‘You know you can’t do that. Jonas said it would put everyone in danger.’ She put up a hand when he was about to argue. ‘I’ll leave tomorrow, if my car’s ready.’ And she walked away.
He found her on the old sofa with a throw and a cushion, her face composed. ‘You can’t sleep alone. If whoever this is can knock over your room while we’re home, and shoot out the station window without a trace, you’re a sitting duck here.’
With startling suddenness, she lost it. ‘Stop it! I left you alone!’
‘But you’re not safe alone.’
‘I haven’t been safe since the day I met Danny Spencer! And I’m used to being alone.’ Her voice grew softer with every word. ‘I’ve been alone most of my life.’
Tenderness, and the need to make it up to her, flooded him at the admission. ‘Elly, you’ll never know how sorry I am for leaving you like I did. I should have called you, asked you to come for visits, or met you in the city.’
She lifted her face from the cushion. Her expression was vivid and radiant with fury, taking his breath away with her savage, burning beauty. ‘So now you’re the god of all creation? Do I look like a failure, or a weakling who needs a strong man to protect her? I didn’t just survive without you. I got a scholarship on my brains, not through an Aboriginal charitable scheme. I worked like a dog, and was in the top ten every year. I got seven offers to join a specialist city practice. Not bad for wild little Janie Larkins, who they said wouldn’t amount to anything! I should thank you for forgetting me. You taught me a vital lesson: love doesn’t last, and friendships are forgotten—but I can make it on my own. Yes, I loved you. I still love you, but I don’t need you to save me.’
About to snap, withdraw—anything to cover the hurt her speech evoked—he had a sudden series of visions. One after the other, they came to him.
A child whose father had deserted her and whose mother’s death threw her into a new world and family, feeling the charity child in a prim-and-proper upper-middle-class environment. Saying the words I can make it on my own, trying to survive.
A grieving tomboy sitting alone in their tree, deserted by her best friend, repeating the words every night, trying to convince herself of their truth as he made a life without her.I don’t need him. I can make it on my own.
A wild country girl sent to her city relatives, an alien in a new culture, welcome, cared for, but having no one familiar or loved to talk to. Repeating the words again as she tried to fit into a new life and family, a whole new world. I’m fine. I can do this.
A strong, beautiful woman, chased by a psychopath intent on stealing her to fulfil his dreams. Repeating her litany as she ran from another town, another potential family, a place she might finally find peace.
In every vision, she was alone.
No wonder she’d thrown herself into his arms that first day. In isolating herself to save family and friends from Spencer’s violence, she’d been starved of the simple gift of human touch.
His poor wild child. The Elly-May he’d loved so deeply was dying—a flickering flame buffeted by constant storms; a transplanted flower wilting for lack of attention. If he let her down now, she might never live again.
He hauled her into his arms and carried her to his room.
She struggled against him. ‘Adam, put me down! Where are you taking me? If you think I want to go to bed with you now, you need your head read!’
‘Ssh.’ He laid her on the bed. ‘You’re safe with me, Elle. Tonight, and always. As much as I want to make love to you, it’s not what you need now. You need to feel safe—that someone cares for you. Sleep, darlin’. I’ll be right here if you need me.’
A little silence, then she startled him with her mumble. ‘I don’t want to sleep in her bed.’
‘It isn’t,’ he replied, his voice harsh. ‘She had her own bed … and her own room.’
‘I—really?’ she whispered.
He nodded, trying to banish the memories of degradation that still bit deep. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you. She never slept in this bed with me. So go to sleep.’
‘You don’t have to do this.’
In her words, her voice, were the years of loneliness she was trying so hard to hide. It banished the visions of his private humiliation as nothing else could. His heart constricting, he pulled her close, marvelling at how right it felt to have her in his arms. ‘Ah, Elle,’ he whispered. ‘How long has it been since someone gave to you, held you, without wanting something in return?’
