by Shae Banks
Fingers sore from his grip, I rubbed at them. “I’m fine. What do you want, Francis?”
Even with the fear prickling my scalp, I was far snappier than he was used to, and his eyes hardened immediately, which sent another tendril of fear through me. Francis wasn’t one to usually become physical. I wasn’t sure how to handle that.
“You’ve had your bit of rough, Lyla. Now it’s time to come home and behave as someone of your status is expected.” The softness of his voice and the concern he was showing me moments before disappeared, until I was left sharing a space with a sadistic stranger.
While I was used to his coldness, the man who had just grabbed me, hurt, and scared me, wasn’t the man I’d shared a home with. The switch in mannerisms was chilling, but fear made me clamp my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to confirm or deny his accusation in case he did something worse. Taking my chances, I reached for the door handle and got the door open, but a sharp pain through my scalp had me flailing backwards with a pained cry.
The abrupt movement not only left me with an aching head, but my stomach felt like it was on fire from my healing wound.
With one hand wrapped tightly in my hair, Francis reached across and pulled my barely open door shut before the distinct click broke through the silence. The bastard had locked it.
He released my hair and returned to his seat, and once again gave off the appearance of him being completely in control, as though nothing had happened, and accused, “Now that was stupid, wasn’t it? For a paralegal, Lyla, you really can be stupid sometimes.”
Ice filled my veins as I tried to choke the fear down. Think, think, think. The pain in my scalp and stomach made it impossible to grasp at any solid thoughts long enough to come up with a plan. All I knew was that I had to get out. I didn’t want to be here, trapped in the car with him, especially when he was so volatile. Petrified something else could set him off, I turned away and stared blankly through the windscreen.
“I was in the cemetery when your car arrived. I saw him,” he began to explain.
Having caught my attention, he trailed off. I glanced at him and my stomach clenched with horror that he was going to do something else to hurt me. He was glaring at me, his face twisted in what I could have only described as anger and envy. Whatever he saw in my expression dampened his fury, and he relaxed his facial muscles immediately, and calmly said, “The way he touched you was… inappropriate, to say the very least.”
Ryan? I didn’t remember anything out of the ordinary. There were so many people there and he didn’t make a scene, but he was considerably more affectionate than Francis had ever been. Could a small kiss and a gentle touch to my face be seen as anything more than a kind gesture between friends at such a time?
“You’re being ridiculous,” I protested, but it lacked conviction. I wasn’t really prepared to pretend the past few weeks hadn’t happened, even if it meant I faced Francis’s ire.
They had happened, and I wasn’t going to treat them like a dirty secret.
His lip twitched in a sneer. “I know you’ve been sleeping with him, it’s written all over your face,” he spat.
His expression spoke volumes. I was filth, lower than low, and the way he pushed his glasses up his nose with a sniff only confirmed my suspicion. Then, unexpectedly, his features softened once more, and he turned in his seat to stare at me directly.
Reaching across the car, he took my hand. “But if you leave with me now, come back to the city where you should have stayed, I’ll put it down to grief. We can move on, Lyla. We’ll say no more about it.”
I swallowed thickly as I fought the urge to rip my hand out of his grip before his temper returned. His yo-yoing between fury and apparent willingness to wipe the slate clean was enough to have me grinding my teeth. But the rage, the violence towards me? They’re what had my red flags flapping in a desperate attempt to warn me of the dangers.
He didn’t seriously think no more would be said about it, did he? He’d always had plenty to say about things that never really held much consequence. But this? His estranged wife sleeping with someone else? There was no way he’d physically be able to restrain himself from making his usual snide remarks. And although I wasn’t admitting to anything outright, I wouldn’t sit there and lie either.
My hand lay limp in his and I turned my attention to the wing mirror, feeling desperate. There was movement back near the pub entrance, but I couldn’t tell who it was. I hoped to God it was Sam. That he’d walk through the car park looking for me.
“And if I don’t?” I whispered feebly, when the figure didn’t move toward Francis’s car.
His lips curved ever so slightly in the corners. I knew that smile, but it seemed… more. “I have more legal connections in the city than you have here, despite your former career choice. I’m almost certain this man’s superior officer will have an opinion on his behaviour should he hear of it. Oh, yes, his major, Niall, and I go way back. Funny old world. I mean, with my family’s connections, this kind of scandal isn’t easily swept under the carpet if word spreads. Divorce and financial ruin really are not an option for you, any more than losing his career is for him, love.”
His thumb swept over my knuckles. “And let’s be honest, Lyla. You’re disgustingly overweight, now considered a slut, and what Ryan shared with you was going to be over soon anyway once the grief wore off for him.”
Each shot he’d fired hit its mark, and whatever he saw on my face was enough to give him a triumphant gleam in his otherwise cold eyes. I dipped my head and hid my face behind my hair, but he wasn’t done.
He leaned forward and shoved my hair away from my face. Once he knew he held my attention, he smirked and whispered, “There’s nowhere for you to go, no family who’ll care where you are or for your well-being. I really am all you have left, love.”
