by Imogen Wells
Another message comes through, I think it’s Jamie, but it’s from an unknown number. Clicking on it, a document fills the screen, and as I zoom in to read it, I can see it’s from a medical examiner. Scanning it quickly a name jumps out at me that has me sucking in air so fast I nearly choke.
Lorraine Eleanor Smith.
It’s an autopsy report that states my mum’s cause of death as asphyxiation, but that’s not possible. The police and hospital said she died of her injuries at the scene.
I’m sat on the sofa hearing but not listening to the movement and voices around me. I can see Sean talking to a man I’ve never seen before. I don’t know what they’re saying, all I can hear are the words the policeman told me two hours ago. ‘Miss Kasey Smith, there’s been an accident, and I’m very sorry to inform you that Lorraine Smith and Faye Donovan were pronounced dead at the scene.’ They run through my head over and over again, and each time, I pray that I misheard him. That he’s wrong, that this news is meant for someone else, and that they should be the ones living this nightmare, this hell. Sean hands the man something then they shake hands, and he leaves.
When Sean turns around, his eyes land on me. Black soulless eyes that warn of danger, telling you to keep away, to run away and don’t look back. He doesn’t seem upset, just so angry, at me mostly, and I don’t understand why. Maybe he blames me and wishes it was me instead. I wish it had been me, him, anyone else but our daughter.
As that memory fades another one from a few weeks later slams into me.
I gave the nurse my usual spiel about how I fell down the stairs, again. Anyone with half a brain knows that’s bullshit, and considering I’ve seen this nurse a couple of times before, I know she didn’t believe a word of it. As she placed the sling around my neck, she told me how sorry she was about my mother and daughter. That she was here that day, and how nice it was that Mr Donovan was here with my mum.
At the time, I wasn’t really thinking straight. I was in so much pain from Sean’s latest beating, and still raw from the loss of my mum and daughter, that I hadn’t really paid attention to her words. I was just going through the motions. Now I latch onto the memory, trying to remember everything she said to me that day.
I close my eyes, picturing her in her nurses’ uniform, her black hair tied back in a ponytail and the name badge pinned to her tunic. I see it now, Evelyn Gallow. That’s it. I close the message and open my browser typing in her name. The first hit at the top of the page is for an artist that lives in America, but the next entry is a link to a newspaper article. Clicking it, the page opens, and there’s a picture of Evelyn with her parents at her graduation from nursing school. The article details the murder of Evelyn Gallow, a 24-year-old nurse from London who was found murdered in her flat on the 12th July 2019. I slam my hand over my mouth as I realise that this can’t be a coincidence.
I spend the morning scouring the internet for any information on her murder, and I even do a search on Sean. I don’t find much else on Evelyn, no one was ever caught for her murder, but there are pages and pages of articles and reports about Sean and his links to drugs, sex trafficking, murder and gangs.
I feel sick, dirty, disgusting, and my skin is crawling like it’s alive with a million insects running beneath it. How could I have been so blind and not seen or known any of this about him. Then the anger comes.
Anger at myself, anger at him, anger at my dad for leaving me, and anger at my mum for not warning me about men like that. But it’s wrong to blame my parents. They had a fantastic relationship, and I read the paper and watch the news. I can’t pretend I’m not smart enough to know there’s bad in this world. I had my suspicions about Sean’s dealings, but I chose not to listen, not to believe that a man I loved could be involved in such heinous crimes.
All those feelings of guilt rush back in, but this time, I know it’s not my fault. Oh, I know I’m guilty of falling for his charms, being swept up in the excitement of it all, blinded by the money and the fairy tale every girl dreams of. For falling in love with the wrong man. But all the rest? There’s just one person who’s to blame for that. Sean Donovan.
Shoving to my feet, I pace the bedroom. Then I decide to do something that could ruin any chance of a relationship with Ryder.
