Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Kris is a good coo–cook. She’s making ma–macaroni and chee–cheese to–tonight.”

  “Sounds good.” I tie an apron around my waist, and set to work cooking dinner and cleaning the kitchen. Dirty dishes are stacked on every surface. The trashcan needs a good scrub and the floors a wash. Kris has never been tidy, but she spends every free second in the practice. An hour later, the kitchen is spotless, and the lounge and bedrooms vacuumed. I’m busy putting clean linen on the beds when Kris enters, looking shattered.

  “Dinner’s ready.” I pull out a chair by the small table in the kitchen where Charlie is already seated.

  She looks around and shakes her head. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Are you kidding? After what you’re doing for Charlie?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes are probing. “We need to talk about that.”

  I glance at my brother and give her a pointed stare. “After dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  Later, when I’ve tucked Charlie into bed, I take the clean laundry from the dryer and start folding it. Kris takes two beers from the fridge, cracks the cans, and hands me one.

  She leans on the counter and props a foot on the cupboard door. “So, care to tell me about this new job of yours?”

  I take a long swig from the beer before I face her. “There’s nothing more to tell.”

  Her eyes narrow on me. “How long?”

  “Nine.”

  “Nine months?”

  “Years,” I say from behind the beer can.

  She sprays the swallow of beer she’s just taken over the clean floor. “Jesus, Val.” She shoves a hand into the pocket of her jeans and stares at me with an open mouth.

  “I know. It’s not like I have a choice.” I don’t go into the gritty details. “Hold on. Are you telling me you’re his live-in maid for the next nine years?” “Yes.” I dab up the spilled beer with a paper towel.

  She starts pacing the floor. “What about your studies?”

  “I’ll still carry on.”

  She stops. “Will you manage?”

  “I’ll have to.”

  “It’s a lot of studying. A fucking lot of studying.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you sign a contract?”

  “I don’t need a contract. Paper is worthless to men like him. His word is enough.”

  “How does this agreement work?”

  “The salary he would’ve paid me goes to settling the debt.”

  “How could he approve a loan for Charlie? I mean, Charlie. Of all people. There must be a law that prevents institutions from granting loans to disabled people.”

  “I never declared Charlie incompetent. A big oversight on my part. In any event, fighting him with the legal system won’t work. You know every judge in this country is corrupt. The man with the most money always wins.”

  “Fuck, Val, there must be something we can do.”

  “Look, I can’t change it. I have to make the best of it.”

  “If you’re working for him for nothing, how will you afford your studies?”

  “He’s giving me an allowance. It’ll be enough to pay the portion the bursary doesn’t cover, and I was kind of hoping you’ll keep me on for Sundays.”

  “You’re going to burn yourself out.”

  “That’s rich coming from you, Miss Workaholic.”

  She smiles. “You know I’ll do whatever to help.”

  “I’ll pay for Charlie’s food and expenses. I don’t expect you to put him up for nothing.” “Forget about it.”

  “It’s not up for negotiation.” I hesitate. “Nine years is a long time.”

  “Don’t worry about Charlie. He’s welcome here for however long it takes.”

  “Thank you, Kris.” A heavy weight lifts off my shoulders. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

  “What about your flat?”

  “I’m selling it. There’s no point in keeping it if it’s going to stand empty.”

  “Good luck. You’ll battle to give it away for free.”

  I sigh. “I know. Listen, about Charlie.” I twist the tip of my trainer on the floor. “He told me about the comic store. It’s a busy road, Kris.”

  “I taught him to wait for the green light. We did a few practice rounds together. You’ve got to let go a little, give him some freedom. I know you feel protective, and it’s understandable, but you have to push him to be as autonomous as possible.”

  “I just…” I swallow. “I just don’t know. I feel responsible.”

  She leaves her beer on the table and takes my shoulders. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident. You have to let it go.”

  I wipe at the unwelcome tears in my eyes and look away. “I know.”

