by Tina Duncan
This was the first time she’d tried to give him the slip since that very first day. For a moment all he could do was stand there. He couldn’t believe this was happening—not after everything that had happened between them.
‘Damn it!’ he hurled. ‘What is the woman doing now?’
Running at full tilt, he headed for his 4WD. Shara had a head start. There was no time to lose.
He was in and had the motor running in a time that would have shamed an Olympic runner. He took off with a screech of tyres, leaving in his wake a trail of smoke and the smell of burning rubber.
As he drove his brain went to work on this latest development.
Why had Shara tried to give him the slip now?
Royce wasn’t sure, but his gut instinct warned him that whatever it was it wasn’t good.
Although he was already going well above the speed limit he flattened the accelerator to the floor. The 4WD surged like a hungry monster.
He raced through the streets.
His head turned left and right, searching for a glimpse of Shara’s small red sedan.
He had to find her—and fast.
Shara clenched the steering wheel with sweaty hands.
She was a jumble of emotions. So much so that she could hardly string two thoughts together.
Although she was nervous about confronting Steve, her forthcoming meeting with him paled into insignificance beside what had happened this morning.
She’d been so determined not to hand over her power to a man again, and yet that was exactly what she’d done.
She hadn’t seen it happening.
It had crept up on her.
And this time it was even worse.
Because this time she’d handed over the most precious thing she possessed. Her heart.
Royce slammed on the brakes, sending the 4WD into a skidding fishtail.
Car horns blared around him. Abuse was yelled out of windows, along with a few obscene gestures. Royce ignored it all as he brought the car under control and executed a turn.
He’d just caught a glimpse of a red sedan on one of the cross streets. Although there were plenty of red sedans in Sydney, there wasn’t a lot of traffic about—and it was the first car he’d seen that looked remotely like Shara’s.
It was a target. The best hope he had at the moment.
Hurtling around the corner, Royce gave chase.
Shara pulled her car into a parking slot directly opposite Bonito’s. She took a deep breath and looked over at the café.
Steve was already there, waiting for her.
Shara hadn’t expected that. Although perhaps she should have. If Steve thought he was being set up it would be logical he’d want to reconnoitre the place. Being here before her would mean he had plenty of witnesses to say that she’d approached him, not the other way around.
Grabbing her bag, she got out of the car, locked it, and hurried across the road.
Steve was drinking what looked like a cappuccino. He didn’t bother asking whether she wanted something as she sat down opposite him. He knew this wasn’t a social occasion.
She wouldn’t be able to swallow anything anyway. She wanted to get this over with so that she could think about Royce and what she was going to say to him when she got back to the house.
Because she had to say something.
She had to do something.
She couldn’t just sit back and let Royce break her heart.
A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it down and forced thoughts of Royce away.
Now was not the time.
She’d deal with Royce after she’d dealt with Steve.
She leaned back in her chair, as far from Steve as possible. ‘So here we are.’
Steve nodded, watching her warily.
Her eyes ran over his face. In the past she’d found him so frightening. Now she didn’t. Not in the same way.
Now she saw him for what he was. Not an all-powerful monster. Just a man. A bully, with a mean streak a mile wide.
Her heart started to thud uncomfortably in her chest and she took a deep breath.
It was time.
Royce frowned through the windscreen as the red sedan pulled into a parking space and the sole occupant alighted from the car.
It was Shara.
There was no doubt about it.
Although he was still too far away to make out her features, he recognised the outfit she was wearing and the magnificent fall of her hair.
She hurried across the street and took a seat at a table on the footpath outside a busy café.
His eyes narrowed on the man opposite her.
Ice slid down his spine.
His teeth clamped down tight.
It was Brady.
Royce stared—and kept on staring.
One thing was apparent.
Their meeting was no accident. It had clearly been arranged. There was no doubt about that.
Shara had deliberately and intentionally gone behind his back to meet her ex.
Betrayal bit hard and deep. So hard and deep that it left him gasping for breath.
He would not have believed Shara capable of such subterfuge.
He really wouldn’t.
When he’d realised he was guilty of pigeonholing her he’d looked back on her behaviour with new eyes—and it had been quite an eye-opener.
Her reactions had appeared as if they were completely without artifice.
When he’d accused her of being a victim she hadn’t hesitated to tell him that if she was a man she’d hit him into the middle of next week. And when she’d realised he was right she hadn’t tried to hide her reaction. Instead she’d buried her face in her hands and called herself a fool.
The list just kept going on and on.
Her lack of embarrassment about having a meltdown and her frankness in admitting that she was tired of being scared and that she wanted more confidence.
Even the first morning she’d woken in his arms she’d been open about her feelings, telling him that she felt uncertain and anxious.
