A tentative responding smile appears on Mrs Smith’s face. “Yes, I think I remember you now. Wait here, a moment, and I’ll see if she’s awake. She works nights, but I did hear her stirring a little earlier.”
She doesn’t close the door completely but leaves us waiting on the doorstep. It’s only a couple of minutes before the door opens for the second time, and another woman appears, a younger version of the first, wearing baggy sweatpants and an old T-shirt. I take a good look at Mia’s old school friend. She’s on the plump side, with a welcoming and friendly expression on her face. She looks first at Mia and gives her a broad smile, and then meets my eye, briefly reciprocating my appraisal, apparently curious. “Come in,” she invites, waving her hand to usher us along. “Mia, it’s lovely to see you. It’s been ages! You haven’t changed much, have you? What have you been up to?”
She continues throwing questions at us as we follow her into a comfortable looking sitting room. “Please forgive the way I look. I work nights now and have only just woken up. I’m a nurse.” She pauses only to take a breath. “What are you up to nowadays?”
Mia’s smiling at her old friend, I’m glad there’s no awkwardness. Especially since the party probably took place in this very room. “I write books, novels.”
Anna’s eyes open wide, “Wow! That’s great! Would I have seen them?”
I step in, not wanting Mia to broadcast her pseudonym. I don’t know this girl from Adam, or how far she can be trusted. I clear my throat to get their attention. “Anna, I’ve not introduced myself. I’m Jon Tharpe; I’m providing protection for Mia.”
If possible, her eyes widen even further. “Protection?” Shock makes her voice go up an octave. “Mia? Why do you need someone to protect you?”
Mia puts out her hand and touches her arm. “I seem to have picked up a stalker, Anna. I’ve no idea who he is, so we’re trying to explore all avenues. I’ve come to see whether you can help me. It might be linked to something in my past.”
Mia’s revelation seems to have struck her old friend momentarily dumb. Anna glances first at me, then at Mia, as she digests the information. When she speaks again, she gets directly to the point, her chatty personality growing serious. “A stalker? No way! What do you need from me?” I find I’m beginning to like this woman as she wastes no time offering her help.
Now comes the tricky part, and I let Mia find her way through it. “Anna, I came to a party here seven years ago, when we were seventeen. We want to know who was at the party, and in particular if you know the man or men I left with?”
Narrowing her eyes, Anna scrutinises Mia carefully. “We didn’t see much of you after that, did we?”
Mia shakes her head.
“Did something happen?”
Mia doesn’t answer.
For a moment, Anna stares at her old friend intently and then flicks her eyes to me. Slowly she nods her head, and again she goes up in my estimation as she doesn’t press for more information. Instead, she gets up, and crosses to the room, going to stand and look out of the window. Her head is bowed as though she’s trying to remember. After a few seconds, she raises her head, still staring outside, and starts to speak. “I remember you arriving, Mia, as you were once of the first. I think you came alone?” She turns and looks at me, “The party got a bit crazy. I’d only invited school friends, but some gatecrashers showed up. I was worried they’d destroy the place, so most of my time was spent trying to keep everything under control. It was the first and last party I ever had here!” She grins conspiratorially, “My parents darn near killed me after. There were people in the bedrooms, on the floors, some still there the next morning when they returned home. It got a bit wild. I didn’t notice you go, Mia, I’m sorry.”
I’ve been to enough parties like that, so I’m not surprised. Mia, on the other hand, looks deflated. Personally, I wasn’t expecting answers so quickly. “Can you give us a list of the people who you remember were here? The ones you knew? We’d like to question them to see if anyone else can recall anything.”
“Yes, there’s no problem with that. I’ll have to rack my brains, but I’ll do what I can and get it to you later today.” She seems pleased to be able to help in some small way. I pass over my business card, indicating my email address.
“Do you remember anyone who had a white van at the time?” I probe. White is a popular colour, so I’m not hopeful of anything coming from that line of enquiry, but it’s worth the question.
