Adam flinched.
“What happened?” Tomas asked. “She threw you out? You walk out? Wren’s had a much-too-bright smile on her face this morning.”
“You’re not turning this back on me. I don’t know what you’re up to at Ezispeke but leave Wren out of it.”
He began to walk away and Tomas caught hold of his sleeve. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt either.” Tomas stared straight at him. “I’m bad news. You should forget about me.”
He lifted Tomas’ hand from his arm and squeezed his fingers. “I don’t think so.”
* * * * *
Wren walked into Ezispeke, frantically doing math in her head. Two hundred pounds for one night’s work. So after six months, about twenty-four weeks, twenty-four days times two hundred. Oh God. Nearly five thousand pounds. That was brilliant, fantastic…oh no…unbelievable. She sagged. Had she make a mistake? Misheard and it was twenty pounds for two hours? Wren reran the conversation and smiled. Nope, it was two hundred.
“Ooh someone’s happy,” Sylvie said as Wren burst into the staffroom.
She pulled off her coat and dropped onto the couch.
“You get laid?” Sylvie whispered. “Explain the hair!”
She tumbled back to earth with a resounding crash.
“You did get laid!” Sylvie snuggled closer. “Spill. Who was the lucky guy?”
Obviously, big mouth Sylvie hadn’t seen Belinda behind her, pretending to sort out mugs in the cupboard.
“No one,” Wren said and glared at Sylvie.
“Adam? Or was it Tomas?” Sylvie asked.
When pinching didn’t work, Wren hauled Sylvie to her feet and dragged her over to the window. She’d have to think up something to tell her. Not the truth, unless she could make it sound like she didn’t care Adam had slunk out while she pretended to sleep. And what about Tomas? She’d been both thrilled and horrified when he’d slid his hand onto her knee. She could still hardly believe she’d put her hand on his cock, even though his jeans were in the way. What had she been thinking? And that kiss? If his boss hadn’t interrupted, where would that have gone?
Except she was an idiot. After everything she’d told herself not to do, she still bulldozed her way down the same path, only two guys were involved this time, so two paths.
“Oops, sorry,” Sylvie muttered when she finally registered Big Ears on the other side of the room.
Wren glanced out of the window and gave a sharp intake of breath. “I—oh.”
Down on the street, Adam and Tomas were kissing. Her head swirled. Kissing? As though a fist had slammed into her gut, she was overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal. This was happening to her again?
“They look hot,” Sylvie muttered.
“Umm.” Hot enough to make her throat close. What did it mean? They didn’t like her? They liked her too?
“Guess you weren’t with one of them last night,” Sylvie said.
Wren didn’t even register Belinda had joined them until she heard her chortle.
“Ooh, this is like one of those adverts on the TV,” Belinda said. “Except not.”
“What a waste,” Sylvie said.
Wren couldn’t stop staring. They couldn’t be gay. She didn’t believe Adam would have made love to her if he was gay. Her shoulders fell. Not made love. Fucked. She didn’t understand what was going on.
“Wren!”
She started.
Jolene stood at the door, hands on hips. “Olive wants to see you. Now.”
For once, she was grateful to be summoned. She grabbed her bag and made her way downstairs, trying to get her head around what she’d seen. In an ideal world, this would turn out to be one of those dreams come true, her and two guys every which way and then some. In the real world, Wren’s world, she was the odd one out, not really wanted, not fitting in. She felt like a seal being played with by killer whales, tossed around in the ocean, flying through the air and crashing through the waves time after time until they’d had enough and ended it.
She wasn’t going to overthink this. It was better not to think of it at all.
Not another thought.
Adam had to be bisexual. He’d been tempted by Wren and then remembered Tomas, which was why he’d left without a word.
Stop it.
Tomas knew she’d slept with Adam and he was jealous. The flirting in the café was just him getting his own back. Yeah right, jealous of her?
Stop thinking about it.
Wren knocked on Olive’s door.
“Enter.”
