Watching Her

by Harlem Dae

  “And where exactly are you planning on taking me?” I asked.

  “You will see when we get there.”

  “And what happens if I say no?”

  His anemic eyes stared down at me. “You won’t.”

  “I might.” I shrugged and tilted my chin. Tried to ignore the perilousness of my situation. Perhaps if I kept the Albino talking long enough, Sutton would return and save me.

  Sutton. You dozy fucker, where are you?

  “No.” He shook his head. “You are not safe here. Here you will die.”

  A shard of panic went through me. Why did everyone seem so convinced I was going to die? “But I’m protected here. By my father.”

  “By your father?” He frowned. “He cannot protect you here, and his men cannot protect you. I tried to warn you before, be careful who you trust.” He hooked his index finger beneath my chin. “Now you must trust me.”

  “But I don’t know you.”

  “That is unfortunately the situation we find ourselves in.”

  “I mean, where are you even from? Your accent is—”

  “Russia. I am from Russia.” He thumped his fist against his chest.

  “And why do you want to help me?”

  He glanced at the doorway. “We have no time for this. You must come with me now.”

  Suddenly I was scooped into the air. He’d lifted me, as though I was some damsel in distress, and held me tight against his chest.

  “Hey, put me down?”

  “On the glass?”

  “No, not on the glass. Over there.”

  He crunched to the doorway, but instead of putting me down in the spot I’d indicated, he kept on going through the hall.

  “Get off.” I squirmed. “Put me down.”

  I wriggled harder, but he just clamped me closer to him. I shoved at his shoulders, his chest, but it was like trying to move a boulder.

  Any other time and place it might have been quite sexy, but right now it was just scary. I didn’t want to go with this ghostly man from Russia. I wanted to stay here, with Father all around me and Sutton keeping watch.

  “You must be still.” One-handedly, he opened the front door.

  I took advantage of the lessened grip and bucked and thrust. My feet suddenly landed on the ground with a gentle slap. I ignored the pain in my foot and darted to the left.

  “Stop.” He gripped my upper arms, his tone different now. “I am not playing a game.”

  “Neither the fuck am I.” I glared up at him.

  “But you must come with me, to somewhere far from here.”

  “Why? What assurance can you give that you won’t hurt me?”

  “I would never hurt you.” He frowned as though the very thought was bewildering. “I saved you from those men, in the shanty. If I had been intent on doing you harm, would I have done that?”

  “I suppose not.” Oddly, I believed him, despite the fact I’d been running from him at the time.

  “That man…who is with you. He tells you to fear me, no?”

  I nodded.

  “Because he knows that I can help you. I am his enemy but not yours. You I just want to help.”

  “But why do I need help?”

  “You are in grave danger.” He paused. “And so is your daughter.”

  “My daughter?” It was as if a horse had double-barrelled me in the chest. How the bloody hell did this weird Russian man standing before me know about Guilia?

  “Guilia,” I whispered. “She’s in danger?”

  “There is no time to talk now.” He reached into his pocket for a pair of black wraparound shades and put them on.

  I glanced over his shoulder, wishing Sutton was walking towards me but also not.

  Was the Albino telling me the truth? Was Sutton not who he’d said he was? I’d had my doubts, of course, but I’d battled those demons. Entrusted myself to him even though he was a cold, calculating killer and had serious hang-ups not just about sex but also knowing who he was.

  “Claudine,” the Albino said, tugging me to the right. “We go, now.”

  I found myself trotting along beside him in a strange limping gait. My brain felt like mush, my thoughts disjointed and tumbling over themselves. It was as if my situation was a Jenga tower and someone had pulled out the bottom piece, toppling the whole lot down, just when I’d thought it was stable.

  Now I needed to start figuring out my situation again.

  But one overriding thought won out. Like a beacon, a lighthouse in a storm, it fizzed the surface of my brain, evaporating everything else.