She thinks about it. “We were all the same age, my friends, that is. Some only sixteen, most seventeen. Most of us hadn’t passed our test yet, let alone owned any vehicle.” Another quiet moment of thought. “I’ll ask the people I’m still in contact with if they remember anyone having one? It might have been the gatecrashers; they seemed to be older. But someone might have recognised them.”
“That would be great!” Mia brightens up a bit, realising this isn’t necessarily a dead end.
Something niggles at the back of my mind. “You say most of you were sixteen or seventeen, yet there was alcohol at the party. Who got it for you?” My train of thought is that it might have been one of the older blokes.
Anna snorts a laugh, “Come on, sixteen and seventeen-year-old girls? Some of us had fake ID, and we certainly knew how to look older than our age. And the Off-License down the road never asked too many questions. Where there’s a will and all that.”
Although that line of questioning didn’t bear fruit, I still grin at her. I’d been seventeen once, and corner shops selling alcohol often turned a blind eye.
With no more questions to ask, we decline the offer of refreshment, but Mia doesn’t seem ready to leave just yet. As she chats with Anna, trying to condense seven years into as many minutes, I send a quick text to the office asking Vanessa, one of the office staff, to expect a list of names to investigate later. By the time I’ve finished, the girls are done with their catch up, and we say our goodbyes. As we’re at the door, Anna suddenly gives Mia a hug, while looking at me, and addressing her comments my way, “Take care of her, Jon.” Then, glancing back to Mia murmurs, “I don’t know what happened to you, Mia, but I can put two and two together. Look after yourself, and don’t be a stranger.”
Thinking the way compassion comes easily to her probably makes her a very good nurse, I shake her hand, and we leave the house.
As the front door closes behind us and Mia’s walking to the car, I grasp her arm to hold her back. “Hold up a minute, Mia,” I turn her to face me, “I’m sorry, but I want to see if you can remember anything else. Whereabouts on the road were you dropped off?”
She stills. Dragging up long-buried memories is painful, but it has to be done. With a sigh, she seems to pull that cloak of determination over herself again and starts looking up and down the road. Suddenly she shoots out her hand and points to the corner, “There.”
I look across, noting the position. “Was the van driving up the road, or had it just turned into it?”
“Up.” She sounds firm on that. “Why?”
“So we know the direction they came from. Okay, let’s get in the car.” I give a quiet chuckle as I watch her awkwardly folding herself to get into the bucket seat, then move to the driver’s side and slide into my seat with ease of long practice.
After we’ve buckled up our seatbelts, I turn to her again, “Can you remember how long you were in the van for?”
“I don’t know,” she frowns. “I was unconscious when they took me; when they brought me back, I was in agony.” Her face creases and I know she’s thinking hard. “I remember the van shaking and juddering at first; I was being thrown around until I was going to be sick with the pain. Then it smoothed out. But how long I was travelling for I don’t know. It could have been ten minutes, but it felt like ten hours.”
“And you could see nothing at all?” My voice is calm, but my fingers grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles go white. How could anyone treat her or any young girl, in that way?
&nbs
p; “No. I still had my blindfold on until they threw me out. When I took it off, all I saw was the van driving away, as I said.”
“Hmm.” I glance at her, noting her hands are relaxed in lap, and there’s no obvious tension in her, making sure she’s able to cope with her memories. Then I reach for my laptop. Calling up our position on Google Earth I take a look. It sounds likely the jolting could have been because they’d been driving up a track. Possibly to a farm? The direction the van came from leads out into a rural area, so that makes sense.
“What are you looking for?”
“A barn or outbuilding, away from any occupied areas.” From the map, it appears there are quite a few possible structures. Looking back I see her face is now showing some strain and decide the thought of trying to find the place where she was held is a step too far for today. She’s had enough. “I’ll get the office to look into it. Let’s get back to your place.”
