by Sofia Aves
“What the hell?” Cal glared at both of us as I huddled in the safety of Theodore Black’s embrace.
“Settle down, man. She’ll be fine.” Teddy looked down at me with kind eyes unsuited to his rough face. His tone softened as he looked at me, “Right?”
I nodded, unable to speak. Then the world spun around me, and I shook my head.
“Breathe, girl. Remember, he’s not here. We are. He can’t hurt you. He’ll never hurt you. Not now, not ever.”
I kept nodding; sure I looked like a bobblehead doll. Cal stared between us, running a hand over his head.
“Black’s your minder.”
I sat on my lounge, staring around at the mess that had been my living area. Whoever had been in my house had destroyed most of my furniture. Shards of Gran’s china and crystal littered the carpet, pillows sad and limp, their stuffing discarded on the furniture — what little that hadn’t been torn apart.
Cal and Teddy’s voices reached me in soft murmurs from the kitchen, while I assessed the damage to my home. I rose to begin the clean-up as Cal emerged.
“Don’t touch anything.” He passed me a cup of tea, fingers sliding around my elbow, leading me back to the front door. “I saw a swing under that big tree in the front yard. Can we talk while Black sorts a crew out to look at your house?”
“What for?” Cal frowned at my question, fumbling around the doorway for an outdoor light switch. I leaned past him, flicking it on. The floodlight illuminated my entire front yard. Some of the tightness in my chest released as the shadows scampered away. I brushed against Cal and started, not liking how the intimate contact made me feel. What had he asked? “Why would they need to look at my house, I mean.”
“Fingerprints, any evidence or traces the intruders might have left behind.”
My stomach clenched, a shiver passing through me.
“You think there was more than one?”
“Yeah.” His hands slipped around my waist, lifting me onto the swing. I started at the contact, wriggling out of his grip quickly. I curled numb fingers around the old ropes as he began to pace in front of me. “Mila, can you start from the beginning? I need to know everything you do. What’s been going on, anything different. Has he contacted you? Approached you, anything at all?”
I watched him pace, hands visibly shaking though he tried to hide it by clenching his fists. My heart rate settled. Suddenly, I wasn’t as panicked; I knew what I needed to do. I knew because I was looking at myself five years ago, pacing and desperate to get the man out of my head who wouldn’t leave.
I patted the seat beside me.
“Cal, sit down.” He glared at me, mouth open to argue. I raised my eyebrows. “Sit with me. Please.”
He frowned when I extended my hand, making as though to rise. He paused for a moment, as though thinking the better of it, then shook his head. Ignoring my hand, he lowered himself onto the swing gently, as though not trusting it to hold both of us. I grinned inwardly; if the swing held Teddy, it would definitely hold Cal.
I took his hand in mine. He flinched at the contact, fingers stiffening, then relaxing. I held my breath, but he didn’t pull away, just looked at me, waiting. I held on, letting him settle, his fingers tightening around my hand to the point it was painful, but I didn’t move. He needed this, just as I had. When his breathing slowed, and his grip became gentle, I nodded.
“Tell me.”
Cal looked at me with wide eyes, clenching my hand as he forced the words out.
“I’ve been hunting Wayde Logan for five years. And I’ve failed.”
CHAPTER NINE
CAL
Everything came out — Wayde’s escape from Central to right through to every damned bank I’d been at too late ever since. It was like rewatching an old movie you knew had a shitty ending. The bad guy was never supposed to get away; justice was meant to be served.
I leaned forward, elbows planted on my knees, glaring at the ground. I was an absolute idiot for not trusting her, for not knowing what my team was doing. And I’d scared the shit out of Mila.
Though she was taking this well — I risked a sideways glance. Her face was hidden in the shadows. Pale, but calm. I kept waiting for the storm to break. She sipped her tea, mug straight in still hands. That inner strength I’d known was there. Just as she’d seemed to know how broken I was, recognised it in herself, perhaps.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. It was…”
She nodded, staring back toward the house. Faint, red marks decorated her arms where I’d grabbed her. It hit me like a kick in the guts. Sickened, I reached over to her, to apologise, hug her. Anything. She flinched away, slowly bringing her eyes up to meet mine.