  “Hey.” She wipes my face with her palms. “Everything’s going to be all right. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

  “Sure.” I only say it to placate Kris, because once she’s on a roll, she won’t stop until she believes she has me convinced. Kris is the queen of positive thinking, and for that I’m as grateful as I am for her giving me a job and taking Charlie in.

  “Come on.” She hooks her arm around mine and drags me to the lounge. “Let’s watch a stupid sitcom and laugh ourselves silly.”

  “I don’t know.” I pull back. “I have to get to the flat.”

  “What, now?” She points at the window. “It’s pitch black dark outside. How will you get there? I’m not letting you out of this house tonight. You can bum on the couch. By the way, I cleaned up your place and emptied out the fridge.”

  Tears of gratitude stream over my face. I really need to put a cork in it, but it’s as if the dam wall has broken.

  “Now, now.” She hugs me tightly. “Tomorrow is another day.”

  * * *

  I work all Sunday in the practice, and after buying a few groceries to stock up Kris’ cupboards, I head out to Berea in a minivan taxi before it gets dark. The agent I called that morning is waiting for me in front of the building when I arrive. I wonder about Jerry, but I already see from the street his windows are dark. When we exit the stairs on my floor, my heart lurches. The door stands ajar.

  “Wait,” the elderly gentleman says, pushing me aside.

  He takes a pistol from the waistband of his pants and nudges the door open with his shoe.

  Chaos greets us. Every single cupboard is open. Broken crockery is scattered over the floor. The mattress is shredded, foam peeling from cuts in the fabric. The cushions have been destroyed, too.

  He lowers the gun. “Is anything valuable gone?”

  I shake my head. There was nothing, except for our kitchen utensils. “Why would anyone do this?”

  “Destruction. They don’t need any other reason.” We study the door together. It’s not broken.

  “The bastards picked the locks,” he says, confirming my deduction.

  As I start sweeping up broken glass and porcelain, the agent inspects the ruined space. He ums and ahs, testing the taps and the button to flush the toilet.

  “Everything looks clean,” he finally says, “but it’s tough selling in Berea these days.”

  My heart sinks, even if I know no one in their right mind will buy a place in the heart of drug valley, and those who’ll risk it here don’t pay rent. They simply take or vandalize.

  “Can you try? I really need the money.”

  “Don’t we all? What about the furniture?”

  “I’m having it picked up by a pawn shop.” Kris gave me the contact. They offered me a few bucks for our belongings.

  “I’ll keep in touch.”

  After he’s gone, I ensure the fridge is empty and have a shower before I switch off the geyser. Tomorrow, I’ll have the electricity and water cut. It’s additional bills I don’t have to worry about. The money will go to Kris to help pay for Charlie’s part of the living expenses. Tonight is the last night I plan on spending here. I never want to come back. When I’m done paying Charlie’s debt, I’ll join
Kris in her practice and get Charlie and me a place of our own.

  Kris promised me a full partnership when I graduate from vet school.

  It takes a good couple of hours to clean up the flat, after which my grumbling tummy reminds me I haven’t eaten since lunch. I drink a glass of water, but the hunger pains won’t go away. There’s nothing in the cupboards. The thieves took all the tinned and dry food that was left. There’s ten bucks in my bag from the allowance Gabriel paid me, but I’ll need it for taxi fare. I turn the broken side of the mattress onto the bedframe and make the bed, trying not to think about food. I double-check that the door is locked. The new door is sturdy and comes with a deadbolt on the inside, which I slide into place. It gives me a small amount of added security.

  Sometime during the night, there’s a thunderstorm. I lie awake, watching the lightning run across the sky and listening to the drops falling on the roof. I long for Charlie and Puff. A selfish part of me wishes they were here so I could hold them in my arms, while the logical part of me is happy that they’re free from this hell. It’s a miracle that I’m here, unbound, that despite my debt, I have a measure of freedom. It gives me hope. Maybe Magda has some fairness inside of her. My thoughts drift to Gabriel as I fall asleep, and my dreams are filled with disturbingly erotic images of his scarred body.

