by Flora Dain
‘Syra Newson, ma’am. I’m new.’
I sneak a peek at my list but she’s not there. ‘Syra, Mr Wolfe is a remarkable man. He’s the reason we’re all here and what’s more I’m engaged to him. You’re free to think how you like but I’d sooner not hear it.’
I smile round at them. ‘And when we’re one-to-one or group sessions, this is all about you. From now on all that matters to me in class is how you’re doing. I’m thrilled to meet you all today. We may even have some fun together. So let’s not get too – personal.’
I grin and some faces soften. Some even grin back. The rest of the hour goes to plan and by the end I start to relax.
But after class the woman hangs back. She looks tough and wiry, her mouth set in a grim line. It seems we’re not yet done.
‘Sorry I disrespected your guy,’ she snarls. ‘But I had words with him this mornin’. He was layin’ into my kid brother over some writin’ at his beach place.’
I frown, and then I recall her name – Newson. ‘You’re Chet’s – sister?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ she says promptly. ‘Best little brother in Sonoma County. Wun’t hurt a fly. An’ nifty with machines, too.’
‘You’re from around here, Syra?’
For a second she looks wary. ‘No, ma’am. We got folks in’Frisco. Mz Dean, please don’ get him the sack. He likes it here. Done him a lotta good. The Boss said he painted stuff on a wall but he wun’t have. He can’t write.’
I frown. ‘Did Mr Wolfe explain that your brother gave me a card with those very same words written on?’
She lifts her chin. ‘Yup, he showed me. But it still warn’t him.’
* * *
We finish early on the first day. I should stay and meet some of my new colleagues but instead I race to my car, turn onto Highway 12 and head for the coast. Darnley’s out all day. If Ryan wants me to check this code I’d better get into the control room before Darnley gets home.
How on earth can I do this? His staff are loyal and armed to the teeth. I’m new to the house and the area and I know nothing about machine code. Chances are I won’t even find it.
But when I arrive I walk in to the glorious aroma of baking, and an idea starts to form. A quick glance at the TV listings and I’ve roughed out a plan before I’ve even shed my jacket.
My luck still holds as I peek into the kitchen and greet the Mexican chef. A few minutes later I leave bearing a plate heaped with deliciously fragrant cooling cookies. I place them in the sitting area, switch on the vast TV and then make my way down to the control room in the basement, biting into one of the cookies as I go. It tastes even better than it smells.
‘Hi, you guys. Watching the game?’ In the control room there’s a flurry of movement as I push at the door. The two technicians look up from the bank of screens, their faces blank with guilt.
The screens are usually trained on various parts of the house and surrounds. Now they’re all tuned to a repeat of the last Super Bowl, part of the run-up to the big game at the weekend.
‘No score yet?’
One of them eyes me warily. ‘Nah. Just started.’
I watch for a few moments more and then casually wave my half-eaten cookie. ‘Want to watch on the big screen upstairs? Fresh cookies, too. There’s no one around. I can stay here till the end of play. Take a break.’
They exchange troubled looks. ‘That’s real nice of you, ma’am, but –’
I wink. ‘I know. I won’t tell if you don’t.’
They swiftly disappear.
With a sigh of relief I push the door to and make a start.
Ryan’s voice plays in my head as I start my hunt. ‘He keeps things simple. The base code should be in hex – letters and numbers to you. Look for groups of four in columns across the screen. Scan down till you find a line starting with, say, the digits 8A. I’ll give you a couple of others but that’s the most likely. Easy enough?’
My hands are sweating now as I try to concentrate.
‘When you find it scan along that row. I only need a single digit from three of the groups. That’ll be enough to tell me if his system’s the same. But these are important. Third group, second digit – or letter, as the case may be – figures one through nine or A through E, as it’s hex – fifth group, first digit; eighth group, second digit. That’s it. Got that? Say it back.’
He made me write the figures on my arm.
I tried to protest. ‘But suppose there’s no panel? Or it’s locked?’
