From Dust

by Freya Barker

  I’m about to walk away when he reaches over the bar and grabs onto my arm. I throw a pointed look at his hand on my forearm and then up at him, not afraid to let my anger show through. Immediately he pulls back and raises the offending hand defensively.

  “My apologies. Could I speak to your boss please?”

  I turn fully to face him, folding my arms over my chest.

  “No other boss here but me. Still can’t help you.”

  Yeah, you idiot. He looks at me in disbelief, that someone dressed in faded jeans and a Henley shirt, could ever be mistaken for an owner. This is a pub, not a fucking country club.

  “Look, you don’t understand. She’s been missing for years and we’ve all been worried sick. She has some problems ... mental problems. She left a psychiatric ward on her own years ago, and we’ve not been able to trace her, until now.” Every word the man says makes me lose the edge I have on my temper, but his next words finally snap that precarious hold. “I feel I have to warn you. Sydney is capable of grave harm both to herself, and to others.” Leaning forward, he continues in a conspirator’s voice. “She killed our child during one of her fits.”

  That does it. I reach over the bar and grab the bastard by his necktie, as close to his throat as I can wrap my hand, and haul back with the other ready to plow my fist through his face.

  “Don’t!” Tim’s shout barely manages to reach my ears, which are buzzing with rage. With some kind of sick pleasure, I watch the prick’s eyes start bulging out of his head and if anything, squeeze my hand on his tie a little tighter.

  Tim walks up behind me and I see Matt approaching Syd’s ex from behind. “Let him go, Guns. Not worth it, ya know?” Tim says quietly.

  Right. Not worth it. Slowly, I release pressure and immediately his hands come up to his neck in a protective gesture. “You ... you’re as crazy as she is,” he manages as he gasps for air.

  “Hey, buddy,” Matt grabs the man firmly by the shoulder. “You better quit while you’re still breathing. In case you haven’t noticed, you are seriously outnumbered here.”

  After throwing a sneaky look over his shoulder at Matt, douche bag turns back to me with a smirk on his face. “At least now I know she’s—“ he stops mid-sentence and looks over my shoulder at the doorway. I know without needing to look, just by the electricity in the air, that Syd just walked in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Syd

  I don’t know why I know he’s here. I just do. When Viv walks into the kitchen, I can tell something’s going on. Her face is tight and although her chattering is not uncommon, the furtive looks she keep throwing in the direction of the door are. So when I hear a loud man’s voice yelling, “Don’t,” I brush past her and barrel towards the pub.

  He’s just like I remember, only older and if possible, more arrogant in his appearance. I thought I’d be intimidated—freak out even—but instead I find myself eager to deal with him head-on. After the story about The Skipper’s involvement in the corruption scandal came out, I knew it was just a matter of time.

  With a cool resolve I can actually feel, I look my ex-husband in the eye and place a quieting hand on Gunnar’s back, feeling the tension radiating off him.

  “Jacob. I should probably say something inane, like, “It’s good to see you,” but you’ll forgive me if I’d rather cut off my own arm than choke on those words.”

  I can tell from the widening of his eyes that he did not expect the challenge of my words. He’s too used to intimidating and browbeating everyone around him into simmering submission, but not me. Not anymore. Where before I’d cower under his hateful glare, now I find myself entirely unimpressed.

  Gunnar moves aside and allows me full view of Jacob. His tie is hanging limp from his neck and I don’t need anyone to tell me that Gunnar was responsible for that. I’m surprised to find that it actually disappoints me not to find any marks on the bastard’s face.

  Watching me through now narrowed eyes, Jacob quickly makes adjustments, straightening himself; always keeping up the outward appearances. His eyes scan me head to toe and with his mouth set in a distasteful sneer, he pounces, just like I’d expected.