“Cal– it’s all mixed up. In my head.” She took a breath, knuckles white around her mug, and started again. “I’ve been terrified of him for so–so long. And now, looking back at who you were then, the way you behaved…”
She trailed off, my heart clenching at her omission. I blinked, and suddenly I was back in the bank, hands on the rail of Black’s old Jeep, mouthing off instead of doing my job. Being a drama queen, thinking I was all that. I’d completely screwed up, and Logan had gotten away. Which was why we were here now.
This is my fault.
Nauseated with having to live in my own skin, I floundered for something to say that might make this right. It didn’t matter that I’d managed to recover my career, with a huge dollop of Liam’s help, and it wasn’t just that I’d let Logan escape. I stared at Mila, fear still crinkling the edges of her eyes. She would be so much safer if I’d never come near her, but now, I didn’t want to leave. She swallowed, her eyes on mine, as though she couldn’t look away.
I knew that look, had seen it often in victims who’d experienced violence at the hands of some arrogant fuck, often one they knew, and trusted. I’d done this. She wasn’t safe with me. I nodded and rose, the swing moving gently beneath me.
“I’ll get your house sorted as fast as I can, so you can get some rest.”
Mila didn’t speak, just watched me. My chest closed up. I nodded curtly to her and walked away.
It was all I could manage without falling onto my knees and begging for her forgiveness.
By the time we’d collected what little evidence there was to find — if you could even call a few scraps with partial prints evidence — Danny and Micah had arrived. The house was enormous compared to my stunted apartment, but we managed to get most of it organised, amassing garbage bags full of broken things to trawl through later, just in case.
Micah collected the lot, tossing them into the back of his enormous, blue truck. The thing was bigger than mine — he used it for monster truck competitions — and covered with sponsorship logos. But, it was road legal. Just.
Black stood at the edge of the porch, a sentinel staring into the darkness beyond the reach of the floodlight. I wanted to do one last walk through, secure the place myself, though I suspected the intruders were long gone. It wasn’t likely they would return tonight, not with us trawling through the scene, but I didn’t want to leave Mila unprotected.
Black turned hard eyes on me, and suddenly I was back in the station after screwing up Central. That mistake haunted me. I couldn’t help the sneer that ran through my chest, knocking him with my shoulder as I stepped past, though it barely moved him. The old bastard was wired with solid muscle.
“Above and beyond, right, brother.”
Black followed me inside, closing the door behind us.
“Man, I get you’re pissed with me, but I’ve spent five fucking years looking after that girl.”
“Looking after her? Or screwing her?” I couldn't keep the derision out of my voice.
Black levelled a cold glare my way.
“I’ve taken that girl to counselling every month, sat through meditation classes, let her paint portraits of me so she could have someone to practice on when she was too afraid to leave the house. She is completely alone. Perfect tar
get for an asshole like you to come in and take advantage. That girl is like my sister.”
I snorted, folding my arms, but he wasn’t finished.
“I’ve tried to encourage her to go out, but she can’t trust anyone. You attacking her like that? She’ll take fucking forever to forget tonight. Put your ego down man, and see the damage you’ve caused with this. Yeah, I wanna catch him too, but not at the expense of the people we’re meant to protect.”
I raised my hands, stepping back. It was the longest speech I’d ever heard Black make, and every word rang true. I let out a long breath.
“You’re right. I was an asshole. Now she’s terrified of me.” I swallowed hard, clenching my fists to do something — anything. Everything seemed so far out of my control. I turned away, disgusted with myself.
You’re a fuck up, Dane. Same as you always were. A huge hand landed on my shoulder, breaking me out of my pity party.
“You wanna fix this? Tell her what she means to you. Show her she can trust you.”
