by Louise Hall
“Oh,” Kian watched as relief washed over her beautiful features. Had she suspected that he hadn’t been working today?
“What’s that?” Cate asked as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and she saw the bruise marking his abdomen. “Are you OK?”
She reached out to touch him but Kian intercepted her fingers. “It’s fine, honestly Cate. After we’d sorted out the contract, I stopped by the gym for a couple of hours.”
He stripped down to just his boxers and guided Cate back down onto the bed. “It’s nothing, angel. I promise,” He slid a hand underneath the back of her neck and brushed his lips back and forth across hers, savouring her sweetness.
“I…” He couldn’t bear to see the unshed tears shimmering in her black eyes.
“Hush,” Kian whispered softly. “It’s OK. Everything’s OK.”
He wasn’t lying because here in the sanctuary of their bedroom, it was OK. When he could bathe in the warmth and light that Cate’s body provided, his demons couldn’t touch him.
She writhed underneath him, her hips searching for the hard jut of his erection.
“What do you want, angel?” Kian asked. Underneath her nightgown, her breasts rose and fell, her tightly knotted nipples pushing against the thin cotton. He circled his thumb around one of the nubs, delighting in the noise that came from the back of her throat.
“I want you,” Cate whimpered, threading her fingers through his dark hair.
Kian traced his hand slowly down to the hem of her nightgown. She trembled so sweetly beneath his fingertips. He dragged it upwards, baring her soft thighs.
“Please.” Oh, how he loved hearing her beg. The nightgown bunched up around her waist, exposing her white, lace panties.
Kian wriggled down the bed until he was kneeling above her thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly began to peel them down, exposing her inch by tantalising inch.
The strip of black hair looked so stark against her pale skin. He slid his hands up her thighs, opening her up to his intense gaze. Cate flung an arm across her face, covering her eyes.
He parted her with his thumbs. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you, angel?”
“Yes,” Cate cried as he blew across her most intimate flesh.
“It’s just for me, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She tried to move her hips but his hands gripped her thighs, holding her still.
If Cate, who was so pure and good, wanted him so desperately then maybe he wasn’t truly beyond redemption.
He eased a finger inside her silken warmth. “Kian,” she cried out, her torso arching up off the mattress. When he pulled out, his finger was dripping with her juices. He pushed in again, feeling her squeeze him even more tightly. There was no doubting how much she desired him. The undisputable evidence glistened on her inner thighs, coated his fingers and stained the sheets beneath them.
He teased and stroked until she was almost yanking his hair out. He brushed his thumb over her engorged clit and he felt her stiffen beneath him. Her inner walls clamped down so tightly on his finger he wasn’t certain if she was trying to push him out or never let him go. Her torso rose up off the bed like a perfect wave, her breasts straining against the front of her damp nightgown and when it crested, she shivered and shook, crying out until her throat was scratched and sore.
Afterwards, as she came down, Kian gathered her tired, spent body in his arms. He cursed the nightgown which prevented her from being fully bared to him but he didn’t want to let go of her for even the few seconds it would take to remove it. He wanted to feel everything; every one of her harsh, shaky breaths, every beat of her big, beautiful heart. He wanted to lap up every last drop of sweat which trickled down the side of her neck. He needed her to cleanse him, to take away the blackness which had polluted his soul ever since he’d received that phone call.
“I need you to fix me, angel,” Kian mouthed quietly so she wouldn’t hear him.
Friday February 15th
After leaving the house, Kian drove into the city, parked the Tank in the underground car park at the office and booked himself a room at one of the cheap hotels nearby.
When he got to his hotel room, he switched on all the lights before he pulled the curtains across. He double-checked that the door was securely locked and then dumped the contents of the Walgreens carrier bag out on the pale-green satin runner at the end of the bed. He’d bought shower gel, a disposable razor and a six-pack of beer.
He stripped off his clothes, dumped them on the floor and went into the small bathroom. When the shower was as hot as it could possibly get, he stepped inside the cubicle. The boiling water felt like razor blades hacking at his skin but he relished it. He washed and scrubbed at his skin until he’d used up almost the full bottle of shower gel and there was blood caked under his fingernails.
“If I don’t know why you reacted the way you did, how can I protect myself and the children?”
He almost wanted to laugh; it was the furthest thing possible from being humorous. It didn’t matter how much he’d tried to fight it over the years, with those words, his transformation had been complete. So many times he’d got down on his hands and knees and checked under his children’s beds for monsters and now he was the monster they needed protecting from.
He walked into the bedroom and flung back the thin, scratchy sheets. He reached for the remote control and flipped through the channels until he found MTV and then he turned the volume up just loud enough that he wouldn’t get complaints from the other guests but he couldn’t hear himself fucking think. He grabbed one of the cans of beer and snapped it open. He gulped it down so fast; it was like he’d been dying of thirst. He continued until he’d finished each of the six cans. The room began to spin, swirling and dancing around in front of his eyes.
Kian closed his eyes and even though he wasn’t religious – he only sporadically went to church because it was important to Cate – he prayed to whichever God was up there that he’d wake up tomorrow morning and this would all just be a fucking nightmare.
