Head On (Strength And Love)

by S. R. Jones

  “If you come with me, I can keep you safe.”

  I roll my eyes. “So you say, but how do I know you won’t get me to your lair and have your wicked way with me.”

  He laughs then, a proper guffaw.

  “You crack me up. My lair.” He sobers and scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Look, if I’d wanted to have my way with you, I could do it here. No offence but you’re small, and you’re in bed, defenceless. If I wanted to, I could do what I liked to you here. And let’s be brutally honest, I have the perfect alibi. Emails requesting it, and bank transfers for God’s sake. I’ve no need to get you to come to my house. I don’t want to do anything to you. I don’t want women who aren’t into me. And, you’re not my type anyway. I’m not into the Victorian ghost look.”

  He indicates my high necked, cotton nightdress and I feel my face warm. I wear this because it’s comfortable.

  I think about what he’s saying. It makes sense. I’m not going to be safe here. There’s no one I can call. Not who can get here quickly anyway. If this man wanted to hurt me, he could have, he’s right there. All big and imposing, and angry. Yeah, if he wanted to harm me, I’d have no defence at all.

  “I used to be in the military. Special forces.” His voice is calm, serious. “I’m trained to fight, and trained to protect. I won’t hurt you. I fucking swear it. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I can call my sister and get her to come stay with us. I don’t mind at all if it will make you feel better. I understand you being nervous to go somewhere with a guy who’s broken into your home. But I can’t go home and leave you here. I wish I could. I don’t need this shit. But I can’t. Something happens to you and it’ll be on my conscience.”

  I consider his offer. “You’ll call your sister?” I’d feel much better with another woman there.

  He nods and takes out his phone again. “I’ll do it now.” He dials a number and I hear a woman answer on the other end.

  “Sis, it’s me. Got a massive favour to ask. Can you come over for the night? I know it’s late and Katie will be asleep, but bundle her up and come on over, will you?”

  I hear grumpy sounding mutterings and he sighs. “It’s a long story, but there’s a woman…a client, and I’m bringing her back with me. She’s been…traumatised. I think another female in the house will make her more comfortable.”

  I clearly hear the okay she gives in reply.

  “Who is Katie?” I ask as he hangs up.

  “My niece. Five going on fifty. She’s a real character.”

  I smile at the pride in his voice, then my brain tells me to stop being stupid. This could all be a trick, and the woman his partner or something. Like a serial killing Bonnie and Clyde. “How do I know you and your supposed sister aren’t in this together?”

  He scratches his cheek, and I can almost taste his impatience, but he tampers it down yet again. “You got the internet on your phone?”

  I nod.

  “Okay. Look up Ann Kilbride. There will be some articles come up. Her husband died in a hit and run.”

  I gasp. “Oh, my God.”

  “Yeah. So, look her up. The local paper has a picture of their wedding day. I’m in the picture, you’ll see me with her. My name is there. You can verify it.”

  He reaches toward me and I still as his hand brushes my shoulder. There’s a click and my other bedside lamp comes on, the one with the bright bulb in it.

  Light floods the space between us, and I view his face clearly for the first time.

  My God, he’s stunning. Really gorgeous. No wonder women pay him for sex. He looks like a model, but one who has been in a fight or something. His nose isn’t perfectly straight, there’s a scar on his chin, and his hair is messy, and not in that artfully styled way a lot of men wear. A few days worth of scruff only serves to make him look hotter. He’s an insane mash up of pretty and rugged, rough and sexy. I don’t ever think I’ve seen a more attractive man, unless we’re counting that guy from Game of Thrones, the big one I’ve had an insane crush on for the last few years.

  “You’ve got a good look at me now. Have a look for Ann Kilbride and you’ll see me in the pictures. I’ll leave you alone to have a think for five minutes.”

  He heads out of the room and with a shaking hand, I pick up my phone and start to search for his sister. Soon a variety of headlines pop up and I click on the one from the local Herald Examiner. It’s a horrible story of a hit and run accident, the driver not found, the victim later dying in hospital, and sure enough, there’s a picture of his sister’s wedding day. And Ethan is there. Looking so handsome in a suit it’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen a man like him before. But then again, I do live a sheltered life.