I shrugged his hand off, fighting back the tears prickling the corners of my eyes.
“I don’t know how.”
Taking one last look through the house, I headed out to the back patio. Canvases scattered the wide space, a cupboard where they must have been stored busted open. I sighed, stacking them in a neat pile. If Mila saw her work so carelessly strewn about she’d be heartbroken. When I reached the ones farthest away from the cupboard, I stopped. The lines on these canvases weren’t painted, they were sketched in graphite. Light, basic and unadorned, but the face was easy to recognise.
It was mine.
She’d drawn me angled, looking away from her. Relaxed and smiling, something I never saw in myself. From our first date, perhaps? The one beneath was more detailed, still me but sporting the dreads from the day I’d wrecked her car. My heart ached. She was so fucking incredible. And I’d screwed up what we’d had.
A loose page fluttered its way over the wooden boards. I stamped on one corner to stop it blowing into the garden. This one was me, too, but pensive. Something raw in it stood out. I was stripped bare just looking at it, as though she’d captured a part of my soul and exposed it on paper. I traced the lines of my own face, uncomfortable and sad at the same time. I folded it quickly, sliding it into my pocket.
I left the veranda, locking the door behind me.
When I got to the front door, I paused. Black must have left it open while he watched Mila; I could see the two of them sitting on the swing beneath the tree. Her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks glistening in the harsh light. She leaned her head on Black’s shoulder with a familiarity I envied. His hand stroked her hair. So, she’d been able to cry in front of him but not in front of me? I’d really busted the trust we’d developed.
In a few short days, what we’d had was over.
Black was speaking to her, but she looked up, straight at me as though she’d known I was there. Or had been waiting? I hoped it was the latter. Black nodded to me as she straightened, jumping off the swing. He said something to her, reaching out, but she shook her head. Black’s hand dropped to his side, and he followed her slowly at a distance as she approached the house.
I shoved my hands deep in my pockets, watching her as she walked up the steps, so slight, arms hugging around herself. Her eyes never left mine. I started to ask if she was okay, but the answer to that was pretty obvious. She probably wouldn’t feel safe for a long time.
“Do you want me to stay?” I wanted to take the words back as soon as they left my mouth. They hung in the air, a fragile thing that could shatter at the slightest resistance.
Those gorgeous green eyes got wider, if that was possible, her mouth open just a little. I huffed back a laugh, knowing how it had sounded, then hated myself for it.
Idiot.
“I meant, out here. I can stay here, outside,” I put emphasis on outside, “so you know there’s someone here. You’re safe; you can sleep. Or, Black will hang out for the night if you prefer. Outside.”
I happily volunteered the ass that had been sitting with my girl for the best part of an hour while I sorted through all her private stuff, then winced at my attitude. She had never been mine.
Wallowing, Dane? Grow up.
“You.”
It came out as a whisper, and she looked straight at me as she said it. I was glad I saw her lips move, or I might not have believed what I’d heard. My heart leapt a little.
“Okay.” Biting back the impulse to yell and leap in the air, I leaned against a veranda post, looking out over the garden.
Black enveloped her in a huge hug, speaking quietly in her ear. Jealousy consumed me. I could see nothing more than Mila comfortable in another man’s arms, and I turned away, spotting a piece of wall that looked good to spend the night with.
“Night, bro.”
I pivoted on my heel, finding Black a step too close, his eyes hard. I held his gaze until he nodded, satisfied. He left without another word, striding to his car still parked behind my truck. The engine of his black sedan purred softly as he backed down the drive. He had a passion for Japanese imports, the only one of us who didn’t drive a truck, and I was reminded of the black sedan that had almost run me down. I opened my mouth to ask Mila, but she was gone, and the front door was shut.
I frowned, but it was my own damn fault. Flicking the floodlight off, I waited a few minutes on edge for my night vision to adjust, but nothing came at me out of the darkness. I was the only terrible thing out tonight, it seemed. I’d just settled against the wall when the door opened again. Mila held a blanket, an arm full of pillows, and had balanced a shot of amber liquid in a fragile-looking glass on the top.
