by Cates, A. K
“I’ll call you back,” Eve hung up before he could protest. Men. She stood there a moment staring at her phone knowing the man in her kitchen was watching her every move like a hawk.
He didn’t say anything as she walked back towards the sink placing the dishes in. “You know Trigger, he was concerned,” Eve shrugged, as if it were a relative calling. She didn’t have a clue about the relationship between Roman and Trigger.
Were they adversaries. Were they friends?
Maybe Trigger was a brotherly figure to her. If they were partners in crime didn’t it bring them closer like family? What a twisted family it was and yet it wouldn’t be more twisted than the one she had actually come from.
Eve paused, turned, bracing against the edge of the sink. She faced him head on.
Roman was silent, waxen statue silent, unnervingly so.
“Because I called him and because he’s my boss, was my boss.” It seemed appropriate to have to explain herself, why was she explaining herself? Roman was like the judge, jury and executioner. And did he miss the way she said was? Her chest tightened, he wouldn’t change his mind would he?
“You’re accepting my proposal,” his eyes lit up, his mouth quirked. The previous Roman was vanquished behind a smiling boyish charm.
“I’m not accepting anything. I’m accepting a trail run,” Eve pressed a finger on the table top.
His eyebrows knit together. “What exactly is a trial run?”
Eve didn’t answer as she busied herself with the dishes again. She knew he was watching her by the way his eyes seared into her back, melting her knees. She’d eaten her own share and drunken enough water to banish the headache, so at least it felt like she was thinking straight, though in his presence it was hard to say.
She let out a shaky breath.
Then his hands were around her waist catching her off guard. His touch, his smell encased her. Those hands, so strong and soft against her. She sank into their feel. There was something so reassuring about his presence there, she paused and inhaled as if he’d always been there and always would be. His front was against her back. His warmth thrust against her, his hardness pressing into her. Her breathing spiked, her blood sizzling at his touch.
“I like you in this,” he whispered in her ear, the heat from his lips feathering her neck like fluffy air born kisses. His hands travelled down the waist of her pants. She’d changed out of the bra and panties from last night to a pair of black slacks. There was nothing special about her slacks or so she thought, needless to say, she was never throwing them out after today. She hadn’t showered knowing she wouldn’t be able to control herself with Roman in the vicinity; she tried her best to be clean regardless. A man in her apartment! And she was expected to go about her day as normal!? The phone rang a shrill throng. “Don’t get it,” he hissed. His hands implored as they tightened around her.
It rang a second time.
Eve wanted to relent. Hell she wanted to be the sassy vixen and reciprocate and throw him onto the kitchen counter with herself on top. The other Eve, the one she was trying really hard to suppress at this moment had another damning realisation. Only a select few have this number.
The phone rang a third and fourth time. Eve was stuck.
It stopped ringing. Saved. She let his hands travel down her again, succumbed to his will. The phone rang all over again.
It rang the first time; her eyes trained on him. His gaze smouldering like coals over the fire, her belly warmed, her blood diverted to anywhere except her brain. Eve pushed away and answered on the third ring.
“Sorry Eve, did I wake you?” it was Trisha, she sounded anxious. “I got called in at last minute is there any chance”-
“Sure thing, bring him over. Are you alright?”
“No, not really, can I come over?”
“Yeah,” her brow creased. Eve hung up a moment later.
Trisha wasn’t one for phone conversations which suited her. If she was rattled it was Eve’s business to know and console her.
Roman Pierce watched her every move.
She returned the look, an apology imbedded on her lips. “I have to babysit my neighbour’s kid,” she left out the part of having to talk to Trisha. It was a spur idea, maybe he could stay with her while she cared for Jack, Trisha would have to go soon anyway, the idea of a family and permanence entered her subconscious. What if he wanted a family? What if he wanted more? What if?
Suddenly breakfast seemed like an eternity ago and Eve had a flitting image of herself down the aisle. She grabbed the sink. Snap out of it! She pushed down her runaway thoughts and turned back to Roman.
