SHELTER

by Boston, Claire

  Chapter 16

  Jeremy turned into his driveway, relief oozing from his pores. Talk about a shit day. He needed a cold beer and to forget about everything.

  After leaving the hospital, he’d returned to the caravan park and finished his work there. Ollie had called him around midday to tell him Moira was out of surgery and doing well. He’d invited Jeremy to visit, but Jeremy didn’t have the energy to face his mother again today. He’d go tomorrow when he hoped they would be back at work.

  Even after thirteen years they hadn’t forgiven him. He used to dream the next time he saw his family they would welcome him back, apologise for abandoning him. Today proved it wasn’t going to happen – not with his mother and Heather at least.

  He groaned and parked his truck. The wind blew straight off the Antarctic tonight, so he pulled his jacket tighter around him as he headed inside. “Miri?”

  No answer.

  He’d sent her a message when he’d left the hospital, but she hadn’t replied.

  The fire in the pot belly was almost out and Fetch lay in his bed, snoring his head off. Great guard dog. Jeremy checked the house, but Zamira wasn’t there. He stoked the fire, let Fetch out to relieve himself and went into the kitchen. He should think about dinner, but he wasn’t hungry.

  The house felt so different tonight. Empty. He frowned. And clean.

  Had Zamira tidied up?

  He wandered into the laundry and discovered his washing machine full of wet clothes. She must have put it on before Border Force called. He set the machine on a rinse cycle and walked back into the living room, but Zamira didn’t magically appear. How had he got so used to her being here? He missed her.

  What would it be like when she left? Instead of thinking about it, he dialled her number.

  “Jeremy, are you already home?”

  “Yeah. Where are you?”

  She sighed. “I’ve finished translating for today. I’m walking back to your place.”

  It was freezing outside. “Via the road?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll come and get you.” He hung up before she could protest. He grabbed his ute keys and hurried outside. The wind was definitely fierce, and the light was fading.

  He reached the road and a car drove towards him, the headlights bright. It was going way too fast. The car’s lights highlighted Zamira hurrying through Henk’s gate, her head down, arms wrapped around her waist.

  The car swerved, heading straight for Zamira.

  His heart lurched. No!

  Zamira turned, saw the car. She leapt towards the one tree on the side of the drive.

  The car swerved away and passed Jeremy. Grey sedan, two inside — the driver and someone in the back seat. Too dark to see their faces after the glare of the headlights.

  Jeremy turned into Henk’s drive, jumped out of the car and ran to where Zamira was sprawled on the ground, unmoving. “Miri!”

  She groaned as she sat up. “Ow.” She brushed off her hands and relief filled him.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Did you see who it was?”

  “No.” He helped her to her feet, held her close for a moment, his heart still thumping hard in his chest. “Shit, that scared the life out of me.”

  “Me too. Do you think the driver was drunk?”

  He shook his head, wrapped his arm around her waist and led her over to his ute. “We’d better tell Agent Franklin what happened.”

  She gasped. “Were they aiming for me?”

  “Looked that way.” He helped her into the passenger side and then drove down to Henk’s house. A uniformed man met them at the front door.

  “Did you forget something, Zamira?” the man asked.

  She shook her head. “Someone just tried to run me over, Adnan.”

  Adnan’s eyes widened and he gestured them in. “You’d better talk to Franklin.”

  They were led into Henk’s lounge room where the agent was going through a mound of paperwork. Border Force had taken over the house. Franklin glanced up. “What happened?”

  “Someone tried to run Zamira over,” Adnan said.

  Franklin gestured for them to sit and Zamira told her what had happened. Something didn’t add up. Who would want to hurt Zamira?

  “It has to be Henk,” Jeremy said.

  “Or it could have been an accident.”

  He shook his head. “No, they swerved deliberately. My neighbours would have stopped if it was an accident. This road isn’t a throughway to anything. You’re only on it if you live here or are visiting someone.”

  “Who lives on the other side?” Franklin asked.

  “Alyse Wilson and her partner Mark,” he said. “There’s plenty of bush on her property. Henk or someone he works with could have been hiding in there.” It wasn’t too far to walk from the crash site.

  “And risk getting caught?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe they left something behind.”

  Franklin got her phone out. “What did the car look like?”

  He told her and she phoned it in. When she hung up she said, “Zamira is staying with you tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “Stay alert. This might have been opportunistic and they won’t bother her again.”

  “Why go after her at all?”

  “If it is Henk, then he might blame the raid on her. She was here before we were and now she’s helping us.”

  Jeremy swore and Zamira played with her necklace. “I’ll take care of her.” The words resonated with him as he helped Zamira to her feet. Nothing could happen to her. He cared for her too much. It didn’t matter if she was leaving him. He had to protect her.

  They drove in silence back to his place and as they walked up to the back door, Zamira threw her arms around him. “Thank you.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her. “You’re all right. You’ll be safe with me.”

  She clung to him, her body shaking and he picked her up, carried her inside to the couch and carefully lowered them both onto it, so she sat straddling him. He brushed her hair off her face, kissed her forehead.