“Would you mind?” she asked, clutching the tower, the glass wobbling precariously on top.
I tried to smother a smile but failed woefully, by the reproaching look in her eyes. It just made it worse. I scooped the glass from the top of the pile with a broad grin. I freed her arms of their offering with my other arm, putting it all in a pile where I’d chosen to spend the night.
“Thanks,” I said softly, holding the glass out, “yours?”
She shook her head.
“It’s for you.”
“I don’t usually drink on duty.”
She cocked her head.
“I don’t think one shot is going to stop you, Cal.”
I missed most of what she said, just focusing on the fact that she’d used my name. I gripped the thin glass, never breaking away from her gaze and drained the thing. It was sweet and raw when it hit the back of my throat, the burn that followed, welcome.
“Thank you,” I said softly. She looked up at me but didn’t back away. I reached out, waiting for the flinch, the moment I’d know we were truly done. Damn, I was pushing my luck with her.
She stayed stock still. I cupped her cheek with the lightest touch, almost no pressure in between her skin and mine, leaned down and kissed the top of her head. When I stepped back, her eyes were closed. She swayed a little, and it hit me how exhausted she must be.
“Get some rest, honey.”
She opened her eyes, and I was startled to see tears there. I ached to touch her again, to hold her, but stupidly, the fear of rejection stopped me after how I’d behaved tonight. I still had no idea where I stood with her for now, but even if I couldn't offer physical solace, at least I could provide some sort of protection while she recovered.
I settled on the pillows, blanket over my shoulders, staring out across the yard. The door closed with a soft click, but I could have sworn I heard her whisper goodnight.
CHAPTER TEN
MILA
The door clicked shut behind me. I closed my eyes, the energy draining from every limb. I wanted to sink to the ground and sleep right there, on the other side of the door from Cal. When he’d touched my face, I’d frozen — expecting to be afraid of him, but I wasn’t. No matter what had happened tonight, what Teddy expected me to feel, Cal was still my safety net.
I knew he’d protect me, even though I wished I was there to protect him, right now. He was hurting badly; anyone could see that. But I couldn’t be there for him, not just yet.
My house had been wrecked; I had nearly passed out in fear of a combination of the man I was dating — had been dating? — and the man who had haunted me for so many years. Our obsessions. I laughed as I walked into my room and snapped my mouth shut. No. I wasn’t giving into this.
Cal was right; I needed sleep.
My room was full of shadows, but I breathed, the regular patterns easing the panic a little. The boys had checked the house; I was safe. Safe. If I repeated it enough, it might, one day, be true.
I collapsed on my pillowless bed and was able to close my eyes, knowing he was outside.
It wasn’t quite light when I woke, covered in a film of cold sweat. Something seemed wrong as I opened my eyes, blinking in the pre-dawn light. Shadows flitted above my bed in odd patterns. It took a moment for my sluggish mind to figure it out — my cupboard was on the wrong side of the room. The boys must have moved it when they tidied everything up.
I lay still, letting yesterday wash over me. I didn’t want to think of the bad, not just yet, though I knew I’d need to face it — him — soon. I remembered painting Dolly, the rush I’d felt, seeing Cal standing above me. He’d lost it last night, but never in any of the times he’d kissed me, had he been too rough, or cruel.
Still, would he do it again? I wanted to think it was okay, that things could go back the way it was before, but my heart was racing, and I turned to bury my tears in my pillows before I remembered I’d given the lot to Cal.
Would he still be there, waiting outside the door? I slipped out of bed, realising I’d been so out of it the night before, I hadn’t put my pyjamas on. I grabbed fresh jeans out of the cupboard and pulled a long, knitted jumper over the top. It was black and silky, and my favourite. I flicked away specks of paint clinging to the hem and went to make two cups of coffee, hoping I wouldn’t be drinking both of them on my own.
