by S. R. Jones
It can’t be.
My heart is pounding and my head spins. I put a hand to my chest not thinking, needing to soothe myself somehow.
Luka twists in his seat and glances my way.
The man, Clive Leeson, hasn’t looked at me yet. And it’s the only reason I’m still sitting here. Because the moment his eyes find mine, I’m sure I’ll keel over.
Sat in front of me, taking up too much space, and with the livid scar, and brutal buzz cut hair I remember too well, is one of my attackers. The one who broke my leg.
Shit. How can this have happened? What do I do?
In what seems like slow motion, the thug raises his eyes, and looks to the front of the room. His glance darts off Luka and comes to rest on me. For a moment, it’s as if time stops completely. Then his eyes narrow, and his face pales. He recognizes me. Oh my God.
I try to breathe, but I’m not taking in air too well.
“Cara?” Luka’s voice washes over me as if from far away.
I don’t want him saying my name. I don’t want this man to know who I am. Maybe his friends are still on the outside, and now they know my name can find me. Come and get me so I can’t tell the police.
A million thoughts flit through my mind as my heart tries to pound its way out of my chest.
As we stare at one another, caught in a shared moment of shock, something else begins to take over Clive’s face. Something nasty, and dangerous. His color returns, and his thin lips twitch up in a smirk.
I’m going to be sick. I’m sure I’m about to throw up.
Lukas is up and moving before I can do anything. He’s at the door and having a word with the guards. I can’t hear what’s being said, but the next moment the men are being led out of the room. There’s grumbling and moaning, and Lukas is saying something about me still being sick.
I don’t care. I should care because this sort of weakness isn’t easily overcome with these guys. You need to earn and hold their respect. But I can’t do anything at all about those things. I’m having to use all my willpower to simply keep on breathing.
After what feels like hours, the classroom is empty, and it is only me and Luka. I’m shaking as I look down at my trembling hands. Even my jaw is shaking. Holy shit. I need a valium. I don’t think my herbal pills are going to help me now. How can that man have been in my class?
But my brain says of course he could. He’s a criminal, and he got caught for dealing and possession of drugs. I haven’t got his file yet, and I wonder how heavy his sentence is? It won’t be anywhere near as heavy as it would be for what he did to me and Tristan. Tristan! I need to ring him. I try to grab my bag, but I’m so dithery I drop it and the contents spill all over the floor.
“Shit.” How fucking annoying. I try to pick things up, but keep dropping them, and I’m crying now too, so can’t see properly.
A big warm hand covers mine.
“Leave it, Cara. Sit up. It’s okay.” Lukas is talking in a low, but firm voice.
I do as he says automatically. I sit up and leave my stuff spilled all over the floor.
“Look at me.”
I do, and through my tears see his face. He looks pissed, and I hope he’s not angry at me.
“What the fuck’s going on?” His voice is terse, and I don’t want him angry at me. I don’t need it.
“Don’t be angry with me.” My words come out as a whisper. All my usual assertiveness gone, vanished, as I break apart.
“I’m not…fuck. I’m not angry with you, Cara. But you’ve got to talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I think the flu…” I start to lie, not sure why, but not able to talk about this right now. The words trail off though and I can’t think what to say.
Luka gives a soft laugh. “Nice try, but you think I don’t know what a panic attack looks like? I’ve seen more than enough in my time.”
“Oh, yeah? I expect hardened soldiers freak out all the time.”
“More than you’d think.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
“Everyone has a breaking point.” Luka lifts my chin with his thumb and looks at me. “Talk to me.”
I can’t! I’m terrified. I want to leave, but am scared to even walk through the prison.
“Cara!” Luka doesn’t shout but his tone is severe. “Honey, you need to talk to me, right now.”
And something in the way he says it makes the words finally flow.
“The new g-g-g-guy.” Oh, my God. I’m shaking so much I stutter. “H-h-he’s the one who…who attacked me.”
