Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  He nodded.

  'If I want to go out on my own, I will. No arguments.'

  'Of course.'

  'And you will sleep in the spare bedroom.'

  He looked away, uneasy.

  'You're not sleeping with me! This is my house, my rules. Just friends remember.'

  She waited for a response. He was staring out of the patio doors, his face creased with concern. She knew he would try to sidle his way into her affections, but she would refuse him. This time, she would be in charge.

  'Anything else?' he asked.

  'We share the housework and the shopping and we respect the others privacy.'

  'What about this Saskia business?'

  'If I want your help, I'll ask for it. Otherwise stay out of it.'

  Was she too harsh? He didn’t seem concerned, surprisingly. What was he up to? It was disappointing that he was not retaliating, and in the very least, she had expected him to be pleading with her to discuss their failed relationship, but he had not uttered a word. Whilst suspicious, she decided he had given up on her. Irritated, she stood up, grabbed the empty mugs and plates, and strode into the kitchen.

  He appeared in the doorway. 'What happened yesterday?'

  'I was thrown to the floor and bound and gagged.'

  He smiled. 'Seriously, what happened?'

  'I am being serious . . . well, apart from the gagging bit.'

  He approached her, arms outstretched. She dodged under his arm, escaping to the dining table, and gathered the tablemats.

  'Are you okay?'

  'Do I look like I'm okay?'

  'Megan, don't be sharp with me.'

  She placed the mats into a cupboard, returned for the tablecloth, and folded it using the existing creases as a guide.

  'Are you annoyed at me?' he asked.

  She scrutinised him. She should be glad that he had finally realised that their relationship was over, but she wasn't. She wanted to see him groveling for her affection. 'No, I'm not annoyed with you.'

  'So tell me about it, from the start.'

  She took a breath and steadied her nerves, and told the story from start to finish. Ben was attentive and when she had finished asked if she had any idea who was responsible. She said not.

  'Maybe someone has an axe to grind. Perhaps they didn't like Saskia, and because you look alike, they are taking it out on you.'

  ‘That could be it. I don't want to be involved, but I have a feeling I am not going to have a choice.'

  'Whoever gave you the leaflet was involved. It's a pity you can't remember anything about them.'

  'They had a pile of leaflets in their hands. Mine must have been different to the others. It did look a bit tacky.'

  'You should be careful. Don't trust anyone.'

  She scowled and folded her arms across her middle. 'I'm not going to hide away.'

  'I didn't think you would. Even so, you should make sure you stay in public places.'

  She reached for a cushion and pressed it into her abdomen. 'It's not going to be that easy. However hard I try, there are going to be times when I'm alone. And this could go on for months. I'm not going to be a prisoner in my own home.'

  He was studying her. He was thinking about taking her back, to his home.

  'I'm not going back to Halifax,' she said.

  'Why not? As you said, this could go on for months. You would be safe there.'

  She bolted upright and extended her neck. 'I've told you. I don't want a relationship with you. You shouldn't have come. It's wrong.'

  'What are you scared of?'

  'Do I need to answer that?'

  His eyes pressed into her. She wasn't about to say tell him something that he should already know. If he was that stupid, he didn’t deserve an explanation.

  'Is it about the accident and your bruised leg?'

  'It was no accident!'

  'Come on, please. Be reasonable.'

  She jumped to her feet. 'Me? Be reasonable? I'm not going through this again. I've told you, over and over again how I feel, yet you've dismissed everything I've said.'

  'I thought we were going to put it behind us and make a fresh start. A lot happened that shouldn't have, and things were said in the heat of the moment. I want you back Megan. I love you.'

  She folded her arms and scowled.

  'Please reconsider. We've all learned from the incident. We can make this work.'

  'Not until you can admit I was treated badly.'

  There was bewilderment in his eyes. Still, they talked at cross-purposes.

  Ben levered himself up from the sofa. 'I should empty the car. Fancy giving me a hand?'