He snorted. ‘Then we’ll try something else. Try this first. I know how he sets up his systems. And don’t forget, if he – or anybody else – finds out …’
He passed a finger over his throat and grinned.
* * *
I scan the room. Panel? At last I see one. It’s set into the wall underneath one of the benches. It has a key in it but it opens easily. Inside is a screen with columns of numbers in groups, scrolling slowly upwards, just like Ryan said.
This must be it.
I scan the first column and find a matching group about halfway down. Carefully I check along the row, jotting down the numbers he wants.
As I reach the end of the row I drop my ballpoint. I scrabble under the bench to reach it. Cursing, I slam the panel shut as I straighten up and hit my head hard on the underside of the bench.
‘What are you doing?’
Darnley’s standing in the doorway, watching.
CHAPTER NINE
I stand up, rubbing the back of my head as Darnley glances round at the bank of screens. In multiple versions of the game someone’s just scored.
‘I … I sent the guys upstairs to see it on TV. I said I’d hold the fort for a while.’ I tail off under his steady gaze.
All at once my bright idea seems pretty dumb. What was I thinking?
He walks over, his expression unreadable. ‘Don’t get friendly with the staff. They’re just staff. They expect to be treated that way.’ He sounds casual. But his grip on my hand is like iron.
‘How long were you standing there?’ I try to sound carefree. How much did he see?
‘I just walked in. The guys said you were down here.’ His look darkens. ‘And that’s not much of a welcome. You’d sooner watch the game?’
In reply I wind my arms round his neck, find his mouth and let my tongue do some talking. For a few moments his hungry mouth reminds me why I’m here and what we’re missing, then he leads me upstairs. We emerge into late sunshine and a roar of cheers from the TV room as somebody scores again.
‘Game over.’ Darnley leans into the doorway and tips a switch on the wall. His voice rings out in the sudden silence.
The men spring to their feet, looking scared.
‘I’ll talk to you later.’
Silently they troop out. As they leave, Darnley draws me towards the stairs.
I lick my lips, keeping my voice low in case they hear. ‘Darnley, please don’t fire them or anything. It was all my idea. I thought they’d like a break.’
Damn Ryan. He’s not only made me lie, he may have got two hard-working men the sack. Correction, I may have got them the sack …
It occurs to me that I should tell Darnley everything now. If I tell him right this minute, he may, just may, believe me. But one look at the granite expression on his angled, intelligent face warns me that however kind and fair he is to his men and to unfortunates in general, my ex is way off limits.
What Ryan did to us was spiteful and cruel – unforgivable.
Ryan was right – I’m his only hope. He may be the world’s worst shit, but even shits deserve a second chance.
‘There’s something I have to show you.’ Darnley leads me up to our room and leaves the door open. He sits in the middle of the long sofa facing the door and pats his lap. ‘Come here.’
I clamber onto his knees, place my hands on his shoulders and touch my lips to his in a shy kiss of greeting.
His eyelids lower a fraction but his only response is a faint twitch at th
e corner of his mouth. The effect is faintly chilling. ‘Turn round.’
Increasingly nervous, I swivel in his arms so I’m facing away, feeling a warm glow as he winds his arm tightly round my waist. I lay my forearm along his and rest my head on his shoulder. I can feel him stir at my back, and somewhere deep in my lap an answering pulse starts to throb.
What’s going on? He’s just walked in after a hard day and already I sense we’re locked in some battle I’ve started and he’s already winning. And weirdly, he’s left his door open. We’re looking down through the house.
‘See it?’ Across the vast open space of the gallery outside his room I see the far wall of the entrance area, where the late-afternoon sunlight is slanting across it. And now the gold flecks are joining up and forming solid patches, blending and fusing into a moving mass of shifting gold. It’s got – a kind of hidden secret …
‘Tell me what you see, Ella.’ His lips touch the back of my neck, his kiss soft and lingering.
I stare entranced at the gold shapes flickering before me. It’s hard to focus when he nibbles my earlobe and makes me gasp.
‘Well?’
‘I can’t make it out. It seems to move, like sunlight on water. Is that what it is?’