Olive pointed to the chair and Wren sank into it. It was so low it allowed Olive to tower over her in her lime-green trouser suit.
“A trip out?” Olive snapped.
Word had spread fast. “I did tell—”
“Unauthorized?”
“Well, they’re adults. They didn’t need letters from parents. I figured it was okay.” Wren screwed her fingers down the sides of the seat, touched something furry and jerked them out.
“You figured? But it wasn’t okay, was it?”
“No harm’s been done.”
“One of our students accused of shoplifting?”
How the hell did she know that? “It was a mistake. Benoit wasn’t trying to steal the book.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me. I believed him.”
“I’ve arranged for him to speak to Belinda. You should have done that.”
Wren bristled. “I’ve hardly had time, but he wasn’t trying to steal the book. There’s no point making him feel worse than he already does.”
Olive harrumphed. “We could have charged for that visit. Included coffee and cake and made a profit.”
Wren suspected it was the missed opportunity to make money bothering Olive more than what happened with poor Benoit.
“The prices are displayed on a board,” Wren said. “They’d have seen if we were trying to rip them off.”
“Rip them off?” Olive turned puce, an interesting contrast to the lime green. “We’re a business. Our aim is to make a profit. I’m not running this for the joy of it. I have employees to pay, taxes, insurance, all sorts of overheads.” She took a deep breath. “This is an official warning for breaking the rules. It will be on your record.”
Wren chewed the inside of her cheeks. Breaking what rules? She still wasn’t sure what she’d done but had no energy to argue. “Is that all?” She stood so she could peer down at Olive.
“Not quite. I understand you’ve been circulating with a piece of paper, asking staff about certain students, ones who mistakenly appeared on your class lists.” Olive’s deep-set eyes glittered. “What on earth are you doing? I told you an error had been made.”
“I just thought if they’d been put on my registers, they might have been missed off someone else’s.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what happened, but it’s nothing to do with you.”
“Right. Sorry.” She made no effort to sound sorry.
“Give me the paper.” Olive held out her hand.
“I threw it away.”
Olive glared. “Let’s hope so.”
And even though Wren didn’t feel she’d done anything wrong, if she’d had a tail, she’d have put it between her legs as she slunk out.
Jolene sat at her desk, smirking, no doubt having heard every word.
“I need to do some photocopying,” Wren said.
“Private?”
“Some of it is.”
“You have to pay for those.”
“Yes. I know,” Wren muttered. She took a bundle of worksheets from her bag and went over to the machine.
While she copied the pages, she came up with a plan. A bit of a crap one, but the best she could manage. Avoidance. She had no idea if Tomas and Adam were in Ezispeke that afternoon, but since they were in the vicinity it seemed likely. Unless they’d gone to a hotel and were currently—stop it. If she moved fast between lessons a
nd hid in the staffroom, stayed in there for lunch, used the computer, she’d be unlikely to bump into either of them, assuming they were around.
She thought about asking to swap classes but she’d made such a big deal of wanting to teach adults, what excuse could she give? In any case, Jolene had everything organized to death and if Wren changed now, it wouldn’t just annoy Jolene but also her colleagues. Swapping wasn’t going to happen. Nor was not blushing every time she saw either guy.
Wren wished there was such thing as an invisibility cloak.
Yet at the end of the day, she couldn’t quite work out why she was disappointed to have seen neither guy. She’d stuck to her plan and even managed to apply for a couple of jobs, but her heart wasn’t in it.
When she walked out of Ezispeke, she saw Tomas leaning against the hood of a black car, a grim look on his face. He hadn’t wanted her to do this job. Too bad. If she hadn’t seen him kissing Adam, maybe she’d have listened, but she was too annoyed with him to do that now.
She took a deep breath and turned on her smile. “My chauffeur?”
“Don’t do this work. Make excuse. Say you ill. Say you busy. I tell Marco.”
She frowned. “Why shouldn’t I do it?”
“Because I don’t want you to.”
Fuck you. Wren was not going to be told what to do. “You’re not my keeper.”