Standing outside his office door, I take a deep breath before turning the handle and praying it’s locked, but it isn’t. The door swings open revealing a modern office that wouldn’t look out of place in Canary Wharf. To the right there is a small seating area and in the centre of the room is a large desk with several stacks of papers, but no computer or laptop. Over on the left there’s a tall filing cabinet, with several drawers, including a bottom one that has a lock on it. I step towards the filing cabinet just as the sound of the lift arriving stops me. Quickly retreating, I pull the door closed, part of me relieved I was interrupted and walk out into the kitchen.
Ryder emerges two seconds later deep in concentration at something on his phone. My anger simmers under the surface, and before my brain has a chance to catch up, my mouth opens, and the question pours from it freely.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryder stops at the sound of my voice. I watch as confusion crosses his face, but in an instant it’s replaced with defeat. Putting his phone in his pocket he walks toward me, but I step back.
“Cam, I wanted to talk to you about her, but then—”
“Hold on. Her? What are you talking about?” My brain scrambles to understand what he’s talking about. He told me that there’s no wife or girlfriend, so who the fuck is he talking about? I frown at him, chewing the inside of my cheek as anxiety ripples through me.
“Come and sit down, Cam.” Ryder edges towards me and gestures to the stools at the breakfast bar. I can see the pleading in his eyes.
“I don’t want to sit down. Talk, Ryder,” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. I try to connect the dots and just as Ryder goes to speak, the only possible answer hits me. I feel my mouth drop open, and the blood drains from my face as I realise he’s talking about Faye. He knows about my daughter. “Faye.” Her name is a whisper on my lips, and the pain of her loss fractures my heart, along with the pain at his deception.
“Cam.” I hold a hand up, then wave my finger at him as I try to get the words out. Ryder’s eyes are heavy with sorrow, but it does nothing to quiet my anger.
“You…you knew, all this time and you never said anything. Why?” I ask, my voice and body shaking. A rage I’ve not known before comes over me, and I see red. Despite my logical half pushing to take control, I don’t let it. I let the rage free.
“Yes, I knew, but I also knew how painful that loss would have been for you. I didn’t want to cause you pain, Cam. I believed you would talk to me about her when you were ready. When I told you about Kyle, I thought you would have told me then. Realised that I understood your pain.”
“No, no, no!” A derisive laugh leaves me. “Don’t you dare. There is no pain like the loss of a child, Ryder. None.”
“Don’t you think I know that, Cam, huh? I watched what Kyle’s death did to my parents. It fucking ruined them. I’m not trying to compare for fucks sake. Is that how little you think of me?” His voice rises as his own anger begins to show.
I know what he’s saying, but it’s too late for me to stop the destructive fury coursing through me. This news with the message I just received has blinded me to all reason.
Gripping my hair, I let out the scream that’s been building. When my voice is hoarse, I lash out at the stools before me, and they crash to the floor with a clang. Picking up the vase from the counter, I spin and throw it directly at Ryder, he ducks, and it shatters in a shower of glass behind him. I roar out my frustration at missing him before dropping to my knees and hanging my head.
Knees appear on the floor in front of mine as hands grip my face lifting my head until my gaze locks with Ryder’s. My face is a wet mess, a mixture of tears and snot and hair plastered to my cheeks. Ryder’s thumbs brush away the tears
on my cheeks, and then he brings his lips to mine in a gentle caress.
“Cam, I’m so fucking sorry.” His blue eyes bore into my watery browns. I see the sincerity he’s so desperately trying to convey and despite how hurt I am by his deception, my hands fist in his shirt, and my pain slowly turns to desire.
Desire for this man, the need to feel his body against mine, and a want so powerful it eclipses everything. I crawl into his lap, straddling his hips and gripping his shoulders as I grind my pelvis against his. His arms snake around me as his lips crash against mine, teeth and tongues clashing together in a blinding battle of control.
I fist his hair, ripping his head back as I nip his jaw, down his throat to the crease of his neck and sinking my teeth in and forcing him to cry out. I do it again, trailing from one side of his neck to the other as his hands slide up my back gripping the neck of my tee and ripping it clean in two.