“I’ll get out of your way,” he said.
What? Her eyes widened in shock.
Roman came round and pulled her into him. He pressed a kiss to her lips. He didn’t give her time to respond. He let go and grabbed his wallet and phone from a stand nearby. “Tonight, you’re mine.” He closed the door behind him.
The dull thud reverberated deep into her bones.
Eve touched her lips, the butterfly after touch, his butterfly scent lingering on her neck. Her blood coursed like it was on fire, dying out slowly. Her heart…was stupefied.
Something didn’t add up, a moment ago he was willing to stay, more than stay. What had happened? Why did he go so fast?
He’d bolted faster than a 100 metre runner. Was that the effect a kid had on him? A numb ached invaded her, a piercing shot through her body.
The image of her in a white dress dissolved into mud.
Stupid Eve. Stupid hope. Had it been plain on her face? It answered her questions all too suddenly, confirming exactly what she was here to do.
Roman was a job, he didn’t want permanence. He couldn’t contrive the idea as easily as she could. She couldn’t have feelings for him. Wouldn’t.
24
“Eve, I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Trisha looked like hell. Her make-up had been put on haphazardly and clearly she’d been crying from her blotched nose and tear streaked face.
“What’s wrong?” Eve hustled them in.
Jack sat nestled against Trisha’s hip, his red curls bouncing. He appeared fine and oblivious to his mother’s condition. It was bizarre seeing her here when not so long ago Roman had been in her apartment and now he was gone as fast as the flash, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Eve stung with rejection all over again, as if she hadn’t had enough already.
Trisha lowered Jack onto the sofa. “I didn’t have anyone else to go to,” she whimpered. Trisha did not whimper. She was always the defiant Amazon who never let anyone get the better of her. The woman shook before her in a deranged mass of red hair.
Eve embraced her first, without words, it was the first thing Trisha always did when she was feeling low. It was the first thing to give Eve hope there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Trisha was cold to the touch, her cheeks wet, her arms shaking around Eve. Giving Eve that ever sinking feeling, something was truly wrong with Trisha. Eve pulled back and stared down at Jack. Innocent sweet Jack was dressed in jean breeches and a red top underneath; he resembled a mini Mario brother minus the hat, his hair sat bob-like on him in a bleached golden red halo.
Trisha didn’t look so good. Her hair was a little frayed, as if she’d brushed it in a hurry, her eyes appeared colourless and glassy, the life drained from them. Even her black uniform hung limp on her slack shoulders. Her mouth twitched, the words hung on the tip of her tongue. She glanced at Jack; it didn’t look like she would let them go unless Jack couldn’t hear her.
Eve took the little boy by the hand and walked him to her bedroom and onto the bed. She grabbed her old-school headset and set her mp3 to play. The music would be enough for him to be in a world of his own. Jack played along with his cars while the music played, not loud, enough to block out what was being said as the two women sat round the counter.
Trisha moved at a cautious pace, her attention flitting here and there casting a furtive look out the window
, which faced out onto the next building. Eve recognised the look, those skittering eyes. She’d been there before in those same shoes. It was the haunted look of a woman on the run from a past catching up to her.
What had her so spooked?
Jack was still visible from the kitchen counter, the sweet boy playing with his cars; only he was far away with no chance of hearing, not with the music in his ears. His attention was directed to the block coloured cars in his fists as he raced them from one bed post to the other. Eve watched him with envy wishing she could ignore the world in the same way.
“Eve, I’m scared,” Trisha gripped the counter; her knuckles white over the edge, her face pale and devoid of blood. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth when I met you. I didn’t want the past to be a part of our lives,” she cast a fleeting look at Jack. “He’s all I’ve got in this world and I would do anything to keep him.”