He sounded so confident. That he would let it all go if I went back to being the good wife at his beck and call. That he would destroy me financially, and even physically, if I refused, and go on to somehow damage Ryan. I didn’t doubt that he’d at least try, that was how he worked. He was almost certain to know someone who knows someone, who could have a word. That’s how the slimy bastard and his ilk worked. I’d seen it happen before.
Ice filled my veins at the clear threat to Ryan and me. As much as I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, I couldn’t let him hurt either of us, but especially not Ryan and his career. Nothing was worth that.
Ryan likely wouldn’t give a shit, but that didn’t mean I could live with being the reason for his dishonourable discharge. He wasn’t an all-out army boy, but his career was everything to him. He loved what he did and the people he’d met doing it. I didn’t want him to lose any of that. Francis was right. I wasn’t worth it.
And what about Thom? Would he get involved? He might. It wasn’t obvious to anyone on the outside, but I knew him, and he loved Ryan deeply.
Could I really risk their relationship? They’d be okay without me, just go back to their life before I showed my face, but if Ryan was thrown out…
Francis cut into my thoughts. “I won’t beg, Lyla, but you need to be aware of the consequences. You left me to pursue an affair, with a common soldier no less. I’m offering you a final chance to redeem yourself. To save both of us the embarrassment of your indiscretion being revealed publicly. The scandal… I would spare you that.”
Desperation clawed at me to at least try and change his mind. “What about your mother? She’s going to have an opinion on you bringing me to your ho—”
He didn’t wait for me to finish, and instead fired back, his tone sharp. “My mother thinks you’ve been on a cruise with one of Betty’s friends who you met at afternoon tea.”
Well, shit. He really had thought it all through. “I need—”
I was going to say I needed time to get over Lloyd’s death and my illness so I could think clearly. That I wasn’t certain I’d be safer in his home, or taking my chances and facing his wrath with the g
uys as a unit. Or that I could willingly face losing everything if it meant being happier than I had ever been with him. But before I could utter a word, he started the engine and put the car in drive.
Despite my fear of him hurting me again, I reached for the door handle and desperately tried to open it. I had no idea what I’d do if it did open—throw myself out maybe? Movement in my side mirror caught my attention, and I recognised the three shapes immediately.
He’d seen them too.
The car swerved, dislodging my fingers from the handle, and I scrambled to make another swipe for it, but as the car righted, a hand grabbed at my hair and yanked me back.
“Francis, please—” I cried out.
He didn’t respond, gaining speed as he drove out of the car park and out onto the road without bothering to slow down.
My stomach turned to lead as he drove faster still, I was aware he was keeping a high speed so I wouldn’t attempt to throw myself out. I wasn’t ever being given a choice, he just ran out of time to make it look that way because the guys had come out earlier than he’d anticipated.
Tears streamed down my cheeks and my stomach churned. I wanted to scream at him, to slap him, anything, but all that would do was force us off the road. He was the last person I wanted to die with.
Instead, I looked out of the window and choked back my tears as I wondered what the three of them would think of me. They’d never know why. They’d never know how I felt. But I knew how they would feel. Thom had hinted at it that afternoon in the hot tub.
I remained silent, sorrow gripping my chest in a vice.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” Francis commented cheerily, once we pulled on to the motorway. “I managed to pull together a few days off. We could take the opportunity to visit Paris again. I know you have your passport there, but I’m sure your brother’s friends can post it back.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to go back, I wanted to stay with them, but I knew what I wanted wasn’t up for discussion. Francis had made his mind up, and no amount of me trying to convince him was going to make him suddenly grow a conscience and take me back.
And what would I do if he did? Sit around and wait for Francis to ruin Ryan’s career? Risk Thom getting angry and doing something stupid? Or, God forbid, if Francis carried out his threat and did something that would put all our lives at risk?
None of it was a real option.
“A few days rest will do you good,” he continued, “after the shock of losing your brother—”
Lloyd! I screamed in my head. His name is fucking Lloyd.
“—and forget that filthy squaddie ever touched you.”
That hauled me out of my thoughts. “What?”
“The clinic. We have to make sure you’re not infected before we begin the next round of IVF, then it’ll all be forgotten.”
It was a childish thing to do, but I closed my eyes, as though what he just said had never happened.
He continued planning the next six months of my life while I stared numbly out the window again. Gradually, the green fields became urban centres, and in no time, we were back in the city and the car was rolling to a stop outside the town house.
He got out and opened my door for me, but thankfully didn’t attempt to take my hand as he escorted up to the front door.
“Whe—” My voice broke and I had to clear my throat. “When will I get my phone back?”
Instead of opening the front door, he paused and gave me his attention. “You’re not. You’ll be allowed to have Betty visit, but you’ll remain at the house until you can be trusted. You have to earn that trust back, Lyla.”
“How?” It was out before I could stop myself.
“Are you questioning me?” he raged, as he took a step towards me, and I shrunk in on myself at the threat of violence.
Upon seeing my fear, he stepped back, ran his hands down his pinstriped trousers, and took the keys from his pocket.
He made me step in first, and the sound of the front door closing sealed my fate.
Tears clogged my throat. This wasn’t home. My home was with Thom, Ryan, and Sam.