I release his hair, pulling my top away from my body as his hands find my breasts, twisting and tweaking my nipples between his finger and thumb and pulling on them violently. My hips buck forward at the spike of pleasure that rushes to my core making my clit pulse and my core throb, begging for something to fill the emptiness and clench down on.
Desperate to have Ryder inside me, I grind against him as he continues his assault on my nipples. Sliding back and giving me space to reach the waistband of his joggers, I yank on them, freeing his cock. It throbs as I take it in my hand, squeezing and pumping it hard as Ryder groans while he bites and sucks at my neck. I run my thumb over the crown of his cock, coating him in the precum there before lifting my thumb to my mouth. Ryder lifts his head, watching me as I suck my thumb into my mouth, sucking it clean before pushing it into his mouth. His eyes glisten with unadulterated desire, and I let out a growl at how fucking hot it is seeing how much he wants me.
Sliding my arse to the floor so I can remove my shorts, I’m pushed back so I’m resting on my elbows as Ryder takes over, stripping me down within seconds.
I flip over, rising to my knees, raising my arse in the air as I drop my upper body to the floor. With my pussy on full display, I hear Ryder’s whispered “Fuck!” just before his hands slide along the cheeks of my arse, pulling them open further.
“You been fucked here, Cam?” he grits out, as his thumb circles my tight hole. I moan, pushing down the memories and instead focusing on the pleasure Ryder is drawing from me.
“Yes,” I whimper, as he eases his thumb inside before pulling back and pushing all the way in. His other hand reaches for my clit, circling it as he pumps in and out of my arse. I feel my climax building, but I want to come around Ryder’s cock.
As though he can read my mind, he leans forward brushing his lips over the shell of my ear, “I’m going to take this arse, but not today. Today you’re going to cream all over my cock.” He circles my clit once more, then lines himself up at my entrance and pushes in agonisingly slow, and when he’s fully seated he lets out a groan that rumbles through his whole body, gripping my hips so tight I can feel the bones grinding together.
I drop my head to the cold floor tiles, but he grips my hair in his fist, arching my back as he pulls back and thrust forward, his hips slamming into mine. My breath is expelled from my lungs in a grunt, and then he finds the perfect rhythm that has my body screaming in ecstasy as my climax builds again.
Hand still wrapped in my hair, a sharp slap stings my arse cheek as he thrusts forward, again and again, and I explode with an earth-shattering orgasm that leaves me winded. As Ryder reaches his own release, shooting his hot cum inside and coating the walls of my cervix, my pussy contracts around him prolonging my own climax.
Collapsing in a heap on the floor, Ryder rolls to the side so as not to crush me, pulling me against his chest. “You’re so fucking perfect, Cam.” My heart smiles at his words, but my mind takes a different direction, wincing internally when I think of all the awful, disgusting things that have been done to me. If he knew, he’d never think of me as perfect.
Thirty-Two
Camryn
Ryder carries me to the bedroom, where he takes me again, but this time is different. It’s slow and sensual, not our usual hard, angry fucking. This is not fucking at all. This is making love. And in that moment I know that I’m falling in love with him, and I know deep in my heart when this ends, which it will, and he hurts me intentionally or not, it will be the end of me. My heart will shatter into tiny pieces of myself that will forever be fractured. Yes, I’ll glue them back together, but they’ll never heal. It will be like papering over the cracks.
I know he feels it too, and when we crash over the edge together, those three words hang in the air between us like pollen on a hot summer’s day. Never spoken but carried away on the wind. Ryder tucks me under his arm, and I feel the change, the moment he’s going to ask.
“Tell me about her, Cam. Tell me about your daughter.” I hear the hitch in his voice, and swallowing the lump in my own throat, I do as he asks.
