by Belle Brooks
“How’s my wife?” I’m pleading with him to give me an answer because my aggressive barks at Detective West don’t seem to be working.
He smooths a dressing over the place my stomach once bled. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The doctor gives his attention to Detective West and Gleaton, who stand beside him.
Fucking dick. Why won’t anybody tell me anything apart from my children are safe and my family are here?
I tense my muscles and as I do, the metal of the handcuffs rattles against the bars of the hospital bed I’m secured to.
“Are you going to cooperate?” West glares at me as if I’m scum. The smell of stale nicotine and coffee on his breath makes me want to shove my fist down his throat. If only I could escape these binds.
“Are you going to tell me how my wife is?” I snap.
“Answer our questions.”
“Answer mine.”
The hospital bed I’m in isn’t even surrounded by walls. Instead, it’s surrounded by blue curtains that are pulled closed.
“Reid, we need your statement.”
I’ll give you a statement. My foot straight up your arse. Who in the hell arrests a man whose wife is dying in front of their eyes? That’s what I’d like to know. Not only was I ripped away from Morgan when the men in black arrived, I was thrown in the back of an ambulance without her, wearing a pair of handcuffs.
“You’ve taken a life. You’ve been arrested for manslaughter. This is serious. I told you to trust me. You didn’t. Now, help me, help you.”
“Trust you. Pfft. If it wasn’t for me getting to Morgan she would never have been found. You want to help me? Then tell me how my wife is. Tell me if she’s alive. I just want to know if she’s alive. Please.” I look into West’s grey eyes hoping this time he’ll tell me what I want to hear: that they’d restarted her heart, and she’s okay.
“Logan Raffety. Did you know he was a nephew of John’s?”
“Logan Raffety.” What the fuck does John’s apparent nephew have to do with the price of eggs in China? Never met the man. Didn’t even know he existed.
“He’s responsible for Morgan’s kidnapping and subsequent …” West doesn’t continue.
“The fucking news reporter did it. I should know. I strangled …” I don’t say another word.
“Gregory Stiles and Logan Raffety are the same man. Now, did you know John’s nephew Logan or not?”
“Nope. Didn’t know he had a nephew.”
“We need your statement, Reid. I have to follow procedure.”
“And I need you to tell me if my wife is alive. Just tell me,” I roar, trying to sit up, the restraints cutting into my wrists and pulling me back down against the bed.
“She’s in resus.”
“Is her heart beating?”
“I don’t know.”
“Get me a lawyer.”
I close my eyes and picture Morgan’s chest rising. I listen for the sound of her heart beating and try hard to believe it’s not unmoving as it was the last time I saw her. Morgan’s a fighter, and now all I can do is hope that she had just enough strength left inside of her to find a way to live.
Reid
Six months later
I sit stretched out on a deck chair sunk into the lush white sand on the island of Barbados. I think of Morgan, our honeymoon spent in a place we both never wanted to leave, and I wish we never did.
I watch in silence as the waves crash hard against the shore, and our two beautiful children run in and out of the ocean’s force, tumbling and squealing as they resurface.
Six months has changed many things, but I still have a long way to go. As the sun glistens over the clear waters, I tense as I’m pulled back to those torturous days of hell my wife endured at the hands of a complete psychopath. These thoughts refuse to leave me, as well as the memory of the man who smothered everything we created for our family. His bulbous eyes still haunt me when I sleep. It’s on constant replay in my mind—that moment when the flame that was alight inside him was extinguished by my hands. Even though in the eyes of the law I’m free of all guilt, and my actions have been deemed to be those of a man performing self-defence, I’m still haunted by my decision to end his life. Clarity is a beautiful thing. Any person who says taking a life can come without punishment is a liar. I’ll be forever punished. I’m not God. I had no right. An eye for an eye was not the correct decision in the end. I hope one day, I find forgiveness for myself.
“Daddy, Daddy, are you watching?” Aleeha shouts, a smile lifting her cheeks.
“Yes, sweetheart, I saw you. How clever,” I say as she completes another cartwheel along the soft sand right in front of me.
“Did you just see that flip, Dad?” Brax’s chest puffs out with his pride. His somersault was perfect.
“I did, buddy. Loving your work.” I smile, pleased by the resilience my children have shown despite being so young.
The sun beats against my skin, causing a line of pink to form below the bottom of my boardshorts. It’s beautiful here and so far, being in this country has supplied me with a relaxation I’ve not felt since before Morgan was stolen from me.
“What are you thinking about, handsome?” she whispers. Her lips full, her sweet voice causing my heart to beat faster.
“Just about you, beautiful.”
