Safe Harbour

by Helene Young

  Darcy’s eyes filled with tears. No matter his crime, he didn’t deserve to lose a wife and a daughter like that. The tears dripped onto his hands, making runnels through the dust. She couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t pretend to be aloof, untouched. She understood what it felt like to need comfort, seek comfort, and find everyone you loved was lost to you. His grief tore into her.

  Her chair scraped across the floor, but he didn’t look up. She walked around and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around him, offering the only comfort she could. His skin was hot, his hair springy against her cheek. She breathed in his smell. He placed his hand on her wrist and she felt a jolt of desire as he ran the lightest of touches over her skin with his thumb. It shouldn’t have felt erotic, but it did. Something unexpected in the face of so much sorrow.

  Conor’s tears had stopped now, although he was still hunched over. His thumb brushed over her wrist again and she felt the warmth of his breath on her arm. What would she do if he turned and pressed his lips to hers again? She was holding her breath. It was crazy. The pull of attraction had more to do with her history, her past and little to do with her future. Yet what did her tomorrow hold? A cold empty bed while she pined for something, someone she could never have, someone who saw her as just a dear friend? Someone who made her pulse stutter yet ruffled her hair as though she was still sixteen. Someone who made her laugh and played guitar with a passionate intensity, but was always quick to leave with a wave and a smile. Someone who knew her strengths, her weaknesses and, maybe because of those flaws, never looked further than their friendship?

  Conor bent his head and pressed a kiss on the soft skin in the crook of her elbow. She melted and couldn’t stop her arms tightening. Her limbs felt light, floating. The tiniest of shivers ran up her body. He leant back against her, their skin-to-skin contact giving her a sensuous jolt. Her eyes closed against the exquisite longing. This was her here and now, a man who’d made no apology for desiring her, whose approval shone from his eyes. It was powerful, more powerful than she thought possible. Why was she resisting it? What harm could it do?

  He turned in his seat, tugging her into his lap and she wound her arms around his neck. His muscles were corded under her fingers as he claimed her lips, scattering kisses across her cheeks, down her neck. His tongue slid across her collarbone and she arched against him, her breasts aching to be touched, heat pooling low in her belly.

  She slid her hand down, threaded it inside his shirt, letting it rest against his chest. His skin rippled under her touch and he groaned, captured her lips again and deepened the kiss, stole her breath, took as she gave.

  His hands roved down to her waist, under her shirt, tracing across her skin, higher, higher until they slid across her nipples, arcing fire through her body. She could feel his erection hard against her thigh and could feel her body opening, swelling with the want, the need to hold him close, to give comfort in the most elemental of ways.

  She felt cool air on her skin as he peeled the shirt from her shoulders; all the while his lips claimed hers in kisses that spoke of a need, a hunger. She slipped clear of her top, then fumbled with his buttons, baring his chest to her touch. Her world had reduced to a place where it was only the two of them, with no yesterday or tomorrow, just this moment stolen in time.

  He broke the kiss, nibbled down her neck, then lower to her breasts, sliding kisses across the soft skin as he eased her bra off before taking her nipple in his mouth. The unbearable pressure made her moan low in her throat as she tipped her head back, threading her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to her.

  As she watched through half-closed eyes she saw glints of silver in his dark hair, skin polished and glowing, taut muscles under tanned skin. She breathed in, smelt soap, sweat and a sweet earthiness as he nipped and kissed. The chorus of birds had died away and all she could hear was the beat of her heart and the sounds of their bodies moving together as they touched, tasted, explored.

  His touch became urgent. The buttons at her waist snagged. ‘You’re teasing me,’ he murmured against her lips as he tugged at the fasteners.

  The words ‘teasing me’ were an echo of another day, another man, another moment that had ripped her world apart. Like a punch it snapped her head back and she pulled away, stumbled to her feet, her chest heaving, her hand pressed to her mouth.

  ‘God, what am I doing?’ She couldn’t look at him. This wasn’t Noah. This was a stranger she barely knew. Sunlight streamed in through the grimy windows, picking up particles of dust they’d stirred into the air.

