The Hearts Series

by L.H. Cosway

  He glanced at me, and then without a word opened the glove compartment and rummaged through it, fishing out his phone. When he handed it to me, I realised I wouldn’t be doing any Googling, because it was at least ten years old.

  “Who are you calling?” he asked.

  “Um, nobody. Never mind,” I replied, and handed it back to him.

  He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to use the Internet, and your phone is from the Stone Age, Jack.”

  “Well, it’s a phone, isn’t it?”

  His simple reply made me laugh, and when I saw his face, I realised he thought I was laughing at him.

  “Being a snob doesn’t suit you, Lille.”

  I quickly sobered and reached for his arm, but he drew away. “That’s not what I was implying. I actually think it’s refreshing. Everybody’s so over-connected these days.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know anything about that, would I? I’m just a barely literate slumdog living in the fucking Stone Age.”

  I stared at him, mouth open, not understanding how he could take offense so easily, how his mood could turn so swiftly. Was I being snobbish? If I was, I hadn’t meant to be. He got up and walked to the back of the camper, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. I made my way toward him as he drank, and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled the carton from his mouth, swallowed, and glanced at me. “You should probably go check on Lola. See how she’s feeling.”

  Well, I knew dismissal when I heard it. A lump forming in my throat, I shot him a final apologetic look before turning and leaving the van. When I got to Violet’s camper, Lola was fast asleep in our room, snoring loudly, and Violet was on the floor in the lounge, her body bent into a crab position. It looked almost painful but was clearly effortless to her. She only gave me a nod in greeting. I was beginning to learn that, like a lot of the people in this circus, Violet was an odd character. Sometimes she’d have a conversation with you, even joke around, and then other times she wouldn’t talk to you at all.

  Later that night when I went to the gazebo for something to eat, I chatted with Marina for a while, letting her know that Lola wasn’t well and that I’d fill in for her if she wasn’t up to working tomorrow night. I noticed Pedro watching me again from the other end of the long table, his face hard like before. He sat by himself, eating a bowl of stew and listening to us as we spoke. I didn’t see any sign of Jack, but I did get a death glare from Julie as she passed by the table with her sisters. Today was definitely not my day.

  Infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it in for me.

  As I was leaving, I filled a bowl for Lola and brought it back to the camper van. She was awake when I got there and had just enough energy to eat before she fell asleep again. It was definitely looking like she had the flu, and I resigned myself to sleeping on the sofa that night, since I didn’t want to catch it.

  After the way I’d left things with Jack, I felt unsettled. I couldn’t seem to sit still, so I decided to go find him and make amends. Running what I’d said about his phone through my head again, I realised that I had been a bit of a snob. His camper van was dark on the inside, and when I knocked on the door, I got no answer. I wished I had a phone so that I could call him and made a note to buy a cheap one in town the next day. Disappointed, I started walking back when I caught sight of him leaving the gazebo, headed towards the street.

  Picking up my pace, I followed, cupping my hands around my mouth and calling out his name, but the traffic was too loud, and he couldn’t hear me. He was so tall that I could easily pick him out in the distance and so I kept following him. The tricky part came in when I reached a large open square that reminded me of an Italian piazza. In no time I’d lost him and found myself standing in front of a restaurant. Some men sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking fancy European-looking beers. They wore business suits, their ties loosened, signalling that they were off duty.

  When one of them gave me a look up and down and called me over, I began walking away hurriedly, not wanting the attention. I already felt vulnerable, all alone in a strange city at night with no phone and very little money. When I tried going back the way I came, I realised I must have made a wrong turn somewhere because I didn’t recognise the street. A group of teenagers walked by me, and I knew I appeared distraught because they gave me curious looks. In usual teenage fashion, though, none of them offered to help.

  I had a vague feeling that I was going in the right direction, but I realised I was wrong when I’d been walking for ten minutes and still didn’t recognise where I was. Why the hell had I left the circus without even asking what street we were on?

  I stood outside a newsagents, folding my arms across my chest because it was getting cold and I had no coat. I was just about to stop a woman I saw approaching me and ask for help when a hand landed on my shoulder. I yelped at the unexpected contact and turned around, relief flooding me when I saw it was Jack.

  That relief only lasted a moment when I saw the look of anger on his face.

  Ten

  An attack led them astray

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he fumed, his hand on my shoulder steering me across the street where a tram was just pulling up to the stop. Jack led me onto it, pushing me right up into the opposite door and glaring down at me. My back hit the glass, my heart going ninety. The carriage was by no means full, but there were a couple of people giving us wary glances.

  I was focusing on looking anywhere but Jack’s eyes because they were scary right then. So black. I noticed he had a plastic bag dangling over one arm that contained a carton of milk, bread, and a packet of cigarettes. So yeah, I’d obviously been following him on a trip to the grocery shop and had gotten myself lost in the process. Still, I couldn’t understand why he was this mad. Mild irritation I’d expect, but this level of pissed off was way over the top.