  She followed him to the doorway, stopping at the threshold when she experienced a wave of anguish. As shivers ran up her spine, she held her arms close to her body, pulling them tight, and scanned the immediate vicinity. There was a man walking a small dog, a couple of teenage girls tottering towards the shops with linked arms, and there was a builder with a tool box in hand, walking to a van. Anyone of these people could have been her attacker. She made a tentative step forward and strained her neck to look further down the street, searching for anyone who may be observing her.

  'Here,' Ben said, 'grab this.'

  Warily, she moved towards him, accepted the box, and carried it indoors. He shadowed her, urging her to move faster, and dropped a couple of bags in the hallway before striding back to the car.

  'You've brought a lot of stuff down,' she said.

  'Quite a bit is yours.'

  She carried the box indoors and perused the acrylics, pastels, and sketchpads. Her interest had vanished, the association with the attack too great, and so she placed it into the cloakroom under the staircase, out of sight. Grudgingly, she strode back to the door, skirting around the growing pile of bags and boxes, and looked outside to Ben, resentful of the amount he had brought. This was her house and he was cluttering it up.

  He dropped another two bags inside and shut the door. 'That's the lot.'

  'Why is there so much?'

  'As I said,’ he said, carrying two bags upstairs, ‘we don't know how long it's going to take to sort out this Saskia business. I wanted to make sure I was prepared.'

  Irritated, she looked at the pile, and then leaned over and unzipped a bag. Blood rushed to her head and she started to tremble.

  'No!'

  She picked up a PlayStation game and looked up the staircase. Ben was peering over the banister looking sheepish.

  'This is David's,' she said.

  'I was going to tell you.'

  'He's not staying.'

  'I thought it would be okay.'

  'Okay? After everything that has happened!'

  Megan flung the game onto the floor and rushed into the living room. Her skin rippled; her breaths frantic. She ran her hands through her hair and stared at the photograph of Joshua, searching for solace. Then she listened to Ben's heavy steps as he descended the stairs.

  'It was a misunderstanding - it will be okay,' he said, 'it's a new start, for us all.'

  'No Ben, not David.'

  'That's not fair. We come as a package.'

  He reached across to touch her. She flung his arm aside and glared.

  'I want you to go. This was meant to be the two of us.'

  'He won't cause trouble. He wanted to come.'

  She puffed out. 'I'll bet he did.'

  'What's that supposed to mean?'

  She strode to the patio doors. His eyes pressed into her.

  'I couldn't leave him,' he said.

  'Sure you could. He's old enough to look after himself.'

  'He likes you Megan. I wish you'd give him a chance.'

  She pushed him aside. 'I'm going for a run. I want you gone by the time I get back.'

  'I can't do that. I'm picking him up from a friend's soon . . . and he's made other plans.'

  'Then he'll have to unmake them!'

  She stomped upstairs, changed into her jogging bottoms, top, and trainers, and lef
t the house, her adrenaline surging.

  Megan's rhythmical steps pounded the paving stones as she turned onto her street to return home. Ben's car was absent. Believing that he had gone to collect David, she felt little relief. Unwilling to ponder the situation, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The hallway was clear of baggage, but rather than searching the house for Ben and David's possessions, which she felt sure were there, she stepped into the kitchen and poured herself a cooling glass of water.

  She gulped the liquid in between tight breaths and felt the coolness pass to her stomach. Her skin coated in perspiration, and droplets slithered down her cheeks. She glanced at her pale-blue top, and the vast patches of sweat that had formed under her armpits, on her sternum, and under her breasts, and her chest rose and fell. It was a satisfying sensation.

  Having quenched her thirst, she climbed the stairs. Her legs were quivering and she longed for rest, but first she needed to remove the sticky substance from her body. She peeled off her sodden clothes, noticing the tidemarks had extended to her bra and knickers, and strode to the bathroom for a shower.

