by Sofia Aves
I opened the door and knew right away that Steph’s boyfriend had been to fix the alarm. It glowed a steady green and worked when I input the code. The apartment was quiet — very quiet. Maybe Ashley was asleep? I checked the lounge and the kitchen. Glitter still decorated the carpet, but other than that, there was no sign of my house guests.
My gut wrenched, as panic hit me hard.
I checked the bedroom, the balcony, and finally made my way down to Ashley’s room. I poked my head in and nearly wrote it off as empty. But a faint shh-ing came from one corner. I stepped into the room, letting my eyes adjust. Mila sat with her back against the bed, curled into a ball facing the wall.
“Mila,” I whispered, leaning forward, terrified she’d been hurt and dreading checking. The day I’d run into her, the red paint staining her shirt had horrified me then, but it was nothing compared to how I felt now. Images swam across my vision as I reached for her.
She moved, shifting a little and I saw a blonde head tucked into her chest. She looked over her shoulder, eyes on my face. I recoiled in shock. Wide, red eyes stared out at me, tear tracks marring her cheeks. But it wasn’t the tears that got me; it was the anger. Blazing red and hot, and directed right at me. I swallowed.
“What’s happened? Is she okay?”
Mila stroked Ashley’s hair, shushing her. She shook her head at me, and I saw a wall go up between us, far stronger than anything had before. I kneeled next to her, but she flinched away. My stomach sank at the movement.
“What’ve I done?” the words came out harsher and louder than I liked, panic tearing control from me in an instant.
Mila leaned down wordlessly, lifting Ashley’s head to peer into her face. The tiny girl was asleep, but even in the dim light, I could see her face was blotched with red patches and bloated from crying. I wanted to reach out to her, but the narrow angle of Mila’s shoulders told me not to. Fierce, like a mamma bear with a cub. I loved it.
She placed Ashley on her bed — the kid was never going to get a decent sleep if this kept happening — tucking her in. Leaning down, she felt around on the carpet. It took me a moment to catch on. I passed her the crocodile and saw the wall between us crumble, just a little.
Then the hardness came back at me with a vengeance. I held her gaze, not backing down either, desperate to know what had happened to upset them both so badly while I was away. Scenarios raced about in my mind, but I pushed them all back and waited. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
I rose and let her stride past me. We were in the lounge when she turned on me.
“We have to leave here.”
“What? Why?”
“She was looking for you. Maybe she was looking for your room to see what was in it. I don’t know. She’d disappeared, and I thought she went back to her room to get some toys. Then I heard her screaming from the corridor that leads down there.” She gestured towards my bedroom, and suddenly I didn’t need to hear the rest. The floor dropped out from under me.
“Oh, my god, I’m so–”
“I don’t think I need to tell you what it’s done to her? The screaming, the abject fucking terror she experienced today...”
Mila’s jaw clamped as she cut herself off. It was the first time I’d heard her curse.
“My god, Mila, I am so sorry. I meant to take it all down; I got caught up in work–”
“You’re sorry? I had to try to explain to her why there is a room in her safe place that is covered with a thousand pictures of her father! All those eyes, staring down at her — at me – Cal, I nearly threw up. I think that if I hadn’t been looking after Ashley, I might have.”
She stood in the centre of the room, arms crossed, shivers wracking her slight frame.
“Mila, I didn’t get to it, and dammit I needed to do that, I just– I never thought–”
She snorted and turned away.
“Mila, please, let me apologise. And thank you for looking after her. I’m glad you were here.”
I stepped up behind her, but she didn’t turn, just watched our reflections in the glass.
“It shouldn’t have happened.”
“No, it shouldn’t have. You’re right.” I placed my hands tentatively on her waist, waiting to see how she responded. My heart slammed in my chest — how could I have been so stupid, so selfish not to clean it all up when I’d promised I would? But as usual, work took precedence.