  Telling him I’d been following him would only worsen his temper, so I lied. “I was taking a walk. I wanted to see the city.”

  “You wanted to see the city at eleven o’clock at night? Wouldn’t it have been wiser to wait until morning?”

  I bristled. “Probably.”

  “And if you were only taking a walk, then why did I find you huddled outside a newsagents looking like you were ready to have a panic attack?”

  As he spoke, his body moved closer and closer to mine. Now his hips had me penned in place, one arm braced above my head and his broad chest in my face. I tried to keep my tone light-hearted.

  “‘Huddled’ is a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it? And okay, I may have lost my way. I was just about to ask for directions when you showed up. Lucky that,” I said, and winked at him. Winked. At. Him. Why the hell did my brain think that was a clever thing to do? Jack frowned at me, a look I was beginning to recognise as him thinking I was being weird. Then he let out a long breath.

  “You don’t know this city. Next time you want to go for a stroll, ask me to take you. Then, once you know where you’re going, you can wander all you like, though not at night. That’s just asking for trouble.”

  There was something about the way he spoke to me that ruffled my feathers. Maybe I just didn’t like people telling me what to do. I stood straighter, lifted my chin, and pushed him out of the way. His body moved, though I was certain that if he hadn’t wanted to, my pushing would have been pointless.

  “I’m not an idiot, so don’t talk to me like I am,” I said firmly. I’d spent my entire life being spoken down to by my mother. I wasn’t going to start letting someone else do it. Especially not Jack.

  “Well, you sure seem to act like one sometimes,” he shot back, and I saw red.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  I stared at him without blinking, and he stared right back. My arms were folded tight across my chest like steel, and I had the distinct urge to make a fist so I could punch him. This man was so aggravating.

  “Are you being m
ean because of what I said earlier about your phone? Because if that’s the case, then I apologise again. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive.”

  Okay, so I was goading him, but he had it coming. In an instant he was in my space, and this time the tension practically radiated off him. His hands went to my neck, his thumbs stroking my throat, and God, I was already turned on. He had that effect on me. Hell, maybe I got off on fighting with him. It really wouldn’t surprise me if I did.

  He bent to bring his face level with mine and spoke slowly. “‘Sensitive’ is the last word anyone would use to describe me, flower, but keep poking, see how long it takes for me to snap.” His voice was low and cutting, but so erotic, and the subtle edge of a threat had my every pore alight and tingling.

  “Seems like you’ve snapped already,” I whispered so quietly I’m sure he only heard because he was so close.

  “If you think that’s snapping, then you don’t know me at all.”

  “That’s right, I don’t.” I paused before continuing bravely, “But I want to.”

  His mouth twisted, and he began to shake his head; for a second there was a tortured expression on his face. “No, you don’t.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want.”

  He dropped his shoulders so his forehead rested against mine, and I could feel him breathing. “Seeing you like that, alone, panicking, pissed me off, okay? I’m sorry for lashing out.”

  His protective instincts were not entirely unexpected; however, they did surprise me. I was just a girl he knew. Yes, one he had the urge to go down on, but still just a girl. Would he really be that bothered if something were to happen to me? His words from the other night rang in my head.

  You’re all I see.

  Maybe he would be bothered. Maybe he would be very bothered. The thought made me shiver.

  I didn’t know what to do. His mood had changed so swiftly. In the end, I just stood there, breathing him in, until the tram stopped and the door started to open. Jack laced his fingers in mine and led me off. We turned a corner, and there was the circus, the foundations of the Spiegeltent being laid out already. I had an idea for a three-part painting of the tent in its various stages of being built, the final complete one full of colour and light, people coming to see the show.

  Sometimes it felt like I had so many ideas but never enough time to make them happen.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jack asked, and I realised he’d been watching me.

  “Oh, you know, the usual. How our lives are finite and we’ll only ever get to fit so much into them. How it doesn’t feel like enough.”

  Jack gave me a thoughtful look and was silent a moment before he spoke. “Would it make you feel better to know that we all get the same number of hours in a day, days in a year? Some people might be rich and some might be poor, but none of them can buy time. It is one of the fairest systems in the world.”

  “Yeah, but most rich people live longer lives than the poor.”

  Jack shrugged. “I’m not talking about lifespans. I’m talking about time. And what makes you a good judge of what is enough? Maybe stop thinking of enough and just live in the moment. Then you won’t worry — you’ll just be experiencing.”

  “It’s hard to change the way you think when you were raised to measure everything in comparison to everything else.”

  “Well, that sounds like a depressing way to live your life.”

  “It is.”

  “Change, then.”

  There was a forcefulness to his words, like he really cared. I stopped walking, my hand slipping from his. He paused two steps ahead of me and turned, arching a questioning brow. He was so beautiful. I loved looking at him in the dark and then in the light, noting the contrasts, realising that he was exquisite in every setting.