‘Don’t.’ She moved back, a plea in her eyes, drawn from the loving heart she kept so shielded from everyone else, even as it called to his as it always had. ‘Don’t let me depend on you. I’m too close, want too much. If—’ Another hesitation, then she said it. ‘If I fall in love with you, it could kill us both. And Zoe.’
His heart overflowed. That was his Elly-May: she always refused to compromise.Isn’t it already too late … for both of us? Tangled up in each other’s souls, so damn lost without each other. If he lost her again, he’d fall down so bloody far he doubted he’d ever climb out.
‘Trust me, Elle.’
In a stretch of quiet, filled only with the delicate night symphony of crickets, she nodded.
Gathering up some pyjamas, he handed her the shirt and, taking the bottoms, went into the bathroom to change.
When he returned, his heart started slamming in erratic rhythm against his ribs. The shirt that once covered his skin now caressed hers. It felt as intimate as a lover’s kiss. Her long honey legs, smooth and bare, lay in a tangle on his sheets.
This night was going to kill him.
‘Adam.’ Her voice sounded as strangled as his throat felt. ‘Put on a shirt.’ Her gaze fixed on his bare chest and stomach. A dusky rose flush crept over her cheek and throat, staining her shoulders and breasts under the open neck of his pyjama shirt.
The honesty of her desire for him was humbling. He drew a ragged breath, fighting for control. She’d been attacked since arriving here. Tonight she needed a love that transcended the physical. She needed to know she could trust him with her secrets, with her body—with her very life. He pulled out a T-shirt from his drawer, yanking it over his head.
‘Better?’ he asked hoarsely.
She gave a wavering smile. ‘No, but it’s safer.’ She still couldn’t drag her gaze from him.
What was he that she, who could have almost any man, could want him? ‘It’s going to happen.’ His words were croaked, rough, far from sensuous or confident as sharp lumps formed in his throat.
‘I know,’ she whispered, soft as a brush of her lips on his, lush as a promise. Her eyes looked into his with the defiant courage, the integrity so characteristic of her. ‘Don’t use me, Adam. Don’t make love with me if you still love her. Don’t touch me if you believe the things the Jepsons thought of me. I may not have much in the way of social status, but I deserve better than that from you.’
‘Much better than that.’ He lay beside her, facing her. His shaking hands brushed her hair from her face as he tried to dredge up the right words. The damage his wife and family had done to Elly was unforgivable, as was his forgetting her. Yet here she was, giving him a second chance, one he didn’t deserve. Where along the line did I change? When did courage and truth become less important than peace and quiet? ‘You still don’t know what you mean to me, do you?’
‘What was it about her that makes her so unforgettable?’ She whispered the words, as if afraid to say them out loud. ‘Why does being with another woman fill you with such guilt, three years later?’
Even with sheathed claws, she tore him to shreds, dredging up a truth he still wanted to hide. Not any other woman. It was always you she was terrified of. He opened his mouth to say it—and the tired whisper came to him again.
I know I wasn’t the wife you wanted me to be, Adam, but I tried so hard to make you happy. Please, it’s all I ask of you.
The memory of Sharon’s dying hour filled him with conflicted loyalties. Elly might d
eserve the truth, but Sharon hadn’t deserved death. Nor had his baby son. And his wife’s final request—and her secret—still lashed at his heart with the relentless ferocity of a cyclone.
‘It’s all right, Adam. It’s enough that you’re here with me now,’ she said quietly, breaking into his inner darkness with painful understanding.
There was a long silence so deep, so profound, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Then a warm rush of air touched his throat.
‘I didn’t mind it so much, being the alien among the Jepsons when you were there. But then you were gone—and something in me died. I didn’t know who or what I was without you. I couldn’t make myself care any more.’
The lump filled his throat, threatening to cut off his air supply. ‘I know.’ Oh, how he knew. ‘It was the same for me.’
‘But you left me behind.’ A whisper he barely heard.