  “Time hasn’t been kind to you,” is his opening volley, causing Gunnar to growl, but I grab the hand he reassuringly loops over my shoulder and show him I’m not affected in the least. This is what I lived with for years before I broke. “Honestly, Sydney. Standing behind a bar in dirty old jeans, your hair wild, and not wearing a stitch of make-up is not a good look for a woman of standing. And it hardly seems an appropriate place for a raging alcoholic. Judging by the company you keep, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re lucky I found you.”

  I can’t help the loud snort that escapes, to Jacob’s horror, which only makes me laugh harder.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob, but what exactly did you come here for? Amusing as it is, the way you are trying to assert yourself over me, it’s also becoming a bit tedious.”

  “Your parents would be mortified,” he tries to rattle me once more and this time, I have to grab onto Gunnar’s hand and brace my arm in front of him to stop him from leaping over the bar at him.

  “My parents have been mortified from the time I took my first breath, Jacob, so please, tell me something new. Now, why is it that you’ve chosen to seek me out now, after four years?”

  “You’re my wife, I have every right—“ he sputters when I interrupt him.

  “Was, Jacob. I was. I distinctly remember signing those papers. Now unless you tell me what it is you think I can do for you, I’d really like for you to leave. It’s our busiest night of the week and you’re causing a scene.”

  Immediately Jacob’s eyes scan his surroundings, flinching slightly at the eyes he finds directed our way. A public scene would be too ‘common’ for his tastes.

  “The house...” he bites out from between pinched lips.

  “The house? What about it?”

  “I need to sell it.”

  “So sell it. What does that have to do with me?”

  “I’ve tried to for four years. I’ve tried, but it’s not in my name. It’s in yours.”

  I’m totally blindsided by that piece of news. I can distinctly recall him reminding me time and time again, that but for the grace of Jacob Webster, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head or food in my stomach.

  “Ran into some financial hick-ups shortly after... after Daniel, and didn’t want to lose the house as well, so I had it put in your name.” One thing I could never fault Jacob for, and trust me, there were plenty faults there, was his love for our son. He may have been a mostly absentee dad, but he loved that boy to distraction. To hear his voice crack with the use of his name, softens me, but only a tiny smidgeon. This man has done too much damage for me to have much sympathy for him and his feelings.

  “You’re saying the house is mine?”

  “Only technically. We both know I put the lion’s share into it, and all of it in past years. It’s just a formality that was left in the aftermath of our divorce. Something we never settled.”

  That statement was debatable since it’s not exactly how I remember things, but I care too little to argue with him.

  “So what’s the big deal now? Why do you need to sell it?” I’ll admit, it feels good to have some power as I prod him to answer.

  When he finally admits he needs the money to pay off his second ex-wife, who apparently got sick of his philandering, I can feel Gunnar’s stomach shaking with what I’m sure is contained laughter. Karma is a bitch, but in this case, she’s a sweet bitch. Apparently, he’s come here hoping to intimidate me back under his control; at least long enough to have me sign the house over. Only thing not so clear is how he was hoping to get me to do that.

  “Wait a minute. What were you planning to do with me?”

  The way he avoids looking at me gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “You were a mess before. I expected ... I mean, it seemed—”

  “Answer t
he woman, you dickhead,” Gunner leans forward over the bar, his sheer size an intimidating factor that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jacob who’s fiddling with his tie again, his eyes darting about nervously.

  “I thought I’d get her help.”

  Pompous, self-righteous son-of-a-bitch. I’m the furious one now, and it’s Gunnar who’s holding me back from climbing over that bar.

  “You were gonna have me committed, weren’t you, you miserable piece of shit?” My latent ‘street-dweller’ language makes its appearance, obliterating the measured speech pattern of New England’s ‘upper crust’ I grew up with.

  Something in my face must’ve impressed him, because he slides quickly off his stool and backs away from the bar. Gunnar pulls me down and wraps his arms around me to stop my body from shaking.

  “Tim, would you show this piece of trash out, please? Make it clear to him he is not to set foot on this property, nor is he to come anywhere near Syd, would you?” I hear him instruct Tim as I’m being ushered out the door, into the hall and into Gunnar’s office.

