by Leah Murray
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
A Note from the Author
CHAPTER 1
JO STRETCHED OUT ON HER towel, languished in the warmth of the sun as the shrill cry of seagulls echoed in her ears. She drew in a deep breath of fresh summer air, reveling in the feeling of being outside, finally able to relax.
She had escaped.
It had taken three months of anxious waiting but she hadn’t seen or heard from him and now she was sure she was free.
Sitting up, she pushed her sunglasses back to stare at her legs, checking on her tan, and she smiled at the tinge of brown on her skin. Finally, finally she was getting a decent tan. For the first time in nearly thirty years her skin would be the sexy brown of women in magazines.
Glancing up at the sky, she squinted into the mid-day sun, pulled the sunglasses back down over her eyes and twisted her hair up into a bun, securing the toffee-colored curls with an elastic band from around her wrist.
She glanced down at the shoreline at a sudden loud cry and her lips curved in a smile as a woman chased a naked toddler in a floppy sunhat away from the water’s edge, the little boy gurgling happily as white froth swirled around his pudgy legs.
God, she was glad to be here.
Looe, Cornwall. And now, home.
Well, home for the next year, anyway.
She stared out at the calm waters of the bay, absently tracking a large white yacht as it headed out to sea. Yes, this was definitely a far cry from rural New Zealand, her parents’ dairy farm in the Waikato.
As far away from Jack as she could get.
Sighing with pleasure, she raised her arms above her head in a stretch, ignored the glances of the men on either side of her. But when one stared a little too intently, she stood, moved her towel further down the beach, closer to the banjo pier.
Attention was the last thing she wanted.
The scars were still too raw.
She brushed the sand from her towel and lay back down on her stomach, placing her head on her arms and closing her eyes, intending to tan her back for a few minutes before seeking some shade.
A sudden coolness on her skin eclipsed the warmth of the sun and she raised her head, squinted up at the man standing at the edge of her towel.
`Yes, can I help you?’ she asked, trying to appear calm. Every nerve inside her was yelling at her to run; but it was panic and she’d learned to deal with it.
`I need to talk to you,’ the man said.
Jo shook her head. `I’m sorry but I think you’ve made some mistake. I don’t know you.’
The man smiled at her and suddenly the fear crawled higher in her stomach.
She scrambled to her feet, knowing with a sudden certainty that his intentions were anything but good. Perhaps it was the cold smile, the smile that was so much like Jack’s. He’d laughed when he’d hurt her.
She shook her head. `I’m sorry but I … I have to go,’ she said, stepping away from him.
`I don’t think so. We’re going to take a little walk.’ His voice was low, but steady.
He grabbed her by the waist and she flinched at the touch of his sweaty flesh.
She slapped his hand away and stepped back again. `Who the hell do you think you are, get away from me!’ her voice was high with panic but this part of the beach was relatively isolated and no heads turned.
The man grabbed at her again, his grip firmer this time.
No. Not again. Jo opened her mouth, tried to scream, but no sound came out.
`Run and Ken and Lucy are dead,’ he said, close to her ear.
Jo stopped struggling, more from shock and disbelief than from lack of will. Oh God. Her parents. What had he done to her parents?
He steered her up the walkway to the parking lot, his grip almost a pinch. Her breathing was uneven, her palms clammy, but she forced herself to think. She had to get away. Tell the police. Find her parents.
The man paused beside a black station wagon and she seized the moment, wrenching herself free of his grip. She raced blindly past the restaurant on the corner, weaving through a group of shocked tourists as she turned into a narrow lane, her heart pounding hard.
She heard him shout, could almost feel the vibrations of his steps as he chased after her, and she swerved to the right, running up a steep side street squeezed between ancient stone and plaster buildings, ducking her head to avoid several swinging baskets of flowers strung up outside a pub.
Chancing a look behind her, she saw the man still in close pursuit and she swerved again, racing into the middle of the lane, willing her legs to run faster.
A sudden screech of brakes registered at the same time as a searing pain in her shoulder and it was only as she felt herself falling that she saw the back of the Land Rover.
Then she was on the ground, grazing her hands and knees as she hit the tar, overwhelmed by an awful shooting pain in her shoulder.
Moaning, she tried to stand up but slumped back down, her breath coming in quick gasps.
She glanced up fearfully as the man sent her an awful smile, started towards her.
`Oh God, please help, someone help me,’ she prayed, trying to edge backwards, get away from him.
`Jesus.’
The voice was male, low, and came from behind her. Jo realized it was the driver of the car and relaxed slightly as the man from the beach paused, backed away.
Closing her eyes, she clenched her jaw against the overwhelming pain and thanked God for small mercies.
`Bloody hell woman, what did you do that for?’
Despite the pain, she felt herself bristling at the tone, frowned and opened her eyes again. About to retort, she saw the man crouched down in front of her and lost track of what she had meant to say as she met the intense blue of his gaze. God. For a moment all she could do was stare at him, dazed and suddenly light-headed. Then she dragged her eyes from his.
