by T L Swan
“No, I think he’s at the girls’ place.”
“Ok, thanks.” I continue walking until I get to their house, and I can hear laughter coming from Mum’s bedroom. I smile and go to investigate.
“You can’t be serious.” Adrian winces as he throws what looks like a shirt out of Mum’s wardrobe.
“Deadly.” Mum frowns as she picks up the discarded shirt from the floor.
Bridget and Abbie are lying on Mum’s bed, curled up in fits of laughter.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Adrian comes out of Mum’s wardrobe and places his hands on his hips. “Your mother asked me to give her a makeover, but now that I’m in her wardrobe, she won’t let me throw anything out.”
I smile and turn my attention to Mum.
“He’s trying to throw out my best clothes.” She shakes her head in disgust.
Adrian pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, give me strength,” he whispers to himself, and I a giggle. Mum is the worst person to style, she has things in her wardrobe she has had for twenty years. This styling project is long overdue. He disappears back into the wardrobe and I flop onto the bed in between my two friends to watch the show.
“This is going.” He throws a handbag out onto the floor.
“No, it is not. That is a beautiful piece.”
“Exactly, piece being the key word. It belongs in a museum,” Adrian huffs.
The girls and I smile as we listen on.
“I’m glad you think this is funny, bitches.” Mum calls from inside the wardrobe.
“Who wants a coffee?” Abbie asks as she rises and disappears to the kitchen.
Bridget takes my hand in hers and we lay together watching Adrian and Mum squabble over what clothes he is throwing out and I smile. How has this beautiful man become so dear to us? He is like a son to my mum… although it’s a very different relationship to hers and Brock’s. Never in a million years – when I first met Adrian and I thought he was Donatella Versace – did I think I would be laying on a bed watching him clean out my mother’s wardrobe.
“Coffee is up,” Abbie calls from the kitchen. We all take our seat on the kitchen bench. She has cut up warm banana bread and slathered it in butter.
“I think Joshua and I are going to stay for another two weeks,” I mutter as I bite into my bread.
“I’m going to leave in a few days, dear,” Mum tells me. “I haven’t been to Australia for weeks and Nicholas is leaving on Wednesday when the plane arrives back. That’s ok, isn’t it? I will come back to L.A. in six weeks or so.”
Adrian’s face falls. “Is that what Nick said? He’s leaving Wednesday?”
“Yes,” Mum replies as she, too, bites into her banana bread. “How do you not know this? You are staying with him.”
“What’s going on with you two?” I frown into my coffee.
Adrian gets up and closes the heavy glass door so that nobody else can hear us. He shrugs sadly. “Nothing.” He sighs as he flops back onto his stool.
“God, you’re an idiot. Go out there, get butt naked and seduce him in the pool, for fuck’s sake!” Abbie snaps.
Bridget and Mum nod carelessly as they shovel their cake into their mouths.
“Maybe not in the pool. I want to swim in that pool,” Bridget mumbles with her mouth full. I nod as I pull a disgusted face, and Adrian blows out a deep breath deep in thought.
Margaret knocks on the door. “Ready?” She smiles at mum.
“Give me a second.” Mum rushes to her bedroom to get her handbag. They are going shopping.
The girls both stand and go to the door to talk to her as she waits for Mum.
I fake a smile and turn back to my coffee. I don’t know what to even think of her, of this. It’s another fucking nightmare that I don’t need. When she told me back then, when I found her in that hotel, that she was abused by James, I believed her. I would never not believe someone who told me they had been raped… but it never did sit right. I always had this gut feeling that something was off with her story, but I guess I put it down to shock. That was the absolute last thing I thought she was going to tell me, and it shocked the hell out of both me and out of Adrian. She was genuinely scared of him in the hotel the night, and yet, here we are, just two months later and she is calling him in the middle of the night. Maybe she was just trying to talk him into paying Joshua the money back. But the text from him said: I’ve told her everything.
The only connection I can make to that comment is that he has told his wife everything. But why would he tell his wife everything when he was black mailing Margaret for so many years with the sole purpose of keeping her quiet?
I was going to say something, but now that I know that her and Robert are not together, I’m not so sure that I should. Is it even relevant to anything anymore? The boys know who their biological father is. Robert is no longer being deceived. Am I just going to drag up another ugly can of worms? Nobody knows I know. Ha, that’s the thing. I don’t even know what I know. I’m just jumping to conclusions here. It’s probably completely innocent.
Suddenly, a vision of Amelie lying wet and dead on the ground in the pouring rain comes to me, and I can feel the weight of the heavy gun in my hands.
My face drops as the horrific memory poisons me.
“What is it?” Adrian asks, putting his hand on my thigh in a reassuring gesture.
I jump as I am pulled from my thoughts and shake my head. “I’m sorry. Miles away.” I fake a smile.
Adrian’s knowing eyes hold mine. “Are you ok, baby?”