He’d been convinced that where Shara was concerned what you saw was what you got.
And yet here they were, Royce thought bitterly.
He thumped the steering wheel—hard.
Then again—even harder.
Then with considerable effort he pushed his feelings aside.
Right now he had a job to do. The fact that Shara had obviously agreed to meet Brady didn’t alter the fact that having done so put her in danger.
His heart began racing. Adrenalin pumped through his veins. Danger lurked in the air. He could smell it. He could taste it. He could touch it with his hands.
What did he do now?
He could, of course, come to a screeching halt at the kerb outside the café, jump out of the car, and snatch Shara to safety.
But he had to consider Brady’s reaction.
If Brady saw him coming it could push him over the edge. Who knew what he might do?
Throwing the brick through the window had been a violent gesture. A café had knives. A bottle smashed on the edge of a table could become a lethal weapon in less than a second.
No, a stealthier approach was called for.
It would be safer.
Royce assessed the area through narrowed eyes.
There was a side street running along one side of the café. If he drove around the block neither Brady nor Shara would see him. He could sneak up on them.
The other big advantage of that plan was that Brady had his back to that particular corner. If he was careful—and he usually was—he could steal up behind Brady without the other man even realising he was there.
Swinging hard on the steering wheel, Royce made a sharp right turn and raced around the block. There were no spaces available, so he drove up a driveway and parked on the pavement in one neat manoeuvre.
He jumped out of the car even before the engine had stopped. Then, keeping close to the wall, he edged towards the corner. O
nce there, Royce leaned forward—just far enough to take a quick look around the end of the painted brick wall.
Brady’s back was maybe ten to twelve feet from him.
Royce braced his feet against the pavement and was about to throw himself around the corner when he heard Shara speak.
‘You are a pathetic loser,’ she said, her voice strong and clear and cutting.
His heart lurched with shock. He froze to the spot, unable to move.
What was she saying? What was she doing?
Provoking Steve was asking for trouble.
‘What did you say?’ Brady’s voice was low and dangerous.
‘You heard me.’ Shara sounded strong and self-assured. ‘You are lower than a snake’s belly. Just a weak little bully who gets his rocks off by pushing other people around. Well, I came here today to tell you that you don’t scare me any more. You are just—’
Shara broke off at the same time as a scraping sound hit his eardrums.
Everything happened in slow motion then.
At the same time it happened so fast that it was a blur.
Royce flung himself around the corner just in time to see Brady push himself up off his chair. It fell to the ground with a loud crash that made heads turn in their direction.
Shara jumped to her feet. She didn’t back away. She just stood there.
Royce was running as fast as he could, but it felt as if he was moving through an invisible glue which was dragging at him, slowing him down.
He saw Brady draw his clenched fist back in preparation for throwing a punch.
Royce was too far away to stop it happening.
‘Block!’ he screamed. ‘Block, damn it.’
But his instruction wasn’t needed. Shara was already moving into action, her body jack-knifing straight, her left arm shooting upwards to block the punch that was already halfway to her face.
She blocked.
And then she punched.
Brady staggered backwards before crashing to the ground.
Several patrons jumped to their feet. A waiter arrived, demanding to know what was going on.
Royce ignored all of it.
He grabbed the tops of Shara’s arms. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, shaking her hand in the air. ‘I think so. Although my wrist hurts.’
Royce swung on Brady, who was rising to his feet. ‘Down,’ he commanded, as if he was ordering a dog to sit. ‘Or, as God is my witness, I will punch you so hard you won’t ever get up again.’
Brady subsided back to the ground.
Royce glared at the waiter. ‘Call the police.’ Then he gave a general stare around the café. ‘Don’t any of you leave. You’re witnesses to what happened here.’
The police arrived. Asked questions. Took statements.
Royce wanted to wrap his arms around Shara and hold her close, but the knowledge that he’d crossed a line he’d promised himself he’d never cross stopped him. Instead he contented himself with standing at her side the entire time.
Finally it was over. Brady was taken away in handcuffs.
Royce led Shara to his 4WD. After seeing her inside, he rounded the bonnet and got in beside her.
What had just happened—what had almost happened—flashed across his mind.
He saw again the fist directed towards Shara’s face. It if had connected it could have broken her nose or her eye socket or worse.
Worse still was seeing his reaction with the benefit of hindsight.
He’d frozen—again.
Which just went to prove that taking a step back and reestablishing their professional relationship had been the right thing to do.
So why, then, was there an ache in his chest that threatened to consume him?
CHAPTER TEN
SHARA glanced at Royce for the hundredth time since they’d got into his 4WD.
He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d driven away. His profile looked as if it had been cut from the hardest and most unyielding granite. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
They were halfway home before Shara got up the nerve to break the silence. ‘Well? Aren’t you going to say something?’