The fear returned and she tried to stand up, but cried out at the extreme pain. It was a matter of seconds before she felt the tears on her cheeks.
`Oh Geez. Look, where does it hurt?’ the man asked, his voice gruff.
Jo clenched her jaw, tried to think clearly. `My shoulder,’ she managed, taking several short, sharp breaths.
She felt herself begin to shake. At first it was simply a slight tremor but it soon became more violent and she didn’t even register the frown that creased the brow of the man in front of her.
`I think I better get you to a doctor,’ he said, and she felt his hands on her waist as he pulled her to her feet. She wavered, teetering on the edge of blackness, only half-aware of her surroundings as he swore again, lifted her into the car.
The taste of her tears stuck to her lips and she moaned anxiously as her teeth began to chatter together in shock. She was vaguely aware of the short drive to the emergency clinic, of someone putting a blanket around her to stop the shivering, handing her a pi
ll and urging her to swallow it down. There were voices, someone asking her name.
`Jo. Joanne Williams,’ she managed, watching from far away as someone wrote it down on a clipboard. In the mist of pain, she remembered the beach, the man, her parents.
She had to get hold of them, had to speak to them.
`Please, I need a phone,’ she muttered. When nobody seemed to pay much attention she sat upright, not feeling the pain in her anxiety, struggling as a stranger’s hands tucked her into the blanket, urging her to sit still. Agitated, she raised her voice.
`Please! I need a phone!’
The tinge of hysteria caused the man to pause in his efforts at calming her and he turned to a nurse. There was a rapid conversation but Jo felt herself shivering again, her agitation increased but so did the nausea. Within seconds everything had turned hazy; she felt her heart slowing, her limbs becoming numb. Within minutes, she had drifted into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER 2
JO WOKE TO FIND HERSELF in a small room. Momentarily disoriented, she tried to sit up but fell back down, anxious in the unfamiliar surroundings, her head still groggy.
She lay still for a few minutes, breathing deeply, her eyes closed. Then she struggled to move up the bed, but her arm was in a sling and she flinched at a sudden sharp pain as she tried to move it.
Pushing down with her right hand, she managed to sit up, lean her back against the pillows and look around.
It was a hospital room. There was a drip next to the bed and a trolley full of medical supplies. Outside the window was a mass of green shrubbery. In front of it, a white plastic chair and small table. She frowned at the painting on the wall across from her bed – a seascape with cliffs and a lighthouse. It was a sudden reminder of what had happened on the beach.
Anxious to contact her parents, she was looking around for a button to summon a nurse when the door opened and a tall figure appeared in the doorway. She recognized the driver of the Land Rover and gathered the hospital blanket in her fist to steady her nerves.
The man smiled and pulled the chair over to the side of the bed.
`You’re awake. Good. How do you feel?’ he asked.
`Better … thank you,’ Jo managed. She glanced away and there was a moment of silence.
The stranger smiled, held out a hand. `I guess I should introduce myself. Will Fletcher,’ he said.
Jo hesitated then nodded and reached over awkwardly to shake his hand, pulling her own away abruptly as a spark of energy danced between them.
Will’s mouth tightened at the corner. `And you are …?’ he asked, giving up his attempt to hide the grin.
Oh God, she was simply staring at him. `Um, Jo.’ She flushed, attempted to reach for a glass of water to hide her embarrassment.
Will stood at once. `Careful, don’t move your shoulder too much. The nurse told me you’ve torn some ligaments but luckily nothing was broken,’ he said, handing her the glass.
Jo avoided his gaze, took the glass with muttered thanks and sipped the water. `It was good of you to help yesterday,’ she said to break the silence, which he seemed far too comfortable with.
Will leaned back in the chair. `No problem. You gave me a hell of a fright though. One minute I’m pulling out of the park and the next you’re on the ground.’
`Sorry. I didn’t see you.’
`What was the big rush?’
Jo suppressed a shiver and glanced away. `I … I’m not sure,’ she replied. It was a lame attempt at evasion and she knew it.
Will looked thoughtful, but before he could comment Jo changed the subject. `Do you know where I can get a phone?’
`Here, use mine,’ he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for his mobile.
`Are you sure? It’s a long distance call. Maybe I should use a public phone?’
He shrugged. `Don’t worry about it. Where are you calling anyway?’
`New Zealand.’
`So that’s the accent.’ He grinned again and Jo smiled politely in return.
After a moment, Will stood. `Okay, well I’ll leave you to talk. Be back in a few minutes,’ he said.
`Thanks.’
She watched him leave, hesitated, then picked up the phone and made the call, relieved when her mother answered the phone.
Will headed over to the coffee machine near the reception desk, pushed the buttons to select a cup, strong and black, the way he liked it. Seeing the snack machine on the other wall, he reached into his pocket for some coins and fed them to the machine, selecting a chocolate bar.