  She raised her head and tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m OK. It’s been a hard day, but you’ve had it worse than me. How’s Moira?”

  He’d prefer to comfort Zamira than think of that. “Stable. She broke her pelvis and ruptured her spleen but she’ll be fine.”

  “Good. I’m sorry I didn’t come to the hospital. I was the only one who could translate and we needed to know what happened to Annisa.”

  “Wasn’t she there?”

  “No. One of the migrants said Henk and another man took her away yesterday.”

  Shit. That wasn’t good. “Do you know where?”

  She shook her head. “Does Henk have another place?”

  “Not that I know of.” He used his thumb to wipe away her tears before pressing a kiss to her mouth. “Word will have spread that his place was raided. If anyone knows something, they’ll come forward.”

  She snuggled into him, warm and minty and his heart swelled. “Why don’t you have a shower while I make dinner?” He could find the energy for her and it would help him forget about his day.

  She glanced up at him. “Will you shower with me?”

  His body hardened. “Ah, you probably want to have a soak.” And he wanted to bury himself inside of her.

  Zamira shook her head. “No. What I want right now is to be with you.”

  He wouldn’t deny her anything. He could keep his urges under control. “Then let’s go.”

  She squealed as he lifted her up and carried her down the hallway to his bathroom.

  ***

  After they’d showered, Jeremy cooked Zamira dinner — if you could call heating up tomato soup from a can cooking. She sat at the kitchen bench watching him.

  “Did you get any information from the migrants?” Jeremy asked.

  She nodded. “Henk should go to jail.�
��

  “And no one could tell you where he took Annisa?” He put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster.

  “No. Franklin showed the workers the driver’s licence photo of the man who died in the crash. He was the one who’d taken Annisa.”

  “Crap.” He hadn’t seen who the dead man was, had been too distracted to ask Lawrence if it was someone they knew.

  He buttered the toast and then dished up the soup, and they sat at the table. “What was it like translating for them?”

  She beamed. “Fantastic. I felt useful and Adnan actually respected me.”

  “I’m glad. Isn’t this what you want to do?” Maybe this would help her transition to the job she wanted – maybe even find one in Western Australia. He crunched into his toast. Is that what he wanted — for her to stay?

  She broke off a piece of toast and slipped it to Fetch who’d come to sit by the table. It warmed his heart, softened his insides.

  He liked having company… he liked having Zamira with him.

  She glanced up and flushed at being caught. “He looked hungry.”

  “He always is.”

  Her expression grew sombre. “So, tell me… did you see your mother?”

  The warmth fled his body. “Yes.” He stared at his bowl, his teeth clenched.

  She hesitated and then asked, “How did it go?”

  “Not great.” He looked at her. “She thought I must have been at fault, caused the crash.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “Did you set her straight?”

  “Moira’s fiancé, Ollie covered for me. Didn’t tell them Moira was driving to meet me.” He swirled his spoon around his soup.

  “That doesn’t mean it was your fault.”

  “She wouldn’t have been on the road if I hadn’t agreed to meet her.”

  “And the car wouldn’t have been speeding if Border Force hadn’t raided Henk’s property,” she shot back. “This isn’t your fault.”

  It felt like it.

  “Jeremy.”

  He sighed. “I know.”

  Zamira studied him before gathering their empty bowls and carrying them through to the kitchen. When she returned, she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  He couldn’t let it matter. She was leaving on Sunday. “You had your own stuff to deal with.” He got to his feet. “I’m used to attending car crashes. I’m just glad she didn’t die.”

  Zamira gasped. “But someone did. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t have to deal with him.” But suddenly memories of past crashes hit him like an out of control strobe light. The blood, the crumpled cars, the screams and moans, the tears. Moira’s face replaced the countless others he’d seen, her eyes wide and unseeing. He shuddered and stumbled over to the couch.

  “Jeremy?” She sat down next to him, her hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”

  His chest was tight, it was hard to breathe. He gasped for air, as pain pummelled him.

  “Jeremy!” Zamira shook him and some of her panic pierced his mind.

  He had to get control.

  He gripped her hands, saw the concern in her eyes. Cupped her face, needing to touch her. The tightness eased, his breath slowed as the images faded.

  But the pain of those pictures remained and tears flooded his eyes.

  “I’m here for you, Jeremy.” She kissed him gently. “What do you need from me?”

  Her eyes grounded him, keeping the agony from taking over.

  He wanted to get lost in her, to taste her, to forget all the memories haunting him. He dragged her closer, kissed her, all the desperation and pain pouring out, and she kissed him back. He ran his hands under her top, caressing her soft, smooth skin and needed more. He broke the kiss, ripped her jumper up and off.

  Her eyes were dark as she undid her bra, threw it on the floor and he pulled her towards him again, shifting so she could lay on the couch beneath him.

  Then he covered her body with his, kissing her sweet lips and sliding lower so he could lick her breasts. She moaned, arching up towards him. He was so hard he could cut diamond.

  Zamira clutched at his jumper, tugging it towards her and he ripped it off and then slid off his pants. He needed her desperately, had to forget everything but her. She was his salvation.

