by Sandy Vaile
“You okay?” she asked.
Actually, Neve felt like throwing up. “I’m not feeling very well, so I might head home. Catch you tomorrow, okay?”
“Umm, sure. Are you okay to drive?”
Neve nodded and made a beeline for the back door. Bron waved as Neve got into the car and crawled along the driveway. A swarm of angry and confused wasps in her head were too noisy for her to think clearly. There wasn’t any good reason to run away, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved in this shit.
But I already am, and Micah has a right to know. Rowan could be in danger. What was she saying? Of course he was in danger if Chelsea was hanging around with a bruiser like Dave.
She touched her cheek. Heat still radiated from where he’d struck.
At the end of the driveway, gravel had spilled onto the road and glinted in the headlights. On the verge, straw-like grass trembled in the breeze. As the car idled and minutes passed, the darkness pressed in on her safe cocoon and made her pulse sprint.
It was bullshit to be this shaken by one bloke. If she’d been paying attention to her surroundings, Dave wouldn’t have gotten the upper hand, and she would have taken him down.
It wasn’t unusual for a parent with limited visitation rights to behave badly, but physical violence from someone with the child was just ludicrous. It couldn’t hurt to warn Micah about how dangerous Dave was.
She put the car in gear and did a three-point turn. The journey back up the driveway seemed longer than usual, and the tires were so loud on the gravel that any minute now, Bron would stick her head out and demand to know why Neve was back. Instead of parking in front of the big house, Neve followed the divergence to the right, where there were six cabins. A four-wheel drive was parked in front of Cabin 1, then an empty parking space, a Volkswagen, and a tan Bentley. Surely it couldn’t be this easy to find him.
Neve parked, got out of her car, and pressed the door closed gently so it wouldn’t alert anyone. She glanced at the main house, but there was no movement. The Travaglias probably thought it was one of their guests.
Soft, yellow light from the porch of Cabin 4 made it easy to pick her way across the loose stones.
The ninth wealthiest person in the country. Hells bells, he could buy a whole tribe of kids, or his own security force to track one down. But here he is in person.
It was hard to hear over her conflicting thoughts as she climbed the steps.
I can’t break my confidentiality agreement. Can I?
She stood in front of the door, fingers resting on the knob. Took a step backwards. Paused. And then reached again.
Chapter 9
Micah swished the razor in warm, soapy water and ran the back of his hand up his cheek. A razor always did a better job than the electric gadgets. He pulled the plug, rinsed the basin, and pressed a hand towel to his face.
He rolled his eyes at the knock on the door. No doubt it was the overly helpful Bronwyn Travaglia again. He sighed and went to open it.
“Neve?” Dread settled deep in his stomach as the look in her eyes registered. Something wasn’t right. “What happened?”
“Umm.” She chewed her lip. “I think Chelsea is still in Turners Gully.”
“Do you want to come in and tell me about it?”
Her wary eyes scanned the room and returned to him. Slowly, she nodded.
He waved her to the stiff floral couch. “Give me a minute.”
As fast as he could, he wiped the remnants of shaving foam from his face and ran his fingers through his damp hair. He looked left and right. Damn, his shirt was hanging on the back of the dining chair.
When he stepped from the bathroom, Neve had her head in her hands. He was by her side in a second, hovering his hand over her back, wanting to comfort her but not sure how far to go. A light pat would suffice.
“Are you all right?” Obviously she wasn’t.
Neve shook her head as her flushed face appeared from behind her shaking hands. He draped an arm tentatively across her shoulders, maintaining a polite space between them. They stayed in the awkward embrace for several minutes.
When she cleared her throat and wriggled, he immediately slid to the opposite end of the couch.
“Neve, what’s wrong? Is it Rowan?”
“Sort of . . .”
Her silence made the thundering in his head louder. “Did something happen to Rowan?”
“He’s all right, I think.”
“How do you know Chelsea is still here?” He leant forward, urging her to respond.
“I tried to call her today, but no one answered. So I thought you were right, that she’d done a runner. Then I was working late and—”
He studied her face as she swallowed; puffy red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks highlighted a welt across the delicate skin.
“Chelsea’s boyfriend paid me a visit.”
Dave paid her a visit and . . .
“Did he hurt you?” Micah got to his feet, fists clenched. He shouldn’t have involved her in this.
Adrenaline hurled through his veins as Neve explained what had happened in front of the kindergarten, and what Dave had said about involving the cops.
“Jesus, Neve, I’m sorry.”
This was getting out of hand. Only a bloody coward would hurt a woman. And if Dave could do that, then it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe that he might hurt a child. This guy needed to be taught a lesson. Yes, that was exactly what Micah would do. He’d get Rowan the hell away from Dave, and he’d give Dave the opportunity to pick on someone his own size.
• • •
Neve stood as Micah shook his head and paced the room. She touched her still-stinging cheek, and a burning desire to rip Dave limb from limb heated her cheeks.
Micah’s attention locked onto her face, and all of a sudden he stepped into her personal space. He traced a finger down the side of her face. “Did Dave do this?”