  “Fuck, honey. Even with all that lady-like composure and proper English you were spouting, you intimidate the crap out of even me. That was hot as hell.”

  Gunnar’s eyes burn into mine as he pulls his desk chair around and sits down, pulling me onto his lap.

  “You okay, babe?”

  I let out the deep breath I’ve been holding, letting go of my anger and relaxing into Gunnar’s body.

  “I’m good now.”

  “You’re more than good; you’re exceptional. You decimated him, Bird.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the memory. “He was so not expecting to find the fight in you. Figured he could come in here and squash you like a bug. Instead, you took him by the balls, crushed them in your tiny hands and handed them back to him. Such. A. Fucking turn on.”

  With his hand grabbing my hair, he pulls my head back and licks me from my cleavage and up my neck before taking my mouth in a hungry, claiming kiss. Mewling at the forceful invasion, I wiggle my ass on the hard ridge of his cock, eliciting a deep growl from his throat. The need to do some claiming of my own has me clenching my fist in his hair, countering every exploration of his tongue in my mouth.

  “Jesus. You’re killing me,” he moans as he reluctantly pulls his mouth away from mine.

  Both of us are breathing hard and the crotch of my jeans are damp with arousal. My body is primed and turned on, and I feel the loss of his lips when he sets me on my feet as he gets off the chair himself. The sudden chill sends a shiver down my limbs.

  “Nothing I want more than to fuck you over that desk right now, but the crowd was already getting thick out there. Besides, the anticipation will be it’s own reward once I slide my cock inside you.”

  “No fair,” I manage to croak, clenching my thighs in response to his promise. A wolfish grin slides over his face as he tags me by the nape of my neck and pulls me flush against him.

  “I promise to make it up to you, all fucking night.”

  With one last hard kiss, and with a hand in my back, he guides me out of the office and gives me a little shove in the direction of the kitchen. I stop, turn and grab his arm just as he’s about walk towards the pub. Throwing my arms around his neck, I pull him down for another kiss. This one on my terms.

  “Okay, take that shit back into the office. Dry squeaky vagina walking by here, in serious need of some TLC, and you’re not helping.” Viv scowls as she moves past us in the kitchen and I burst out laughing. Gunnar smiles down at me.

  “I’ll never get used to that sound. I never want to. Every time I hear you laugh it’s the most unexpected, exhilarating experience.”

  Lifting up his arm, he pulls back his shirtsleeve. “Look. Gives me fucking goosebumps.”

  I stroke my finger over the bumpy skin, my smile lingering. “I like it. I like that I give you goosebumps. Only fair since you give me shivers with only a look.”

  Gunnar

  God dammit. It’s about the fiftieth time I’ve had to hide behind the bar to quickly adjust myself. My little game of anticipation is backfiring on me, big-time.

  All evening I’ve been throwing Syd looks and stealthily touch her every time she comes within reach, but the last few times she’s quickly turned the tables on me. First the licking and biting of her bottom lip, then stroking her hand from her neck, down to her cleavage. Now she’s ramped it up by slipping behind the bar with an excuse and sliding in front of me, her ass rubbing against my cock. Intentional as hell, judging from the smirk on the little cretin’s face. Damn woman knows she has me by the balls, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. She’s not fooled.

  “Why don’t you guys head out? It’s ten. Kitchen’s shutting down anyway.”

  Frankie, who is back on weekends for the summer, moves behind the bar to usher me out.

  During the summer months, we stay open later Thursday through Sunday, with Frankie picking up the late shifts with Matt. Aside from Leanne and Matt serving, we brought in summer staff to help; most of them students. It was definitely needed with the patio up and busy already. For this early in the season, I have two outdoor heating units to ward off the chill that blows in from the water, but if there is any truth to the predictions for this summer, we won’t need those for long.

  “You’ll be okay?” I check one last time with Frankie.

