Calling Time: Book #1 - The Razer Series

by K A Sands

  Opening the passenger door, I tapped at her hip, motioning for her to get in. She climbed up and buckled her seatbelt as I clicked the door shut. I stalked around the front of the car, pulling my phone out to text Ryder I’d found Laura and was taking her home, then I clambered into the driver’s seat. Laura was slumped against the window, thoroughly deflated.

  “You okay?” I asked, resting my hands on the top of the steering wheel. A slight turning movement of her head my only clue she’d heard me.

  “You’re married?”

  My shoulders slumped, and I eyed the distasteful wedding band that no longer belonged where it was. “Not for much longer.” I felt angry, not at Laura. Just angry this woman, who was clearly in distress, was wondering about my circumstances.

  “I’m sorry,” she said before twisting her head back against the window, staring at the swing park. “Please, take me home, Lucca.”

  I started up the car, the weight of gold on my hand making me sick to my stomach. Ryder was right, it should have been gone long before, there was no reason to keep it on. I ripped the goddamned thing off my finger and threw it on the dashboard before popping the car into gear and making my way to Laura’s.

  Good fucking riddance.

  Pulling up behind Laura’s Scirocco, I cut the engine. She hadn’t said a word the whole six minutes it took to get to her house, didn’t ask how I knew where she lived. The atmosphere in the car felt awkward and stifling. I got out and shuffled around to open her door, when she jumped out and grabbed my hand, I hadn’t expected the move. I gripped her palm tight in my own.

  “Can we go in the back?”

  Laura pulled me through the gate around the side of the house, into her backyard. Well, it was hardly a yard. More like a sprawling lawn that had a view so picturesque, it stopped me in my tracks. Stunning. Her garden backed onto a rocky shoreline, and for as far as the eye could see – there was water. Even in mid-winter, the scene was breath taking. I loved it, the tranquillity awe-inspiring. I was utterly jealous.

  I squeezed her hand. “That’s some view right there, Laura.”

  She gave a shy smile. “I know.”

  Letting go of my hand to find her keys, she opened the back-porch door that led into a boot room. Laura kicked off her shoes and I followed suit doing the same, leaving them on the sea grass mat next to hers. Silly thing really; I liked the way they looked together. Innocuous – but together. She took my coat and hung it next to hers on the rack above.

  Domestic? Very...comforting? Absolutely.

  “Come through.” She invited, her persona a touch calmer. She walked down the back hallway then stopped abruptly, rotating to face me. “Oh, you are staying, aren’t you?”

  “You making coffee?” I rubbed my hands together to warm them up even though the house was toasty warm. “Cos, if you are, I’m staying,” I grinned at her.

  “Okay, I’m making coffee. You warm enough?” She eyed me rubbing my hands.

  “Just the fingers, you know?”

  I followed her into a homey kitchen, sitting down at the table she had butted up against the wall, while she pottered around getting mugs and pulled out milk from the fridge. I had time to take in the room. Laura’s house gave plenty away, I could see the quirky touches of her personality she had around. Glimpses of who she was and what she liked. The kitchen had a country feel to it, not clinical like my kitchens had always been. Warm and inviting colours mixed everywhere, nick knacks lined shelves and I noticed she had a penchant for pigs. I smiled to myself, liking what I saw already.

  “You wanna go through to the living room?” She handed me a mug of hot, divine smelling cocoa.

  “You made chocolate?”

  She nodded and moved from the room. I got up and wandered in the general direction Laura had, in no hurry to move along. Not being a fan of small spaces, I was surprised how much Laura’s house called out to me. I loved it, wanted to explore all its nooks and crannies. Having seen only a fraction of its character, the warm, stripped wooden floors and irregular ceilings appealed to me.

  Laura was sitting on a large sofa when I entered the lounge, her feet tucked underneath her, hands wrapped around her mug. There was a smaller sofa opposite, ignoring it I sat at the end of the one Laura was on, making myself comfortable.

