Whoever was trying to sabotage his business, was sending him those threatening letters and had somehow disabled Ava’s car must have been furious that Darcy had rescued his children, effectively messing up their murderous plans.
And now she was a target, too.
His hold on his son tightened, and Jonah glanced up at him, giving him a small smile before resting his head against his chest. Dominic took a long, shaky breath. Whoever was responsible for these actions would pay. He couldn’t quite believe the malevolence that was being directed at him. Sure, he had enemies. You didn’t reach his level of success without upsetting some folks – but to try to harm children? And then to go after a vulnerable, injured woman, simply because she’d tried to help? It was sick, it was twisted, and it was evil.
And he was going to put a stop to it.
Darcy shifted and grimaced, stretching her neck as she tried to get comfortable. The sling drew his attention again and sympathy flared.
He couldn’t deny it. So far Darcy’s connection with his family had been hell for her. He’d seen the scans, and had spoken with the doctors. Her shoulder was badly damaged. She would need extensive physiotherapy and rehabilitation to get it back in working order again. And now she’d lost her home as well as her transport. All because she’d acted on instinct to save his kids. He eyed the frayed, stained duffel bag at Alex’s feet. Everything she owned was in that bag.
He lifted his chin. They would look after her. None of this was her fault, yet she appeared to be paying the biggest price for it. He owed her so much. He’d make damn sure she was looked after.
‘Darcy.’ He uttered the word quietly through the mike on his helmet, and he wasn’t sure if she’d heard, but eventually her eyelids flickered as she lifted her gaze to his. He was wrong. She wasn’t unreadable, or vacant: her eyes showed pain and something else, something darker that he couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything, just stared mutely at him.
‘You’re coming home with us to Jirralee.’ He didn’t ask her this time. Didn’t give her the option to refuse. ‘For as long as it takes, you’re staying with us.’
She stared at him for a moment, and her eyes started to well up with tears. She blinked furiously, and looked at Jonah, then Julia, before looking out the window again. It took a moment, and he watched as she visibly took control of herself, but finally she nodded.
‘Okay.’
Satisfaction flared at that whispered word, and Dominic watched as Julia snuggled gingerly into her side, and Darcy hugged her closer, blinking as she gazed out the window.
He and Alex would track down the enemy, and would make them pay. This time Dominic’s breath was calm as he inhaled slowly. The man – or woman – had picked the wrong man, the wrong family, to threaten. He knew from experience what was at risk, and his experience had forged in him a ruthlessness when it came to looking after his family. He wasn’t going to lose them again. They weren’t going to be taken from him.
He would protect his family, and for all intents and purposes, Darcy was now part of his family.
Darcy followed Dominic and the twins across the small field and up the flagstone path between the helipad and Dominic’s country home, Jirralee. She ignored her jelly legs and glanced around, instinct kicking in with a desire to know her surroundings, figure out the lie of the land; maybe eye up an escape route. She swallowed the panic she’d been battling since leaving the hospital.
Since her van blew up.
The property was impressive. The homestead sat upon a rise, and just beyond lay a rolling vista of grapevines and cleared paddocks, with a cluster of smaller buildings at the bottom of the hill. She’d even seen a sparkling pool at the back of the home as they’d come in to land.
Horses dotted the fields, and the dark fencing neatly delineated the animal areas from the cultivated sections. The grounds immediately surrounding the home were exquisitely manicured, the lawns punctuated by the occasional shrub or young pine tree. A number of statues graced the gardens, like silent yet hauntingly beautiful sentinels watching over the hills and valleys of the property. A fountain splashed and trickled, its lilting sounds a soothing backdrop to the tranquil scene. Two rosellas swooped and danced, darting under the water spray before flying off again towards the gum trees a short distance away.