  The hot water gushed, trailing along the dips and valleys of her body and massaging her tired muscles. She closed her eyes and focused upon every drop, every trickle, enjoying every blissful moment. Then she applied the shower gel to the sponge and swept it across her body in circular motions. Her tension dispersed, she felt revitalised and cleansed.

  She stepped out of the shower, removed the worst of the moisture with a towel, and headed to the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. There were voices emanating from the street. Familiar voices.

  Her anger bubbled. Scowling, she pushed the bedroom door shut and sat back on the bed where she continued to dry her moist body. The outer door opened. Ben said something to David. She closed her ears.

  It would be different this time. This was her home. They were guests.

  But why had she invited them? Oh Lord! She had been stupid.

  She glanced at the fading bruise on her leg. This time she would gain the upper hand. She patted her legs with the towel.

  The door opened. Megan screamed and covered herself with the towel. David looked at her and smirked.

  'Sorry,' he said and shut the door.

  'Stay out of my room!'

  She threw on her clothes and stomped into the hallway. David was lounging on the bed in the next room. She went inside.

  'What the hell do you think you were doing?'

  He grinned. 'I thought Dad said my room was the second one.'

  'Like hell you did! Leave me alone!'

  'Now that's not very nice. Dad wants us all to make an effort.'

  She looked into his eyes, wild and untrusting. She looked at his lips and saw his satisfied smile. Then she thought of his gleeful expression when he opened the door and saw her naked body. Biting her lip, she scuttled from the room.

  'Don't forget, you have to be nice to me. You wouldn't want Dad to find out what you're capable of, now would you?'

  She jerked to a standstill, and turned around and glared. His expression was vile. How could he be Ben's son?

  This time, he would not gain control. This time he would not blackmail her with her secret.

  Chapter 10

  The sun's glow captured her, warming her skin through the patio doors and generating a sense of well-being. Mesmerised, Megan's tired features aroused, softening under the intense light as she looked through the glass to the garden, beyond the smeared fingerprints to the fine blades of the grasses, to the flimsy yet firm petals on the roses, and to the rippled texture of the bark on the tree.

  There was a padding of footsteps in the room above. Stiffening, she stared at her plate.

  'Are you okay?' Ben asked.

  Taut, she reached for her mug, accidentally tapping her plate as she drew it to her mouth. 'What do you think?'

  'You seem on edge. I wouldn't worry too much about this Saskia business. It'll sort itself out.'

  'You think that's what is worrying me?'

  'Megan, please. Can't we try again? I want us to make a new start, all of us.'

  'That was my plan too. Then you arrived.'

  'Don't be like that.'

  'What do you expect?’ she hissed. ‘You know why I left, yet . . . yet . . .'

  David's hefty footsteps sounded as he descended the stairs, two at a time. He emerged at the door wearing jeans that barely covered his rear end and a plain black t-shirt. His hair was wild and bushy with natural kinks, and it drifted across his face. Habitually, he removed the limp strands that rested on his angular cheekbone, placing them behind his ear. He had the same facial structure as his father and the same thick mass of hair, there was no doubting their relationship, in spite of their opposing characteristics.

  David reached across the table for a slice of toast, took a bite, and dropped the remaining toast onto an empty plate. Then he stepped away.

  'David,' Ben said in an irritated tone. ‘Finish it please.’

  'It's cold.'

  'Of course it's cold, it's toast.'

  'I'm going to make some more.'

  As soon as he disappeared into the kitchen, she sighed.

  Ben looked at her, concerned. 'I'm sorry you don't feel comfortable, but we're here now, and until we find out who's after you, we're staying.' He reached for her hand. 'I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.'

  She did not respond and looked at the doorway, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen.

  He lowered his voice. 'He said he'll try harder. Please, give it a go, for me.’

  ‘You actually believe him.’

  ‘I do, and I know I've said it before, but I do think you should stay around the house more.'

  ‘I can't stay in all the time. I'd go out of my mind. Anyhow, I have to find a job.'