  * * *

  When the alarm on my phone goes off at five, I haven’t slept much, but I can’t risk being late for work. The gangs and criminals are mostly active at night. At this time, most of them will be passed out from alcohol or drug abuse. There’s little chance I’ll run into any unfavorable elements on the street. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I pull on my clean dress. I lock the door, drag the trash bags with our broken crockery downstairs, and hit the streets.

  My trainers fall quietly on the pavement as I dodge the potholes filled with water. The air is fresh after the rain with steam coming off the tar. There’s a quiet after the storm, leaving me peaceful and calm, but my tranquility doesn’t last long.

  A little way down the street, a tall, slender figure emerges from between two buildings.

  Chapter Seven

  Valentina

  My heart lurches in my chest. Maybe he hasn’t seen me. I clutch the bag to my body, searching for a side road to slip into, but it’s too late. The man heads straight for me. I know that step. There’s a slight bend to his knees, and his arms are spread wide. My breathing quickens, and my body breaks out in a sweat, but I lift my chin and give him a defiant stare when he stops in front of me.

  “Well, now,” Tiny says, “if it ain’t Little Red Riding Hood.”

  “I don’t have time for your games.”

  I try to move past him, but he grabs my arm.

  “No time for Tiny? My, my, are you an uppity-ass, now?”

  “Unlike you, I work. Let me go or I’ll be late.”

  “High and mighty, huh? Tiny heard you left. Tiny was watching your flat, waiting for you.”

  His words shake me. I didn’t run into him by chance. He waited for me.

  “Tiny…” I want it to sound like a warning, but there’s a wheeze in my voice.

  “You still owe Tiny. You’ll always owe Tiny. Tiny has waited long enough.”

  He starts dragging me by my arm toward an alley. I kick in my heels and try to pry his fingers open, but his grip is like steel. Panic gets the better of me. This time is different. If he was going to fuck my mouth he would’ve done it in the street, as always.

  “Tiny, no!”

  “You can scream all you like. Nobody gives a fuck.”

  He shoves me down the foul-smelling alley all the way to the end where the exit is blocked by overflowing trashcans and rips the plastic bag from my hands. Peering inside, he takes out my purse, drops it on the ground by his feet, and throws the rest onto the heap of garbage.

  “Come here, white bitch.” He takes a wide stance and feels his way up under my dress, dragging his sweaty palms over my hip and stomach.

  Oh, God, I’m going to be sick. “Don’t.”

  “Or what?”

  My defenselessness infuriates me. The anger boils over. I pull back and punch him on the jaw as hard as I can. For all of one second he’s off balance, but before I’m one step away, he grabs my arm and throws me against the wall. My back hits the bricks with a thud. He slaps me so hard my ears ring.

  “Fucking bitch.”

  I scream and scratch, my fingers going for his eyes while my knee aims for his crotch, but he catches my wrists above my head and presses my body to the wall with his weight.

  “Wanna fight?” he hisses, the repugnant air from his mouth fanning my face.

  “Let me go!”

  He laughs and shifts, holding me secure with one hand to stick the other down the front of my panties. “What have you been doing with this cunt, huh?” His fingers drag over my clit, parting my folds.

  I press my knees together, but it’s no use. He wiggles his fist until it’s lodged between my legs, forcing my thighs open.

  He licks my neck, inviting a shiver of repulse.

  “Tiny’s gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget your name.”

  His upper body crushes me. I almost sigh in relief when he pulls his hand from my underwear, only to cry out in despair when he shoves his pants down over his hips.

  Please, no. Not this.

  He knocks my knuckles into the wall, but I hardly feel the pain. I need to fight. I struggle like mad person, which only makes him laugh. By the time he has his dick out of his underwear and my dress hitched up to my waist, I’m already panting from the exertion of fighting him while he hasn’t even broken into a sweat.

  “Tiny.” The plea falls from my lips while tears stream down my cheeks.

  “Yeah, say my name, bitch.”