  “Fuck yeah. Go home and take care of that woman. You’ve been eye-fucking her all night already.” Frankie’s loud, boisterous laugh rolls through the bar. Syd, who is wiping down tables, turns to look in our direction and when her eyes stop on mine, a lift of my chin is all that’s needed to have her moving in my direction.

  “We’re leaving.” And to Frankie, “Later, man. Thanks.”

  “Bye, Frankie,” Syd barely manages when I take her hand and pull her towards the back where Viv’s still cleaning in the kitchen.

  “Shut it down, Viv. Time to go. Frankie and Matt’ve got this.” I stop at the bottom of the stairs, thinking about the bed upstairs and how much faster I could get Syd naked if we stayed here. We have the next two days to ourselves, Sunday is our regular day off, and Monday the pub is closed, so going home now would mean we wouldn’t have to surface for forty-eight hours.

  Syd chuckles as I start pulling on her hand again, having come to a decision.

  “Made up your mind?”

  “What?” I pretend not to know what she’s talking about.

  “I could see the wheels turning, Gunnar. The bed upstairs must’ve seemed very tempting for a minute there.”

  “Hush woman. Need to get you home and out of those clothes.”

  Outside, the chill hits and I let go of Syd’s hand to wrap my arm around her, rushing her down the alley to the car. Just as we walk out of the alley into the dark parking lot, a dark shape moves away from the wall and steps into our path.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Syd

  “Sydney.”

  I flinch at the familiar voice and curl myself tighter into Gunnar’s side, whose grip on my shoulder becomes almost painful.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Gunnar growls, making little impression on the looming figure before us.

  “I see Jacob was right. You’ve obviously lost all of your senses working in the kitchen of a questionable establishment and consorting with the local riffraff.”

  “What are you doing here, Dad?” My voice sounds small and I hate that the man in front of me still has the ability to make me feel insignificant.

  “Dad?” Gunnar tilts his head down to look at me with an eyebrow raised when another voice filters from the shadows of the parking lot.

  “James? Did you find her?”

  “I told you to stay in the car, Marilyn!” My father yells over his shoulder. Wonderful.

  “And apparently my mother,” I tell Gunnar, his questioning eyes still on me. Understanding floods his gaze and he gives me a quick wink before turning back to my father.

  “A little unorthodox, t
o say the least, but nice to meet you, Mr. Donner,” Gunnar tries for polite and letting go of my shoulder, he reaches his hand out to my father.

  With a disdainful look, Dad ignores the proffered hand and turns his attention back on me.

  “Sydney Rose Donner, you’re coming with me.”

  His arm shoots out and grabs at me, but Gunnar seems prepared and grabs my father’s wrist before he can pull me away. As it is, I’ll probably have bruises from where his fingers pressed into my flesh.

  “You don’t want to do that,” Gunnar warns, his voice low and threatening, but he doesn’t know my father or his utter conviction in his superiority. Sensing a battle erupting between the two men towering over me, I pipe up.

  “Stop it. Dad, let me go,” I hiss, wrenching my arm from his hold and leaning into Gunnar who in turn, lets go of my father’s wrist and wraps the arm around my waist instead, tucking my back to his front. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish here, but I’m not going anywhere with you. For your information, I’m not twelve.”

  My father is less than impressed, his lips pressing into a tight line. “You need help, Sydney. You’re obviously not in the right frame of mind. God only knows what you’ve been up to these past years. Your mother and I have had a hell of a time trying to excuse your sudden absence, but we’ll simply tell everyone you’ve been overseas.” He drones on as if talking to himself.

  “Is he for real?” Gunnar whispers by my ear.

  “Afraid so,” I mumble back. I shouldn’t be surprised that my parents had been more concerned about the impression my disappearance would cast on them in their social circles than they had been about my well-being. Still, it stings. It also firms my resolve.

  “James! Is she coming?” My mother deigns to stick her head out the window of a large sedan at the far side of the parking lot and yell, rather than coming to see me for herself. I can see her tidily quaffed hair glimmering in the sparse lamplight.

  “Jesus,” Gunnar mutters behind me and I can’t help but giggle.