My heart rate has risen through the roof and I suddenly feel sickly hot. The sting of perspiration burns my underarms. My eyes tear up and I nod. Please stop, I need these feelings to stop. As if reading my mind, he leans over and grabs my head, pulling it to his. “It’s going to be ok,” he whispers.
I nod as our foreheads rest together. “I know.” Fuck, I hate feeling like this. I hate seeing this shit in my head.
“Do you want me to get Josh?” he asks.
I shake my head as the lump in my throat forms. “N-no,” I stammer. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I croak as I pull myself together
He smiles sympathetically and holds my hand in his, resting it on his lap as his worried eyes linger on my face.
I shake off my dark thoughts. “Are you going to get me some more banana bread or what?”
He smiles in my deployment tactics. “Do you want butter?”
“Totally.”
Joshua
I sit in my office and send my fifteenth email of the morning. After not thinking about work for so long, it’s now time for me to step up. We are going through some serious damage control and I’m scrambling to please the board. My mind keeps wandering to my father and the conversation I had with him yesterday about James Brennan. Dad aborted the hit while I was in prison, not wanting to put anyone through any more pain. A cop out if you ask me. He also bought James’ share of the company from him. They have severed ties completely and he has left it up to my mother if she wants to have him charged by the police or not. Regret fills me. I know this means for certain that he has given up on their relationship, that he just wants to be done with it and walk away.
A knock on the door brings me back from my thoughts. It’s Brock.
“Hey,” he calls out. “You wanted to see me.”
“Hi. Take a seat.” I gesture to the chair at my desk and he frowns as he sits. “What’s up?”
I inhale deeply. This conversation is going to go one of two ways. He will either lose his shit or he will be with me one hundred percent.
I hesitate.
“Spit it out,” he sighs, annoyed at my procrastination.
“Are you still enjoying the special forces?” I lean back and swivel my chair as I hold my pen in my hand.
He shrugs. “Its what I do.”
“And the constant deployments?”
“They get to you after a while. It fucks up my personal life pretty bad.” H
e shrugs again. “But I’m used to it.”
“I have a business proposal.”
He shakes his head and holds up his hands. “No, thanks. I am not working for you.”
I run my tongue over my top teeth. Brock still has the ability to piss me off easily. No doubt he always will.
“I don’t want you to work for me,” I respond.
His eyes hold mine.
“How would you like to own your own private investigation company?”
He looks at me, his face serious. “I’m listening.”
“One that worked for people like me to…” I hesitate, how do I word this? “… seek out the scum.”
I stand and walk over to the window.
Brock screws up his face. “Oh, fuck off. You have been watching too much damn television. Private investigation company? What is this, CSI? Give me a break.”
I turn to face him. “These businesses are flourishing, Brock. It’s where I got Ben in the first place. An agency just like this.”
He folds his arms in front of him and, despite his protests, I know I have piqued his interest.
“So, it works like this: you have security personal working for you. Ex special forces… Ex-police, Marines, Army, Navy – Men and women who know what they are doing. Clients can hire bodyguards from you or you can take personal jobs on for a fee. I will fully bankroll the business and it will be yours to do with as you please.”
He sits back in his chair. “Not interested,” he replies flatly.
“You will hear me out, at least,” I snap.
He rolls his eyes and blows out a deep breath. “Whatever. Go on.”
“I will bankroll it.”
“How much is bankroll?”
“All expenses, plus your current salary… quadrupled.”
“Oh, please. You would really do all of this to keep your wife’s brother in the states? This is ludicrous.”
I lift my chin in annoyance. Are we going to fight about this? “It’s not in the states. I want it run out of Australia.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why Australia?”
“I have your first job all lined up. I will be your first client.”
He sits back in his chair. “What is it?”
“Track and find Coby Allender’s accomplice and hand him into the police.”
He stares at me.
“Natasha is not setting one foot on Australian soil with those sick fucks interested in her, and I know it’s only going to be a matter of time before she wants to go home to see her mother.”
“How would I find him?”
I shrug. “You’re the special forces, you tell me. If you can’t, hire someone who can.”
He shakes his head.
“They are murdering innocent women for fun. I can’t live with myself knowing I could have done something to stop it or helped in some way.”
“Why don’t you find them yourself?” He sneers.
I screw up my face. “I’m not taking Natasha to Australia to be the bait, and I know computers, not how to track criminals. I know nothing about this twisted shit.”
He narrows his eyes, obviously deep in thought.
I hold up my hands. “Don’t give me an answer now. Think about if for a few days. I have spoken to Ben and he is prepared to help you get started. He knows what he is doing, this is his field.”
“Will Ben work for me?” he asks, for the first time I see a genuine spark of interest from him.
“Not if I can help it,” I reply honestly. “I want Ben with me.”
“I think Ben wants out of here.”
My eyes hold his. The thought had crossed my mind. He mentioned going back to South Africa yesterday. “He is just adjusting to things. He will get over it.”
He raises his eyebrows in a we-will-see gesture.
“How many staff would I hire?”
I shrug. “Probably start with five men. I have contacts and can get you bodyguard gigs straight away, but I’m sure once word gets out, private jobs will start rolling in.”