  “What do I need to pack?” I shout, mind made up. I’d rather spend a night in a house with these strangers than be terrified here all alone. I trust he is who he says he is, and his sister is going to be there with her kid for pity’s sake. If I stay here, I know I’ll be a terrified wreck. In the morning, I can make some better plans.

  Footsteps sound and he’s back in the room.

  “A couple of days worth of clothes, your toiletries, and anything else you need.”

  “Can you give me twenty minutes?”

  He nods, but then I remember Sadie.

  “I can’t come!” Crap. I’m kind of more scared not to go with him now I’ve thought things through, but I can’t leave Sadie.

  “Why not?”

  “My dog.”

  He smiles, white teeth glinting. “Bring her. I’ve got two dogs of my own. She’s more than welcome.”

  Feeling even better about going with him if I can bring Sadie, I push the covers back and climb out of bed. As I head to the bathroom to pack my toiletry bag, I try to tell myself this is an adventure. I’ve been wanting to do something different for ages. I’d been cruising along in life being safe and boring for far too long.

  My dad’s the best, but he smothers me sometimes. He’s so scared I’ll hurt myself or be hurt, he can be way overprotective. I understand it. After losing Mum, and then nearly losing me, twice, he’s got good reason to be the way he is. But between him and Gran, I’ve lived a sheltered life. And with the years I spent being sick, it means I’ve missed out on a lot of things. I want to start experiencing living, not simply existing, moving from one day to the next in my safe little bubble. I’d wanted an adventure, and you can’t get much more exciting than taking off with an ex-special forces soldier who now sells his body for a living.

  When I get back to the bedroom, Ethan looks at me and blinks slowly, once. Dark lashes fan over deep blue eyes. I’m spellbound.

  “You coming in your Victorian Ghost get-up, or are you going to change?”

  And just like that the spell is broken. He might be beautiful, and lead an exciting life, but he’s a dick, and he has sex for money. He’s probably got knob rot or something. I chuckle to myself at my joke and he flashes me a puzzled look.

  Great, he probably thinks I’m insane now. Although, why I should care what he thinks, I don’t know.

  “I’m about to get changed. Will you wait for me downstairs?” I muster as much pride as I can and turn my back on him.

  “See you in five minutes.”

  Then he’s gone, hardly making a sound as he leaves the room. Those years in the special forces probably served him well when it comes to creeping about women’s houses, being a freaky pretend rapist.

  As I rummage through my drawers, I ponder what kind of woman would pay a man to break into her house and rough-sex her? It’s so…messed up. I flush as I think about my own fantasies though. When I was about sixteen or so, I went through a phase of wanting to be taken as a sex slave by pirates. I’d read some book where the heroine was taken by pirates and kept by the Captain as his lover, sort-of-against-her-will-but-not-really. That book had started months of fantasies about being taken by a whole crew of pirates who’d use me for their pleasure as we sailed the world. Of course, they were all gorgeous. No one has rape fantasi
es about smelly, horrible men with dirty fingernails, and bad breath. That’s why they are called fantasies.

  So, really, I shouldn’t be judgey about Ethan or his clients. I got over my rape fantasy stage, but I’ve always liked the idea of being held down, and maybe more. I’d quite like to get spanked. Don’t know where this little kink of mine comes from, because I don’t have Daddy issues or anything like that. I think it might be when I read some racy book I found one day in Mum’s drawer. I’d snuck off with it and read all about this girl who lived with two men who were always disciplining her, and it used to make me all tingly and funny between my legs.

  I still sometimes get that book out, if I’m going to have a session with my trusty vibrator. That’s on the days when I don’t go looking on my favourite Tumblr sites.

  I may be the world’s least innocent virgin.

  Finally packed, I shove all thoughts of pirates and spankings out of my mind and compose myself. I head downstairs to go find Sadie, now to be officially renamed, The World’s Worst Guard Dog.