‘Sometimes. I had it painted soon after I met you. It reminds me of you.’
He holds me firmly while he starts to explore, motioning me to keep still as I shift position to reach his prying fingers. In seconds he’s unfastened my jeans and he’s feeling deep between my legs, his touch explicit and precise. I strain back against him as he probes, making me tingle and arch.
I try for playful. ‘Me? But we were only together for a few hours, if that …’ I tail off, suddenly shaky. What’s he saying? That our first meeting scorched into his brain too? He murmurs low against my hair, his breath warm on my neck. I feel his arm stiffen, his grip trapping me into submission. Fierce signals tingle all over me, raising the down on the backs of my legs.
The fingers of his other hand move gently and I feel a sudden shot of electricity as he presses home, his touch light, teasing. All too brief.
‘Every time I looked at it I’d think about doing this. Hold still. Put your arms back up round my neck.’ He slips his hand out of my pants and frees himself, and then slides my zipper down a little way. ‘Now we’ll have some fun.’
I can feel his growing erection swell at my back. ‘Can I touch you?’ I reach down but he grabs my hand.
‘Uh-uh.’ He places it firmly back in position and gives my nipple a vicious tweak. ‘No touching. My treat.’ Laughing softly, he slips his fingers back down between my legs where they start a light rhythmic pressure.
‘I thought often about that night, about what we did, and how fast it overtook us. And I thought about the kind of woman you must have been to do that. And know what? I still can’t work you out.’
‘You’re working me out pretty thoroughly now,’ I murmur, laughter bubbling up as my excitement builds. ‘Won’t somebody see? Suppose a maid walks past?’
‘Hush. Keep your eyes on the pretty picture.’
And all at once there’s an upheaval beneath me and somehow he’s pushing right up inside me. I moan with delight as he shifts position just enough to line us up perfectly. Now my weight’s doing most of the work while his flexing hips provide most of the energy. He flexes his fingers, his touch firmer now, teasing me ever closer to abandon.
Excitement builds as my softness folds around him. He starts to ride me, his powerful up-thrusts barely perceptible under my own weight as I bear down on him, panting as I lean into his busy fingers.
‘See what happens as the sun moves round?’ His low whisper pulls me back from the brink as I try to stay focused on the picture. Seconds later the sun’s moved away and the picture dissolves into a thousand flecks of gold.
And at that precise moment my pleasure erupts. I arch against him, stifling my moans as he jolts beneath me, reaching his own climax seconds after mine. I lean back in his arms, breathing deep. I can feel his heart beating at my back.
He holds me close and kisses my neck. His lips linger, warm and loving, and then he leans his head against mine. Before us the dying rays of the sun sprinkle highlights of rosy gold over the last traces of the mural and then it fades into the wall, once more a simple shower of glitter.
‘That’s what happened every time I thought about you. That’s what you’re like.’ He fondles my breast, squeezing gently. ‘You see my problem?’
He kisses me again, his arms still holding me tight, like he’s scared I’ll escape. ‘Now I see you, now I don’t.’
* * *
Next morning Darnley leaves early for work. He has more business in San Francisco. I wonder fleetingly why he goes there so often. Some vacation.
Today the sun stays hidden and we’re back in winter – or what passes for winter here in sunny California. To me, after the harsh snows of Maine, it feels more like misty spring. Everything’s muffled in a thick blanket of fog.
I race down the beach to check on my boat before I drive to the complex. As I get up close I feel my stomach clench. As I feared, Ryan’s been busy. My boat’s draped in seaweed. Underneath are smears of lime green paint. Up close they spell out a message.
Tomorrow. 3pm.
Anybody could have seen this … I fight down panic. In this fog I’m the person most likely to get close enough to see it. Plus Ryan knows me. He knows I’ll keep my word. He must be desperate.
The water-based paint is already blurring in the damp. I scrub at the rest with handfuls of seaweed and splash water over it. A hollow booming sound echoes in the distance.
I hurl the paint-stained seaweed into the cleansing breakers and try not to think about trolls.