She giggles. Beams of light fan behind her hair forming a perfect angelic glow. When she shifts into the shadow of a well-placed umbrella, I’m greeted with a seductive smile and fluttering eyelashes. “Did you miss me?” She sports the cutest pout when she crawls up my legs in her hot pink tankini, before straddling my waist.
“Only every second you’ve been gone, Morgan.” I wrap my arms tightly around her waist, pulling her head onto my chest.
“Let’s stay here forever,” she says softly.
We lie there, entwined in each other’s embrace as I twist strands of her brown locks around my fingers. “Whatever you desire.” Anywhere she wants to live is fine by me, because if we’re together then we’re home.
Morgan’s the bravest woman I know. I can never imagine the full extent of what those days in that hellhole were like for her. I can only assume from the marks on her body and the domino effect it’s had on her mental health since. Morgan barely speaks of her time in captivity, the fact that she died for a period, or even her ongoing recovery. Instead, she saves those conversations for the many doctors and counsellors trained to help her get through the coming months and years.
With me, Morgan converses about the things she wishes for in her future—in our family’s future. I know she suffers greatly, even though when she’s awake she curtains her true emotions behind thoughts of new beginnings.
Each night when I climb into bed beside her, stroking her hair until she’s asleep, I stare at the ceiling playing Russian Roulette with my own torment, waiting for the moment to come when I’ll need to save Morgan all over again. Only now, I must save her from the kicks, punches, and screams that accompany her fight with our bedsheets. Or on Morgan’s worst nights, I’ll be forced to take chase after she leaps from the mattress and runs for a life she forgets she doesn’t need to run to save anymore. Morgan’s never awake when she does these things, and after I have her settled in my arms she relaxes. The following morning brings not a memory of the night prior for my wife, but for me? Well, I never forget one single nightmare.
“Are you getting hungry? I know I am.” A soft kiss tickles my pec.
“I could eat.”
“Okay. I’ll go and get the kids. They’re back in the water.”
“No. I’ll get them. You relax.”
She perches herself on her elbows, her chestnut eyes gazing into mine. “I want to go and get them every chance I have for the rest of my life.”
Morgan presses forward and I graze my lips over hers before she devours my mouth with love, so much love.
“Be right back.” She hops to her feet and jogs down the beach. Morgan may be scarred, and still emb
roiled in an internal nightmare, but she’s beautiful just as she’s always been, inside and out.
All I’ll ever need to feel whole is Morgan, and the knowledge that her heart continues to beat, that her blood runs freely through her veins, and her soul remains tucked deep within her, protected from all evil.
Morgan is perfection. Mine forever. I’ll never stop fighting for her, with her, or to have her. I learnt the hard way to never go to bed angry because tomorrow just might not come. I’ll spend every day for the remainder of my life showing Morgan love in its purest form, making her feel the definition of the word beauty. I will help her heal over the coming years.
I saved her once, and I’ll save her each and every day for the rest of my life.
Morgan
I survived, I endured, and I won.
Now I need to find a way to rebuild my life, even though scars remain thick on my shins and scattered all over my body. And then there are the tattoos on the inner side of my arm that I keep covered for the moment; until I can bring myself to look at them without trembling or bursting into tears.
The wolf’s still with me, permanently inked on my skin, and forever playing games with my mind. Even though he died, I don’t think I’ll ever be completely free again—free from Logan, free from the fight. The doctors tell me often that in time I’ll forget certain things, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to escape the visions plaguing me. How do you forget something like this? How can you not be forever changed?
For now, I spend my days embracing this new version of myself: scars, panic attacks, anxiety, and all. I know I’ll continue to get stronger, more confident, and less jumpy and fearful. If I could survive days in a dense, hot, terrifying bushland with a maniac, and then survive being clinically dead, I guess I can brave this aftermath, too.
Today, I’m in the one place on earth that feels pure and giving, that cleanses my soul and washes some of my torment away. This is a place our family needs to spend time to make the big decisions on where our future will begin. I want it to be in Barbados, far away from Australia, and far away from Reid’s parents’ place in Melbourne where we have been staying.
We never did go home to the house we’d spent years making for ourselves, the one next door to an elderly couple whom we’d loved like our own family. There was no point returning to a tarnished neighbourhood that only represented betrayal, pain, and heartache.
John tried to take everything from us in the most underhanded way, and Shirley? Well, she broke my heart when she stood by John, and continued to throughout his trial, regardless of what he’d done to me, to our family.