  ‘Darcy.’ The word managed to sound both resigned and sad.

  She didn’t want to talk, she couldn’t. How could she explain?

  ‘No.’ She plucked up her bra and shirt, pulled them on with trembling fingers. He didn’t move, sprawled in his seat. She walked to the doorway, wanting to run, hide.

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what?’ she asked, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

  ‘Don’t over-analyse. It is what it is. Something beautiful to hold on to. No pressure.’

  She almost laughed. Something beautiful? Almost having sex with a man she barely knew in a decaying farmhouse? Another bad choice.

  ‘I’m sorry. Blame me,’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘People do crazy things when they’re tired.’ She heard the smile in his voice and forced herself to turn. He was still sprawled in the chair, his arm draped across the back of his chair. His hair was tousled, messed from her frantic fingers. Sexy, rumpled, dangerous.

  ‘No excuse.’ She knew she sounded brusque, but this intimacy between them shifted the power balance. ‘Getting you to Sydney is the issue.’

  ‘Right.’ He buttoned his shirt and Darcy turned away again. This was no fairytale with a happy ending. There was something more than just desire in his eyes, but she shied away from it. All she could see in her mind were images of Noah and she couldn’t shake them. Noah, laughing in sunlight, teasing her in the rain, playing music that lodged deep in her soul. Noah with trust in his eyes.

  She walked to the door, wrapped her arms around her chest and peered out across the farmland. The sun had turned the grass a honey gold, the fog still swirled but higher now. A ripple of breeze left a trail across the paddock.

  Conor came and stood beside her, not touching, but so close that it didn’t matter. God, what had she almost done? She swallowed, pressed a hand to her stomach, just below her ribs where a stone of disgust the size of a brick had settled. This wayward pull of attraction to Conor was about compassion, about sorrow. Just like when she was seventeen. She’d seen the pity, the worry in Noah’s eyes when he’d kissed her – she’d slapped his face and screamed at him to leave her alone, accused him of betraying her. He’d stood there and taken it, and yet he’d come back, found her, rescued her.

  Oh, Noah . . .

  Her eyes fluttered closed and she turned her head away. ‘So why will your evidence bring Stirling down?’

  He seemed to accept the abrupt change in the conversation, the mood.

  ‘I’ve had two years to do some more digging. Stirling and Rod Reeves started training the Banksia Bears back in the late eighties. They took those schoolboys to the state titles and then the national title. A bunch of kids from a country area that did great things. A wonderful story, but there was more to it. Do you remember your dad going to America?’

  Darcy nodded. He’d brought home so many presents she almost forgave him for leaving her at home.

  ‘He spent some time with a company called BALCO.’

  Darcy shook her head.

  ‘Remember Marion Jones? The American sprinter who won gold medals at Sydney?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, she lost them later after testing positive to drugs.’

  ‘And the company that was implicated was BALCO. It doesn’t exist any more, but at the time they’d developed a drug, a steroid, THG. Called The Clear. Untraceable at the time. Not any more. Australia di
dn’t test schoolboys at the time – they barely tested regular athletes. It wasn’t a coincidence your father’s teams did so well in the years after he was in America. I gather he’d always been a health nut who gave his team vitamins so his boys weren’t surprised when he started feeding them more stuff. He was a science teacher and they trusted him.’

  ‘This is all anecdotal.’ Darcy didn’t know why she was defending Stirling.

  ‘No. Reeves has a lab report. I’ve seen it. Apparently he took a sample of your dad’s supplements and had them analysed. ASADA’s seen the results now. It was THG.’

  ‘So it’s Rod’s word against Stirling’s?’

  ‘Kind of.’ He fell silent. ‘Darcy, there’s also an autopsy report. I have a copy. It lists elevated levels of testosterone and also ephedrine in a young player’s bloodstream, but nothing was done about it.’

  Darcy reached for the edge of the table. The old dairy house had tilted. She knew with a desperate certainty where this was going. She willed her knees to stop trembling.