“She…was the best thing I ever did, and so, so beautiful. And smart, like blow your mind smart.” I let out a little laugh. “She certainly didn’t get that from me. I like to think that was all my dad. She had this cheeky little grin, and even when she was being mischievous, which was a lot of the time, it would melt the hardest of hearts.” I let the tears fall as I picture her smiling and laughing as my mum chased her around the garden. “The day…that day was the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt, and I’ve felt pain.” I mentally slap myself for that slip. “I lost everything that day, my baby, my heart, my soul. I was broken. I’m still broken. There is an emptiness inside, a deep, dark space that used to be filled with the very essence of her, and that will never be full again.” My voice cracks as I relive the pain of that day, then I feel a finger beneath my chin as Ryder lifts my head.
“Cam.” I see the glint of unshed tears in his eyes, and as another tear slips down my face whatever Ryder was going to say dies on his lips. He leans down kissing me on the nose. Then he squeezes me tight, and I relax back into him.
I know there’s a sea of secrets between us, some that should stay buried, but Faye is not one of them. I feel relieved that Ryder knows, and I no longer need to hide her from him.
There is one more secret that I could share with him about Faye and my mum. The question is do I trust him enough.
“Ryder, there’s something that doesn’t add up about their accident,” I say, testing the water. If Ryder and Rick know so much about Sean maybe they can help or know something themselves. If I wasn’t so close and looking for it, I would never have noticed the slight tensing in Ryder’s body at my words.
“What do you mean?” he asks tentatively.
“Well, I always believed that my mum and…that they both died at the scene, but I found something that says otherwise. Several things actually, and I don’t know what’s the truth anymore.” I shift so that I can see his face before I continue, “Those first months after are a blur, I don’t remember much, but someone sent documents to me that have me remembering things I had forgotten or blocked out.” I wait for him to react, and he does, but not the way I would have expected. He doesn’t jump up demanding to know who sent them to me or how. He remains reasonably calm, simply telling me that he’ll look into it if I share what I have with him.
After the way he reacted when I received the flowers from Sean, I was expecting a similar response. Maybe it’s because of the conversation we just had, or maybe it’s because he already knows. Whatever the reason, I don’t like it, and I vow to reconstruct that wall around my heart that he so easily managed to break down.
I go back to work on Monday, with Scott and Russ back to chauffeur duty. Russ is as happy as ever, and Scott has recovered and back to his grumpy self. Happy days. Ryder and I, well, I don’t know about us. I sleep in his bed with him every night, giving him my body, but I lock my heart in the vault. I feel him pulling away from me, as I am him.
While I’m at work I try to do
a little digging into the autopsy report, and I print off the articles and report giving them to Ryder. I tell him about the nurse from the hospital too, so he can see what he can find.
On Wednesday, Scott drives me to see Jamie after work. I’m so happy to see my friend that I choke back a few tears as I hug her. She looks better now the bruising has started to fade. Her ribs are still hurting like a bitch, and I remember the arnica cream I put in my bag for her.
While we talk, I notice how tired she looks and the dark circles under her eyes. Jamie tells me that’s she not been sleeping well, what with the constant arguments and tension between her mum and dad and the nightmares of the attack, she’s struggling to get more than a few hours. She still has no idea what’s going on with her parents, but she’s remembered some little things about the attack.
“There just silly little things, I’m sure they’re useless,” she tells me.
“You need to let the police know. Even if it’s small, it could be important.” I remind her of what Ryder and the police told her.
“Yeah, I will. It’s funny, I remember this smell, like sweets, maybe bananas or something, but I can’t quite figure out what it is. Oh, well, I’m sure it will come back if it’s important. So, tell me what’s been going on with you?”
I give her the cliff notes version of the accident and skirt around the subject of me and Ryder. When I mention Seb, she perks up, and then she peppers me with questions about him, most of which I can’t answer. I tell her that when I see Seb on Friday I’ll try and sneak a picture of him and send it to her. She thanks me in advance for the spank bank material.
When I say goodbye, I tell her to call me if she remembers anything else and to take care.
When I arrive back at the apartment Ryder isn’t there, so after a quick bite to eat and a shower I crawl into bed. I try not to think about where Ryder is, or who he’s with as I fall asleep.