on the shoulder of Frank’s checked shirt.

  “I’ll give yer one more chance ‘cos I like ya. You’ve got balls,”

  Irish grazed the tip of the blade across Frank’s neck. Moving it up, the tip scratched along his cheek.

  “Tell yer what? You show me which is the key for the gun room and I promise not to cut off your ears.”

  Chapter 22

  ---------✸---------

  “So what do we do next?” I whisper into Shaun’s impressively sculpted chest as we lie together on the mattress.

  He bends his neck forward and whispers in my ear. His suggestions make me laugh out loud.

  “Already?”

  Apparently so.

  And we make love again. Slowly and sensually. Lazily, like we have all the time in the world, which I know we don’t.

  But, oh my. This man! My legs are numb, my head’s fried and my heart’s full to bursting. And all I want to do now is to curl up in his arms and sleep, right here in the rafters of the barn.

  But we can’t.

  We lie quietly together, my head on his chest, our bodies still slick with sweat.

  “Seriously Shaun, what are we gonna do?”