  Conor continued. ‘Your friend Grant had been using steroids and in all likelihood Clear. Do you think a kid playing high school football and then local comp would have had the wherewithal to access that sort of drug?’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t . . .’ Darcy had to protest but she couldn’t say his name. ‘The internet?’

  ‘There was no eBay, no on-line shopping in the mid-nineties. Did you even have a computer?’ He was calm again, reasoning, and it was making too much sense. She couldn’t think clearly, didn’t want to.

  ‘There was only one place that drug could have been coming from and that was Stirling. ASADA have done their own investigating now. They’re just waiting for the court case then they’ll take further action.’

  ‘So it won’t matter if you testify or not.’ Darcy knew she sounded scornful but she was scrambling to keep up.

  Her phone beeped again. She ignored it.

  ‘It’ll make it watertight. So much of the evidence is information I’ve supplied, conversations I’ve had. This is much bigger than Rod Reeves. There’s a core of people, like him, people who’ve been playing God for too long. It’s not about sport any more. It’s about advertising rights, about luxury perks, about television deals. The good clubs know they need to look after their players, but for some others at the top, the stars are just a commodity.’

  ‘I just can’t accept that Stirling would do something like that. He’s always argued for more drug testing.’

  ‘Knowing full well there weren’t enough resources to do it, nor the will. I don’t expect you to thank me for this. Believe me I’d rather not cause you any more hurt after everything you’ve done for me.’

  Darcy knew she was an insignificant casualty, nothing like some of the actors in this little melodrama. Her phone beeped again and this time she pulled it out. It was from Stirling: Still in Brisbane. I’ll be there at 2. Great. She’d have to deal with him face-to-face.

  Car tyres crunched over the loose track and she turned her head. ‘Oh my god. Not again.’

  ‘What?’ Conor was on his feet.

  ‘I don’t recognise this car. Fuck it!’

  It pulled up behind the old Holden, effectively blocking them in. Darcy was already halfway out the door when Noah emerged. The relief in him was obvious, but she stopped in her tracks, caught between guilt and the desire to run to him.

  ‘Darcy, thank God. You’re safe.’ His shirt was filthy. He strode towards her, even though fatigue must have been smothering him. He pulled her close in a fierce hug.

  ‘You scared me half to death.’ Embarrassment made her pull away even though she wanted nothing more than to rest in his arms. He clasped her shoulder and his touch lingered. Her pulse gave its usual flutter but she refused to meet his eyes.

  ‘Whose car?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a hire car from Bundaberg. Mine’s too obvious. ’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And they’re looking for that old Holden.’ He nodded as the other man joined them outside. He let his arm drop, moved half a step away from Darcy. ‘Conor. How’re you holding up?’

  ‘I’ll be happy once I’m out of here.’ Conor stopped on the other side of Darcy and she almost jumped when he touched her arm. Noah’s eyebrow shot up and a look of sorrow – or was it anger? – flashed across his face.

  ‘Sorry mate, but that won’t be until tomorrow morning.’ His tone was harder, challenging almost. ‘The alert is still out and they’ve even put it up on Crime Stoppers. ’

  ‘How’s Rosie?’ Darcy asked and her heart rate spiked again as Noah turned to her. He’d never been able to lie. His sombre look was all she needed to see.

  ‘Noah? What happened?’

  ‘She’s in Bundy hospital. Someone gave her a hiding. They’ve airlifted Zeke to Brisbane as well. He’s got some serious internal injuries and a badly broken leg.’

  Conor swore and swung away, walked towards the cars. Darcy ignored him. ‘Will she be all right?’

  Noah didn’t reply. Darcy had to press the tip of her tongue hard to the roof of her mouth, trying not to give in to tears. ‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ he finally said. ‘She’d lost a lot of blood by the time I found her. I thought she was dead. But she’s a tough old lady . . . ’

  Darcy couldn’t stop the tears now and stood there pressing her lips together. ‘I have to go and see her,’ she managed to say. ‘It’s my fault. My stupid idea that I could help out. Oh, God, Rosie . . .’