Jirralee was expansive, stunning and luscious, and just served to highlight what different worlds she and Dominic St James lived in. Darcy tried not to scuff her sneakers on the sandstone steps they climbed. She sucked in her breath as she got her first good look at the house. It was a handsome home and impressive in scale, yet without being ostentatious. A solid country homestead beneath a bull-nosed tin roof and two levels of wrap-around verandahs – but that was about as down-home as the house got. High-backed rattan armchairs with plump cushions and a swing lounge stood on the verandah, and Darcy realised the view from those chairs would be outstanding. Sandstone bricks, masonry pillars and strategically placed miniature pencil pines gave the home an elegant feel.
Two massive black doors with ornate carvings opened at their approach.
Darcy stopped. A woman smiled at the family. Darcy eyed the doors. That tiny woman had managed to open those big doors? They looked heavy and solid, and she looked – well, she looked like she was related to Tinkerbell. She took in the steel-grey hair and the wrinkled face. Maybe Tink’s grandmother.
The woman rushed out to hug the twins, who responded by throwing their arms around her neck in warm greeting, Julia’s movements more hesitant due to her injuries.
‘Oh, my darlings. It is so good to see you. I have some chocolate milk in the kitchen for you.’ She kissed them both on the cheek, alternating her enthusiastic smacking noises until Julia started to giggle, and Jonah ducked his head.
Dominic turned to Darcy. ‘Darcy, I’d like to introduce you to Gertrude Murphy. She and her husband, Roland, have looked after my family since I was a kid.’
Gertrude looked up, and Darcy smiled tentatively. She felt like she was intruding on an intimate family gathering. ‘Hello, Gertrude,’ she said.
Gertrude smiled, and straightened from the children to nod at her. ‘Hello, Darcy. Dominic told me what you did.’ She looked down at the kids, and tugged them close. ‘Thank you.’
Darcy’s cheeks warmed. The woman looked as though she was fighting tears. Darcy nodded awkwardly and examined the marble tiling inside the foyer. She felt like a fraud, meeting this woman who obviously cared deeply for the St James family as though she actually had a right to be here. She thought of her van, of Constable Ellison, and blinked furiously as she stared down at the marble floor. She shouldn’t be here.
‘Come on, Darcy, I’ll show you to your room,’ Dominic said as he touched her shoulder. Darcy started, jerking around, then hissed as pain shot through her shoulder.
Dominic’s eyebrow rose, surprise and regret flashing across his face. ‘Sorry.’
She shook her head, forcing herself to relax. ‘No, I’m sorry. I just – I wasn’t expecting that.’ She was tense, trying to strangle the need to scream. She’d spent so long looking over her shoulder, guarding herself, not getting too close to anyone… She had been able to keep her distance, figuratively and literally, from people for the last four months. Now Dominic St James was invading her life, invading her space, her peace of mind. Unsettling her on so many different levels.
‘I’ve made up the green room,’ Gertrude said gently as she herded the kids in the direction of what Darcy assumed was the kitchen.
Dominic nodded, hefted Darcy’s bag over his shoulder and started climbing the stairs to the upper level. Her hand rose, as though to take the bag. She wasn’t used to other people touching her stuff. What if she needed to go away? Escape? Dominic, oblivious to her inner turmoil, continued upstairs. She lowered her hand and followed.
He led her down a long hall, timber floorboards covered by an exotic runner. Wrought-iron wall sconces were placed evenly along the way, and Darcy couldn’t help the curio
sity that had her peering through the open doors they passed.
She stopped at one doorway, her jaw dropping at the explosion of pinks and purples and white silk drapes hanging from the ceiling. There was a white timber bed with a hoop above it, billowing drapes of a white, gauzy material enshrouding the bed. She wasn’t sure if it was pretty, practical mosquito netting or a princess-like affectation, but the room looked like any little girl’s dream of an imperial oasis of pink.
‘Oh my God.’
Dominic turned and came back to her. ‘That’s Julia’s room,’ he said, a smile on his lips.
‘I’d be worried if it was yours,’ she murmured. He chuckled as she blinked. She might need sunglasses against the pristine girlishness of the room.
‘And this one is Jonah’s room,’ he said, gesturing.