  'Can't you paint? It's a perfect opportunity.'

  David strode into the living area holding two slices of toast, and slumped onto the sofa and began flicking through the television channels with the remote control. He caught her looking and his detached expression dissolved.

  She turned back to Ben. 'Painting is not going to pay the bills.’

  'I can do that.'

  She scowled. 'And I need privacy to paint.'

  'David's not going to be around all the time and I'll stay out of your way. In fact, I'll have to go visit some clients.'

  She looked at him, thoughtful.

  'I love to see you do your art. You're good.'

  'I'm out of practice.'

  'So what are you waiting for? Now's your chance.'

  She pushed her chair back and stretched out her legs. She could not find the motivation, nor reproduce the calmness required. It felt like a monumental battle just to gather her equipment together.

  'Have you ever produced images of Joshua?'

  'I didn't paint much back then.'

  'How about doing it from photos? It could be therapeutic.'

  Out of her eye corner, she noticed David looking at her and smirking. She focused her stare onto the table, her tension rising, and told him it wasn’t a good idea.

  He rose to his feet. 'Okay, but you should consider drawing something. It would be a good distraction.' He left the room and headed upstairs.

  Hastily, she gathered the dirty cutlery and crockery and scurried into the kitchen. David's presence was suffocating, and she felt anxious and vulnerable and needed to keep busy. She cleaned the surfaces with a damp cloth, removed the crumbs from the toaster, and wiped away a smear from the fridge door. David appeared at her rear.

  He wrapped his arms around her body, trapping her against the worktop as his essence floated under her nostrils, and his warm breath moistened her neck. 'You came to me in my dreams last night. Naked and lusting.'

  She thrust her elbows backward and wriggled out of his grip. 'Leave me alone!'

  His lecherous expression turned her stomach, and she felt sickness rise to her throat. He was peeling off her clothes with hi
s eyes, and progressing along the length of her body, meandering along her curves before settling on her breasts. Defenceless to his thoughts, she covered herself with her arms the best she could and backed away,

  He edged closer, forcing her into the wall. He gripped her arm and stroked her face with his fingertips. 'You are pretty.'

  She was trembling.

  There were footsteps.

  Ben appeared in the doorway. 'What's going on?'

  David smiled confidently at his father and stepped away. 'I was just thanking her for everything she does around the house.'

  He grinned and turned to her. 'And so we should, you do a fantastic job.'

  'That's not true!' She glared at David. 'He was touching me! You saw it.'

  'David?'

  'Come on Dad, why would I do that? She's . . . she's a mother figure to me.'

  Ben smiled; he believed.

  'But . . .' words evaded her. Their expressions, sorrowful and oppressive, forced back her complaints. They would never believe her, never had, it was a futile attempt. 'You're both pathetic!'

  'I'm sorry I upset you,' David said, 'I didn't mean to.' He turned to Ben. 'I'll be more careful in future.'

  More careful not to be caught, she thought and elbowed past.

  David was slick and far too quick with his responses, and according to Ben, he could do no wrong. His pride in his son was nauseating and her skin crawled. She felt dirty and contaminated. She felt belittled.

  She stomped into the living area.

  Ben shadowed her. 'I understand it's difficult for you, but you're the closest thing to a mother David has ever had. He realises there may be times when he has crossed the boundary, but it's only because he's in unknown territory and craving affection.'

  'Bull!'

  He reached for her hand. She yanked it away.

  'He just told me that he is trying hard to do the right thing.'

  'Like hell!

  He frowned.

  'He's clever, I'll give him that, and he's sucked you in.'

  'Megan, please be a little more gracious. He made an honest mistake and apologised. He's not used to being around older women. Please give him time.'

  David was leaning against the doorframe, smirking. Once again, he had won. She slumped onto the dining room chair with her arm resting on the table and stared out of the window. Ben watched her with a penetrating sadness. In his eyes, she had flipped. Did he think she was craving attention? Did he think she was jealous?