‘I had no choice. I’d made a vow.’ Unable to help himself, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, taking her warmth in through his pores. He hadn’t realised how cold he’d been. Thirteen years as a half-man, walking in the shadows of life, not quite dead, never truly alive. ‘It’s one of a hundred regrets in my life, but hurting you is at the top of the list. I didn’t know how much I’d lost until you came back. When I lost you, I lost myself too.’
Two days with Elly made him see the truth—he was back. She’d woven her spell over him, and he was alive again. He didn’t want to question why she loved him. They needed each other. It was as simple, and as complex, as that.
She burrowed herself in his arms. ‘And now?’
‘Mum and Jared know you’re with me. They’ll keep the secret, but said to tell you they’re glad you’re safe.’ He added, ‘They care about you, you know. They always did. They just find it hard to show it. It’s the way they are.’
After a few moments, she softened against him. ‘It seems like years since I slept.’
He dragged her even closer. ‘Say good night, Elly.’
‘Good night.’ She snuggled tight against him and yawned. ‘Don’t leave me, Adam.’
Gathering the ragged ends of his self-control together, he moved his too-obvious state of arousal away from her thigh, and brushed his mouth over her cheek. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’
Even breathing answered him. Her clean scent of powder, shampoo and sensuous woman surrounded him like a benediction as he, too, slipped into the deep sleep that had eluded him for so many years. He held her through the night, and dreamed of running barefoot on his grandfather’s farm, hunting for critters, and skinny-dipping in waterholes—
And of a madman with a shearer’s knife hacking off his baby’s golden hair, branding her fair skin.
Harts Range Airstrip, Plenty Highway, near Alice Springs
With a pounding heart, Danny watched the plane land. This was it, a yellow Cessna with the right registration painted on the tail. Even in the dry, pulsing heat, he could feel the closeness of her on his tongue, could feel her skin in his mouth. Redemption. An ordinary life with an extraordinary woman. It was all ahead for them …
Janie, where are you now? Are you as alone as me? Does your heart hurt like mine?
Of course not, Monster snarled. He was getting angrier by the hour. She doesn’t love us, Danny, not the way we love her.
You know nothing. Go away, he yelled back. You aren’t me, and you love nobody but yourself.
Who are you yelling at, me or Granddad? Monster taunted. Remember how he used to use that razor to slash—
The yellow Cessna turned into its hangar, and Danny strode over, blocking out the voice of sinful sweetness. He didn’t need reminders: the itch was physical now, constantly curling his hands over an imaginary knife. Finding Janie was as imperative as his next breath. He couldn’t bear Monster’s company any longer. He didn’t want to become—
I am you, Monster’s whisper came spinning from the blackness behind, a Frisbee he had to catch, because if he didn’t, someone else might.
You will never be me. And Janie will come home with me. You wait and see. The relief of the temporary control was like cool water in this parched red land, so close to the only place he’d ever called home.
Oh, we’ll see, my dear, Monster said, spinning again in the darkness. We will.
He hated it when Monster aligned them, like wheels on the same truck.
As soon as he was in the semidarkness of the hangar he pulled off his reflective sunglasses, revealing brown eyes with dyed black lashes, nothing like the description on the radio. ‘G’day, mate,’ he called when he saw the pilot climb down from the cockpit. Holding in the anger that put Monster in the light.
Yes, he’s young and handsome, tall, broad shouldered and blond … Janie might have liked this one, unlike Bert.
Monster had read his insecurities with unerring accuracy. How such an uneducated nothing did that, Danny couldn’t guess.
The pilot grinned. ‘G’day, mate, how’s it hanging?’
Danny hated that saying—so crude—but made himself give the requisite answer. ‘A bit to the left.’
The pilot laughed. ‘What can I do you for?’
He doesn’t mean he wants to do me, he put in before Monster could take offence. It’s just a saying, which you’d know if you weren’t so busy being angry all the time. Get an education!
You’re educated enough for both of us, Monster answered, and I don’t see it’s made you very happy. Or overly decisive, he added, with meaning.
He got to the point before Monster could find a reason to attack. ‘I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to fly me to wherever you took Dr Larkins the other week.’