  Taking in the homey feel of the room I liked that the cream walls gave the illusion of it being bigger than it was, yet the thick brocade curtains kept the room cosy. Big picture windows fronted out onto the street, casting a lot of light. Crystal ornaments dangled from the top window sash and I imagined when the sunlight hit them, they would create stunning patterns and rainbows on the walls. The Victorian fireplace caught my eye, I had to admire the tiled beauty, a roaring fire on the coldest of nights would be perfect in here.

  “You feel better?” I asked, sinking back into the sofa.

  “A little.”

  “You want to talk about it?” Such a cliched thing to ask someone who was upset. I shook my head. “Never mind, forget I asked.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start, Lucca,” she admitted, “plus, you’re a stranger.” She laughed but it held no humour.

  “Possibly true,” I agreed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t listen if you need to vent. I keep my word that I won’t repeat to anyone.”

  I wanted her to trust me. I mean, I was a trustworthy guy, I didn’t let people in either, so I got where she was coming from. I understood her reluctance to open up. I was much the same closed book as Laura.

  “You’re Italian?”

  “I am, my parents were from there. My mother never spoke English, but somehow, I’ve lost the language. My father refused to entertain his mother tongue when he came to England.”

  “It’s a beautiful language.”

  That it was. I’d embraced my heritage through my mother, learning mostly the basics, my father not caring for his roots. I hadn’t uttered many Italian words since my mother had died, hadn’t even visited Italy until Ryder and I took a weekend holiday in Rome when we were seventeen.

  “I don’t use it much now. Sometimes words slip out without me realising.” I admitted.

  “Still...beautiful.” Her voice was quiet, wistful.

  “La mia bella donna, perché così triste?”

  Tears slipped down Laura’s cheeks and I suddenly felt like a prized prick. I set my mug on the wooden table then scooted closer to her, picking up her hand and stroking my thumb across her palm.

  “If you need someone, Laura, I can be that for you. Whatever you need. Let me help?”

  She didn’t move to pull her hand from mine, her tears didn’t stop. Big and silent drops fell down her face. We sat quiet for a while, maybe she needed some time to gather her thoughts, contemplate if she was going to off-load on me or not. When she finally spoke, her words were not what I expected at all.

  “Why are you getting divorced? Oh, wait, you are getting divorced?”

  I cleared my throat. Talking about Stella was uncomfortable at the best of times, but I knew what Laura was doing. Tit for tat. I’d asked her to trust me and given her nothing to go on, she was indirectly doing the same. How much could I tell her? Because honestly, I was fucking embarrassed. She would think I was a bloody idiot. And when it came to Stella? I had been the biggest idiot alive.

  I copped out. “It’s run its course, we’ve been done a while now.” I looked away from her. There was no lie per se, only a fraction of the truth.

  “You don’t love her anymore?”

  “No.”

  “And her?”

  “I don’t think she ever did.” I said.

  “Oh.” It sounded ridiculous even to my ears. “I loved someone once, too.”

  “Did he love you back?”

  “No,” she sobbed, “he destroyed me.”

  Jessie/Laura

  He stood there, in all his naked guilt. Gritting his teeth, he tipped his head toward the ceiling, as if in search of some plausible excuse for the debauchery I’d stumbled upon. Wh
en he said my name, the word grated along my spine, like a saw ripping through raw wood. His hushed voice did nothing to disguise the malice in his tone. A cloak of fear descended upon my shoulders and I realised that I’d walked into something far more sinister. My fiancé fucking around behind my back was the least of my worries. Whilst he pondered his dilemma in no hurry, I’d scanned the room. God, I’d wished I hadn’t. Ripped clothes were strewn across the floor and the unmoving leg slung over the end of our bed, caked in blood, stilled my breath. The glint of a long-barrelled gun sitting on the sideboard was testament to a terrible scenario.

  My eyes came back to rest on him standing stock still before me, this time his steely grey one’s bored holes into me. Clenched fists tapped the top of his thighs. The air crackled with a tension so thick, I knew one wrong move and the situation would be out of my hands. I took another look at him, from tip to toe. His blood smeared cock had me viciously retching. I doubled over and purged my stomach contents unceremoniously over the floor in front me. His erection dripping bloodied secretions onto the floor was enough to make anyone sick. The absurd thought of him still being hard crossed my mind, and I stole another look.