Eve pressed a hand to Trisha’s; the woman was ice cold, colder by the second. Eve didn’t say anything as she waited. Whatever it was, Eve hadn’t told Trisha the truth of who she was either.
In time Trisha would relinquish whatever she was holding so close to her chest. “I didn’t tell you everything about Jack’s father. We were together for a while until”-Her eyes watered, she was fighting hard to contain herself.
Eve didn’t know much of the man, only what Trisha had told her that he hadn’t been much of a parent and wouldn’t pay child support.
“He’s violent,” she uttered in the lightest of whispers. “We were happy and one day he snapped, one day it all changed. I didn’t want him to hurt Jack so I ran away with him. I changed my name. I”-she broke off suddenly. “I didn’t think he’d be able to find us. He’s a resourceful man but-” There was a flash in her eyes, a tactile fear flitting forever below the surface.
“Trisha it’s alright,” Eve rubbed her hand. It wasn’t.
“I think he found us.”
“How?” Eve held onto both of Trisha’s palms pressing her forefingers into them, squeezing life back in, trying hard to distract the woman from her pain.
“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Trisha bit her bottom lip.
“Tell me.”
“I have this bad feeling. There are these men watching the apartment.”
“Who?” Eve’s adrenaline spiked.
Men watching the apartment? There was fear for Trisha and Jack, selfishly though, first in that moment she feared more for herself. She hated it instantly. What if they were waiting for her?
“I’m scared he’s going to take Jack and punish me.”
“Are you sure these men know him? Are you sure they’re really watching you?” it seemed the logical reaction especially given deep down Eve feared they were actually for her. If it was real. She should prefer it to them being after Trisha and Jack, at least they’d be safe. She’d prefer it if these men weren’t actually watching their place and Trisha had gotten nervous. If this man was as bad as Trisha said, then it was possible; she’d been living with it for quite some time. Guilt, fear and angst could manifest into a bigger fear. Trisha nodded not saying anything else.
Eve pressed on. “Tell me Trisha. Tell me about the men, what did you see?”
“They’re in a van. They sit there all day.” Eve bit her lip.
“Are you sure?” Trisha nodded. “Could it be the road works round the corner or isn’t Brady’s café having some renovations?” it was a spurring idea, relevant enough to relieve her momentarily.
“Eve, don’t you think I’ve considered all of those things? I’ve been watching them. I really wish I was wrong. They’re not part of any of the crews working nearby.” She gripped her hard. “They. Never. Leave. The. Van.” Eve dropped her hands down to her sides. Suddenly gravity was a heavy force she had to fight, a sinking feeling as her stomach hit the floor. “Eve, are you alright?”
Eve braced the counter, the dizziness subsiding. Get. Control. Of. Yourself. She forced herself not to weaken down into a huddle. She needed to be strong, at least for Trisha who was absolutely terrified and for Jack who could be in danger.
She balled her fists, as tightly as she could. She stood up, came to terms with the fear in a matter of seconds. For Trisha. For Jack. For herself. She had a moral obligation to protect them, for all she knew this was her doing. Please let it not be them. She wished badly for Trisha it wasn’t Trisha’s past but Eve’s come back to haunt her, at least they had a fighting chance; they could get away from her.
“Show me the van.”
25
Eve glanced out the window. She sprang back a second later, forcing her back against the wall.
The van was there alright. It was white and non-descript like every other van in this city. There were no markings on the side, no telltale of a company name.
Eve’s pulse quickened and her breathing grew shallow. Every suspicious bone in her body wanted to side with Trisha. There was something not quite right about this van. If Eve weren’t so unnerved, weren’t so in the thick of danger as it were she might have held out. She might have waited and done her own research, kept tabs on the van for any signs of movement.
Trisha said she’d already watched it.
Eve had to take her word for it; she didn’t have time to do her own homework and coupled with her own gut feeling the van was a bad omen.