  She’s fast asleep in one of her favorite spots by the kitchen radiator. She must have got off the bed in the night and come down here. She tends to roam the house a bit these days. I glare at her a moment, but I can’t be angry with her. She’s an old girl now. She’s eleven and doesn’t hear too good anymore.

  “Hey, Sadie.” I bend down and touch her head gently, waking her.

  “Come on, old girl, we’re going on an adventure.”

  “Oh, it’s an adventure now, is it?”

  I turn to see Ethan stood by the door, smiling at me. And he’s got dimples. Shoot me now.

  I sigh, clip on Sadie’s lead, and head to the door. I’m equal measures terrified and exhilarated, and I’m not sure if I hate it or love it.

  Chapter Five

  Ethan

  We head for my car and I put her bag in the boot. I stare at the dog. Normally when I take my dogs out, I take the Jeep. How I’m going to get Sadie in the back, I’m not sure. I stare at the coupe and then back at the dog, and Isla touches my arm.

  It’s a huge gesture on her part, because she may not realise it, but it shows a certain degree of trust. And I want her to trust me. God knows why, but I do. I want to make sure she’s okay, of course, and find out what the fuck is going on. But it goes deeper, and I step away from the thought, not ready to examine it.

  “Sadie can sit on my knee,” she says.

  “The dog’s big. You’re kind of small. She’ll squash you.”

  She laughs. “No, she won’t. It will be fine. Honest.”

  I frown. “It’s not safe. If I have to brake suddenly, she could hurt herself. Or you. How about we put her on the floor by your feet. The seat moves back, and she’ll be okay for one journey.”

  She nods, and then narrows her eyes at me. “How do you ferry your dogs about?”

  “Got a jeep back at home.”

  I wait for her to climb in, then help Sadie in and get her settled at Isla’s running shoe covered feet. She’s wearing jeans with a t-shirt, and it’s a casual outfit. The jeans aren’t particularly smart, and look sort of old-fashioned, but then what do I know? They’re probably the latest style. I’m not into clothes.

  “Thank you.”

  I nod at her and close the door, jogging round to the driver’s side. I pull onto the road and glance in the rear-view mirror as I drive off, making sure no one follows us.

  “Do you run?” I ask after a while.

  “Yes. A few times a week. I try to eat well and keep fit.”

  “Me too. I run, I mean. Although, I do the other stuff. Eat well, work out.”

  “It shows,” she says.

  I glance at her and we pass under a streetlamp in time to see her clamp her lips shut and turn pink. I bite back a smile. So, she noticed the effort I put into staying in shape. I’m not stupid. I see how women look at me. Men too, sometimes. Hell, it’s one of the reasons I can earn money doing my job. I’m not big headed about it, though. My friend, Luka, who was in the forces with me, is so handsome no one notices me when we’re together. Women fucking swoon over the guy. You have a friend like him, and you can’t be too puffed up about how you look.

  As we drive in silence for a while, I wonder if my sister is already at the house. She’s a pain in my arse a lot of the time. Always on at me to get a “proper job” and “settle down”. Thankfully since having Katie, she only has the attention span of a gnat. I get a few minutes of nagging and then she goes back to thinking about, or worrying about, Katie. I worry about them both.

  It’s a struggle for her being a single mum, and one of the reasons I do this job. I can help her out more if I’m not working regular nine to five hours. Not that I could do an office job anyway. The though makes me want to pull my t-shirt away from my throat, it’s that fucking claustrophobic. The screwing for cash thing also means I can help Ann out with money. Sex pays well and I already had a fair bit stashed away. Not that she’s too hard up because Jacob, her husband, put in place a great life insurance policy. I’m glad he did, cold as it sounds, because otherwise things would be a lot worse.

  “I bet this is pretty out here in the day.” Isla looks out of the window across dark fields.

  It is, and it’s one of the reasons I live out here. I need to be in nature, away from too many people and buildings. I don’t like feeling cooped up.

  “It’s nice.”

  “How far is your place?”

  “Two minutes now.” I glance at her, briefly. “You don’t have a Yorkshire accent. Where are you from?”