  Was the fucker getting off on this?

  Wiping the back of my hand over my mouth, I stood straighter and took him in a third time. I don’t know why - the sight of him disgusted me, made me physically ill - but I had to see. He still hadn’t moved, having no shame, a smug grin tugging at his lips. He glared, that fucking grin chilling me to the bone. I was going to have eternal nightmares over it. The bastard was toying with me. I managed to pull myself together enough to stand fully straight but with my resolve choking, a sob worked its way to the surface, traitorous tears spilled down my cheeks.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he sighed, making a move towards me, his patience gone as quick as the love I’d felt for him that very morning.

  Frantically shaking my head, I pointed my finger at him. “Uh uh.” I took a step backward. “You stay right the fuck there!”

  I couldn’t control the tears any more. Everything was wrong here. I had to leave and leave now. The sadistic fuck wasn’t getting near me.

  “Come on...”

  That goddamned smirk mocked me. I watched in utter disbelief as he wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it a sharp tug.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, babe?”

  He laughed, closing the distance between us some more. I glanced at his hand, now smeared with blood and cum too, feeling sick all over again.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I screamed.

  My sense of calm flew out the window along with my engaged status. I didn’t care, I wanted to leave, couldn’t be here another minute. That sinking feeling, drawing me closer to the idea of having to battle my way out, began to terrify me. How could I fight a six-foot two muscled man?

  His smirk evaporated as he advanced ever closer. Slow, sure steps – like he had all day. Who knows, maybe he did? After all, he wasn’t expecting his fiancé home in the middle of the afternoon, now was he? Standing barely three feet away, the glare he gave me was petrifying, rendering me frozen. I’d seen this man’s face most days for the past three years, I thought I’d known every expression he gave away. I saw now, the man standing in front of me was not the man I knew at all. I didn’t recognise the look he gave, only the feelings it created within my chest. My heart pinched as I dragged in a ragged breath, warning bells screaming inside my head.

  The door unexpectedly shifted open and I jumped when Colin casually strolled into our house. What he was doing there was anyone’s guess, I was thankful for the interruption. Fixated on him, I missed my ex fiancé grabbing for the gun. In my stupidity, I didn’t even move. In two seconds flat, the door closed, and a gun was pointed at my head while a stunned Colin stood rooted to the spot.

  “Perfect timing,” my ex fiancé said, “come join the party, dude.”

  The puzzled look on Colin’s face told me he didn’t have a clue who his best friend was at all. But now the situation unfolding had a witness. A chill raced up my spine as I pleaded with my eyes as best I could, for Colin to do something. Anything. The poor sod was as lost as me.

  “Hey man,” he said cautiously, hands reaching in the air. “I got a text saying lunch?”

  He diverted his stare from me and took a quick look around. From his position in the hallway it was unlikely he could see what I had earlier. It wouldn’t be until he came into the lounge he’d see the signs of one fucked up morning.

  “Come in.” My ex waved the gun in a come-hither motion, a steel invitation towards where he stood.

  Taking cautious steps, Colin moved into the living room with us. “Take a seat.” He slumped into my favourite wing backed reading chair across the room.

  “What’s going on?” Colin’s knuckles drew white as they gripped the arms of the chair.

  “I was just having some fun with your girl,” he smirked at his friend. “Little firecracker. Kept that piece of info quiet, did you not?”

  I audibly gasped, realising exactly who the leg belonged to. She hadn’t made any noise since I’d arrived, and I was guessing that wasn’t a good thing. The longer this sick scenario played out, the likelihood of me walking away became slimmer and slimmer. Realisation swept across Colin’s face and all colour drained from the man’s cheeks. He was chalk white.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  He made to move from the chair, my ex fiancé swung the gun and took aim at him. Thinking I had a chance, I made a bolt for it, twisting with the intention of getting my arse out the door toute de suite. I didn’t get far. A fist grabbed hold of my hair and yanked me into a rigid body. His body. Hooking his arm around my neck, he held me in a tight choke hold. I coughed and sputtered, clawing at his arm in a feeble attempt to escape. He was too strong and simply squeezed harder, making any movement darned near impossible.