They were there for her. Not Trisha. Not Jack. She felt it deep within her core, amidst the sinking anchor in her stomach weighing her down like a body tied to a bag of rocks in the ocean. Don’t Eve. Don’t go there, stupid girl. Eve tried hard to convince herself it was a van, nothing more. A van, nothing more…
She was the victim of blackmail.
She was fighting back by saying no to their requests.
They had her secrets, had an investment in her.
The van was not nothing. It had to be their way to make sure she was doing her job; she didn’t want to be paranoid. She didn’t want to be naïve either. Eve stood at the window and watched the van with shallow breaths.
In the drivers seat sat a man, a shadow of a body. Just a man…nothing more. It’s all in your head, Eve. The man looked up. Up. Their eyes locked. He’d singled her out in seconds.
She shot back out of view, her breathing erratic. She stood; her back against the wall in the corridor of her apartment building, where all the front doors were. It was a staircase and an aisle; there was a dingy elevator at the end, though highly unreliable. There were two doors on every level. There was hers and Mrs Partridge’s, an old woman who wouldn’t be of any use to her.
Eve had left Trisha to play with Jack. She didn’t need to scare her more by confirming her suspicions. She needed to solve the problem and fast.
She held Trisha’s phone to her jaw, the cold metal a harsh reality. Eve had been too afraid to use her own phone in case it was tabbed; a stupid idea.
She was definitely acting paranoid.
The man had definitely been looking at her.
She dialled 911. “Yes, hello. I’d like to report a suspicious van outside my building. I think they’re doing drugs in there. It’s a white van with the number plate”-she gave them the plate digits. Eve gave her name and hung up. Her heart pounded against the dial tone.
It was a radical idea and not completely her own. She’d seen it in a movie, who knew if such a thing would work in real life?
Moments passed in agonising slowness.
Eve watched out the window for any signs of movement. She didn’t know how long it would take for the police to show up, probably forever, probably twenty minutes.
There was movement in the van.
The headlights came to life.
Eve ducked behind the curtain, her adrenaline spiking. She had to know, to be brave, so she turned and watched. The man shot one last look at her…The van pulled out of its spot and disappeared around the corner.
…
Sudden relief flooded followed by sheer terror. Eve sank against the wall, the phone pressing against he
r chest, her chest pounding like a drum.
What was that? How had they known? How had the man known? Moments later, she glanced out the window as the police car drove past at an idle pace. It didn’t stop, just kept on going.
Eve couldn’t believe it. The van had gotten away, how? There was a horrible sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d watched too many thrillers and too many cop shows.
As if the van had tabs on police activity.
26
The car will come at eight.
The text came later that day as Eve played with Jack. It had been a full on day, Trisha had left for her shift with endless assurances from Eve that she was safe to do so. Meanwhile Eve had done her own assurances of how everything was ok.
Everything was ok. Everything.
She was alive. They hadn’t threatened physical harm, only to expose her. They might not even be capable of it. And the man, men in the van…
The message lit up on her phone. Her pulse surged for a second before remembering Roman’s up and out escape. He was a player, as good as they came and this was a typical response from a guy who wanted nothing more than to get into her pants. There was no miss you, no can’t wait to see you or this morning was fun. It was a summoning, almost like she already belonged to him. Eve let her position remind her exactly what she was here for. Get in. Get out. Get whatever the hell it was the blackmailers wanted from Roman Industries, ltd. No one would get hurt. This last bit hadn’t been one of the blackmailer’s assurances. Next time, Eve would go to Trigger and make sure it was. No one would get hurt.
Having a van stake out her place was bad enough; she didn’t want to invite anything else in. It was times like these Eve wished she had an escape plan. She should have one, in case things went wrong in the space of a second. Things could go wrong so easily. Having the van outside had rearranged her priorities. A billionaire wanting to pop her cherry suddenly didn’t feel like the worst thing in the world.
“Jack you’re not like him, are you?” Eve cuddled the boy closer to her. “You’re the only man in my life. He’s not getting between us.”