The man tilted his head. ‘I don’t know any Dr Larkins. Sorry, mate, you’ll have to ask someone else.’
‘Pretty Koori woman, this tall, with—’ He stopped before he said ‘long, black hair’ since he’d heard from the last trucker that Janie had cut and coloured her hair. He didn’t mind, he understood they’d both need to hide when this was done.
The pilot’s smile faded with the mention of ‘Koori’, and Danny knew he’d made a fatal error. Yes, the pilot was looking through the beard he’d dyed dark, the hair he’d dyed black and permed the other day. He must have heard about the manhunt on the radio. But there was no mention of Janie being Koori on the radio. Political correctness and all that.
Janie warned him against us, Monster said. Voice too close, he was coming out of the darkness.
Danny felt his hands start to shake. He had to establish control. Any weakness now, and Monster would take over. And he’d begun to suspect Monster didn’t want him to find Janie at all. He didn’t like women, just like Granddad.
Had Granddad somehow implanted Monster in his brain?
But as he watched, the pilot’s hand left his pocket, and moved around his back. He was probably texting the police station only a few miles off.
Control the situation, now. He whipped out his pistol, pointing it at the pilot’s heart. ‘I think you do know her. I think you flew her somewhere,’ he said quietly. ‘Put that phone down. Now, please.’ He straightened his elbows as he took full aim.
The pilot dropped the phone, his face a bit less pretty, white and twisted with fear, sweat trickling down it. He wanted to take a photo with his iPhone to show Janie he wasn’t so good-looking as she’d thought, but he couldn’t drop the pistol.
He heard the slight bleeping sound of the sent message.
‘Get back in the cockpit, please,’ he said, smiling. A real man laughed in the face of danger. Women liked real men, strong men who could control any situation. ‘I have eight bullets in this. Any tricks and I’ll shoot the tyres first, and have plenty left over to make you die in slow agony.’
The pilot tripped over the stairs as he ran into the plane.
One step behind, Danny helped him up as he fell.
‘Th–thank you,’ the pilot stammered, hands shaking. Not good.
He had to fly the plane.
�
��What’s your name?’ he asked in a friendly tone.
‘T–Trevor,’ the man whispered.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Trevor.’ He held in the desire to call him ‘T–Trevor’. ‘I won’t kill you if you do as I say.’
It was true. He wouldn’t. He could leave any dirty work he hated to Monster. And sadly, since he’d texted the cops—or someone—Trevor had made death inevitable. Why couldn’t people just do the right thing?
He went on, voice gentle. ‘Just take me to where you left Dr Larkins—that’s all I ask. Oh, and no communication with the tower—none at all. That includes turning on the radio.’
When the pilot hesitated, he said, ‘I don’t want to shoot anything, Trevor. I’m a patient man—but I might get angry, and hit the wrong place.’ He pointed to the radio switch. Waited.
Trevor flipped it off.
‘Good,’ he purred. Yes, he was in control. No need at all for Monster to step forward. ‘Now where did you fly my friend?’
After a long moment, Trevor stuttered, ‘Ch–Charleville.’
Oh, how good it felt. Things were as they should be now. He directed operations while lesser folk obeyed, and Monster kept quiet. Yes, it was a good day. ‘Then take me to an airport an hour’s drive from Charleville. East-southeast all the way, I believe. No more hesitating, or I might think you’re waiting for the police to arrive, and I just might panic.’
Three minutes, and they were in the air. Just as they took off, he heard the faint wail of police sirens. Turning his head, he saw the all-terrain vehicle arriving, lights flashing.
‘No turning any way but east-southeast,’ he said gently to Trevor. ‘Not if you want to live.’
The man’s hair was plastered to his skull. Not so pretty now, a dun shade. His eyes were bugging from his head, and his lips sucked into a thin line.
Monster pulled out his iPhone and took a picture of T–Trevor to show Janie. Just in case.
Beneath the Skin Page 15