  “Not so fast,” he growled. Turning to his friend he asked calmly, “Where’s my money?”

  “What?”

  What? What money?

  “Three seconds then I shoot you dead like your gorgeous bit of fluff lying next door.” He took aim with the gun, his face set in grim determination. “Where’s my fucking money?”

  Colin kept his mouth shut, either he didn’t have it or didn’t know, I had no clue what the hell was going on.

  “Three...” His grip around my neck tightened. I took great gulps of air through my mouth hoping I wouldn’t pass out from the dizziness swirling around me.

  “Two...” I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping against hope Colin would tell him what he needed to know, or at least bullshit him to stall, buy us some time. He took a step closer to the chair, dragging me behind him.

  “Fuck you!”

  Oh man, I was dead. Very, very dead.

  Pop!

  Funny – I imagined when someone shot a gun, the noise would be far louder. Deafening. Frightening perhaps. But no.

  Pop, that was all. Pop.

  However inoffensive the sound was, it would be one that would haunt me a lifetime, this I knew as fact.

  “You’ve gone mad,” I croaked out, struggling with real panic to get out of his hold. “Get the fuck off me, you fucking lunatic!”

  He shrugged his hold of me and grabbed at the back of my neck, holding me firm. My eyes fixated on Colin in the chair and I stood there, watching in morbid fascination. Dead eyes glared accusingly at me as the hand at my nape gripped tighter. I vaguely registered my surroundings anymore, vacant eyes penetrating deep into my soul. My breaths came in short pants, a panic attack threatening. I managed to keep from unravelling that string of madness, keeping it at bay. I knew with certainty those ragged breaths would be my last if I succumbed to them, let them consume me.

  I gaped at the man in front of me, more than conscious of the man behind me. Blunt fingernails dug into the flesh of my neck making me squeeze my eyes shut at the sting. I opened them again trying to maintain my rapidly declining composure. I w
as losing it with each passing second. A familiar breath tickled across my ear, the heat against my back doing nothing to curb the chill that had taken over my body.

  “Oh Jessie...” he whispered softly.

  A whisper I’d heard a hundred other times, in a hundred other ways, but not like this. Never like this. A tear slid down my cheek. The stranger behind me had ripped my heart wide open in less than thirty minutes. And all for money? Money I knew nothing about.

  “Look...”

  He nudged my head in the direction of his best friend. I did. I looked at him again, this time with no curiosity. He told his own tale, told his own fate. Dark, red blood trickled through the centre of his brows, down the bridge of his nose, dripping from the end. Stark, crimson droplets spattered his stiff white shirt, no longer pristine; the Colin liked it. The hole in his head was no bigger than a five-penny piece but that small hole had rendered him dead anyway. I witnessed his sentence delivered, not five minutes ago, by the same hand that now held my own life.

  A harsh sob caught in my throat, I couldn’t keep it from bubbling up. I flinched as the grip around my neck tightened. My focus shifted, not my eyes – no – they stayed glued to the corpse in front of me. A reminder it could be me in the blink of an eye, just like him. My internal focus shifted to the situation I was currently in, my head scrambling urgently to find a way out. I had nothing; no control here. My shoulders slumped as realisation settled in - these could be the last few moments I’d ever have.

  The burning muzzle of the gun snaking down my cheek startled me out of my misery and catapulted me straight back to category ten terror. I choked on yet another sob when he slung his wide arm around my shoulders and pulled me back against his chest with force. The urge to fight diminished with each stinging stroke of metal. He ground his hips against me, pushing his erection further into the small of my back.

  “Yes...”

  Heated breath fanned across my cheek, repulsing me, giving me shivers that felt like needles. Removing the gun, he licked at the salty tears still running down my face. Disgust welled up as he ground up against me, his hand creeping into my blouse, damp fingers pushing into my skin painfully. The hand at my neck loosened, moving finally from my throat, entwining in my loose hair. Tugging, he pulled my head back, biting at the lobe of my ear as I let out a sharp cry. He turned me in his arms and slammed me against the wall, the force rattling my teeth, weighted muscles pinning me so hard I was momentarily winded.