The stark entrance hall felt more like an office, the ridiculous elevator adding to the waiting room feel.
It was too big, empty. Not of things, Francis loved his things, but of people. Of family. Of love.
The faint whiff of bleach turned my already nauseous stomach and I was forced to cover my mouth.
Before I could make my excuses, I ran for the cloak room off to my right, only just managing to get my head over the basin before I vomited.
24
Sam
Ryan came away from the bar more willingly than expected, and we’d almost fallen through the door because of how drunk he was. Righting us both in the car park, I heard the growl of an engine and the spray of gravel.
I didn’t need to look for Lyla to know she was in there, I’d never seen a ridiculously priced Jag taking up a space in that car park in all the years I’d been stationed here.
“Who was that?” I asked, frowning at Thom when he stepped in front of me. I hoped he would come up with something else, that Lyla would come out after us, announcing a taxi was on its way.
“Francis,” Thom spat, anger bubbling up with just that one word. It wasn’t something I was used to with him. Ryan kicked off over the most trivial things, but Thom seemed to handle his emotions much better. Not concerning Lyla, apparently.
I’d gotten the distinct impression Francis was out of the picture. Lyla wasn’t the type of woman to have an affair, and with Ryan’s background concerning his ex-wife, if Lyla was a cheat he definitely wouldn’t have jumped in with both feet.
Confused, I struggled to find the words. “But—” I didn’t get to voice my next question.
“Fuckin’ asshole! What the fuck does he think he’s playin’ at?” Ryan raged, kicking a nearby planter and almost losing his footing.
A car pulled into the carpark, and my heartbeat gave a wild thud thinking Lyla had turned the car around, but the taxi light on the roof dashed any hope that she’d return.
Thom watched Ryan lose his shit before he took a steadying breath. “Come on, let’s get home.”
I approached the car, and the driver put the window down. “Taxi for Lyla?”
“Yes, please.” I opened the back door, and waited patiently for Thom to get Ryan’s feet moving in the right direction, guiding him into the taxi. Once Thom climbed in behind him, I shut the door and opted to sit in the front. Their anger seemed to be boiling over, and the atmosphere was suffocating. It was only a few minutes’ drive home, but it was bad enough for me to reach inside my pocket for my headphones.
I gave the driver our address, and with a swipe of my finger, the music burst to life. I allowed it to distract me from all the brooding in the back seat.
It wasn’t long before we’d pulled up to the house. Ryan and Thom exited the taxi with Thom guiding Ryan’s drunk ass up the driveway. Twice he’d swayed heavily into his car, but thankfully hadn’t set the alarm off.
Her car was still right where we left it earlier in the morning, adding to my confusion. Surely if she’d planned to go home, she certainly wouldn’t leave a car like that behind.
Trudging up the drive after the guys, I turned the music down while pulling the keys out of my pocket to let them in the house.
Thom was guiding Ryan to the stairs, bypassing taking off his shoes. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“I’ll… well, I won’t get a beer,” I mumbled, going directly into the kitchen, and flicking the kettle on before grabbing another set of keys to go into the back garden. Gunner bounded out of his pen, taking a few seconds to register my mood. When he picked up on my emotions, he sat in front of me, ears back.
“It’s alright, son. Come on.” I patted his head and led him into the house where he darted off into the living room, his tail between his legs.
Smart dog.
Above, there was a bang, fol
lowed by raised voices, but I didn’t go up to investigate. A minute later, a bedroom door slammed, and heavy feet stomped down the stairs.
Thom grabbed a chair, pulled it clear of the table, and sat heavily before rubbing his forehead. The simple gesture made him look like he’d aged ten years in the past hour.
“Everything okay?” I asked, glancing up with concern.
“Not particularly.” He sighed. “He’s going to have a sore head tomorrow.”
I frowned. We all were. “Anything I can do?”
His eyes darkened, and he gave a single, stern shake of his head. I didn’t want to push him, so I gave the kettle my attention and made drinks while he got his shit together.
“I… I don’t know what happened. I thought she was happy here,” he stammered wearily after a few moments. “We didn’t expect her to stay indefinitely, but this…”
Cups in hand, I placed one in front of him and took a seat opposite. “A lot has happened since she left London. I mean, she left her husband, her home, and came back here expecting some time to recuperate. She didn’t expect you any more than you expected her, and whatever transpired was sudden,” I summarised. “To add insult to her already substantial injuries, she had her body fight against her, and then her brother died. With all that, it’s not hard to imagine her being confused as to what she wants. What she needs. That’s a lot of changes and heartbreak for even the strongest of people to endure.”
He stared into his cup as tension rolled off him. “I don’t know how Ryan is going to handle this. He’d just started opening up more and not hiding away from shit. This is going to set him back.”
“I’m no relationship expert, Thom.” I took a swig of my tea while I tried to find the right words. “Just… patience, I guess. That’s what all this boils down to. Ryan’s going to be a grouchy bastard, Lyla’s gone back to London for whatever reason, but…” I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe she’ll come back? If she doesn’t, nothing has really changed here, has it? Whatever happens, it’ll work out.”