“And it would be completely my business?”
I nod. “I want nothing to do with it. Adrian will deal with the finance and that is as far as I want to know. You can sell it down the track if you want and go back to your present job. I don’t give a shit. I want Allender found now. That is my priority.”
He raises a brow and stands to shake my hand. “I will have a think and let you know.”
Natasha
“Table for four,” Joshua asks the waiter at the restaurant.
The kind looking man gestures to a table in the corner. “This way, please.”
Joshua puts his hand in mine and we walk to our seats in the cosy corner. We are meeting his parents for lunch, and quite frankly, I would rather have a tooth pulled out.
“Would you like any drinks?” The waiter asks as he pulls out my chair.
Joshua gestures to me and I narrow my eyes as I think. “Can I have a bottle of Sav Blanc, please?”
Joshua raises a brow. “Ok then,” he mutters under his breath. The waiter turns his attention to Joshua.
“I will have an iced water with lemon.”
Hmm. I look at him, my face deadpan. Why is he so damn healthy all the time?
I see Robert first, and then Margaret. They smile as they enter and Margaret falls into the seat in front of me, placing her wallet and phone on the table. “Hello.” She smiles.
“Hi,” I force out.
Joshua smiles and turns his attention to ordering some drinks for his parents. I turn my attention onto Mrs. Shifty sitting opposite me. What the fuck are you up to, bitch?
“Have you had a good day?” she asks.
“I have. How was shopping?”
“Oh, I didn’t really find anything. It was more your mother who wanted to go.”
I fake a smile. Is she insinuating that my mother needs to shop because she has nothing? Stop it. You are being a drama queen. That’s not what she meant and you know it.
“What time is your flight?” Joshua asks Robert.
“We have to be at the airport at 5.30 p.m.”
“We have had a wonderful time, darling,” Margaret gushes as she grabs Joshua’s hand over the table.
I watch her intently. Fuck, she is pissing me off just by breathing.
“We are so happy that things turned out the way they did.” Robert smiles and I smile my first, genuine smile since they arrived.
“How long are you kids staying?” Margaret asks.
“About another ten days or so,” Joshua replies as he puts his hand on my leg.
“Are you going back to your house in L.A.?” he asks.
“Umm, not sure yet.” Joshua’s eyes flicker to mine. “We haven’t really decided where we want to live yet, have we?”
“No, not yet.” My anxiety rises. I don’t know where I want to live, but I definitely know it’s not in Joshua’s beloved house. I have watched it through those evil cameras of Amelie’s too many times and it freaks me the hell out.
Margaret’s phone dances silently across the table and the name Deidre comes up on the screen. My fury ignites.
She holds up a pointer finger to signify she will just be a minute. “Hello, Deidre,” she answers.
I start to hear my angry heart beat in my ears.
Go time.
She holds her hand over the phone and whispers. “I won’t be a minute. I will just go outside to take this call.”
“Of course,” Joshua replies, preoccupied with his father.
She stands, walks to the front of the restaurant, then out of the front door.
What do I do? What do I do? My legs bounce as I think. What the hell is she saying to him?
That’s it.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I mouth to Joshua, and he nods as he talks.
I walk over to the bathroom and Max frowns at me as he follows me. My eyes dart around to Joshua to check I’m not discovered before I take off out of the front door.
“
What are you doing?” Max growls quietly at me.
“I’m just seeing Margaret. I won’t be a minute. Wait inside, please.”
“No.” He follows me out.
I look around frantically, spotting Margaret standing behind a pillar around the corner of the driveway. I walk over next to her to listen without being seen.
I do a shoo symbol with my hand at Max. He narrows his eyes and stands to the side.
“Yes, darling, I know,” she says gently.
She listens.
“I will be home tonight.”
She listens.
“Tomorrow.”
I frown. What the hell? She is meeting him tomorrow?
“I will ring you in the morning for the address.”
She listens.
“I can’t wait to see you, too.”
What?
“Terribly,” she replies.
Oh my God, he just asked her if she missed him. What the hell?
“I love you, too.”
My mouth drops open in shock. I don’t fucking believe it.
She walks around the corner and runs straight into me. Her face falls. “Natasha, darling. What are you doing out here?”
I glare at her.
“I was just talking to my friend, Deidre,” she mutters nervously.
I continue to glare at her. I’m too angry to even speak. I fold my arms in front of me and narrow my eyes.
“You can cut the shit now, Margaret.”
Her face drops. “What do you mean?”
“That was James on the phone. I’m not an idiot.”
She raises her eyebrows. “James? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Shall we take your phone out and compare it to James’ number on Robert’s phone.”
Her face drops. “Why are you spying on me?” she snaps angrily.
“So, you did lie? The whole fucking thing was a lie?” I fume.
She shakes her head. “No. No. It was all true.”
“He blackmailed you.”
She stares at me hopelessly as she tries to think of an answer.
“He never even beat you did he?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Did he?” I yell.
“Natasha, please. It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” I sneer. “You’re pathetic.”