Monday February 18th
“Mum, where’s Dad?”
Cate hadn’t heard from Kian since he’d left the house on Friday afternoon. She’d tried calling him so many times but every damn time she’d got his voicemail.
She wanted so badly to apologise. He’d been angry with himself for hurting her and she’d only made it worse by saying that she needed to protect the children from him. She knew deep down that he would never hurt them.
“I told you, sweetheart,” Cate lifted up the patchwork quilt and gestured for Lola to sit down next to her on the sofa. “He’s gone to L.A. for a couple of days on a business trip.”
“I know that’s what you said,” Lola chewed on her bottom lip, “but I don’t think that’s really where he is.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Dad goes away on business trips, he always calls us to say goodnight. He hasn’t called us once while he’s been away this time.”
“He’s been in the desert,” Cate lied, “they don’t have very good cell-phone coverage out there.”
“Dad said once that the easiest way to make money is to play poker against you because he can always tell when you’re not being honest with him.”
“Sweetheart,” Cate gave her daughter a hug. “I promise you that even if your dad can’t come home tonight, he’ll definitely call you to say goodnight, OK?”
“You didn’t answer my question, Mum.”
“I can’t right now, Lo.”
Lola looked as if she was trying really hard not to cry. “Hey,” Cate said softly, swallowing the lump at the back of her throat. “Listen to me. Everything’s going to be OK.”
“Did Dad kiss somebody else?” Lola panicked. “Are you going to get a divorce?”
“No,” Cate shook her head quickly. When Lola was three, she and Kian had separated for six months after Kian had cheated on her with one of his sister’s friends. She absolutely h
ated that her daughter still remembered that time. She’d tried so hard to shield her from it. “We’re not getting a divorce, I promise. Your dad’s just gone away for a couple of days, that’s all.”
Lola pulled back, “are you sad again?” She looked like she was building up to a panic attack. “Is that why you didn’t take Mats and Sierra to school on Friday? Because I asked Dad and he said you were just tired but I don’t know if I should believe him.”
Cate gently rubbed her daughter’s back. “There’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about, sweetie. I’m fine, I promise you. I was only sad before because my hormones got all mixed up because I was pregnant.”
She was concerned that Lola’s panic attack seemed to be escalating really fast: her skin was red and blotchy and her breathing sounded really raspy. She squeezed her hands, “I need for you to try and breathe with me, OK?”
“I can’t breathe…” Lola looked up at her and Cate could see the fear in her daughter’s big, black eyes.
“It’s OK,” Cate said softly. “You’ve just got yourself all worked up, that’s all. Watch what I’m doing and see if you can do it too, OK?”
Cate exaggerated her breathing so that Lola could watch the ins and outs of her chest and try to match the rhythm.
“That’s good,” she relaxed as Lola’s breathing gently began to slow down.
“I was only nineteen when you were born,” Cate smiled, tucking her daughter into her side. She thought about the first time she’d ever seen Lola. The birth had been really traumatic – she’d collapsed and had to have an emergency C-section - and so she’d had to stay in bed and they’d wheeled Lola’s cot into her hospital room. She’d looked so unbelievably tiny.
She remembered when they’d placed Lola in Kian’s arms and even though he was this big, tough sportsman, he was just completely undone by the tiny, little bundle in his arms. He held her as if she was the most precious thing in the universe; he was awestruck by her cute, button nose and her tiny fingers and toes.
“In some ways, I feel like you and I, we grew up together. With you, I learned how to be a mum and how to be a grown-up. But I wasn’t perfect. I tried to protect you as best I could but I know that you’ve seen some really grown-up things that I wish you hadn’t, like when your dad and I were separated for those months or when I was really sad when I was pregnant with your sister.”
Lola squeezed Cate’s hand, “it’s OK, Mum.”
“No, it’s not OK because you seem to think that it’s your job to worry about your dad and me. I love that you’ve got such a big heart, Lo but we’re your parents. I don’t want you to think that if I have a lie-in one morning or if your dad has to go away for a couple of days that it’s the end of the world because it’s really not. It’s our job to worry about you not the other way around. You just keep being the same awesome kid you’ve always been. Can you do that for me?”
“I guess.”
She and Nate usually shared school run duties with Layla, Luke’s nanny but Cate could tell that Lola was still feeling anxious – she didn’t want to catch the bus with Luke – so Cate said that she’d take them instead.
When she got home, she tried calling Kian’s cell-phone again but it went straight to voicemail.
“Cate?” Nate tapped on the car window, “are you OK?”
She quickly tried to compose herself, “no, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
“I don’t mean to pry but Kian didn’t come home again last night?”
“He’s in L.A. for business,” Cate repeated the same lie she’d told the children. “It’s no big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
Cate rubbed her eyes, “yeah. Listen, I’d better go. I’ve got a few errands to run in the city.”
She’d tried giving Kian space but that clearly wasn’t working since he couldn’t even be bothered to text her to let her know that he wasn’t slumped in a gutter somewhere. It was time to confront him. She might not know where he’d spent the last three nights but at least she could guarantee that on a Monday morning he’d be at the office.