She nodded. The corners of Micah’s eyes tightened.
“It’s all right. At least we know they’re nearby,” she said.
The set of his jaw showed how not all right he thought it was, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he took hold of her wrist and pulled her against his firm chest. She went rigid, but as she counted his heartbeats, she relaxed against him. There was a faint menthol scent on his freshly washed skin. The white singlet beneath her cheek revealed soft hair at the top of the scooped neckline and smooth, muscular arms. This hug could be hazardous.
Micah pulled back and frowned at her. “Why are you suddenly helping me?”
She shrugged. “Rowan shouldn’t be anywhere near that bastard.”
“Agreed. So what are we going to do about it?”
This was the moment of truth. Depending on what she said, she could lose her appointment at the kindy. It was her only way of interacting with children, and she needed that, seeing as caring for Tony didn’t leave much time for a love life. Losing her job would be painful, but losing Rowan . . .That was unbearable.
Whatever stories Chelsea had told, she couldn’t be trusted. No innocent party sent a thug to rough someone up in a dark car park. Neve wouldn’t be intimidated.
“I think we should call the cops and let them pay Chelsea a visit,” she said.
“I don’t want to risk involving the police. Experience tells me Chelsea will run. Besides, I don’t think this is her doing. We should talk to her face to face, before this goes any further.”
“We? If you think I’m going anywhere near Dave again, you’re mistaken.”
Micah’s shoulders drooped. “You’re right. I’m sorry for getting you involved in this mess. You shouldn’t have had to deal with him. How about you give me Chelsea’s address and we go our separate ways?”
She held his stare. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re going to end up in jail, and I’ll be sacked. Why didn’t you just get a custody order in the first place?”
“I’m an idiot, okay? I honestly didn’t think it would come to this. I
’ve always taken care of my family. Chelsea had anything a woman could want, I thought. Anyway, it’s a moot point.”
She worried her bottom lip. What he was asking was too much, but Rowan needed her.
“For all her failings, Chelsea is a good person,” Micah said. “But I’ve done everything I can to help her, and now I need to be in my son’s life whether it’s the best thing for her or not. I spoke to her again today, you know, and there’s something strange going on. I think she’s in trouble.”
“Why would you think that?”
“We got cut off.”
“You mean the phone cut out?”
“No, I could hear her arguing with someone—I’m assuming Dave—and then the line went dead. Damn it, this is all my fault. I should never have threatened to get full custody.”
She raised a censured brow at him.
“I lost my temper.” He shrugged.
“Well, you can’t buy your way out of this mess. You and Chelsea are going to have to sort this out in court, for Rowan’s benefit.”
“I’m still not keen on dragging her through the courts. People usually do that for money, and I have plenty to take care of her. It would only create fodder for the gossip mags. Anyway, I’m convinced it’s Dave putting ideas into her head.”
“She’ll call again.”
“I can’t just wait around and hope for the best anymore. Tell me where she is.”
Neve shook her head. “The best course of action is to call the cops.”
A red tide moved up Micah’s throat and cheeks. “You can’t expect me to do nothing.”
“I understand your frustration—”
“How could you possibly understand? My child was stolen from me, and right now you’re the only thing standing between me and him.” Sweat beaded on his brow; his lips were set in a hard line.
Neve tensed and held his accusing glare. Perhaps appealing to his natural parental instincts would help. She watched closely for signs that Micah was going to lose his cool. His jaw was clenched, but then the fire in his eyes diminished by increments until his hands finally relaxed.
“If you weren’t going to help me, then what was the point of coming?”
“I am helping you! I’ve given you information you didn’t have and recommended you call the cops. If you go barging into Chelsea’s house and back Dave into a corner, what do you think will happen to Rowan?”
“Neve.” Micah reached to touch her arm. “It’s not going to put Rowan in danger if we just drive past. Once we confirm they’re still there, we’ll call the police, okay?”
It seemed fair. Neve lifted her foot as a draft from under the door curled around her ankles. The chill went all the way up her spine. If she didn’t help Micah, she was as good as handing Rowan to Dave.
She nodded.
“My car’s out front.” He pulled a shirt on and grabbed a leather jacket and car keys.
As Neve turned to follow, she saw the wall clock. “Shit, is that the time?” She pulled up her sleeve to double-check her watch. Tony would be worried. “Let me just make a phone call.”
There were three messages on her mobile, and Tony picked up on the first ring.
“Where the hell are you? I was about to come and look for you.”
That’s all she needed, for Tony and Micah to come face to face. It was bad enough she was helping a poor little rich boy, without Tony knowing about it.
• • •
Neve’s long braid swayed across her back as she turned away from Micah. It was a futile effort at privacy in the small cabin.
“Calm down, Tony,” she said into the phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I . . .got carried away at work. I’ve decided to have dinner with a friend.”
Micah watched her smile as she spoke, as though trying to make the perky tone convincing. Interesting that she wasn’t telling this Tony guy the truth but obviously felt uncomfortable about doing it.
