by Jessica Ames
“No one could have known that. From what Hattie told you, there was no way of knowing he would turn up like that.”
And that is not a lie. Yes, we thought he might be a danger to Hattie, but none of us thought he’d be crazy enough to turn up at the shelter—or the charity event.
“Please, stop giving yourself such a hard time about this. There’s no need.”
Her smile is forced and laced with unease. I can see I’m going to have to work on her more to draw out her guilt. But not today, because both our attentions are snared as we round the corner.
Nate is standing just inside the foyer talking with June. His warm gaze comes to me before landing on Holly. It stays there for a beat too long before coming back to me.
“Olivia.”
I move towards him. “Hey, Nate.”
His hands go into the trouser pockets of his suit and he rocks back on his heels as he gives me a full dimpled grin. With that smile and the blond hair he’s not hard to fall in love with. The man is gorgeous. I have no idea how Holly is immune to his charms.
“I’m just trying to convince June to bake some of those fairy cakes you guys had last time I was here, but she’s not having it.”
June’s brow knits as her hand drops to her hip. She looks like an irritated mother telling off her wayward child.
“You only come for my treats, Detective Sergeant.”
“And your company, of course.”
Holly rolls her eyes and huffs loudly. “You can get cakes from anywhere. What are you doing here?”
His gaze flicks to hers and I see the softness, despite Holly’s hard words. Yeah, Nate likes her. Too bad Holly is too clueless to see it. Truthfully, I have no idea why he hasn’t made his move yet, but I suspect he’s biding his time. I hope so anyway because Holly needs some good in her life. And Detective Sergeant Nathaniel James is all good.
“What kind of welcome is that, Hols?”
“The only one you’re getting. Have you found Monroe?”
Nate’s smile fades as his eyes come to me and I see his business mask slide into place. “We arrested him an hour ago.”
Relief floods me and I can’t stop my breath from catching in my throat at that news. “Good. That’s good.”
His hand goes into his curly blond hair. “Yeah, it is and given the fact he’s on a suspended sentence for a previous offence, he’s looking at time inside now.”
And this is even better news. It means Hattie can rebuild her life, safe in the knowledge he won’t come after her. It will give her the time to regain her confidence and to get free of him.
“That’s good for Hattie,” I breathe and he nods.
“Yeah. The guy’s scum. I feel better knowing he’s off the streets.”
He’s not the only one. Monroe is a nutcase and the best place for him is behind bars.
“Thanks for coming down to tell me about Monroe. Although, you really didn’t have to come all the way down here to tell me in person. You could have just called.”
“I was passing by. Plus, I wanted to talk to Holly.”
She jolts at that statement and while she covers it fast, it’s clear Nate saw because he ducks his head, a grin playing across his lips.
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you in your office.”
Her eyes narrow. “Fine.”
“Perfect.” He turns back to me. “I might need another statement off you at the end of the week.”
“No problem.”
I watch Holly and Nate walk towards the office, bickering. Only once they go inside the room do I let myself sag against the wall of the corridor, feeling suddenly tired.
“It’s okay to fall apart, Olivia.” June’s voice makes me jump. She’s leaning against the door jamb of the meeting room. I thought she’d walked off when I was talking to Nate. Apparently not. “No one expects you to be strong all the time.”
I straighten and push my fingers through my hair. “I’m fine.” The lie comes easily. Too easily really, but fooling June is nigh on impossible. The woman should have been a sleuth.
“Yeah, of course you are.” She smiles, the lines on her wrinkled face deepening. “But it’s okay if you’re not. No one will think less of you.”
“Damn it, June. Are you trying to make me cry?”
She doesn’t rise to my poor attempt at levity, instead she folds her arms over her chest. “You don’t always have to be strong, dear.”
But I do because if I’m not I will fall apart. Counselling helped to put me back together, but it can’t ever fix me completely because underneath all the facade I put on, I’m damaged. I don’t trust people. And this is the legacy Simon has wrought. The doubts in my head were put there by him and his words. I am getting my life back on track, slowly but surely, but it seems like one step forward, ten steps back.
But I am grateful for everything I have. That night, sitting in the hospital when Georgia came to me, I knew I was in trouble. I knew I had to leave, but I didn’t have the strength to do it alone. If she hadn’t come to me, I would have gone back to him.
Does that make me crazy?
Definitely.
But the fear, the helplessness… I couldn’t have left him without help. Even in the weeks after I ran, when I was at the shelter in Bedford, there were times when I considered returning to Simon. I was alone, scared, and constantly looking over my shoulder. I thought it would be better to be with him than wondering when he was going to turn up. It was only the workers at the shelter, and Georgia, that kept me moving forward. Later, it was Kath, Holly and June that gave me purpose and the belief life could be good again.
So I do have to be strong, because the alternative can only lead to bad things.
Still, I don’t want to upset June, so I keep my voice soft as I say, “I know.”
I think this will be the end of the conversation, but she adds, “It’s okay to be scared of scary things.”
“I know,” I repeat, “but I’m not. I’m fine, June.”