“Please. Tell Marco no.” He reached for her hand and she jerked away.
She walked round to the passenger side and climbed in.
Tomas sat next to her and slammed the door. “I take you home.”
“Do what you’re being paid to do and take me to where I’m supposed to be going.” Wren spoke through gritted teeth.
“Marco isn’t nice man.”
“I won’t tell him you said that.”
“Wren. Please. It not good work.”
Yes it was. She needed the money and wouldn’t back down. “Just drive me there.”
Tomas sighed and started the engine. “Don’t be mad. I want to keep you safe.”
Safe? She swallowed hard. “I can’t afford to refuse this job. Isn’t it the same for you? You wouldn’t be working for a guy you didn’t like if you didn’t need the money. Well, I really need the money and I’ll be careful. Thanks for the warning.”
He gave a disgruntled sigh.
“Is that why you told your boss we had a date tonight?” she asked.
“I want to ask you on date.” He pulled up at a traffic light and glanced at her.
Wren didn’t want to go down that path. Her face burned thinking about Tomas and Adam playing around with her. She changed the subject.
“What did you say to those security guards in Waterstones? And why did you have to drag them into a corner?”
“I ask if Benoit had been walking out of shop. They say yes and then no. He was still in shop. They can’t prove he intend to steal. I took them aside because too much fuss, too much emotion.”
“Thank you for persuading them to back off.”
He shrugged. “We never talk about my hobby,” he said. “Want to guess?”
“Philatelist? Numismatist? Copoclephilist? Helixophilist?”
Tomas laughed. “You make those up?”
“Collector of stamps, coins, key rings and corkscrews.”
“Ptica Strazar.”
Wren turned to look at him. “What does that mean?”
“Bird watching. Did you know wren sing very loud for small bird? Female hop from one mate to other.”
She gulped.
Tomas pulled up outside a three-story Victorian terraced house. Wren recognized it as a student area. Only a few properties had been renovated and most of the front gardens were overgrown. Before she could get out of the car, he’d exited and come round to open her door.
“Not too late to change mind,” he said.
Anxiety nibbled at her stomach but she shook her head. Tomas went ahead of her down the path and knocked on the door. It was opened by a big guy with shoulders like a Brahman bull. A cigarette hung from his mouth.
“This is Wren,” Tomas said. “Wren, this Veton. He work for Marco.”
He shook her hand, crushed her fingers and Wren nearly yelped. She noticed the bad scarring on his skin as she tried to get free.
Tomas stepped forward and wrapped his hand around Veton’s wrist. “Kontakt përsëri dhe unë do të vras, kokekar.”
The big guy laughed and let her go. Tomas dropped his hold.
“He said if I touch you again, he’ll kill me.” Veton winked at her.
Uh-oh. Maybe she should have listened to Tomas and not come.
Another guy walked downstairs, fastening his pants as he approached. He was in his mid-twenties and was short and stocky with sullen eyes. He and Veton exchanged a flurry of sentences in a language Wren didn’t know, and then they glanced at her and sniggered. Wren slid a step closer to Tomas.
“This is Dragen,” Veton said.
The guy looked her up and down before walking toward the back of the house. He had a peculiar odor. A cross between a wet dog and beer. Oh God, and sex.
“Does he breathe fire?” she whispered.
Tomas remained stone-faced.
“Women in here.” Veton pushed open a door.
Wren walked in, relieved to see four women and not a torture chamber. They seemed about her age and lounged on two settees, watching a music video.
“Hello,” Wren said.
They didn’t reply. Great.
Veton handed Tomas a piece of paper. “Marco needs these. Go get them.”
Tomas’ jaw tightened but he nodded.
“I’ll drive Wren home,” Veton said to Tomas’ back.
Oh God, no.
Tomas spun on his heels and walked back to her. “I take you home when you finish.” He brushed her cheek with his lips.
“Don’t be late,” she whispered, biting back her take me with you now.