Luka frowns and then his eyes widen. “What happened in the attack?”
There’s a tic along his jaw as a muscle jumps, but his voice is soft, kind. And his hand holding mine still is reassuring.
“I was walking home with my friend, Tristan. We’d been to a gay bar with Laura and Mags. Whether these guys saw us leaving the bar and were bigots, I don’t know. Anyway. We were walking home, and these three men were being rowdy across the street from us. We ignored them, to be honest, didn’t think much of it. And one of them said something, I don’t even remember what. Then he accused us of being stuck up for ignoring him. We walked quicker, but they began to speed up too, still taunting us. And then they ran across the road and laid into us. It was so random and bizarre. Said we’d looked at them funny.”
The memory makes me want to throw up. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I thought they were going to kill Tristan.
“Thing is, I thought they’d hurt Tristan, but he went bezerk. Swinging his fists and kicking his legs like nothing I ever expected to see from him. One of the guys wandered off, obviously thinking it was all too much trouble. The other two halfheartedly pushed Tristan around a bit, and then he shoved one of them. The one in this class, and he fell onto me. He’s a big bloke, and he broke my leg. It hurt so much, I started to scream when it happened, and they ran off. Tristan freaked out and they never caught the guys. I tried to give the police a description of them, but Tristan says he can’t remember what they looked like, sort of blanked it out. The police didn’t look for long.”
“Fuck.” Luka jumps up, letting go of my hand, and paces back and forth. “Utter fucking bastards.”
He turns back to me and the anger I see in his eyes has me cringing. He immediately softens his tone and comes to sit again.
“I’m sorry. It’s a bit of an issue with me, because my piece of shit brother-in-law beat up Sally. I find it hard to not get angry, but I understand it’s the last thing you need right now. I’m calm now. Scout’s honour.” And he holds two fingers up, which makes my lips twitch in a tiny smile.
“Luka, what if this guy asks my name and the prisoners tell him? He could already know it, have asked already, and then he only has to ring his friends who were with him, and if they find where I live…it’s not a common name. I could be found.”
“I’m staying with you.”
What? Oh, no. No. No. No. I don’t know what terrifies me more. The idea of these guys finding me, or Luka staying with me.
“I’ll go and stay at Laura’s.”
“Not acceptable.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and at least his bossiness has stopped my panic attack some. “Excuse me?”
“Not acceptable. You won’t be safe there. I can keep you safe.”
“You can’t simply move into my home for an undisclosed amount of time in case these men find me.”
He rakes a hand through his hair, impatience buzzing in the air around him. “I can, and I am. I can keep you safe. And look, if you think this is an excuse to get into your pants, I’ll sleep in the spare room. No funny business at all.”
“I’m nothing to you. Why would you do this?”
“Oh, but you are something to me. I don’t know quite what you are, but you’re something, alright, and I won’t sleep knowing you’re either home alone and scared, or at Laura’s and putting them in danger.”
“I don’t want to put you in danger.”
<
br /> He laughs. “I can handle myself, and Thor only lives around the corner from you. If we need him he can be at yours in five minutes. I’ll call and give him the heads up to always have his phone on him.”
Thor? Have I entered a parallel universe? My face must be a picture because Luka starts to laugh. “Sorry, it’s our nickname for our friend Reece. Big, blond, heroic. Hence Thor.”
Ah, okay. I should put up a fight. Tell him absolutely not, but a not-so-small part of me wants him there. Will feel safer with him there.
“Okay. But you know, I’ll do all the cooking and stuff. Least I can do.”
“You don’t have to pay me, Cara. I want to be there.”
I want him there, too, and it makes no sense at all. What am I getting myself into? Another thought hits me and I turn to look at him. “What do I do about my job here at the prison?”
He sighs. “I’ve no idea. You need to think about what you want going forward. This is a decision only you can make, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
And there’s the difference between him and Tristan. Luka can be domineering, but he isn’t controlling. He gives me the space to make my own mind up about things. The times he doesn’t is when it comes down to my safety, or during sex. I don’t mind the first, and I love the latter.