He shrugged then fed in some more coins, collecting a second bar for Jo.
He walked over to the window, took a sip of coffee and looked out, tried to take his mind off her. He knew he hadn’t really needed to come in and see how she was doing, had been telling himself that from the moment he woke up and found he could think of nothing else. His initial interest had been based on simple attraction and he knew it, but her poorly hidden attempt at evasion when he’d questioned her had sparked a protective instinct that surprised him. And made him uncomfortable. That same instinct told him this woman was complicated, and he was well aware that complicated was the last thing he needed right now. Annoyed at himself, he tipped the rest of the coffee in the bin and turned away from the window. He looked down at his watch. It had been fifteen minutes. That was long enough for a phone call.
She had finished the call when he returned and was sitting staring out the window but turned to face him as he walked in. He couldn’t help but stare again, fascinated by the yellow-green color of her eyes, the curls around her shoulders - the way the sun lit them up.
`Thought you’d like something to eat,’ he said, handing her the chocolate bar.
Then he shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.
`Thanks,’ she replied, still not meeting his gaze. For some unfathomable reason he found himself feeling slightly nervous and he was almost relieved when there was a knock on the door and a nurse entered the room.
‘I’ll get the doctor to come have a final look at you and then you can go home,’ she told Jo. ‘Please fill out these forms first though,’ she said, handing Jo a clipboard before she left the room.
`Would you mind filling it in for me?’ Jo asked, pushing the board over the bed towards him, `I’m left-handed so it’s a bit difficult.’
`Sure,’ he replied, grabbing the board and filling in the form as she dictated the answers. It was a matter of minutes before the nurse returned with the doctor and Jo was told she could leave as soon as she felt ready.
`I’ll give you a lift back if you like,’ Will offered.
Jo hesitated but then smiled and nodded. `Alright, thanks.’
He left her to change and barely suppressed a grin when she appeared in a white hospital robe.
`I don’t have any other clothes,’ she muttered as he stepped back to hold the door for her.
He helped her into the car and buckled the seatbelt, felt her tense immediately when his hand brushed against her arm. He met her gaze and had to stamp down a sudden urge to lean closer.
Clearing his throat, he closed the door, walked round to his side of the car, and told himself to cool off, think of ice cold showers and cold beer, football.
`Where to?’ he asked, climbing in and starting the engine.
`Hannafore Road. You know where that is?’
He raised an eyebrow. `Sure do. It’s almost walking distance from my place. Are you renting a house there for the summer?’
`For a few months,’ she said, glancing out the window. ‘I’m supposed to be working, but I guess I won’t be for awhile with this shoulder.’
`Where do you work?’ he asked.
`Mills Vets.’
`No shit. Really? What are you doing over there?’
She turned to face him. `You know the place? I’m a vet.’
`Yeah I know Ian. Geez. He said he was getting some hottie in to help out but I forgot all about it.’
She laughed out loud. A real, warm laugh, and he knew she was trying to imagine Ian, who had to be close to sixty and who was a very quiet, patient, serious man, actually saying the word `hottie’.
`For some reason I don’t quite believe that, but thanks anyway,’ she said.
He felt a strange need to keep her talking, to try to bring back that laugh. `So how long have you been out this way then?’ he asked.
`Three months but I’m on contract for a year,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what do you do?’ she asked.
`I’ve got a pub a few feet from where you managed to get yourself run over yesterday.’
`You mean from where you decided to run me over yesterday.’
He smiled at the uppity tone. She really was loosening up.
`If you say so. Speaking of which, care to have lunch at the pub?’
From the corner of his eye, he saw her turn and give him a considering look. After a moment, she nodded. `Okay, sure. Thanks.’
`Least I can do. After all, I did run you over,’ he said.
She smiled and turned to look out the window again. They sat in silence and Will concentrated on driving, forced himself to think of that beer.
He turned back to her as they crossed the bridge, headed up West Looe Hill and turned left into Hannafore road.
`Which house?’
`The yellow one,’ she said, pointing to the right.
He stopped the car outside the house. `You could have told me a number you know.’
Jo pulled a face. `It’s yellow. It’s easier to see the color than look for a number.’ He shook his head at the female logic, opened her door to help her out the car, then followed her up a grey stone path to the simple two-story terrace house fronted by a small patch of lawn.
Jo hesitated then bent down and lifted a terracotta pot filled with bright orange flowers to pick up a house key.
`You shouldn’t keep your key in such an obvious spot.’
`I know, but the landlord has an arrangement with the cleaner and I lost mine on the beach,’ she said by way of reply as she pushed open the door.
He followed her into a narrow entrance hall through to a homely sitting room filled with vases of flowers and piles of books and dominated by two large, puffy white couches.
`Take a seat,’ Jo said, pointing at one of the couches. `I’ll just go up and change.’