White Knight

by Annie Dyer

  “You heard what happened today?” I closed the door behind me.

  Max looked up from his desk and pushed the papers to one side. “Jackson phoned me after he spoke to Killian. Dean Lacey is a mean son of a bitch and you being involved in anything to do with him sits less well with me each time I think about it. I get why you’ve taken the case on, but your safety has to come first. Do you understand?” I rarely saw my eldest brother look worried. He was stoic and level, except for his temper and his passion which calmed as quickly as they erupted. Max had been our saviour when we were children before Marie had come along and we’d all worshipped him to a point.

  “I’m not going to put myself at risk, Max, but neither am I going to let him bully his way through this. I need to persuade Katie to share the evidence she has against him,” I said, speaking the truth. I didn’t want to be a hero. I just wanted a fair outcome for her and I wouldn’t put my parents and siblings through hell worrying about me, which they would do anyway but I didn’t want to exacerbate it.

  He nodded. “How’s Killian?”

  “Using your gym at the moment. I’m staying at his tonight but not in the way you’re about to think,” I said, smiling as his face turned to stone.

  “He had better treat you right. And actually, you’d better treat him right too. I know you were together when you were at college and I know that summer you were unhappy and it was shit, Claire, because none of us knew what to do, but he was almost worse. Please be careful here because it’s not just you who’s invested,” Max said, standing up and losing his jacket. He looked even more built than normal, clearly spending his spare time in the gym.

  “You’re not fighting again?” I said, concerned. He had taken part in some competitive fights a year or so ago, but had stopped when me and Payton, one of my two sisters, had begged him to.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m sparring with some of the fighters who will be taking part though. Look, Claire, if you need somewhere to stay, stay with me. I don’t like the idea of you being alone or having to stay at K’s if it’s not right yet.”

  “And stop there,” I said. “I know I can stay with you, or Seph, or Jackson and Vanessa if I wanted to subject myself to their night noises, and if I need to, I will. I’m good staying with Killian tonight, honestly. We need that time together anyway.”

  He nodded. “Night noises? What the fuck are night noises?”

  “You know, Jackson making whatever noise he does when – do I really need to think about this anymore?” I knew the look of disgust on his face was mirrored on mine.

  “Say no more, for the love of all things caffeine. What are you doing tonight? Want to get a drink?”

  “No. Killian and I are going out but we’re making it early.” The events of the day had taken it out of me and compounded with the unsettled night’s sleep I’d had, I knew I was going to need to climb into bed earlier than usual. “How are you? Missing your professors?”

  Max shook his head and laughed in amusement. “Only another month until college starts again. I’ve enough to do until then without getting involved with anyone.” And by involved, he meant sleeping with someone more than twice. My brother was not known for having relationships that lasted. He was too interested in his career and the firm.

  “You never know what’s round the corner,” I said and I realised the significance of the words. Without Katie’s case, I wouldn’t have been given the chance to speak with Killian again on this level and I had needed it.

  The office door opened and the blonde man mountain came in, his hair damp from the shower. I felt my insides clench and my hands itch to touch him; just by standing there he lighted something in me than seemed to be refusing to ever go out. “There are panic alarms stationed in each office, reception and the gym,” he said. “And we added more cameras.”

  Max nodded. “Thanks K. Make sure we get the bill. However, the extra bodyguard duty you’re putting in with my sister is on you.” His voice contained a warning.

  Killian nodded. “Noted. Anything else?”

  Max glared, then his face broke out into a grin. “You’re a fucker, but you know that. Take care of her because if you don’t I’ll stuff your testicles in a rugby ball and use it for practice.”

  “Again, noted.” Killian looked at me. “You ready to go? We’ll pick your stuff up then head back to mine.”

  I nodded, feeling anxious now about my apartment, understanding that it could be a target for Lacey to send his minions to search if he thought Katie had given us evidence that would incriminate him. “I won’t be long there.”

  He nodded, as if he understood.

  I hugged my brother and headed outside to Killian’s car, trying to process everything that was happening and failing miserably.

  Chapter Twelve

  Killian

  I knew from when we were younger that if Claire went quiet for a prolonged period of time it meant that she was getting lost in thoughts that she couldn’t neatly compartmentalise. Her silence in the car and at her apartment worried me as I couldn’t read her like I used to and figuring out whether the cottage intruder or me was the cause of her worry was proving difficult.

  We left her apartment with a suitcase full of clothes and a large overnight bag stuffed with toiletries. “You wouldn’t have survived military training,” I said, carrying both because there was no way she was doing anything after the day she’d had.

  “Why’s that?” she said, preparing for an argument straight away.

  “Because I don’t see you going for more than twenty-four hours without needing two changes of clothes and face stuff that probably costs more than two pairs of my shoes.”

  She laughed and I wanted to punch the air in victory. “You’re right,” she said. “I have no grounds to contradict you. Tell me about your house.”

  I shrugged, opening the trunk of my car and depositing her bags. “It’s a three-storey town house. Your sister advised on the renovations because it was nearly falling down when I bought it at auction, so I had it nine months before I moved in.”