I look around the room. It’s a bright day, and sun is streaming in through the windows, but the light can’t hide the depressing nature of the space. I’ve been finding this whole gig uncomfortable since the attack. I don’t need the money. Not really. I can always find a part time office or shop job if need be. The beauty of Mum and Dad leaving me well provided for. So why don’t I leave? Part of me hates the thought. Feels like a quitter and a failure. But if I dig down beyond that, to the space where my instinct lives, the idea is freeing. It’s what I want. My God, I don’t want to be here any longer.
It's kind of a seismic realization, as I’ve been doing this work to somehow honor my cousin. But it is what it is. I’ll have to work my notice. I’ll not leave them in the lurch, but if I talk to the Governor tomorrow, I could be free of this place in a month.
“Come on. Let me walk you out. I’ll go home, get some stuff for yours, and explain to Sally.”
I let him take my arm at the elbow and lead me out of the room. Once we get outside the imposing walls I can finally breathe. Luka heads towards some sort of SUV and holds the door open for me. It’s high, and I clamber in. It’s a massive thing, and I bet it guzzles a ton of petrol, but it’s old and battered.
Once he sits in the driver’s seat, he puts his phone in the holder in front of him and jabs at the buttons. It starts to make a ringing noise, and I realize he’s put it on speaker and is calling someone.
“Yeah.” A deep, smooth male voice fills the car.
“Reece, got a problem.”
“What’s up? Not the cameras for Regency Rise, is it?”
“No. Nothing to do with that. Shut the fuck up and I’ll tell you.”
My eyes widen in surprise at how he talks to his friend, but maybe that’s the way rough and ready guys are with one another.
“Cara’s got some possible trouble heading her way.”
“Cara? Oh…the hot teacher chick.”
Luka grinds his teeth and I bite back a smile.
“Swear to God, Reece, you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m coming over there and I’m going to punch you in the face.”
“Okay, keep your panties on, GQ.”
GQ? Then I get it, and I can’t keep the smile back this time. The name fits. He does look like some sort of model out of a high-end men’s magazine. Only better.
“As I was saying. Cara has some possible trouble coming her way. A few months back she was attacked. Seems random. A few pissed-up twats started in on her and her friend. But they were never caught, and they hurt her. In the tussle one of them fell on her and broke her leg.”
Luka pauses and looks at me. “Just how bad was it?”
“He broke it in two places. I needed surgery and a cast.” My voice is pathetic and weak, and I wish I could be strong for once.
“Jesus.” Reece sounds genuinely upset. “Fuckers.”
“My thoughts, too.” Luka growls the words. “One of this bunch of shitheads turned up today to Cara’s class. Total coincidence, I’m thinking. But he knows her name now. There can’t be that many Cara Toulsons in Harrogate.”
“So, you’re thinking he’s going to be on the blower to his friends and they’ll come looking for her?”
“Exactly. I’m going to stay at hers, swinging by mine now to get my stuff. But can you keep your phone on in case I need back up?”
“Will do. Always got your back, brother. You know that. I’ll let Liam know, too.”
The line goes dead. No, speak soon, or I’ll call you next week, like me and my friends. Not even a goodbye.
I risk a glance at Luka and he’s focused on the road. I let myself admire his big hands and strong forearms on the wheel for a moment. And then I turn to look out the window. He said he’d stay as purely a friend, but I’m not sure I want that.
I don’t know what I want.
Chapter Ten
Luka
Coward. I’m a big fat, fucking coward. I’ve been at Cara’s for four days now, and we’re dancing around one another, being all careful and shit. But the only reason I’m not making a move is because there’s this little voice in my head that says it will change my life if I do.
It’s coming up to bonfire night and already there are bangers going off regularly in the evening. I hate this time of year. The nights draw in and it’s cold and dark. I miss the sun and the long days. I’ve been in a crappy mood all day, and Cara has been nowhere to be seen. It’s the weekend, so neither of us have work.
