by S. R. Jones
“You’re getting angry.”
I smile at her. “Isla, this is not me angry.”
“But you’re being…”
“I’m being to the point. Not angry. When you offered to pay me for sex, that was me angry. Not now.”
She pops an olive into her mouth and moans at the taste, and just like that I’m hard. Fuck me, she totally slays me.
“One last question.” She swallows the olive, takes a sip of her drink, and then dabs her mouth with the napkin as if she’s eaten a barbecued rib. “If we start…dating. And you change your job. Would we be exclusive? And from when?”
I stare at her a moment. “Fuck yes, we’d be exclusive. And from now. Is there someone you’re wanting to date?”
“No.” She smiles, and she looks genuinely happy. “I’m glad you want us to be exclusive.”
“You can ask, you know.”
She frowns at me.
“There’s something you want from this. Ask. Don’t always wait for me to say if I want it or not. You can’t go through life like that, Isla. You’ve got to go for what you want, too.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t want to push you.”
“But then you’re not getting what you need. Honesty. This is new for me, too, so we’ve got to be honest.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been in a relationship before, so it’s not that new.”
I want to tell her it’s all fucking new. That I’ve never felt this way before, but I don’t want to rush into this. We’ve known one another days. It’s crazy. I take another sip of my drink, and then I smile. “What’s your favourite film?”
She surprises me. “Alien.”
“Not what I expected.”
“Oh?” Her eyes sparkle. “You expected me to like something girly, did you?”
“Yeah. Some Disney film or romcom.”
“Nope. Can’t stand those films for the most part. I grew up with only my dad from the age of ten. I grew up watching cop shows and action films. I love me some Arnie.”
Every time this girl reveals something to me, she simply gets better and better.
Chapter Eighteen
Isla
I’m pottering about at Ethan’s, waiting for him to come back from his meeting with Liam and the team. He wanted me to go with him, but I insisted I stay here. No one knows I’m here. Not even dad. I told my father I was staying with Ann, and I hate lying to him but I didn’t want to worry him while he’s away.
Ethan made me lock the door, and showed me where his guns are. Guns, as in plural. I may be a naïve young girl, but even I know those sorts of guns aren’t legal in the UK, and I’m a bit worried now.
As to my safety, he’s being far too paranoid, but I like that he cares. I’ve been looking through jobs online, and there’s a position at the library in town, which is my idea of heaven, so I filled in the online application, and now I’m wandering his office, having shut the computer off. Looking for something to read. Ethan has terrible taste in books. They’re all hard-nosed thrillers, or military strategy, or biographies. And the biographies are all military people or politicians.
I need something to do because today my insecure brain is picking on me. Reminding me how gorgeous and sophisticated Selina and other clients of Ethan’s we met in the bar were. I keep veering between this giddy, stupid excitement, and flat out fear. He’s a man who has sex for money. Before that he was in the army…navy, whatever but in a branch where he did covert stuff. He owns what look like illegal firearms. He’s not someone who on paper is an easy guy to trust.
I spy an iPad on the leather sofa he has in here, and pick it up. I flip it open but, of course, don’t know the passcode to use it…unless... I type in Ethan’s birth date, which he told me last night, when we were talking over dinner, and getting to know one another.
I put the numbers in and the screen comes on. I smile, and swipe through it looking for solitaire. There’s a beep and I see a notification pop up on his Facebook page. Suddenly, I’m dying to look, but snooping is way out of line. Another beep and another notification pops up. Crap, I want to look so bad. Feeling guilty as hell, I tap the Facebook icon. It opens and I simply stare. It isn’t under his real name but says he’s Ethan Dale. There goes my trust alarm again. I glance through his friends, and there’s no Luka, or Ann, or any of those people. Instead, his friends list is all women. Nothing but glamorous, sexy women.
With shaking hands, I look on his timeline and want to be sick. There’s all sorts of comments. And he’s shared things about sex, what positions are best for women to come from, erotic pictures, nothing too racy, but still... There are two messages showing, and despite knowing I’ve gone way beyond crossing the line, I look.