He left and Veton dropped into a chair. He looked her up and down and smiled.
Wren addressed the women. “Do you speak any English?”
No response. No one even looked at her.
“They speak some,” Veton said.
Wren swallowed. “Tell me a few words you know.”
Silence.
“Do you all speak the same language?” she asked.
More silence.
“They’re Albanian.” Veton snapped out a flurry of what she assumed was Albanian. “I told them to tell you words they know.”
A woman with long blonde hair faced him and said, “Asshole, bastard, wanker.”
Oh God. Veton pushed himself halfway to his feet and then sank back in the chair, shot Wren a glance and laughed. He’s watching to see how I handle this. But she wondered what was going on. They didn’t appear to be interested in learning. The woman with the remote clicked up the volume and a couple of the others smirked. She could feel Veton’s gaze on her. Wren took a deep breath, switched off the TV and stood in front of it. I feel like my dad. It was still his way of getting the family’s attention.
“Hallo. My name is Wren.” She spoke slowly and pointed to herself. “Wren.”
Silence. The women stared at the TV as if it were still on.
She pointed to Veton. “His name is Veton.”
Wren stepped in front of the only woman who’d spoken, stuck out her hand and waited. And waited. If that was the way they wanted to play it.
“This is my arm.” She held up her arm. “This is my hand. These are my fingers. This,” she put up two fingers, “means fuck off.”
Veton laughed and spat out a load of Albanian.
“Danijela,” said the blonde woman who’d spoken before.
Wren wondered if she’d just been told to fuck off.
Veton stood up. “This is Danijela.” He pointed to the others. “Tanja, Jovana and Vesna.” He snapped out another mouthful that sounded like a bunch of threats rather than have a nice time, and left the room. He didn’t close the door.
“Hello, Danijela. It’s nice to meet you.” Wren offered her hand and after a moment’s hesitation the woman shook it.
The others did the same and she sighed with relief.
“My name is Wren Monroe. I’m English.” She gave Danijela a hopeful look.
“My name is Danijela Chani. I’m Albanian.”
Wren started. Chani was one of the names on her list. Didn’t necessarily mean anything. The surname might be as common as Smith. None of the others had surnames she recognized and she decided it had to be a coincidence. But when another woman sloped in and introduced herself as Ardita Chani, Wren tried not to let the surprise show. Not just about the name, which was on her list, but at the woman’s swollen eye and cut lip.
Crap. Wren was beginning to put two and two together, not wanting to make four.
Chapter Fourteen
Wren chewed her lip as she regarded the battered face of Ardita Chani. “Are you okay?”
Dead silence, indicating she’d not get an answer, so she changed tack. She wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.
She took a photograph of her family from her folder. Wren had been thirteen and had just gone to live with them. They were at the seaside. The first time she’d seen the sea for real. Her new brothers and parents held ice cream cornets, the whipped towers dripping with strawberry sauce. She’d never had an ice cream like that before, but hers was on the ground at her feet and she was crying. James had accidentally knocked it out of her hand when he’d rushed back to stand in the shot after setting the delay function on the camera. Both boys had fought to give her their ice cream afterward.
“This is my family,” she said, feeling a rush of love. “This is my father. My mother. These are my brothers, James and Matt. This is me when I was thirteen.”
As she described the photograph, the women started to show more interest.
Danijela pointed to Ardita. “Sister.”
Jovana took out a creased photo from the pocket of her jeans and showed Wren. “Brother. Sister.” She lifted her T-shirt and showed Wren the tattoo on her back. The names had been inked on either shoulder.
“Lovely.” Wren smiled and received a guarded smile in return.
She gave them the worksheets she’d photocopied and asked them to tell her what they saw. As she talked and encouraged them to join in, it became clear Jovana’s English was better than the others. Tanja, barefoot and wearing jeans tight enough to cut off her circulation, sprawled on the couch with her mouth down. Vesna, sitting beside her, kept stroking her hand as though trying to comfort her or maybe get comfort. Ardita and Danijela said very little.
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