  When he rubs up against me, I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. The fear I’ve fought against my whole life finally gets to me, making my throat constrict and my heart pump with furious beats. It’s difficult to breathe. It happens all over again, the man who raped me. I fight the images that play over in my mind, but I’m back in the bar where the men dragged me, on my back on the pool table while the one with the deep voice unzips his fly, and the rest watch. I’m in a zone where I don’t want to be, but I can’t come back. Tiny’s hand is around his flaccid cock, pumping it to life, but I already feel the tear in my body and the dribble of blood running down my legs.

  “Get your hands off her.”

  The voice that spoke isn’t part of the memory. The men cheered him on. They didn’t tell him to remove his hands. They were filming it, laughing as I cried.

  “Now.”

  The deadly calm in the baritone voice is dangerous. It’s like this morning’s quiet before the storm. Tiny freezes, bringing my attention back to him, to the present. He drops his penis and lifts his hands, glancing over his shoulder as he takes a step back.

  “Easy, man,” he says in a thin voice. “You’re interrupting our fun.”

  “Fun?” The tall, broad figure in the dark steps forward, a gun aimed at Tiny.

  His face is in the shadows, but I know it’s him. I know his voice, his shape, his smell, his very presence.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s having fun,” Gabriel says.

  “Whoa.” Tiny laughs nervously. “You’ve got it all wrong, here. Tiny ain’t doing nothing wrong. She’s Tiny’s bitch. Ain’t you, honey? Come on, love.” He jerks his head in Gabriel’s direction. “Tell the man.”

  Gabriel moves so fast, I don’t see it coming. The one minute he’s standing at the entrance of the alley and the next he’s in front of Tiny, hitting him in the stomach with a punch that sends him flying through the air and falling in the gutter water. Gabriel steps over him, pointing the gun at his head.

  “Oh, fuck.” Tiny lifts his hands. “I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t recognize you.”

  Gabriel cocks his neck, cracking a bone. “Apologize.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Louw, really I am.”<
br />
  “To her, not to me, you prick.”

  Tiny licks his lips and glances at me briefly before returning his gaze to the gun. “Sorry.

  Tiny didn’t know you and Mr. Louw are friends.”

  “Friends?” Gabriel utters a cold laugh that vanishes as quickly as it started. “She’s property.”

  Tiny gulps and starts crying. “Fuck, man.”

  I’m shivering in my dress, feeling like I’m stuck in a very bad dream.

  “Valentina.” The firm way in which Gabriel says my name commands my attention. “Walk to the street and wait on the corner.”

  “No,” Tiny says, shaking his dreadlocks, snot running from his nose. “Please, fuck. No.” Gabriel is going to shoot him.

  “Gabriel, please…” I take a step toward him. I need to find a connection with him, to reason with him. “Please, look at me.”

  He doesn’t look away from Tiny. “I won’t tell you again. Leave the alley and wait at the corner.”

  I start crying myself, touching Gabriel’s arm. “He’s not worth it. Don’t.”

  I can’t live with myself knowing I’m the reason for another man’s death. My father is enough.

  Gabriel cups my nape, and drags me closer, pressing me hard against his body without moving his aim from Tiny. He kisses my temple with his gaze fixed on the man on the ground and speaks softly against my ear.

  “Go. Now.”

  In Gabriel’s world, there’s vengeance and violence. Violence can be dissuaded, but never vengeance. I know how it works. If he doesn’t shoot Tiny, Tiny will have to kill him or look over his shoulder forever. I don’t want this for Gabriel. I don’t want him to carry another life on his conscience, especially not because of me.

  “Gabriel––”

  Quincy comes running down the alley. He brakes in his tracks when he takes in the scene.

  Roughly, Gabriel shoves me toward Quincy. “Take her to the car.”

  Quincy doesn’t hesitate. He drags me kicking and screaming down the alley, all the way to the car where Rhett waits. He bundles me into the back and wipes a hand over his face. Rhett gives me a grim look in the rearview mirror. I huddle in the corner, unable to control my shaking. I wait for a shot to go off, but hear nothing. Gabriel would use a silencer. A few seconds later, he exists the alley, adjusting his cuffs and walking with brisk strides to the car, my purse in his hands.