I start the McClaren. The engine gives that satisfying roar, which still hasn’t got old, and check over my shoulder before pulling away from the kerb. As it’s going to take a while to get back to Epping, I put the radio on again. Music helps me think, and as I drive my thoughts surround my inappropriate feelings about the woman beside me. Everything inside me is screaming out to protect and help her, to give her what she needs – my cock is particularly resolute on that. How she was strong enough to bring herself back from her ordeal, and without professional help, I’ll never know. I’m amazed how far she’s managed to come. But the reality is, she’s so innocent, so pure; she wouldn’t be able to handle my lifestyle. While at times I might have a regular sub, it’s only with a time-limited contract, so we both know what to expect. I don’t do relationships. And a contract wouldn’t work with Mia. She needs someone who can commit for the long term, and that isn’t me. I have to keep my distance. My throbbing dick in my pants disagrees.
Her phone rings, so I turn down the music so she can answer. I do listen, and I won’t apologise for that. I’m protecting her after all. It’s necessary to know everything about her. But what I hear turns me cold. The more excited and animated she becomes as she speaks into her phone, the more my fists tighten on the steering wheel as I start to seethe. She’s going to a fucking BDSM club with a seedy reputation? Not on my watch! Somehow, I manage to restrain myself from grabbing her phone and ending the connection long enough for her to complete the call. Gritting my teeth, becoming increasingly angry I wait for her to finish talking, preparing to have my say. But before I’m able to get a word in, she puts down her phone and gets in before me, her voice so eager and happy.
“I’m going out tomorrow night, Jon!”
She thinks this is good news?
There’s a layby ahead, and I turn into it, making an abrupt halt and pulling up the handbrake harshly. I’m too fucking furious to drive at the moment; I’d be risking both our lives and probably a few other people’s if I was to carry on. The rage rises in me, and I deserve a medal for not reaching over and shaking her. As it is, my fingers grasp the wheel even more tightly to help resist the urge to take them off and grab her. She throws me a curious glance and recoils a little at my expression. My tension is palpable.
I look straight ahead as she tells me, her brow creased as she tries to understand the way I’m acting. In a more cautious voice, she repeats, “I’m going out, tomorrow.”
Slowly I turn to look at her. My behaviour has dampened her excitement. She’s twisting her hands in her lap, so I know she’s nervous. Anxious, about her outing? Or telling me about it now she’s seen my reaction? Suspecting it’s a mixture of both, I decide to take charge.
Through a clenched jaw, I tell her firmly, “No you’re fucking not.” Her eyes widen, both my words and my tone have startled her. I continue, “I heard where you’re going, Mia.” Thoughts are chasing through my head. I remember the book she’s written. “Have you been there before?” Just the idea horrifies me. I can’t imagine she has, I don’t even want to imagine her in such a place. Her innocence would make her a target for exactly the wrong type.
“No, I haven’t. What’s the matter?” She turns away, and then comes back at me, determined, “You can’t stop me.”
Oh, she shouldn’t go there and challenge me like that. She better bet I can, I’ll tie her up if I have to. I look back and stare out the windscreen. It’s starting to rain, the clouds black; the weather a direct correlation to my mood. “Why the hell would you want to go to a place like that?”
Her eyes are on me as she twists in her seat, facing me once again. “I need to go for research. Val’s put me in contact with one of her friends who goes there, and I’m going to go with her,” she pauses, and takes a breath. Her voice composed, full of conviction. “I’ve written about clubs like this, but only based on what I’ve read or researched online. I’ve never been to one in real life. I want to go and see it for myself, soak up the atmosphere then I’ll be able to make it all come to life in my writing. This is my work, Jon. And let’s face it, the only good thing that’s happened to me this week. I’m not going to miss this opportunity. You don’t get to tell me what to do. ”
I remain focused on the drops of water running down the glass in front of me, preparing to set her straight on a few facts. “So you want to go to an underground BDSM club, with no dungeon monitors and few rules just for research purposes? Hell, they’ll eat you alive in there.” I can’t help myself; I try to hold the words back, but they come out anyway. “Fuck it, Mia. You’re all but a goddamn virgin!”
She gasps loudly and covers her mouth with her hand. I’ve shocked her.