The first is a long filthy thank you note for a “fantastic fuck”. The second is a message from Selina. As I read, my eyes well with tears.
Hey, Ethan.
Got your message. Wow, I didn’t think you’d get bored of the little thing so soon. She’s lovely, but you’re right. She’s not your speed. I’ll look forward to when you’ll be resuming regular services then, with baited breath. Keep me informed.
Miss you, you dirty fucker. Xx
I’m going to be sick. I feel faint. I put my head down near my legs for a moment and take some deep breaths. Oh, God this hurts so much.
I’ve let myself fall for him. I realise in this moment, that in just a few days, I’ve let myself get all tangled up in him. I may not be in love with him, but I’m halfway there and he’s betrayed me. I remember his words of the previous evening. “I’ll let you know if I want this to end.” Yeah, right. Lying bastard.
Then Selina’s words hit me. You’ll never know what’s real.
But, truly, what did I expect? He’s a man who has sex for money. He’s a man who messes with women’s heads, clearly. Why refuse my money though? Why make me feel something for him? It’s cruel, and I can only think he enjoys playing games. He’s obviously been stringing Selina along, me too.
I can’t breathe, and I can’t stay in this house a moment longer. I head to the guest room and start packing my bags, throwing everything in. As I do, tears are streaming down my cheeks. So this is what it feels like to be heartbroken. I can’t have been in love, no one falls in love in the space of a week and a half or so. But I’d let him get into my head. Make me feel things no one has before. And I tell myself that’s it. I’m new to this, of course my first time I’d fall hard. I swipe at my tears as I reassure myself this isn’t the real thing. It hurts like hell now, but in a few days, or a week or so, once I get over the humiliation, I’ll be fine.
I’m livid, and I want to smash something. I’ve never felt rage like this. My phone rings and I glance at the screen to see it’s bloody Uncle Dave again! I ignore it, the rage getting so big inside me I don’t know how to contain it. There’s a red lipstick in my wash bag. Something Ann left me along with some blusher. She said someone with lips like mine ought to wear red lipstick now and again. I haven’t used it yet. And an idea comes to me. I finish packing, methodically. And then I head down the hall to the bathroom. I put the lipstick on, amazed at how different it makes my face look. I appear much older, sophisticated.
I take my phone out and snap a picture of me pouting at the camera. A second selfie shows me with the same expression but my middle finger in the shot. I email them to myself. Once back in the study I fire up the computer once more, log onto my email, and print them out. I then print the photo of Selina from her profile out. I print out the message as well, and take all three photos and the message with me as I head downstairs.
Checking my watch, I panic. Ethan could be back at any moment and I can’t face seeing him. I call a cab and it takes three attempts before I find a company willing to take Sadie, too. They say there’s a cab nearby and it will be five minutes. Thanking God, I put Sadie’s lead on. Kiss Cindy and Lucy goodbye and give them a hug, as the tears well up again. I’ll miss them both, and I think Sadie will, too.
I look in a
ll Ethan’s drawers until I find what I’m looking for. Then I take out the lipstick and get to work.
When the cab arrives, I look at what I’ve done and feel a sinking shame. It’s the actions of a child, and I want to erase it all, but I can’t. I need to leave. I close the door behind me, lugging my bags, and dragging Sadie with me. Locking the door, I push the keys through the letterbox. I know Ethan has a spare set on his car keyring.
Once in the cab, I stare out the window as we drive past the countryside and then through the upmarket town, before heading out for the modern estate me and Dad live on. By the time I arrive home, I’m regretting my little temper tantrum in Ethan’s kitchen. Way to look like an idiot. I open the door and step into the house with a shiver. The gorgeous weather has broken and it’s peeing it down, which matches my mood. I chat to Sadie as I take her lead off, and take my jacket off, desperately trying to keep my spirits up.