“I’m at Bron’s house. Okay, love you.”
Of course, Tony must be her boyfriend, or husband, although she didn’t wear a ring. Micah had found her so appealing that he hadn’t stopped to think. With those European looks and passion, obviously she wouldn’t be single.
Once she finished the call, he held the cabin door open, but she wouldn’t meet his curious gaze as she passed through.
A buoyant fog hung in the air, deadening the sound of their footsteps on the gravel. He hastened to open the passenger door for her.
Neve directed him along the winding country roads, and he maintained a tight grip on the steering wheel as he concentrated on the narrow ribbon of bitumen ahead. The glare from the headlights reflected from the dense mist, so he had to squint, and with no curbs or even lines marked, the going was slow.
With the windows up and the heater recirculating air, the atmosphere in the car became saturated with Neve’s powerful scent, like eucalyptus leaves crushed between his hands, only sweeter. The internal space seemed to shrink, encased by fog. Micah cracked the window open.
He glanced at his companion’s hands, balled on her lap. Maybe she wasn’t as oblivious to the tension in the cab as her calm face suggested.
As they reached the top of the hill, the haze thinned. Micah made a sharp left onto Sugar Loaf Road, which curved and then straightened out.
“That’s the house.” Neve pointed.
The road was too narrow to park at the side, so he travelled a couple hundred metres to where the verge widened. He got out, but Neve remained in the car, so he walked around to the passenger side and opened her door.
“Are you coming?”
She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then got out of the car and followed him down the hill. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shiver.
“Don’t you have a jacket?”
“I didn’t expect to be out so late.” She rubbed her palms up and down her arms.
Micah took off his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“I don’t need it,” she insisted.
“I was too warm anyway,” he lied.
As they stood at the top of Chelsea’s driveway, Neve slid her arms into the sleeves and zipped the front. Micah pressed his lips together to hide a smile.
The glow from the distant city backlit a huge square beyond the trees, shrouded by wisps of suspended mist that threatened to clutch at their ankles and drag them into the gloom. He didn’t state the obvious⎯there were no lights on and no cars in the driveway⎯but he refused to believe it meant no hope.
Chapter 10
Neve watched Micah rub his sternum. What was going through his mind? His son’s disappearance, despising Neve for letting Chelsea get away, Dave’s fist raised above Neve’s face. A shiver twitched up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold night air. The welt on her cheek throbbed.
“I’m going to take a look,” Micah said and headed down the driveway.
She leapt after him and tugged on the back of his shirt. “I don’t like this,” she whispered. “It’s trespassing.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Here.” He pulled keys from his pocket and handed them to her. “Go back to the car. I promise I won’t be long.”
“I doubt Chelsea is hiding in a dark house, and you said we’d call the cops if we found anything.”
He sighed. “We haven’t found anything. Look, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving without at least trying to get a clue to where she’s gone.” He continued towards the silhouetted residence.
Neve cursed under her breath. If he came across Dave, he’d need her help, and this time the thug would not get the drop on her.
Fog coiled at the base of native trees on either side of the driveway—the perfect hiding place for someone like Dave. She picked up the pace. As they got closer, double-tilt garage doors and a pillared portico materialised from the dark cube. Micah paused on the porch by a pair of potted money trees with elegantly plaited trunks. His shoulders were tense as he stared at Che
lsea’s house.
If anyone comes home, I’ll just say I was worried about Rowan, so thought I’d look in on him. Yeah, right.
Micah took another step, and she held her breath. For a moment, it appeared he might climb the steps and ring the doorbell. He bent to check under the coir mat. Surely, he wouldn’t break in, but who knew what he was capable of? The man was on edge. At least the neighbours were far away enough that they wouldn’t see them around the house.
She crept onto the porch and touched his arm.
He swung around, an arm raised in a defensive stance. “Shit!” He let his arm drop. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that? I thought you were going back to the car.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t want you to do anything stupid. Well, more stupid. I’ll help you look around outside, but I won’t be a party to breaking and entering.”
“It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key. Anyway, there isn’t one.” He jumped down from the porch and peered through the front windows. Neve followed. What little of the dark interior she could see looked inhabited: furniture, potted plants, and a pair of slippers. They moved around to the back of the house and peered through the kitchen window.
Micah gasped. She followed his line of sight to a small pair of trousers hung over the back of a chair. His eyelids twitched, his nostrils flared, and he turned away, seemingly to admire the million-dollar view of suburban lights along the coast, except his stiff neck and the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders gave him away. This was a man in pain.
She stepped towards him, then stopped. It might be better to give him space; after all, she’d been the one to help Rowan slip through his fingers.
If only they knew for sure whether Chelsea and Rowan were still living in the house or had fled Turners Gully. Perhaps if she showed him that Chelsea’s car wasn’t there, Micah would be happy to leave. She glanced at Micah’s back as she headed for the garage. It wasn’t a drive-through, so there was just a wooden door set in the back wall. Her mouth was dry, palms slick, as she turned the handle. The door creaked open.