Something had to change, or this — whatever it was — would break before it had a chance to develop. I couldn’t bear to have that happen.
Mila stood stock still, not moving, her eyes closed in the reflection. She took a step back, into me. My heart stopped, and I wondered if it would ever start again. She wasn’t running from me. I wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hair.
I’d been so ready for her to push back, to run…but to be able to hold her was such a relief, I could have laughed though that might have been inappropriate.
“I’ll do it tonight. Right now, if you need. I’ll take the lot to my truck and leave it at the office tomorrow.”
Except that I wasn’t going to the office tomorrow. Damn it. It didn’t matter; I’d figure it out. Maybe we could drop it all back in afterwards. I’d like Mila to see where I worked. I turned her in my arms. She looked at me, eyes huge, and bottomless, full of the uncertainty I felt as I brushed the tears from her cheeks. I pulled her close, just holding her.
It was fully dark by the time she moved, stomach growling. I groaned. I’d totally forgotten the takeout I’d promised. Mila smiled shyly.
“I made something today, for us, just in case…anyway, it won’t take long to heat up.”
She shot into the kitchen, working with a speed and efficiency I admired. Her eyes narrowed; movements quick and precise. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, remembering to ask about the alarm.
“Hey, did Steph’s boyfriend come around to fix the alarm?”
“Yes! He did. It took a little while, though…”
I looked down at my phone to see a message from Mandy. When was the girl going to get that I wanted to be left alone? I opened it, scanning through quickly. It was all nothing, about being out with a guy, a nice place…was I supposed to be jealous?
Wait, wasn’t the guy Danny? A grin unfurled on my face. It was his problem now — not mine. Mine was currently staring at me. I’d stopped listening.
“Sorry, got distracted. How was it?”
“He was fine, maybe a bit odd, creepy and rough looking. Is Steph a nice girl? I’d hate to think of this guy with a girlfriend. He just gave me the wrong vibe.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s nice.”
My phone buzzed again, but I refused to look at it, trying to concentrate on what Mila was saying. It kept buzzing, and she stopped talking, looking at me expectantly. I groaned and turned the phone over in my hand — more messages from Mandy.
Mandy: Did you get my card? I wanted you to take me to that black-tie gala we’d talked about.
I shook my head, wondering what she was talking about, then remembered the black envelope Mila had fetched from the mailbox. I had completely forgotten it, but now I knew who it was from, I resolved to throw it in the bin at the first opportunity. She had to figure it out. I fired off a short reply.
Me: Why don’t you take Danny instead?
I blacked the screen, sliding my phone across the counter. She could message all she liked; I had no more time for her. I turned back to Mila, taking the beer she offered, apologising.
“We were talking about Steph’s boyfriend?”
“Haven’t you met him when he did the alarm the first time?”
“No, I was working, so the building manager let him in. He’s great with security, so I was happy for him to organise it.”
“Oh. Well, maybe ask her about him? He was just a bit, um…creepy.” She gestured with her hands, “I don’t know, he stared a lot. And I thought I caught him looking through my phone...”
/> “What?”
Mila started at my tone, then flapped a hand, flustered.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. I think he put his things on the bench and it all got mixed up; I don’t know. Don’t worry about it, please, Cal? I shouldn’t have said anything; it’s nothing. You worry about everything, and I don’t want to add to that. Please?”
I nodded, brain whirring as she slipped out of the kitchen and stood awkwardly in the space between us. I was drawn to the concern in her face. Panic settled there; tiny lines etched across her forehead. I wanted to smooth them out but didn’t dare to approach her.
“You’ve been stuck here for a while; it can make things seem out of proportion. That’s frustrating,” I acknowledged, “Paranoia and obsession is my hobby.”
She gave me a wan smile.
“You’ve got enough on your mind right now. Let’s concentrate on what’s important.”
I started; hadn’t that been what Black had tried to tell me today?
“So, what’s important?”