I’ve made a coffee, when my phone beeps. My stomach does a somersault and I grip onto my mug for dear life, in case I let go and send it crashing to the floor. I’m expecting it to be a message from Ethan, probably telling me to fuck off or something, but Uncle Dave’s face pops up in my message bar. I sigh and swipe to open it.
Isla,
I’ve heard from a friend of mine that the Ann you’re friends with is Ann Kilbride and you’re hanging around with her brother, Ethan. He’s bad news. You need to call me, please. I’m calling your father, he needs to know what’s going on. You’re in danger. Ethan Foston is a killer.
The text ends abruptly and I roll my eyes. I already know that. He’s told me all about the army…navy. Another beep and more text appears.
I’ve looked into him, he was a sniper in the SBS. He and some other sailors were involved in something very nasty in Afghanistan. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. He’s a cold hearted bastard, and he is into some very dodgy stuff, okay? Some say arms dealing. It’s how he got such a big house, and those fancy cars. Please, please don’t let him see this text, but call me as soon as you can.
Uncle Dave. X
He’s not called himself Uncle for ages, and I can feel the worry screaming from his words on the page. Worry that has now infected me. What the hell is Ethan up to, and what did he do in Afghanistan? I saw the way he punched that guy. Okay, the man slapped my arse, but Ethan winded him, and looked about ready to murder him. I feel sick. Only two hours ago, I wouldn’t have believed Uncle Dave’s texts, but now I do. I’ve seen those guns. I’ve also seen with my own eyes what a lying bastard Ethan is. My heart aches and I want to curl up in a ball and cry, but I can’t. Dave’s going to call my dad and I don’t want to let that happen.
I go to the landline and pick it up, calling Dave as soon as I hear the ring tone.
“Christ, Isla, thank God. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Dave. Have you called Dad yet?”
“No, just about to.” His voice is shaking. He sounds terrible, and I wonder if I’ve got him wrong, thinking he’s been looking at me lustfully. I’m clearly an awful judge of character, which is what having a deeply loving, but seriously overprotective father will do for you. I’ve never put myself out there in the world, and it’s obvious I don’t know how to spot the sharks.
“Where are you? Ethan isn’t near, is he?”
“I’m at home.”
He lets out a long breath. “Okay. That’s good. I’m coming over. I’ll call your dad and let him know you’re okay. Do you think we should tell him now or when he comes back?”
“When he comes back. He’ll be worried, Dave, and I’m alright.” I’m not, I’m shaking where I stand, but I keep my voice calm. “I’m okay, honestly. I need to go have a lie down though. I’ve got a headache.”
“Isla. Listen to me.” Dave sounds as serious as I’ve ever heard him. “You’re in danger, and I need to come and see you to show you something about Ethan. I’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t answer the phone to him or his sister.”
He hangs up before I can say anything else. Oh, God. Marvellous. All I want to do is crawl into bed and hide for a month, and now Dave’s on his way here.
Chapter Nineteen
Ethan
I feel great as I pull up outside the house. I’ve sorted a new job. And Luka and Liam have made headway with Rick Smythe. The little shit is behind hiring me, but it gets way worse. So is Isla’s father’s business partner, Dave Dunn. The fucker. I’m glad I didn’t let on to anyone she was still here. I don’t like lying to Selina, even stringing her along by pretending I’ve no interest in Isla, but until this is sorted, Isla’s in danger. Dave’s a bit of a man about town, or so the twat thinks. Balding, in his late forties, and a real sleaze, he thinks he’s special because he’s got some cash to flash.
Climbing out of the car and heading to the door, I grin when I try it and find it locked. Good girl, she kept locked up. I put my key in and head inside, calling out to Isla. My two run up to me and I wonder where Sadie is.
“Isla?” I hope she hasn’t taken Sadie out. I doubt Dave knows she’s here. But she gave her father Ann’s full name, meaning it’s not as safe as I’d hoped.
Halfway into the room, I toss my keys on the table, look up, and my blood runs cold. There’s a picture of Isla, two pictures of Isla, next to one of Selina. all stuck to the wall. The first of Isla is her doing that selfie pouting thing at the camera. The second is her doing the same, but with a scowl and her middle finger front and centre. What the fuck? She looks stunning with the pillar box red lipstick all over her blowjob lips, but I drag my mind from that thought, because…what the fuck?