  She bites her lip, and then looks out of the window again. “I lived in Sussex until I was ten, and then we moved up here.”

  “Oh, did your dad move for work?” I’m making idle conversation, but her reply stuns me.

  “No. I was in a car accident with my mum. It killed my mum and injured me badly. I needed lots of surgery. When I got out of the hospital, Dad had already sold the house. He couldn’t bear to stay down there, and he needed help with me. So, we moved here, back to where he grew up, to be near my gran.”

  I swallow hard. Fuck. Not a good start in life for her. To lose her mum so young, and then be dragged away from everything she knew. “I’m sorry.” They are the two most inadequate words I’ve ever uttered.

  She shrugs. “It happened a long time ago now.”

  I’ve lost both my parents. Dad died in combat, and it’s a big part of the reason I signed up. Mum drank herself to death over many years. She checked out mentally way before she left us physically. She never got over dad dying. It was probably a selfish dick move for me to enlist the way I did, but I couldn’t stand to stay at home and watch her rot away in front of my eyes. There were few jobs at the time for a kid like me. I didn’t do great at school, and liked to use my body more than my brains. The forces gave me the discipline I needed and let me put all my pent-up energy to good use.

  I did well. Really fucking well. Got selected for the Royal Marines, and from there the Special Boat Service. I miss it to this day. But I’d burned out. If I carried on it was only a matter of time before I fucked up. I got offered work when I left doing military stuff for private contractors but it didn’t appeal as it would have meant leaving Ann and Katie for long periods, so here I am. Fucking for cash. Marvellous.

  I pull the car into the drive and kill the engine. Ann’s car is already parked up. I smile at the thought of seeing Katie in the morning, and go around to help Sadie and Isla out of the car. Isla blinks up at me in surprise when I offer her my hand. But she takes it and steps out onto the gravel. She looks at the house and back to me. “Nice. Sex for cash pays well.”

  Her words piss me the fuck off. I grab her wrist but not hard. “Hey.”

  She turns back to me.

  “Don’t fucking talk about it in front of my sister.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  I rein in my temper, because I’ve only just got her to trust me, but she’s winding me the fuck up. “Yes,
she fucking knows. But she doesn’t like it, and I don’t want a lecture tonight. We’ll tell her you’re in some trouble and leave it at that. She doesn’t know the exact details of what I do.”

  “You mean, she doesn’t know you pretend to be a rapist. You know, it’s a risky line of work. You could get framed doing that sort of thing.” She shoots me a sharp look, and I swear I don’t know if she is teasing or being a bitch. I can’t tell. This girl is hard to read at times.

  Not many people can throw me off balance. Unsure how to take her remarks, I ignore them and head to the door. I push it open and see Ann sat at my kitchen table, a plate in front of her with olives, cheese, and crackers on it. A glass of wine sits to one side, and two drooling dogs watch her every move. The dogs spy Isla and Sadie and jump up. They run over and go crazy over me for a nano-second before heading over to Sadie and sizing up the new canine interloper.

  Isla wanders into the kitchen and looks around. I wonder if she likes what she sees and then piss myself off for caring.

  “Nice kitchen.” Her eyes are big and blue under the spotlights. A pale, cornflower blue, and it goes well with her light hair and the few freckles on her cheeks and nose. She’s pretty. Very pretty. Perfectly put together and neat, and all innocent looking.

  I want to dirty her up.

  Mess up her hair, make those eyes darken.

  I push the thoughts away and shrug. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve always wanted a house like this. A farmhouse out in the country, with a beautiful, big kitchen.”

  “Figures.” I haul the bags in and put them by the door. “You probably want the white picket fence and brood of kids to go with it, right?”

  She flinches. As if I slapped her or something. “You don’t know anything about me, or what I want.”

  I don’t answer because she’s right. I don’t. I know she lives with Daddy. In a big, modern house full of blingy stuff. I know she dresses like something from a bygone era, and doesn’t wear much make-up, or sexy clothes, unlike most women of her age. And I know she’s a virgin. Which makes me think about getting her all dirty again, so I shut my mind off and stalk over to the coffee pot.