June pushes off the door frame, scepticism lining her face, but she doesn’t call me on it as she says, “I’m heading down to the kitchen. Shout if you need me.”
And I get the feeling she means for more than just tasks around the shelter.
“Yeah, I will.”
The sound of the office door opening draws my attention and Holly practically storms out. Nate saunters out after her, watching her disappear up the corridor before slowly walking back towards me.
“What did you say to her?” I demand, which earns me a dimpled grin.
“The woman can’t handle hearing the truth.”
I wonder what truth that may be, and whether he finally bit the bullet and confessed his feelings. Probably not, I doubt he’d do it at her place of work and truthfully, I think he likes the game they’re playing.
“I’ll catch you later, Olivia.” He moves towards the front door, but before he reaches it I call out.
“Nate.” He pauses at the door, waiting for me to catch up to him.
“Yeah?” He raises his brow.
I don’t know how to say what I want to ask so I pause, wincing a little.
He tilts his head, eyes intent. “Everything okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, yeah—everything’s fine. Especially now you’ve got Monroe under lock and key.” I bite my bottom lip. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
I hesitate, not sure if I should go there, but needing to know. Forewarned is forearmed, after all, and with Dean I feel this is imperative. “What do you know about Dean Lawler?”
Nate frowns at me, then shrugs. “Runs with the wrong crowds, but he’s never been in trouble with the law. You worried about him being involved in this?”
“What?” Of course, he thinks I’m asking about the case. “No, not even a little. Dean helped me and I’m grateful for that, but I just want to get the measure of the man.”
He blows out a breath, his hands dropping to his hips which rucks up h
is suit jacket.
“The Saxons are neck deep in shit they shouldn’t be, but for all the shit they do, they also do a lot of good for the town.”
Like the charity stuff, I’m guessing.
“Are they good for Kingsley?” he continues. “Fuck no, but if it wasn’t them it’d be someone else. With them, it’s a case of better the devil you know.”
That doesn’t sound overly positive. Then again, it doesn’t sound overly negative either.
“What kind of ‘shit’ are they into?”
His fingers dig into his hair as he dodges my question. “You worried about him? Has he done something or said something?”
I shake my head. “No, no. Not at all. He’s never been anything but nice.” Too nice really.
Nate considers me for a moment and I can see the cogs turning in his head.
“Lawler is loyal to his family and that family is Club. Everything else doesn’t mean a thing, but if you don’t bother him, he won’t bother you.”
Food for thought, although it doesn’t help me any further. I force a smile.
“Thanks, Nate.”
“No problem. Do you want to let me out of here?”
I nod and walk him to the door, hitting the release button to disengage the lock. Then I lock the porch behind him and return back into the main building. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders knowing Monroe is finally out of my hair and off the street. Truthfully, the incident with him shook me more than I want to admit, although June (and Holly, to an extent) clearly don’t believe the front I’m putting up. The helplessness I’d felt facing him took me right back to my days with Simon and helpless is something I never want to feel again.
Chapter Eight
The gym sits on the high street between the bank and—ironically—Mim’s Bakery. It’s double fronted and from the look of it must have been two separate stores at one point. In a former life, June told me it was part of the old cattle market. Now, the inside is opened out into two separate areas: a reception foyer and the main floor, where classes are held and the exercise machines are set out. The gym, Mim’s and the bank are also among the few businesses on the High Street that are not boarded up.
I enter the building a little uncertain but determined. After what happened with Monroe I’ve decided I need to protect myself. Never again will I allow a man to hurt me—at least not without a fight.
In a fortuitous sign, I saw an advert for kick-boxing classes over a week ago and immediately called to sign up before I could change my mind. It’s not the first time I’ve done self-defence; I did classes when I first left Simon as part of the ‘journey back to empowerment’, but I want to learn more than just to knee an attacker in the balls. I want to know how to survive if someone tries again to put their hands on me. I want to learn to fight.
The likelihood I can throw off a grown man is slim, but at least if I have the awareness of how to take down a partner bigger than me I can avoid situations in the future with men like Monroe. I was lucky this time; Dean was there to sweep in and save the day but there could be a time when there are no Deans around and I’m the only one who can save me.
So, kick-boxing seems like a good first step. I’m not sure if it will help or be a hindrance, but it’s worth a shot. As long as I volunteer at the shelter there will always be a risk of danger and I need to be able to defend myself and the women in my care.
I’m hoping Dan, the guy who runs the class, can teach me some amazing moves, but we’ll see. For now, my main objective is trying not to get socked in the face.
I push the main door open and step into the foyer. There are a few other people just exiting the main room, probably having just finished a class. I hover to the side, out of the way, and wait for the throng of people to thin out.
“Olivia?” a deeply masculine voice speaks and I glance up to see an athletic looking man strolling towards me. He’s a little older than me, and clearly manscapes. His white vest is fitted tight enough to mould to the contours of his pecs and his biceps are thick. He looks like someone who takes a lot of time on his appearance.
“You must be Dan.”
“Guilty as charged,” he grins. “Shall we do this?”