The picture of Selina has something taped to the bottom of it, and I go over to look at it. As I do, my eyes keep returning to the giant lettering scrawled all over my expensive paint job on the wall.
You lying filthy bastard. Rot in hell. Love, Isla xxx
I’m fucking shaking. I’m that angry at her. Stupid little girl. She’s clearly run off, and she’s no idea of what danger she’s possibly put herself in. Up close to the picture of Selina, I see what she’s pinned to it. My message stringing Selina along, and telling her I’ll see her again soon. Which means that sweet and innocent little Isla has been snooping.
I should have known it would never work. She didn’t trust me. Couldn’t let go of what I did in the past for a living, and now she’s put herself in danger.
I should leave her to face whatever is coming her way. I should walk away from this right now. But as livid as I am, as angry and betrayed as I feel, I can’t. They are going to hurt her, to show her father what they can do, and then they’re going to demand the business from him.
Shit! I punch the wall and pain blooms across my knuckles. The one thing I can’t figure out in all of this is, why pick me? Why didn’t they pay someone to attack her, or harm her? There are enough thugs in their world to do such a job. I’ve got Luka digging closer into both men to see what the fuck is going on. And I’ve got Liam’s team behind me too, my team as of next month.
I grab my keys again, checking briefly that the girls have enough water, and them I’m jogging back out to my car. The tyres spin on the gravel as I shoot out of the drive, and speed far too fast along country lanes heading for Isla’s house. She’s in so much fucking danger, and despite my anger, and the realisation this can’t work, my gut is still churning. If they harm one hair on her head they are dead men.
As I’m getting to about five minutes away from her house, my phone rings, and I punch the on button on the hands-free set.
“Hey, Wolf.” Luka uses my nickname from our forces days. One day someone commented I wasn’t wily like a fox as Luka could be, or strategic like Liam, but more straight up aggressive, like a wolf. The name stuck.
“Not got time now.”
“Yeah, well make it. You need to hear this. Liam’s guys have turned something up on Rick Smythe.”
Suddenly I’m all ears. “Yeah?”
“You were right, him hiring you makes no sense when he co
uld have hired some goon to rough her up or assault her. But it was a double takedown. Her for business, to give him leverage over her father, and you for personal reasons.”
“What the fuck?” My mind whirls. I already considered Smythe myself. He’s got no links to me at all. Of course, I had wondered if this might be to do with my job, but the only woman in Smythe’s life is his eighty-year-old grandmother, and I’d remember if I’d serviced her!
“Smythe has never wanted to get married. According to his secretary, who I wined and dined and sixty-nined last night, so you fucking owe me for making me break my vow. According to her, he’s a real dick. She was happy to spill the beans on him, once I assured her no harm would come to her. She loathes him. He’s a pig. Always touching her up in the office. Loses his rag and screams and shouts at the staff, but anyone who has ever left, he’s given them a terrible reference and they’ve lost the new job. He’s a real psycho according to her. Can’t even stand to let a member of his staff move onto another job.”
“This is all very interesting, but does it have a point?”
Luka sighs. “Impatient. Yeah, it has a point. Imagine if he gets that bent out of shape over an office boy leaving what he’d do to someone who took a woman from him?”
He pauses to let his words sink in. I frown, and indicate to turn onto the main road into the modern housing development Isla lives on. Not one of the houses on this estate is worth less than half a million, and her father’s joint is worth around two million. There’s serious money at play here. My own place is worth a fair whack and I prefer it by a mile to these soulless, flashy homes.
I go back to what Luka says. I don’t know any woman who was involved with Rick Smythe. My clients are either married, or long-term single. Nothing in between.
“You know your friend Selina?” His voice rings out in the car.
Oh, shit. I should have known she’d be trouble one day. “Yeah?” My tone sounds as cautious as I feel about where this is heading.