When she got there, Ben and Anna were stood in front of Anna’s desk. “Hi,” Cate looked across at Kian’s office, his door was open but she could see that it was empty.
“Hey sis,” Ben smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “yeah, Kian texted me last night and said he wouldn’t be in the office today because you were sick.”
“Are you OK?” Ben put his hand on her arm to steady her.
“I, um… I’m still not feeling too good actually,” she rubbed her tummy. What the heck had happened? “I’m just going to use the restroom.”
When she was out of sight of Ben, she took the small service elevator down to the underground car park. She found the Tank parked in its usual space. “Where are you?” Cate murmured. She wasn’t just worried now, she was really freaking terrified.
She pulled out her phone and opened up the tracking app Kian had installed for her a couple of months ago. If he still had his phone with him, Kian wasn’t too far from the office. It looked like he was only a couple of streets away.
She opened up Google maps to try and work out where he might be.
They were building a new mini-mall on that particular street and the only business currently in operation was a slightly grubby-looking chain hotel.
In a daze, Cate walked the couple of blocks to where the hotel was located. As she watched, a redhead in a scandalously short, leather skirt exited the building. The door hadn’t even shut behind her when Kian followed her out of the hotel, he handed the redhead her purse and she kissed his cheek.
“Is this yours, love?” Kian asked as he handed the redhead the purse she’d left behind on the threadbare green velvet chair in the dimly lit lobby.
“Ugh, thank you so much,” she took the purse from him and kissed his cheek. “I would have been in real trouble if I’d lost that.” She gave him the onceover and realised that although his suit was all crumpled from being on the floor all night, it was obviously expensive. The dollar signs lit up in her eyes. “How can I repay you, baby,” she purred, stroking his arm.
Kian shrugged her away, “it’s no problem.”
His phone beeped from inside his jacket pocket. He read the text; it was from Detective Light. He had a couple more questions for him. Kian wanted to punch his fist through the nearest brick wall. Why couldn’t the nosy bastard just leave him the fuck alone?
After another meeting with Detective Light, Kian needed to get drunk. He didn’t feel like spending another night in an empty hotel room but he couldn’t go home and he couldn’t go back to the office either. Fucking hell, he’d worked so hard to earn his brother-in-law’s respect, to prove to him that he was more than just a stupid footballer. If Ben ever found out what had happened, it would all be for nothing, he would look at Kian differently. They all would.
He slid onto a barstool and ordered a drink. The bar wasn’t very busy so he was left alone.
His phone rang; it was ‘DO NOT ANSWER’ again. He stabbed the button to switch it off but he was drunk and hit the button to answer instead.
“What do you want?” Kian snarled.
“Have the cops talked to you yet?”
Kian’s chest puffed up with rage, “it was you that fucking gave them my name, wasn’t it?”
“I’m sorry.” Fucking hell, Richmond sounded like he was about to cry but Kian didn’t give a shit. “You’re not the only one it affected, you know?”
“Shut up,” Kian gritted his teeth, “just shut the fuck up. I mean it; don’t say another fucking word to me.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder; the burly, heavily tatted-up bouncer was trying to get him to leave. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Kian grunted, shrugging him off.
“Don’t make a scene,” the bouncer said. “It’s time for you to go home, mate.”
The bouncer put a hand on his shoulder again; he was
still trying to manhandle Kian towards the front door. “I told you not to fucking touch me.” He shoved the bouncer backwards and he stumbled into one of the nearby tables, knocking over a round of drinks.
“Right, that’s it,” a second guy appeared from the back office and he was even bigger. He picked Kian up by his shirt collar and dragged him into the alleyway at the back of the bar. While Kian lay on the ground, the second guy kicked him repeatedly in the ribs, “stay away from my bar, you useless piece of shit.”
Eamon’s Funeral
17 Years Ago
“You useless piece of shit.”
The words echoed around his head as he stood in the pouring rain with his hands pressed against Ben’s front door. Everything that was good in the world was sat on the other side of that door crying her heart out and it was all his fault. The words kept repeating until he wasn’t sure if it was him or somebody else saying them.
He’d buried his dad earlier that day; he’d said his final goodbyes to the man who’d given him everything he thought he should want and nothing he’d actually wanted all at the same time. Since that awful moment in the hospital waiting room, with it’s strip lighting, bad coffee and the pervading scent of bleach, when the doctor had apologised and said that they’d done everything they could, he’d tried so hard to stay strong for his mum and Sinead.
But even the fact that it was his dad’s funeral hadn’t been enough to keep away the vultures that surrounded professional footballers.
He stepped out of the church into the bright sunshine and the solitude of mourning was interrupted by flashes and shouts as photographers jostled to get the best photos of the famous guests who’d gathered to pay their respects to Eamon Warner.
Security guards tried to move them away from the front entrance but unlike the other funeralgoers who could slip into cars with blacked-out windows and disappear, he had to stand at the front door with his mum and sister and thank everybody for attending the funeral.