  “Jackson mentioned you’d moved. I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

  “What are you expecting?” I said, keen to hear her answer but wanting to keep her talking even more. She was starting to lighten up and I wanted to keep her in her happy place for the evening at least.

  She smiled. “I should say monotone colours. Browns and blacks, but that’s not you. So, I reckon blues, green and greys. Seaside themes, coastal. I remember you loved the sea.”

  She was right. Nick and I had grown up near the coast, a small village in Ireland first and then we had moved to Cornwall and then Bristol, our accents turned into plain English by the time we left to go to college, thanks to my mother who’d had elocution lessons when she’d been a teenager.

  “There’s some yellow in there too,” I said, not wanting to admit she was right. “I had help from your sister.”

  “I suspect everyone has help from Ava when it comes to decorating their homes. I think the only one she hasn’t managed to get her paws on was mine. I might let her do the next,” Claire said, watching London through the windows as we drove the short distance to my home.

  I’d lived with a friend from the Navy when I first moved to London, not sure where I wanted to be based or really what I was going to do. I had considered moving abroad or closer to my parents who were back in Ireland, but I was offered accommodation while I made my mind up and my housemate worked the large cruise ships, so was away for months at a time. My friendship with the Callaghan brothers was a factor in me deciding to stay and my brother wanted to expand his security business which was attracting some serious clients. The house I was taking Claire to was a testament to the work I’d put in since coming home. I’d invested money well, knowing when to take a risk and I’d bought the townhouse for a song at auction as it had needed a shit ton of work doing to it and was a potentially money pit.

  It was also the safest place I knew. There was a
safe room, just because I knew too much from my time in the military, panic buttons and enough cameras to film an entire reality TV series without having to contract a single cameraman. It was unnecessary, or so I hoped, but for now, for keeping Claire safe, it was perfect.

  I pulled up outside, glancing to see Claire’s expression as she saw the outside. The small garden at the front had recently been remodelled and the external paintwork redone. I was proud of it.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s amazing. It’s a great location too. You’re near a couple of really good schools.” I raised my brows at the last comment, unsure as to why that was important right now. It wasn’t something I’d considered when I put my bid in for the property, given that my most serious relationship was with my hand at the time and I was pretty sure I didn’t have any surprise children about to pop up.

  “Come see inside,” I said, grabbing her bags from the car and following her up the steps to the front door. I put them down as I used my thumbprint to release a key pad and entered a code.

  “Keyless?” she said with a half laugh.

  “Of course. I’ll add your print to it shortly.”

  She entered slowly, looking at the pictures on the wall and the flooring. I’d had to completely gut the house, but I’d restored what I could of its period features, learning something about architecture and design on the way. And I’d kept it simple.

  “This is amazing,” she said, walking through into the large open plan kitchen and reception room like Alice wandered into Wonderland. “You did well.”

  “Come see the rest.”

  We walked through each room and I gave her some of the history of the place, finding photos on my phone from when I first bought it, then during the work so she could see how it had changed. I took her to the biggest of the spare bedrooms, one of the spaces that was under decorated and contained just the basics, but it was next to the safe room.

  “It would’ve made a better dressing room,” she said, opening her case. “The house is more secure than most prisons. I’m pretty sure you didn’t need a safe room.”

  I shrugged. “Hopefully not. It could double up as a dressing room as well. Do you still have enough shoes to start an exhibition?” She’d once counted twenty-five pairs of shoes in her room at college. As a girl, she’d had a huge shoe obsession. I hated to think what it was like now.

  “It wouldn’t be big enough for my shoes,” she said. “I really should get rid of some.” She sat down on the bed and looked exhausted. “Thank you, K.”

  “What for?”

  She gestured around her with her hands. “This. Everything. For not hating me.”

  I didn’t go there. I had never hated her and I wasn’t going to get caught in an argument persuading her I hadn’t. “Claire, let me promise you something.”

  “What?” She looked sceptically at me, always the pessimist.

  “Everything is going to be okay. You are going to be happy. No matter what happens with your case or any cases after, you will be happy.” I sat down next to her, Claire shifting towards me as the mattress dipped slightly and I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, needing her heat and needing to give her mine.

  “How do you know that?” she said. “Have you suddenly started reading fortunes?”

  I chuckled. “Not quite, but why wouldn’t you be happy when you’ve got your family and your friends and me in what every capacity that happens to be?”

  She looked at her hands. “I know. I get that happiness is a choice and no one else can be responsible for it. It’s just been a busy day and it’s a lot to process.”

  “So, stop trying to process it and just let it happen. You’re here for the night at least, we’re going out for dinner. Have a shower, a glass of wine and stop thinking.”

  She smiled, her eyes glinting. “That’s what you used to tell me when I was worried about exams and essays. You had other ways to stop me from thinking. Successful ones.”

  The air between us became thick, the things that hadn’t yet been said hanging in the air like fireflies that couldn’t be caught. “We knew a lot about each other,” I said, my voice thick and heavy.