I didn’t move, just waited. She tentatively moved across the distance dividing us, pausing just outside my arm’s reach of her. For just a moment, she stilled. I closed the short space between us until I could feel her breath on my skin. She leaned into me, sliding her arms around my back, clinging as though she were drowning. I crushed her against me, resting my head on the top of hers. A fruity smell rose from her hair when she moved, a scent I was beginning to associate with her
God, she smelled good.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MILA
Danny and Micah stood in the lounge, dwarfing the room. I couldn’t think of a space these two together wouldn’t dominate. Gina, who I’d just been introduced to, hovered at the kitchen bench, half-turned away from Micah. Whatever their relationship was, it was clearly strained. Ashley already had a hairdressing station set up on a small table in the corner, complete with Velcro rollers and a pink fluffy dressing gown.
“It’s just your size, dude.”
Danny smirked, elbowing Micah, who turned on him with a benevolent smile.
“Your turn today.”
Cal grabbed the robe, flinging it over Danny’s broad shoulders. The shaggy pink material barely made it across his back, hanging by the edges at its widest point. He kicked the chair behind Danny’s knees, and the bigger man fell into it, a dazed expression on his face.
I dropped a kiss on Ashley’s head as Cal propelled me towards the elevator.
“Be good for her!” I called to the boys who responded in a chorus. Gina waved half-heartedly and locked us out.
Cal’s hand wrapped around mine as we waited for the elevator. I didn’t want to pull away, scared I’d break the happiness that radiated him this morning.
“Uh, Cal? Where are we going?”
The elevator door slid silently open, and he let go of my hand to sort through his keys.
“Just something I think you need.”
Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. I shook my head, but let him play it his way. I was just glad to see him so much less stressed. He’d even smiled this morning. That was a change.
As the gate opened, the shadows again passed over Cal’s face. Shoulders tight, he craned at the edge of the drive, surveying the streets. I saw nothing unusual, but I knew now that Cal saw the world in a very different way to everyone else.
Finally, we turned onto the street, and I knew it wasn’t himself he was worried about.
“She’ll be okay,” I murmured, and he shot me a grateful glance, “have you taken a step back to see the size of those two boys? No one will fit through the door to get to her.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders, and his grip on the steering wheel loosened just a little. I cast around for something else to say.
“So, what are we doing? You’ve been all secret squirrel about…wherever it is we’re going.”
I expected him to evade my questions, but to my surprise, Cal actually answered me.
“I’m taking you shooting.” He glanced quickly at me, then returned his attention to the road.
“What?”
“Well, to learn to shoot — I’m guessing you’ve never held a gun before, from the way you reacted when I pulled mine out of the glovebox the other night.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised he’d noticed since reading situations was a part of his job, but it came as one anyway.
“Cal, I-I’m not really a fan of guns. Ever since…”
I let my thought hang unspoken. I wasn’t sure I could put them into words if I tried. A pair of feet with one shoe dangling from the end of a stockinged foot floated across my vision. My hands clenched together, and I closed my eyes, trying to ward off the image. The truck jerked to a stop. I opened my eyes. Cal’s face appeared in front of me.
“Mila, honey, look at me.” Tears ran down my face. His palm cupped my chin, brushing them away with his thumb. “This is why I want to take you shooting. So you’ll have a way to protect yourself. Maybe it will help calm the nightmares, too.”
I jolted, staring at him a little wildly. How had he known about the nightmares? I was sure I hadn’t mentioned them and wracked my brain trying to work out if I’d had them during my short stay in his apartment. His fingers stroked my face, eyes filled with sadness.
“You cry out in your sleep, honey. I didn’t want to wake you, so I sat on the bed until it stopped. It was only a guess, but I figured it would be…”
I nodded, blinking back more tears that flooded my vision. “I’m so sorry you have to put up with that,” I whispered, more than a little horrified.
Cal shook his head firmly.
“Mila, I have lived this for the last five years. Almost every damned moment – at work, at home, when I sleep. I get it. I get you.”