I nod.
For the next forty minutes Dan works me—and a room full of other women—almost to heart attack inducing levels, but we don’t learn any defence moves. It’s mostly cardio and getting fit. That’s fine, but I also need to protect myself.
I come out of the session feeling deflated and more than a little disappointed. Maybe I need to look into self-defence classes further afield. Surely Mountgerald will have something or one of the outlying towns.
I zip up my hooded jacket and sling my gym bag over my shoulder as I say bye, trying not to let my disappointment leech out, but I am disappointed. I want to learn to defend myself; not to make my thighs look great on the beach.
Frustrated, my mind is full as I step out onto the street and run straight into a wall of flesh. I rebound, but hands grab me, keeping me on my feet. I hiss, instantly trying to pull back as my heart rate picks up and the muscle starts contracting rapidly in my chest.
Panic floods me as a voice mutters, “Easy, love.”
I try to regain my equilibrium as my gaze darts up to see who the voice belongs to. The man is taller than I am and, judging from the leather vest on his back, he’s Club. In fact, I recognise him vaguely from the charity event over a fortnight ago, but I don’t know his name. That he’s Club is the only thing that stops me from taking a swing at him.
He releases me carefully, once he’s sure I won’t fall down. He’s a gangly man with narrow shoulders and a hint of dark hair on his jaw, longer on his head. There are no tattoos in sight—although he could be hiding more under his clothes since he’s wearing a thick hooded sweatshirt under his vest.
“Sorry,” I apologise immediately, trying to calm my stampeding heart, “I wasn’t paying attention.”
He shrugs. “Don’t sweat it, love.” Then his eyes scan down my body to take in the leggings and hooded jacket I’m wearing. “Although it looks like you have been.”
“I’m up here, buddy,” I mutter, satisfied to see his eyes snap back up to my face. He grins, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips and opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn’t get a chance.
“Rabbit,” a familiar voice snaps from behind him, and my gaze slides over his shoulder as Dean comes into view. He places a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder and moves him out of the way, none to gently, I might add.
Rabbit scowls and glares at Dean.
“What the fuck, pal—”
“Make yourself scarce,” Dean says, and to my surprise, Rabbit mutters under his breath, but he turns on a heel and takes off up the street to the parking area.
As he gives us his back, I can see his vest is different to Dean’s. He doesn’t have the Saxons insignia on the back, just the word ‘Prospect’ and an ‘MC’ patch on the bottom of the leather. I watch as he moves over to the two bikes parked up and leans against one. Next to it is the pearl and green motorcycle I recognise as Dean’s.
My eyes come back to Dean.
“Hey,” he says, lightly touching my elbow to move me to the side of the pavement and out of the way of oncoming foot traffic. I try not to think about how much I like that ghost of a touch, but I do. I really do.
“Hey.”
“How’re you doing?”
Tugging my bag up my shoulder, I say, “Yeah, good. I uh… just good, I guess.”
“You guess?”
I shift a shoulder. “The guy who attacked me—he got arrested, so yeah I’m good.”
His eyes widen a little at that. “The police got that bastard?”
“They picked him up over a week ago. Turns out he was already in trouble with the law, so it looks like he’s going inside for a bit.”
Unbelievably, it’s been nearly a month since Dean and I first met when I dropped my groceries all over the pavement. In that time his hair has s
tarted to grow. It’s still short but no longer the fuzzy carpet barely covering his scalp. I like this look. It’s less severe.
“You just finished at the gym?” he asks, glancing at my gym clothes. Unlike Rabbit he doesn’t do this in a pervy, cringy way.
“Yeah,” I groan. “I can barely feel my legs. I don’t think I’ll go again though.”
“How come?”
I sigh. “I signed up for kick-boxing classes, but to be honest I don’t think I’m going to learn what I need to.”
“And what’s that?”
I don’t know that I should answer him because doing that acknowledges that I’m worried and afraid. I don’t want to show that kind of weakness because I am strong but to be strong I have to show it and believe it. But he urges me on and my mouth moves before I can stop it.
“To defend myself.”
Silence follows that revelation before Dean’s finger comes under my chin, gently lifting my face so my eyes come automatically to his. “You’re scared.”
And I hate that he sees right through my carefully constructed facade.
“I’m not scared.”
“You said Monroe got arrested.”
“He did,” I confirm.
“Yet you’re doing self-defence classes. Liv, talk to me.”
I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t but with him everything feels… easy, safe. He makes me feel like I don’t have to hold everything inside all the time, and that scares me more than all the Monroes of the world.
“I’m not scared, Dean,” I lie, “but for every Monroe that gets arrested there’s three more that don’t. There will be other incidents like that. It’s inevitable working where I do.” I shift my shoulders, my gaze everywhere but on him. “I guess I just want to be prepared for whatever might happen, but no way is that going to happen with metrosexual Dan in there.”
Dean’s lips quirk and I watch the movement of his mouth beneath his beard, mesmerised by it.
God.
“You want to learn to fight?”
“I want to learn to defend myself,” I correct.