  Her hand went to my thigh, the touch simmering through my veins. I was twenty again and as nervous as the virgin I’d been at sixteen, in water deeper than I knew how to swim.

  “We still do,” she said, her eyes looking up at me and my resilience broke. I leaned down and met her lips, aware that we were on a bed and had no reason to rush anywhere soon. The night was ours and we could use it however we wanted.

  She tasted of coffee and chocolate; her lips soft and her touch hungry. The feel of her intoxicated me and made me an instant addict. My skin remembered hers, my cock remembering exactly how to respond and I pulled away, needing to breathe and remember that it was thirteen years later and we couldn’t be back where we were then.

  She stayed close, her breath on my neck, her perfume enveloping me and I wasn’t sure why I stopped. “Now’s not the right time,” she whispered. “Not today after everything. I want you so badly but not after today, not for our second first time.”

  “I know,” I said as she rested against my chest. I moved to surround her, knowing she had the physical support to strengthen her resolve. She’d always needed this and I hated the thought that she’d had years taking it from people other than me. Her family were wonderful and she’d always had them, but sometimes I knew more was needed. “I don’t know how we do this.”

  I felt her nod.

  “I don’t either. How about we start with dinner? And I’ll not think about work or Katie or whatever happened before.”

  “I can do that.” I had to let go of her but I didn’t want to fucking leave her, not again, never again.

  “Killian, let me shower, get ready. Give me an hour.”

  I pulled away and stood up, the early evening sun blaring through the window. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine.”

  The sound of the shower taunted me, reminding me that she was naked in the room nearby and I wasn’t there. She was still the girl I had fallen for back when I was twenty and had no idea how to plan for a future I didn’t fucking understand would exist, but she had become a woman who was wiser and had experience she didn’t have then. She was still petite and delicately put together, but her strength was formidable and it wasn’t her I worried about breaking: it was me.

  I left her a glass of rioja in the spare room and went to shower myself, my cock still hard from feeling her close and remembering how it felt to be inside her. No one else had been the same; they hadn’t filled the space that she had and I had never understood why. How could one person fit me like a jigsaw piece so perfectly made?

  My hand grasped my cock, thinking of how her tits had felt in my hands, how her nipples puckered under my touch, in my mouth, how her pussy tasted and I wondered how the fuck I was able to back away from her when her eyes had asked me to take her away from reality.

  Reality was what we had to deal with if we were to survive.

  I thought about how I would make her come now, how she might react to hands that were more skilled, fingers that knew where to rub, to press, to feel. I exploded thinking about her face as she came, how her eyes would gaze up at me and her lips would gasp my name.

  My palms rested on the tiles as I gathered my breath, thankful for the release and needing something more than my own hand, but the need to fuck her and claim her back as mine was overwhelming and my brain thankfully was leading that push.

  Tuesday nights were usually reserved for some sort of rugby practice with the Callaghan brothers: Max, Jackson, Seph and Callum, now he was back from saving rhinos somewhere. This one was different, one of those evenings when you knew you’d look back and remember everything in perfect clarity. I felt as if I was about to take a step off a high point and descend into something unknown that I hoped was soft and kind.

  “Will this do?” Claire’s voice came from the doorway from the hall
into the kitchen where I was sitting with a beer. I turned around to see her wearing a fitted dress that made me notice every curve to her slim body.

  “You’re perfect.”

  “You’re biased.”

  “How’s that a problem?”

  “It isn’t.”

  “So, accept the compliment. Why isn’t my opinion important?”

  “Because you’re biased.”

  “Why am I biased?”

  “Because… I don’t know. Why are you biased?”

  I stood up and moved towards her, her presence larger than her tiny size. “I’m not. I’ve seen you for what you are since you were sixteen.”

  “Does that make you a pervert?”

  “I was eighteen.”

  “I’ll let you off.” She stood on her tiptoes even in heels to kiss my chin and I smothered a smile.

  “Padella?” I said, naming a restaurant that didn’t take bookings and was one of the best pasta places I knew. “We can walk there and it’s early enough that we should be able to get a table.”

  “Sounds good. I don’t have an early start. Mediation starts at ten. I’m meeting Katie at nine-thirty. I do need to sleep tonight.”

  “What would help?”

  She shrugged. “I think I’ll be fine. That bed is comfier than the one I have at home and it’s at the top of the house…”

  “So, you feel safe?”

  She nodded. “I do. Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s just pretend that we both have nothing important to do tomorrow and all that matters are having a good meal and talking about anything other than work.”

  “I think we can do that.”

  We headed over to Padella in Borough, her hand in mine and it almost felt as if we hadn’t spent the past thirteen years apart. We talked about London, about her possibly moving, about my brother and the twins and it was easy. The conversation followed and there weren’t the awkward silences that I’d sometimes had with other women. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk and her hair was mussed by the evening breeze and I knew at that moment, if I hadn’t already been sure, that this was still the woman I needed to be with.