He tucked loose hairs behind my ear, giving my hand a quick squeeze and put the truck into gear. The drive across town was silent — filled with memories both of us wished we could erase. The building we arrived at was huge and took up most of the block, surrounded by warehouses and mechanic yards. There wasn’t a single person on the street at all. As I slid down from my seat, I realised it was quiet. I had expected noise from a firing range.
“You ready?”
I nodded, pressing my lips together nervously. Cal keyed a code in at the foyer to access the elevator, the ping of the door seeming ridiculously loud as they closed. We went down several floors, nerves jumping in my stomach. When the doors opened, a cacophony of sound ricocheted around the small space, echoing in my head.
“It was so quiet downstairs,” I remarked to cover my discomfort. The noise was a little overwhelming, and the sounds of the individual shots…I shivered a little, moving closer to Cal. I willed the memories not to flood me. Panic attacks were bad enough; to have one in public — the muscles around my ribs constricted, shortening my breath. Cal watched me, and I was thankful when he didn’t push.
“Being below ground makes a difference, and the room is soundproof.” He pressed a light hand to my back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.
Long lanes divided the cavernous room, each with a small box and a target at the other end. Cal waved, and a small, round man with an open face approached us. He shook Cal’s hand, pulling him down for a quick hug, and turned to me.
“You must be Mila.” He clasped my hand in his larger ones. There was a faint inflection to his words. “John Bird, Instructor. Come down to the end, this way. I’ve got everything set up for you; a quiet spot picked out.”
Sharp retorts bounced off the walls, merging in a knot of harsh echoes. Quiet was a relative term, apparently. I studied Cal’s back as he followed the small instructor, wondering what he had told the small man.
An arm slipped around my shoulders, keeping me moving forward. Caught up in my own thoughts, I hadn’t realised Cal had stopped to wait for me. I gave him a tight smile. He squeezed my arm, concern in his eyes.
“You can do this,” he murmured.
John
led us to the final bay, situated at the far wall. A single pistol — at least, that’s what I thought it was — lay on the small bench, next to several small boxes. John opened one, gesturing me forward as he started to point out the features of the gun, turning it over in his hands, and naming the working parts.
I tried to remember them all, but it was a lot, and I was on the verge of freaking out. I wanted to reach back for Cal, but a quick glance behind me showed him deep in conversation with another cop.
“Mila, I hope you don’t mind, but Cal has shared your situation with me. I am glad he has brought you to me to learn, and I understand how terrifying it can be. In Chile, I was a negotiator. I would walk into critical situations completely unarmed. Often, a room would be full of men aiming weapons at me. I had nothing but my open hands and brain to get me through it.”
He tapped his balding head with one finger, eyes twinkling. “Yet, here I am. Not all situations end as yours did, and I am sorry this has happened to you. Cal thought it best you have protection here,” he tapped his head again, “and here.” This time his hand lowered to his heart. I frowned, not quite understanding. John smiled kindly at me. “Being able to defend yourself might help you to conquer your fear. Sometimes, just knowing can help.”
He placed the pistol in my hands, which trembled slightly as I closed them around the grip. The gun was heavy in my hands, which tried to shy away from the thing even as I clutched at it.
“Ah, not so hard. Here, like this.” John lifted my hands, relaxing my wrists. “Too tight, and you will pull the shot. Hands must be firm, but not grabbing the gun. You don’t need to strangle it.”
He went through the sequence of loading an empty magazine into the butt of the pistol, folding my hands around the handgrip, so one overlapped the other, explaining how it increased accuracy and stability.
I jumped when he retracted the slide to cock the weapon, the sound echoing back in my memory. As if sensing it, John put a reassuring hand on the small of my back and made me repeat the process until I could do it smoothly, with confidence. He placed a printed target in a little clip and sent it barreling down the lane. It stopped around halfway down, and I was glad I didn’t have to try to hit anything further away.