Twenty years to life imprisonment, with the chance of parole after fifteen served, was John’s punishment. Shirley? I’ve no idea where she ended up and I couldn’t care. I hope wherever she is that she’s living uncomfortably and filled with regret. I still don’t believe she was as innocent as she claimed. And regardless of what Reid and the detectives have said, I believe Shirley knew where I was and who had me just as John did. I also think Shirley’s guilt got the better of her or she feared the possibility of spending the remainder of her life behind bars. Why else would she have come to Reid in the early morning only to later stand by her husband’s side in the aftermath. We’ll never truly know the entire truth, but I hope Shirley is somewhere praying for her sins.
“Mummy. Mummy. Come spin with me.” My sweet Aleeha has her arms outstretched on either side of her body and her neck extended so far back the only view she’d be able to see is the sky above her. “Mum, are you doing it?”
“Yeah, poppet, I am.”
We spin, and we spin, and we spin.
“I’m getting dizzy, princess.” I giggle.
“Keep going, Mummy,” she squeals.
“Oh, oh, oh.” I stumble over my feet. “I’m going to fall!” I laugh.
“That’s the best part!” she laughs.
And we do fall, both of us, lying side by side on the sand. Aleeha continues to giggle so much I can’t help but join her, and I laugh until I cry. I cry because sometimes I think I’m dead, hidden away in an underground graveyard, and that this isn’t real at all, because I never did make it home.
“Are you crying, Mummy?” Aleeha’s tone is filled with concern.
“Happy tears, baby. They’re happy tears.”
She kisses my cheek. “They’re the best tears to have.”
I rub my hands up and down my face. “They are. Come on, let’s do it again.”
“I’m spinning this time, too.” Brax leans over the top of me.
“I bet I can out-spin you, Brax. Let’s do this.”
“Do you need a hand up?” Reid leans over me, right beside Brax, and I have this moment of pure happiness that rips through my body, stealing my breath.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
We spin, and spin, and spin in circles on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world until we crash from dizziness, landing on top of one another. Every sound of laughter that follows is priceless—there is no value. Every arm tangled in every limb speaks of our unity.
“I love you, Mum,” Brax whispers in my ear. I roll my head and kiss his cheek.
“I love you, too, Brax.
“I love you more, Mummy.” Aleeha’s lips peck mine.
“I love you, too, Aleeha.
“You’re my forever, Morgan.” Reid’s fingers link with mine.
“And you’re mine. Let’s move here. It can be home.”
“I’d like that.” Reid’s blue eyes sparkle above me as he lowers his head. “I love you,” he says against my lips.
And he does, and he will, until the very end of my life.
That Guy
Blurb
A modern way of finding love. One deserted island of luxury. Two people. Three out cards. And a whole lot of possibilities.
Melinda takes the advice of her best friend, Chris. She signs up to a new dating service that pairs you statistically to the one you’re supposed to love. Finding it — love that is — using the more conventional methods, has not been a successful venture for Mindy, and with her biological clock ticking, she uses a more desperate method and takes the plunge into a possible happily ever after.
The thing is, when she boards the boat to a secret location, she doesn’t realise the man waiting for her is someone she’s previously met.
Chance encounters occur more frequently than we realise. Being blind to them is part of a bustling world. But, being faced with them can lead to a hilarious three weeks between two opposites who might just attract.
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Thirty Days Trilogy
Thirty days: Part One
Thirty days: Part Two
Finding the Magician
Standalones
Always You
Winner
A massive thank you from the bottom of my heart to: Kylee Harris, Liz Lovelock, Kirsty Roworth, Caroline Dayas, Jakarra Adams, Natalya Bryan, Shaelene Adams, Donna Martin, Serena, and Robin Yatsko. I love you guys.
A massive thank you to my wonderful ARC team. I couldn’t do any of this without you. You all know who you are.
To the Tinkerbelles—you’re an amazing bunch of people who light up my life and keep me smiling. I love ya faces.
To my husband, Michael, whom I love dearly. It’s always been you, baby.
To my beautiful children, the keepers of my soul. I love you to the moon and back.
To my wonderful team of talented and creative people, Lauren Clarke, Jaye Cox, Ann Mickan and Tracey Soxie Weston. You ladies have a talent beyond belief, and I’m so grateful to share this journey with you.
Lastly, I’d like to thank everybody who has helped to promote my work—all the bloggers, Enticing Journey Book Promotions for a wonderful promotional campaign,
and all the readers. Without the readers, there’d be no purpose for these stories.
My dreams are coming true, and it’s all because of you.
Thank you.
Belle Brooks xx
Belle Brooks is a former business manager, wife, and mother of three, living in Queensland, Australia. For as long as she can remember, writing has been a major part of her life, bringing her peace and comfort in the arms of her fictional characters. Never planning to have her work published, she focused her attention on her career and family. That is until she finally found the courage to allow her words to become public for others to enjoy, due mainly to the encouragement and support of those who love her. Five Fights, is her Tenth publication.