  ‘No, Darcy, no.’ Noah wrapped her up in his arms, held her against his shoulder as her tears soaked his shirt. ‘Don’t do this again. Don’t blame yourself for something you can’t change, you didn’t do. It’s not your fault, Darcy, none of it. It never was. It never was.’ His arms tightened around her and she felt his lips against her hair as his words made it through the haze of her pain. ‘Ssh, my love, shh. I’ve got you.’

  His embrace was a safe haven, familiar but somehow new. The way their bodies fitted together was something she’d never felt before. There’d always been a distance in his hugs. This was different. This was a man holding a woman, not two teenagers bewildered by circumstances that held them captive. This was about belonging, understanding, sharing, supporting. About love. That recognition, that realisation, rocked her to her core.

  The hint of his usual aftershave was all but smothered by the smell of bushfire, sweat and grime, but there was still that indefinable essence that was Noah. The solid muscles on his back bunched as she splayed her hands across them and buried her face in his chest. This felt so right, so different to the flaming desire that had blown away her control with Conor.

  Noah made soothing circles on her shoulder blades, cradling her close. She could feel the rumblings of his murmurs of comfort. In Conor’s arms she’d felt desired. Here with Noah she felt treasured, cherished. Loved. Had she imagined that he’d called her ‘my love’?

  Her tears dried, but still she clung to him knowing this was not a moment of misplaced attraction, or of pity, but a deep-seated rightness that made the world turn more slowly, less erratically. Here in his arms was home.

  ‘Okay?’

  She nodded, then he was moving, his hands still steadying her but putting some distance between them. She managed to stop her lips from trembling as he gave her arm a last squeeze and turned to Conor, who was standing by the cars facing away from her. The play of air across her damp cheeks left her feeling bereft. She patted her pockets, found a tissue, blew her nose. The enormity of her mistake was starting to hammer home and she avoided Conor’s eyes. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Noah looked at Conor for a long moment, and when he spoke Darcy heard a definite edge to his voice. Had he guessed? ‘I think camping out here is as good as it’s going to get, mate. I’ll continue to follow up with an inspector down in Brisbane who sent through some information this morning and the Witness Protection guys should be here this afternoon. They can deal with the alert – it’s come from their juris
diction.’

  ‘And they may not have an answer,’ Conor said.

  ‘They may not.’ Noah paused a moment. ‘Two friends injured, a house burnt to the ground. The witness boys say you’re too important to lose. I hope no one’s having a lend of me.’

  Conor’s gaze hardened. ‘No one’s having a lend of you, mate, but I’m not sure it’s worth the price either.’

  Noah snorted. ‘Great.’ He turned to Darcy and his face softened. ‘I’ve brought water. And food.’

  Darcy followed him back to the car and took the offered take­away bag. He hauled two water containers out of the boot and lugged them over to the shack.

  ‘I’m guessing you two haven’t eaten for a while.’ There was something else in Noah’s eyes, a tenderness at odds with his severe demeanour. His gaze roamed over Darcy’s face. ‘Or slept much.’

  ‘Thanks. We haven’t.’ Conor dug a burger from the packet Darcy handed him, the smell of fries wafting out of the bag. Darcy unwrapped her burger and bit into the sweet bun knowing she needed energy. Noah took the last one and the three of them munched in silence.

  ‘So what now?’ Conor finished first.

  ‘You stay here. And do us all a favour and keep out of sight. Darcy, it’s your call. You can come back with me and see Rosie. If Conor’s dumb enough to try and do a runner with the entire Queensland police force looking for him, I can’t stop him. The Witness Protection officers should be here around two o’clock.’

  ‘Two? They’re on the same flight as Stirlo?’

  ‘So what’s Stirling coming to Bundaberg for?’ Noah shot her a puzzled look.

  ‘Apparently he’s concerned about me. He also told me Conor was importing drugs from Indonesia and that I should hand him over to the police.’

  ‘Shit. What the hell’s he doing?’

  ‘Trying to shut Conor up too, apparently.’

  ‘What’s Stirling got to do with Conor?’

  Darcy glanced at Conor, whose frown turned to a scowl. ‘You two better talk. Maybe you can understand it better than I did.’ She was desperate to get away from the two of them. She needed to think and she needed to see Rosie.