His hands clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. ‘Not while I’m driving.’
His words were clipped and abrupt.
‘I know you’re angry, but—’
He spared her the briefest of glances. ‘I’m not angry. I’m beyond anger. But I would rather postpone our conversation until we get back to the house.’
Shara fell silent, a deep frown creasing her brow. She glanced at Royce again from beneath the shield of her lashes.
Royce wasn’t lying. He wasn’t angry. He was …
Cold. Emotionless. Distant.
Even though he was sitting right beside her, he might as well be sitting a million miles away.
Her insides turned to ice. She wrapped her arms around herself.
As soon as they were inside the house Royce turned to her. His arms were folded in front of his chest, his face grim. ‘I thought I’d seen an end to this nonsense, but I should have known better. What on earth possessed you to sneak out of the house like that? How dare you go behind my back and meet Brady?’
Royce hadn’t spoken to her this way for a long time. Not since those first few days when they’d clashed over her need for a bodyguard.
Stalling for time, she asked, ‘How did you know I’d gone anyway?’
‘I connected my laptop to the in-house security system the day I arrived and I’ve been monitoring it ever since. But that is beside the point. Why on earth did you agree to meet Brady? And why on earth didn’t you tell me he’d contacted you?’
She remained silent.
Royce was speaking to her like a bodyguard.
Not like her lover.
This conversation underlined the radical shift their relationship had undergone since last night.
Why he’d changed, she didn’t know.
The important thing was that he had.
‘Shara?’
She dragged in a breath, trying to ignore the pain in her chest which she knew was the feel of her heart breaking into a million pieces.
She angled her chin into the air. ‘I arranged the meeting.’
She heard the air rush from his lungs.
‘Are you mad?’ Royce roared.
‘Don’t yell at me!’ Shara ordered.
She was proud of her reaction. Not that long ago if anyone—particularly a man—had shouted at her she would immediately have shrunk in on herself.
Now she had the guts to counterpunch—just as she’d had the guts to punch Steve in the face.
Royce dragged in a breath, then said calmly, ‘I repeat. Are you mad?’
‘No. I’m not mad. I just decided it was time to end this once and for all.’
As she spoke Shara realised that the decision to end this once and for all didn’t just apply to Steve.
It also applied to Royce.
It had to.
She’d asked Royce if anything was wrong and he’d said no.
Once she would have sat back and let him get away with his behaviour. She’d have let him go on hurting her.
Now her self-preservation instincts were much stronger.
She was much stronger.
Even though it was going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever had to do she had to cut Royce out of her life before he hurt her any more than he already had.
And she knew just how to do it.
‘By getting yourself killed?’ Royce demanded, breaking in on her thoughts.
‘You’re exaggerating.’ She waved a hand in his direction. ‘You trained me yourself. The odds were on my side. At the worst he might have knocked me out or given me a black eye. But that’s a small price to pay for my freedom, don’t you think?’
Royce stared at her, his eyes so wide they were deep, da
rk pools. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you saying you planned this? Are you saying you intended for him to hit you?’
She nodded.
Royce’s big body jerked as if he were a marionette and an invisible hand had just yanked on his strings. ‘What on earth would make you do something so stupid?’
‘It wasn’t stupid,’ she said defensively. ‘It makes perfect sense.’
‘And just how do you figure that?’
‘You said it yourself.’
He frowned. ‘Said what?’
‘You said, and I quote, “If Brady crosses the line once the AVO is in place we can have him arrested.”’
‘I didn’t mean for you to set yourself up,’ he said sharply.
‘I know you didn’t. So don’t go beating yourself up over it. I made the decision because I’m tired of this entire situation. I wanted—no, I needed it to be over so that I could get on with my life.’
Royce stared at Shara.
Why did he have the feeling that she was talking about more than just the situation with Brady?
Why did he have the feeling that she was talking about him?
‘What are you saying?’ he asked.
He waited for her to smile. Make some kind of light remark about the world being her oyster or something similar.
But she didn’t.
In fact there was something about her expression that wound his stomach into a tight ball.
Something was wrong.
He knew it. He could feel it.
His gut instincts were finely tuned and usually accurate.
The eyes that met his were ice-blue, with not a skerrick of warmth in them. ‘I’m saying that it’s over. Finished.’
His stomach muscles tightened some more. ‘What is?’
She waved a hand through the air. ‘Everything. Including us. I’ve come to my senses, you see.’
Her voice was cold. Her eyes even colder.
Royce frowned. ‘What do you mean you’ve come to your senses? About what?’
‘About what’s been going on here.’
His eyes narrowed at her tone. ‘And what exactly has been going on here?’
‘You’ve taken advantage of me.’