* * *
My first class goes well. For the rest of the morning I’m in one-to-one sessions with poor readers. In the afternoon I decide on some shopping and head up the 101 to Santa Rosa. I find somewhere to park and make for the stores on Fourth Street.
After a happy time among the dress rails, trolls and misty messages seem a long way off. I’m standing in line waiting to pay when through the store window I spot someone familiar. Syra is standing across the highway, grim-faced and still. She seems to be watching the store.
Maybe it’s a coincidence. I pay, take the carrier and hurry outside, but now she’s disappeared. On the way back to the car I see her again, lurking by a news-stand.
‘Syra?’
Instantly she darts off.
‘Wait. I want to talk to you.’ I catch up with her at the crossing and seize her arm as we head over the road. ‘Are you tailing me? Who told you –’ I break off.
Her hands have smears of green paint. And there’s more, smudged on the cuff of her jacket. There’s even a trace on her cheek.
I stand very still. ‘Syra? What’s that paint?’
‘Look out.’ With a yell she grabs me and shoves me into the middle reservation just as a vast truck roars past. The driver leans on the horn and people around me all turn to stare.
‘You OK? Let’s get outta here.’ She hustles me along to my car.
‘Wait – how do you know where I’m parked?’
She stares up at me, sulky now. ‘I tailed ya. The Boss says you need keepin’ an eye on. The paint? We did paintballin’ this mornin’.’ She glares at me, fierce now. ‘An’ you ain’t seen me.’
She tries to shake me off but I tighten my grip. ‘You were hard to miss. Why are you doing this?’
‘Mr Wolfe’s real pissed about Chet.’ She scowls. ‘But I need the trainin’, an’ Chet needs his job. So I offered to be your bodyguard. He’d asked us earlier. All the guys rushed up but I could see that made him mad on account of … you know.’
I feel my cheeks colour.
‘Yeah, that.’ Her snort expresses strong views about free spirits in boats. ‘So I thought maybe he’d like a woman to do it.’ She chews furiously.
‘That’s great, Syra. But – why?’
&
nbsp; ‘Chet likes you. Me too. And wow, guarding the Boss’s girl? One heck of an assignment.’ Her eyes glow.
On the drive back I catch sight of her in my rear-view mirror as she follows me on her powerful machine, her short sandy curls fluttering on her tight leather collar. Her sharp face is almost hidden under her helmet and goggles.
Could she have painted that message? Could Chet? Is there a link to the training complex? I can’t ask anybody. Freda’s a bitch and Darnley’s off radar. He’ll want to know why I want to know and if he finds out he’ll freak.
More mystery.
* * *
Tonight our meal takes a while, partly because Darnley keeps taking calls and partly because he wants me to sit close.
‘Have fun at work today?’
I accept another helping of chowder and sip some crisp white wine. ‘Some. I also had a bodyguard.’
He pushes his plate aside. ‘Yes, Syra. There’s a problem?’
‘You could have told me. And why not give me somebody who knows what they’re doing? I spotted her straightaway. And on the way home.’
He leans back in his chair. ‘You need some protection. Just till we find out what’s going on.’
What does he mean by that? My stomach gives a lurch. ‘In sunny California? Why should I need protection?’
His eyelids lower. ‘I’d be happier if you had somebody. Plus Syra needs the practice. Now let’s go up. We’ve got things to do.’
The things we have to do take a while and involve me in very few clothes. To my delight I find the dark looks he’s been giving me are less about suspicion and more about lust.
Tonight a certain amount of restraint is required. Scarily the rope he used before is being brought into play again.
This time he wants me looped.
‘You OK with this? It won’t be very tight. I just need …’ he tails off.
I lean against him as his hand slides slowly down my flank, sparking instant flickers of arousal.
‘It’s fine,’ I whisper. ‘If you need it, we do it.’ Yikes. What am I saying? How far will he go?
His gaze is steady. ‘I want you taut.’
I kiss him again in a tiny act of consent. I blank my mind and let hunger steal over me like slow fire. All through our meal I’ve been aching for him. Every time he spoke to me, every look sent a little thrill through me.