  He undid her pants, slid his hand to her core and she was hot and wet, waiting for him.

  “Please, Jeremy. Now.”

  He tugged her pants down, fought to get them off and then thrust deep inside her.

  “Yes.” Her words echoed everything in his mind. She was perfect, this was perfect, he needed her again and again. He moved, the sensation sending tingles throughout his body as he focused on her. He thrust, kissing her neck, her chin, her mouth, and her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer.

  She drove him wild and he thrust faster, responding to the core need, his core desire deep within him.

  She screamed his name as she came, her head thrown back, her body arching, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. With a final thrust, his world exploded.

  ***

  Slowly Jeremy’s senses returned. Zamira’s warm body under him and the wooden support of the couch base dug into his knee. He’d just had sex with Zamira like some kind of crazed animal. No finesse, no thought for her satisfaction, no condom.

  Fuck.

  He climbed off her and reached for his pants, guilt rushing through him. “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t bear to look at her.

  She grabbed his arm, and when he met her gaze, she wore a satisfied smile. “I’m not. That was amazing.”

  Her words slowed the guilt. “I was too rough. We didn’t use a condom…”

  She sat up, tugged him back down to the couch. “You weren’t rough.” She ran her hand through his hair and he leaned into her. “I wanted this as much as you did.” She kissed him and caressed his beard. “And as for the condom, I’m on the pill so as long as you’re clear, we’re fine.”

  “I am.” He’d never lost his mind like that before. Why wasn’t she running?

  “Then I’d say we just had incredible sex.” Zamira got to her feet, pulled him up. “Which is a fantastic way to end such an awful day.” She kissed him again. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.”

  He followed her, not quite comprehending. He’d used her to forget about his pain. Shouldn’t she have a problem with that? Or was she really that understanding, that amazing? Her bottom jiggled nicely as she walked down the hallway to his bedroom, distracting him. The one sock she still wore featured The Hulk. He smiled. He loved everything about her.

  His footsteps faltered. Loved?

  She was going back to Melbourne on Sunday. He couldn’t possibly love her.

  “I won’t be a second.” She let go of his hand as she went into the bathroom and closed the door. He stared after her for a long moment before he shook his head. It must be the sex talking. His defences were low.

  After he cleaned himself, he went into his bedroom. The bed was made and the floor clear.

  He turned as she walked back in. “Did you clean up?”

  She screwed up her nose. “Yes, I hope you don’t mind. It was either clean or drive myself crazy wondering if you were all right.”

  He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Zamira got into bed, patted the place next to her and he lay down. “Your sister had stood you up and then you had to go to a traffic accident. I was worried.”

  Her concern soothed him. He pulled her closer. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’m tough.”

  She laughed. “You’re a marshmallow. You might look tough on the outside,” she fondled his beard. “But you’re all soft on the inside.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”

  Her words lifted his spirits. “What else do you like about me, aside from my ruggedly handsome good looks
?”

  Zamira gazed into his eyes. “There’re too many things to list.”

  His heart expanded. Maybe this could somehow last past Sunday.

  She yawned, covering her mouth. “Sorry. It seems being thoroughly satisfied makes me sleepy.” She winked and then tucked herself into his side. He wrapped his arm around her, loving her warmth curled into him.

  And for the first time since he could remember, he fell asleep immediately.

  Chapter 17

  Jeremy strolled along the white sandy beach, his eyes on Zamira in the water, her bikini top only just covering her enough for decency’s sake — a pity. She smiled, gesturing him towards her with the smallest crook of her finger. Hell yes. As he moved towards the ocean, the scent of smoke tickled his nostrils. He frowned. There shouldn’t be any fire near the beach in summer. He wavered between turning to check and not wanting to lose focus on the gorgeous woman in front of him. He sniffed, the smell stronger this time, but still his feet moved towards the water. As he touched the waves, the scene changed, morphing into a fire and rescue training session.

  Part of his mind swore as he fought to return to Zamira, but the scent of smoke wouldn’t leave him. He struggled to consciousness, the pitch of night telling him it was way before morning. Running a hand over his face and beard, he sat up, found Zamira in bed next to him, sound asleep, but the smoke lingered.

  He climbed out of bed and went to his window. His breath hitched and he swore. Smoke poured out of the front door of his shed, and orange flames lit up the windows. He spun, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. “Zamira!” He shook her awake and dialled triple zero.

  “What’s wrong?” She sat up as he switched on the light.

  “The shed’s on fire.” He told the dispatcher his address and then handed her his phone. “Get dressed. Put Fetch in the ute and move it away from the shed.” If he was quick, the fire shouldn’t spread, but he didn’t want to risk it. Where was his gear?

  Zamira was already dressing so he ran down the hallway to the laundry and pulled his gear on. He charged out of the house, straight to his generator and started it. Then he uncurled the fire hose.

  Grey smoke billowed out the front door and inside was well alight. Pain hit him. Everything he had would be destroyed. He shut down his emotions and focused. What had started it? He hadn’t been inside all day. Nothing could have still been smouldering, and nothing would automatically combust.