“How dare you throw that at me?” I hear the sob that escapes. As I turn my head, I see a tear roll down her face, but the blotchiness of her cheeks and the tension in her neck shows she’s also angry. Then she tells me something which makes me realise how innocent she is. “I’m not going to do anything there, Jon. I just want to experience the atmosphere.”
I close my eyes for a moment, and breathe deeply, willing myself to calm down, there’s no point making this an argument, I’ve got to find the right words to convince her. “It’s not safe. I understand why you want to, but believe me, that’s not the place for you to go.” The rain has eased off so I get out of the car to get some fresh air, to remove myself from the tension, to allow me time to decide if the answer that’s come to me is indeed a good idea. The sound of her door opening reaches me; then I hear her swear and let out a gasp of pain behind me. Immediately I go to her.
“Damn it, Jon. Did you have to park next to stinging nettles?” She’s rubbing her leg furiously and frowning.
Without thinking, I lift her up and over the offending weeds and put her down on the gravel next to me while continuing to hold her. I like the feel of her in my arms; she’s soft and huggable, her head only reaching to my shoulder, her frame so much smaller than mine. I reach out my hand and turn her chin, so she’s looking up at me. Her brown eyes return my stare. If I hold her too tightly, the effect she has on me would be all too apparent. But my hard and throbbing cock makes it easier for me to come to a decision.
“You’re not going to that club,” I tell her, firmly, but this time without the ire. As she begins to protest, I put my finger to her lips, and then continue as I discover I don’t have to think about it, I’ve already made the decision, “You’re not going there because you’re coming to Club Tiacapan. With me.” She pulls back, eyes wide open, her eyebrows raised, showing her confusion. Raindrops start falling again, so before she can question me, I sweep her in my arms again. “Come let’s get back in the car.” She doesn’t protest as I carry her around to the passenger door and gently ease her into her seat. “There, I’ve protected you from the deadly nettles.” As I grin, a giggle escapes her lips. The moment lightens the mood.
I return to the driver’s side and strap myself in, checking her seatbelt is fastened too. It’s the protector in me; I’m unable to turn it off. Starting the car, I pull away and get back on the road.
Mia
Seven years ago
The party continued to rage around us, as my new friend gave me his arm to help me across the room. Without his support, I doubt I’d have made it as far as the front door. The odd notion that I ought to say something to Anna, to thank her for having me, rattled round my head, but I couldn’t summon up the right words nor had the inclination to search the house to find her. I was hoping fresh air would revive me, but as I stepped out into the coolness of the night, it seemed to do the complete opposite. I tripped over the front step, ending up sprawled over the path. I heard a hearty laugh; someone was mocking me, but I couldn’t summon up the energy to protest.
Then strong arms lifted me, and I felt myself being carried, then placed in the back of some vehicle. It wasn’t very comfortable, I wasn’t on a seat in a car, but my mind was too fogged to worry about what it was. At least some kind person was taking me home. I couldn’t have walked.
Senses fading fast when I tried to speak to offer up my address my voice didn’t work. The last thing I was conscious of was the engine starting.
Present day
Club Tiacapan? That’s only the most exclusive BDSM club in London! The hardest to get into; you need to be a multi-millionaire to afford the membership fees. I know. I’ve come across whispers about it in my research. How the hell does Jon think he can get me in there? If he really could, it would be an incredible opportunity and give me amazing insight and material for my books. Probably the best experience I could get. Well, in the UK.
He’s not said anything more. He’s waiting for my reaction, waiting for me to ask the obvious questions. But right now I’m just trying to soak it all in, totally gobsmacked. Not only has he said he could get me into the best club in England, he’s said he’ll take me. Sneaking peep at the man sitting beside me, I realise even the thought has given me goosebumps. He drives along the road, seeming at one with the fast, powerful car, handling it as he does everything, with utter competence. When he carried me over the nettles, I’d wanted him to hold me closer; my normal concerns about a man touching me never ended my head. His arms felt so strong and muscular, so safe, and not for the slightest moment had I any fear he’d drop me. I’d rested my head on his shoulder and drawn in his masculine scent. I wanted more.
Close Protection (Blood Brothers #2) Page 11