  Guilia. Guilia is in danger, too?

  The Albino seemed to know this; he also seemed more willing to talk than Sutton. And I needed a talker. I needed someone who would fill in the gaps, turn the pages, return the missing plot details. How the hell was I supposed to figure this mess out if I was met with silence and clipped answers?

  The Albino came to a halt in front of a large black motorbike. A Harley. It had huge chrome handlebars and a wide black leather seat.

  He passed me a helmet. “Quickly. We do not have much time.”

  “Where are we going? Where is Sutton?”

  “No time for talking. Not now.” He jammed on his own helmet then straddled the bike.

  I stared at him, watching as he tugged keys from his jeans pocket and set them in the ignition.

  Déjà vu consumed me, flickering and floating and making the moment surreal. Had I been here before? With him?

  No. It was simply a gush of the same emotions I’d felt when I’d left St Lucia with Sutton. That second between not committing and committing. When the pier had been within reach and then not. I’d wondered if I was doing the right thing. If I were making a fatal error, a serious lapse in judgment that would cost me my life.

  Instead it had cost Marion and Linus theirs.

  I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see Sutton.

  Nothing.

  Seriously, what kind of protector left their client for so long? He really was crap at his job. Unless the Albino had got hold of him and…?

  “Claudine, now.” The Albino started the engine.

  Still I scanned the gardens, straining to see down to the water.

  Nada. Zilch. Not even the roar of a Harley had caught Sutton’s attention.

  Well, he deserved to lose me. Not just because he wasn’t willing to tell me about my daughter but because he should have an award for world’s worst bodyguard.

  I pulled the helmet on and fumbled for a few seconds clicking the catch beneath my chin. Then, barefoot, I climbed behind the Albino. Locking my arms around his waist, I rested my cheek on his back. The long-sleeved top he wore was slightly scratchy on my skin, and the heat of his flesh warmed mine.

  He kicked at the stand, and the engine vibrated beneath me, tingling against my inner thighs and between my legs.

  I caught my breath and clasped myself tighter to him as he accelerated. He clearly knew he’d announced his presence and wasn’t about to hang around to see what the consequences of that would be.

  He turned out of the drive, a long red-cobbled affair, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  What am I doing?

  Sutton would pop a blood vessel. He’d rant and rage and hurl things about, I was sure of it. I could picture it now. He’d have to tell my father that I’d gone off with the very man I was running from. Father would rant and rage at Sutton.

  Claudine is such an idiot, he’d say. Probably just wanted to fuck an albino and see what colour his cock is.

  Well, maybe I would fuck him.

  Maybe I’d fuck him and find out even more about Guilia. If she was in danger it was what I needed to do.

  I might be reckless and impulsive but deep down I was also a mother.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The ride to our destination didn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes. We were out in the middle of nowhere, something I should have expected, but oddly, I’d thought we’d head to an airport or
docks so we could leave Florida. The fact that I didn’t have my passport entered my head, but in this mad game I’d found myself in, I’d entertained the idea of the Albino having fake documents for me. That wasn’t unheard of in movies—and my God, this was one hell of a movie.

  The one-storey house—if it could be called that—stood inside a forest of sorts, a circle of that strange Florida grass surrounding it. A cabin was a better name for it, made of logs, something straight out of a rustic magazine that encouraged off-the-grid living. Off the grid, indeed—everything was bloody off where I was concerned. The windows were hidden behind shiny metal shutters that glinted in the sun, making the building appear abandoned, like some of the boarded-up council housing in England.

  A sudden pang of homesickness gripped me.

  I stared around through the helmet visor, the prickly grass beneath my bare feet digging in. Anyone could be hiding amongst the trees. Watching. Waiting.

  I shivered and lifted the visor.

  “Is this your home?” I asked, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

  “Not mine, no.”

  Oh.