‘Ah.’ While Julia’s room was the quintessential girly-princess bedroom, her brother’s was all little-boy fantasy. His bed looked like a racing car, with strong tones of blues, reds and yellows dominating the room. She smiled. There was an overwhelming impression of innocence and fun from both rooms.
Dominic lifted his chin to the closed door across the hall. ‘That’s my room,’ he told her, and walked along the hall to another door. ‘And this is where you’ll be staying.’ He pushed the door open and gestured for Darcy to precede him.
She stepped into the room and halted, gaping. The ceiling was high, about three metres from the plush, neutral cream carpet. An elaborate chandelier hung from a central position, and it matched the crystal lamps on the bedside tables. And the bed – well, the bed was simply magnificent. A padded headboard with a delicate leaf-patterned mint-green fabric was a tasteful backdrop to pillows that Darcy was almost afraid to count. Cream and pale green linen covered a bed that Darcy was sure was at least triple the size of the mattress she’d used in the Kombi van, with a white rug that looked casually thrown across the end of the bed. Darcy knew she could fold, drape and arrange the damn thing a hundred times and it still wouldn’t look so stylish.
Dominic set her duffel bag on a plump, padded settee at the end of the bed and she couldn’t help noticing how sad and sorry her bag looked surrounded by all this luxury. The pink plastic bag sat like an oversized cherry on a grey pudding of duffel. Two armchairs, plump and upholstered in the same material that covered the bed-head, sat facing each other over a white timber reading table.
She turned to look around the room. French doors opened onto the verandah beyond, and heavy green-and-cream curtains that reminded Darcy of The Sound of Music framed a picturesque view of the valley.
The whole effect, from the cool tones of the greens and creams, to the warm traces of gold and wood, combined to give a welcoming, relaxing elegance that she’d only ever seen hints of in a five-star hotel room.
Dominic strode over to a discreet door and pushed it open. ‘You have a bathroom through here – all yours.’
She caught a brief glimpse of cream marble, before her attention was caught by the man approaching her. He looked around the room.
‘Is it – is this okay? We have other rooms, if it’s not to your taste.’
She blinked. ‘Uh, no, it’s fine, Dominic. I don’t want you to go to any trouble. This is more than sufficient. It’s beautiful, actually.’
He nodded, pleased. ‘Okay, then.’ He glanced at the worn bag slumped over on the settee. ‘Do you need any help unpacking?’
Unpacking? She eyed the white timber wardrobe. There was a suggestion of permanence at the thought of unpacking. She hadn’t ‘unpacked’ in over four months.
‘Uh, no, thanks. I’ll manage.’
Dominic stepped closer. He raised his hand slowly, and touched her uninjured shoulder. This time she could see the movement, had time to prepare. Didn’t flinch.
‘I want you to feel comfortable here, Darcy,’ he said, his tone deep and just a little rough. ‘Whatever you need, just ask. I know you lost a lot of things today, and I’m so sorry.’ He gestured casually to the reading table, where a notepad and pen were placed neatly by the lamp. ‘Make a list of whatever you need, and I’ll arrange for it to be delivered. I’m sure there were a few things in your van that will need replacing.’
‘About the van…’ Darcy started, and stopped at the lump in her throat. She blinked against the familiar itch in her eyes. Oh God, she was losing it.
‘Shh. It’s okay. I understand you’re upset about that. It wasn’t your fault, okay?’ He looked at her directly, and she felt pinned by his intense gaze. ‘It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault,’ he repeated softly.
She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. Not now, not in front of Dominic. It didn’t matter how much she blinked, she could feel the tears welling up. She ducked her head. Toughen up, princess. That’s what her father used to say. Her first day at kindergarten, her first break-up – her first bad test score. Toughen up and get over it. She took a deep, shuddering breath and cleared her throat.
‘I want you to feel safe here, Darcy. You are welcome here, as my guest, for as long as it takes for you to heal and to get back on your feet. Whatever you need, just let me know. I will help you every way I can.’ Dominic’s hand slid up and down her arm, his touch warm and gentle, kind.