Cara has given me a few signs she wants things to go further, and I’ve pretended not to notice. Yeah, big old coward.
I heard someone at the door a moment ago, so I head downstairs to check Cara is okay.
She’s in the lounge, reading, but her brows are pinched. I sit next to her.
“What’s up?”
“Blooming Jehovah’s Witnesses. Rambling on about me joining. I tried to get rid of them, but they’ve got thick skins.”
“That’s what having a deeply held belief they’re saving your soul will do.”
She turns to me, those blue, blue eyes astonishing in the waning afternoon light. “What about you? Do you have any firmly held beliefs?”
Whoa. Talk about hitting me with the deep stuff. I ponder her question for a moment. “Not really. I mean, I have plenty of beliefs, but none I can’t change. I’m open to conceding I might be wrong. I’ve seen what people are willing to do for an ideology, and it makes me wary of those who think there’s only one way in life. One right path.”
She nods and bites her lip. I track the movement before dragging my eyes back to her gaze. “I think I can be a bit that way. I used to think because my beliefs were “good” then it didn’t matter that I wouldn’t consider the other side of things. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Hey,” she says, voice brighter. “Mags and Laura are having an early bonfire night this week, do you fancy going?”
No, I do not. In fact, the idea makes me shudder. It’s the only time of the year I can honestly see into the abyss of what full blown PTSD might be like. Hearing bangs and whizzes takes me back to much less happy sounds.
She must notice my shudder because she frowns a little, and her mouth turns down. “Sorry, I mean we’re not dating or anything, so it’s a stupid idea. You’re only here to look out for me. And you’ve made it clear the last few days you don’t want anything more. Which I totally understand, and to be honest, I think you’re probably right. After all, I was the one who said we’d be a disaster, and you seemed to want more, but I get now you don’t. Why would you, I’m a mess. And clearly—”
“Cara.” I hold my hand up, cutting into her neurotic stream of consciousness. “It’s nothing to do with any
of that. I don’t like fireworks…at all.”
“Oh, okay.” She pauses then muses. “I used to have a dog who freaked out on firework night.”
What the fuck? I stare at her for a moment. “I’m not a fucking dog.”
“Of course not.” She flinches at my words and her chest colours.
“I didn’t mean to compare you to a dog in that sense. I simply was going to say we used to draw the curtains and play some music to distract her, so maybe we can do that instead of going to the party.”
She stops. Good job, as I’m about to lose my cool completely. I might not want to go to some lame fucking bonfire party and stand in the freezing cold listening to the sounds of my own version of hell, but it doesn’t mean I need to be babied.
Her face falls further. Her pretty mouth is downturned, almost in a pout, and her eyes are glistening with unshed tears.
Ah, fuck! I feel like a total bastard now. “Cara, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to explode. It’s not what you said. It’s me. I hate it. I faced death every day, and now the thought of a bonfire party makes me stressed. Fucking pathetic…”
“You’re not pathetic. To me you’re…” She flushes so deeply as she trails off that I want to know what she is swallowing down.
“I’m what?”
“I know I had a difference of opinion to you…about the army and stuff, but honestly, as I’ve come to know you, I admire you. You’re a hero to me.”
I scoff. “I’m no fucking hero, babe. Not to you or anyone.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? No one else is. You’re staying to keep me safe, when my last boyfriend only tried to swindle me out of money. Tried to use me, and got nasty when I wouldn’t let him. You’re here. And you care, but you do it without smothering me.”
“I’m not a hero.” The word makes me sick. This is what I don’t want. Hero worship. I preferred it when she hated me. The words are cloying. I can’t bear to hear them, the same way I can’t bear to look at that medal. I let those girls down. How the fuck did I get awarded for bravery when I let them down?
She takes my hand, and the simple touch shocks me. Grounds me, too.