  The Albino pushed the bike down the side of the cabin, where it seemed to melt into the shadows there. With his helmet still on, he strode to the front door, a black metal thing with studs as a border. Strange, considering the cabin itself was wooden.

  I followed him, mesmerised by his large hands when he twisted the key in the lock. Those hands on my body…

  Now is not the time.

  I shook of more lusty thoughts as they bombarded my mind, wishing I didn’t need sex in moments of stress. I knew that beautiful, primal act took me away from all the vulgarities in the world—in my world—but really…

  “What kind of people need to stow themselves away inside a remote cabin with a metal door?” I asked.

  “People like you. People who need protecting.”

  “I’d love to know what I’m being protected from, but hey, no one seems willing to tell me. I rather thought, seeing as I’m the star in this bloody bizarre show, that I’d be told so I could be forewarned and know what to look out for. Who to look out for.”

  He pushed the door open. A yawning cavern of darkness stood beyond, giving no insight as to whether there was a hallway or a living room there.

  “I will do the looking out,” he said. “Stay close to me.”

  I carefully stepped inside with him, all but glued to his back, and closed the door. Trepidation spiralled through me at the idea of someone lurking, waiting for us to enter. A shuffle sounded, and I could only imagine that he’d pulled out a weapon, ready to keep me safe. I hoped that was what he’d done, otherwise…

  Trailing behind him, I tamped down my fear and, muscles taut, a tic on my neck flickering, we checked every room. I didn’t see much except for the murky shapes of furniture. In what I assumed was the kitchen, I removed my helmet, and the scent of recently made pancakes floated towards me. Perhaps this place was used regularly by several different people. Or maybe whoever lived here had been turfed out so that we could use it.

  “Everything is in order,” he said, startling me. “Stay there.”

  The kitchen light snapped on, and I caught sight of him stalking out into a small foyer. He disappeared into a room on the right, then more light spilled from the doorway, casting a skewed rectangle of brightness on the wooden floor. He appeared again only to vanish into another room and, bored of watching him, I placed my helmet on the kitchen table and made my way around the room, being careful not to put weight on my sore, glass-gashed heel. A frying pan sat in the sink along with a fish slice. A stout red mug stood on the drainer, half filled with what looked like coffee. I touched the outside of the mug—still faintly warm. My stomach rolled over. What if the person who had so recently been here came back?

  The Albino appeared by my side, the significance of his silent approach not lost on me. I needed to become more alert, to stop relying on others to keep me safe. If ever there came a time when I got away, I had to learn how to keep myself safe.

  “Fuck, you scared me,” I blurted.

  “You should be happy that it is only me, then.” He took his helmet off, revealing a frown. “You have no idea of the danger you are in, do you?”

  “You know I don’t,” I snapped. “I said as much just now, didn’t I? Or weren’t you listening?”

  “I listened. I listen to everything. Even the words you do not say.”

  Oh, that turned my stomach in the most delightful way. He was the type to look at expressions then, was he? The sort of man who picked up on things that a woman thought she’d hidden. A man like that would undoubtedly be good in bed.

  “Someone else has been here,” I said to take the focus off of me—another unusual act on my part. I didn’t understand the change in me but wouldn’t dwell on it. Fear transformed a person. “This cup—it’s still a bit warm.”

  “Yes, I did not have time to finish.” He dumped his helmet on the side then poured the coffee into the sink.

  “You’ve been staying here?”

  “Yes, well not exactly staying. I just arrived. As you know, I was in St Lucia yesterday.”

  “So why the creeping through the house business just now?”

  “Anyone could come in while I am gone. I trust no one and nothing.”

  “I see. So do you check your normal home like that? Every time you go back?”

  “Yes.”

  What an utterly awful way to live. I’d only had a sample of that kind of life, and I hated it already. To have to search your home all the time… No, that wasn’t my cup of tea. That was what alarms were for. They blared out in distress to save you having to find an intruder by yourself.