And she was such a fraud. She couldn’t look him in the eye, but she could hear the earnest intent in his tone – and it just made her miserable.
‘No one can get to us, here. This property has outstanding security, nobody can get past the gates without my permission. Do you understand? What happened this morning – it can’t come here. You’re safe.’
She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him. More than anything she wanted to curl up somewhere, close her eyes and make it all go away. She sank down on the settee next to her wretched duffel bag.
‘I’m tired,’ she murmured. So tired. So sore and tired and upset. She knew she should be angry, too, she just couldn’t dredge up the energy.
Dominic patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and straightened. ‘Look, why don’t you have a rest. Come down when you’re ready.’
She nodded, and tried to paste a smile on her face, but suspected her attempt was just shy of pathetic. ‘Thanks. I think – I think I just need some time to myself. Maybe sleep.’
Dominic nodded. ‘Sure. We’ll see you when you’re ready.’ He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Darcy sat on the padded lounge and gazed around ‘her’ room.
They blew up her van.
She stared at the mound of pillows on the bed, the fine linens.
They blew up her van.
The thought kept running through her head as she glanced at the plush carpet, the heavy fabric drapes. In her mind’s eye, though, she saw billowing black plumes of smoke, bright angry flames, and heard the screams of the media and hospital staff in the car park.
She thought of the lovely police officer who had taken her statement, who had turned green while they’d treated her shoulder in Casualty, and had popped in to follow up with progress reports and further briefings.
Dead. The man was dead.
Darcy closed her eyes. Oh God, this is bad. So bad. A young man killed because he got into her vehicle. She knew it wasn’t an accident, no freak gas explosion, no fuel line anomaly. No. Mark had found her.
And now Probationary Constable Jack Ellison was dead.
She clenched her hands together in her lap. If she squeezed hard enough, she might be able to stop herself from screaming – in terror, in pain. What a mess. What a tragic, terrible mess.
It was all her fault.
And now Dominic had opened his home to her, welcomed her into the sheltered haven he shared with his kids. She flopped back onto the bed, wincing as her shoulder started to throb. Just by being here, she was putting them in the same danger as that police officer. All the reasons why she shouldn’t be staying with them were still there, perhaps even stronger. Dominic didn’t know her, didn’t know the trouble she was in. She was bad news, and bad thing
s happened around her.
But she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her van, her home, was toast. Everything she owned had been in that van, except for the duffel bag sitting on the lounge next to her. That was it. A few garments. God, she only had one pair of shoes now. All her second-hand books that had helped her while away the time, the pot, frypan and cutlery she’d found at a St Vincent de Paul store, the sleeping bag a German backpacker had given her, all gone. She’d spent months building up that small cache of belongings. She wasn’t even sure if she had a toothbrush. Her arm was useless, and would be for at least six weeks. Finding work would be next to impossible. Much as she hated it, hated the lying, the pretending, she had no choice but to stay.
Eight weeks. She just had to make it through eight weeks. Head down, invisible. Eight weeks. She was in trouble and had nowhere to go, except for Jirralee. Still, she couldn’t convince herself that what she was doing was justified.
And she hated herself for it. She hated the lying, hated taking advantage of kind people. Hated being the harbinger of evil.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and as she rolled onto her side they trailed down her cheeks. She was in over her head, and now someone had paid the ultimate price. She screwed her face up as the sobs burst from her chest. She cried for her sore shoulder, for her beloved Kombi, but most of all she cried for Ellison. So much damn loss.
She cried for what felt like ages, in the hopes that it would wash her clean – but nothing could shift the stain of her deceit. Her eyes slowly closed against the pain, trying to block everything out, if only for a short while. It was so hard to hide.
CHAPTER
7
Dom looked up from his desk as Alex entered his study. Alex held up his mobile phone.
‘I just finished with Gosford Police,’ he said.
Dom leaned back in his chair. ‘And?’
‘The firies are still picking up the pieces of Darcy’s van, but it looks like a leaking gas tank was the cause. Ellison didn’t know what hit him.’
Runaway Lies Page 6