  “You said this isn’t your house, so…?” I picked up a stainless steel kettle and filled it for something to do.

  “It is used for…things.”

  “Right. And who owns it?” I expected an evasive answer.

  “My boss.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Someone you do not need to concern yourself with.”

  Of course I didn’t.

  I flicked the kettle on then nosed in the wall cupboards in search of mugs and teabags. Everything was well-stocked, and I wondered who was paid to keep it this way. There was clearly some dodgy business going on in Clearwater, what with the visitors to Father’s house and Sutton making them go away. Everything was so bloody cryptic, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

  Blanks that I didn’t want to fill because, damn it, I wanted straight answers.

  Didn’t I?

  “My daughter,” I said, putting teabags into cups. “Guilia. Why is she in danger?”

  He leaned against the counter, which dug into his hip he was that tall. “Because it has been discovered that she is your father’s granddaughter.”

  “So my father has a lot to answer for, does he?”

  “That is true.”

  “And people are going after his relations, yes?”

  “Correct.”

  I blew out a forceful breath laced with both frustration and anger. What the hell was Father up to? And how dare he risk my daughter. Putting me in harm’s way—I guessed that went with the territory if he were up to no good, but an innocent child who didn’t even know we existed? “Where do we go from here? Sutton will come looking for me, you know. And if we’re travelling abroad, remember I have no passport. My handbag—” Suddenly I felt decisive, the need to act overwhelming me. I had to grip this situation by the balls before it erupted completely.

  “That will arrive shortly.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your bag. It will come.”

  I shook my head. The urge to scream came on swiftly, but I held it back. I didn’t want him to see me lose control. “What, you have some kind of delivery service on the way?”

  “No. A person who also works for my boss. He will have gone into the house after we left. He had instructions.”

  “Oh. And Sutton?�
�

  “He will be dealt with if he gets in the way.”

  My stomach sank at that. “Dealt with?”

  “Yes. He will be told to…mind his own business,” the Albino said.

  “You do realise he won’t, don’t you? He’ll follow the person with my bag and come here.”

  “No, he will not. It will not be possible.”

  “Of course it is!”

  The Albino smiled. “Telling someone to mind his own business in my world does not mean the same as it does in yours.”

  “What do you mean? I—” And it hit me all at once. “You’ll have him killed?”

  “If he catches the person collecting the bag, and it is necessary, yes.”

  I lurched away from the counter towards the table. I sank into a chair, unable to take this in. A gush of bile filled my stomach, and nausea swept over me. Sutton be killed? No. No.

  “Did Sutton leave the house just before you arrived for a reason?” he asked.

  “Yes. He said he had an errand to run.”

  “Suddenly?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” As I’d spoken I realised how foolish that made me sound. Why should I believe anyone?

  “A diversion was created, to take him out of the equation.”

  I said nothing. Embarrassed for Sutton. He should have known about diversions, what with his line of work. What had he been thinking, buggering off like that? Yes, I’d come here willingly with the Albino—I’d had to, for Guilia’s sake—but given the choice, without her being in danger, I was sure I’d have stayed with Sutton.

  “I hope…” I took a steadying breath, erasing what I’d been about to say from my tongue. “I hope my things are retrieved without incident.”

  “I will know shortly.”

  The Albino took over my job of tea-making. I didn’t have the energy to do it, and besides, he was here to look after me, not the other way around. And I hated that—me, acting like the spoilt rich girl I’d been brought up to be, but it was all I’d been used to. Maybe it was something I could address when this was over. Become a better, kinder person. Wonders would never cease.

  He passed me a mug filled with tea—thankfully the British kind; he’d done his homework—and I sipped gratefully. Sitting opposite, he drank his, staring at me as though imprinting my face in his mind. Far from giving me the creeps the way he had done when I’d first encountered him, his scrutiny put me at ease. I told myself he was making sure he studied my face so that in the future, if we got separated, he’d spot me in a crowd instantly.