  “Jack,” I breathed.

  He looked wary. “Lille?”

  “You’re kind of beautiful, you know that?”

  Staring at me, he seemed caught off guard. He definitely hadn’t expected me to say that. His face appeared to be battling a war within itself over whether or not to smile or frown. In the end, I got something that was neither one nor the other.

  “Only kind of?”

  I let out a loud bark of a laugh and teased, “Well, you’re no Gandy.”

  Jack shot me a confused glance. “And thank fuck for that. Who wants to look like a little old bald man with John Lennon glasses?”

  My laughter spilled out and was impossible to control. When I finally regained the ability to speak, I said, “David Gandy the male model, not Gandhi the father of Independence in India. And technically, John Lennon stole the spectacles from him, since Gandhi came before Lennon.”

  His face was what I could only describe as amused affection. “So, let me get this straight: I don’t look like a male model. Okay, I think I can live with that.” He said this with such a deadpan tone that I began laughing all over again, and it had just started to die down. What was even funnier was the fact that my comment was intended to tease and rile him up, but it hadn’t riled him up at all. And the truth of the matter was that he could’ve wiped the floor with a whole room full of male models. Jack’s beauty was far beyond anything quite so flat and one-dimensional.

  I took two steps towards him and placed my hands on his chest. He watched my every move intently, like I was a strange animal and he didn’t know what I was going to do next.

  “No, you don’t. You’re still beautiful, though,” I whispered before rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his. I was being uncharacteristically forward. There was something about being out in the dark that made me feel less inhibited than usual. Jack stood still, an immovable living statue, letting me kiss him. I got a vibe of curiosity, like he was waiting to see where I was going with this.

  Good luck with that.

  I didn’t even know where I was going.

  I was trying to live in the moment, like he said. Experience rather than measure. My hands explored his hard, warm chest before moving up to his neck and sliding around to sink into his hair. All the while he did nothing, and there was some sort of triumph in that. I felt like he was surrendering, letting me take what I wanted. It was a gift, I knew, because Jack McCabe wasn’t a man to surrender often.

  Pressing my body along the length of his and feeling just how much he wasn’t indifferent towards me by the thick hardness at his crotch, I slid my tongue into his mouth and felt him shudder. Wow. I tugged on his hair a little and was rewarded with a deep, masculine groan that originated in the back of his throat and made every tiny hair on my body stand on end.

  I broke away from his mouth long enough to whisper, “Touch me back.”

  He didn’t give in immediately, but after a moment or two, his arms went around my waist, tightening and pulling me closer. His mouth began to move, his tongue tangling with mine in a soft, sensual dance. I felt like I was trying to drink him in but would never quite get enough. My hands were everywhere, feeling every place I could reach, while his remained in place, never venturing anywhere other than my waist. His hands were balled at my hips, fisting my shirt tightly. I adored how solid he was, how immovable.

  Just as I was falling into him, getting lost out here in the dark, a sharp, violent scream rang out, and I pulled away, startled.

  “What was that?” I asked, breathless, right before a second scream sounded. Jack grabbed my hand and tugged me forward, my body propelling faster than I’d be capable of on my own. The screaming continued and it made my heart pound, my skin growing tight. We followed the noise right to Violet’s camper. The light was dim, but it was bright enough for us to make out a figure leaving through the door in a hurry. It was definitely male.

  “Hey!” Jack shouted, letting go of my hand to chase after him. I hurried inside to find Lola crouched over, tears streaming down her face. The covers had been yanked off the bed, and it looked like someone had kicked a hole in the wall. Blood was running down her chin from her lip, and there was a look of terror
in her eyes that I knew I’d never forget.

  “Lola, what happened?” I asked, breathless and frantic as I went to sit by her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. The moment I touched her, she instantly jumped away, her hands shaking and tears filling her eyes.

  “Don’t,” was all she said.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, moving away and picking the blanket up off the floor. Carefully, I draped it around her shoulders, and she gripped it tight. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she continued to shake. I wanted to ask her what had happened again, but I didn’t feel like I’d get an answer. Leaving her for a moment, I went outside to find Jack walking back towards the camper, breathing hurriedly.

  “Fucking lost him,” he said between breaths, and nodded to the van. “Who’s inside?”

  “Lola. She won’t answer when I ask her what happened, but it looks like someone assaulted her. She won’t stop shaking, Jack.”

  He swore and slammed his hand into the side of the camper in frustration. Over his shoulder, I saw a shadow move in the darkness a moment before King stumbled forward, his trademark bottle of liquor in his hand.

  “Keep the noise down, would ya?” he grumbled, and brought the bottle to his mouth for a drink. Jack swiped it away from him and held it out of reach.

  “You been hanging around here all night?” Jack asked.

  “Hey! Give that back,” King complained, trying to grab for it.

  “Answer me and then I’ll give it back,” said Jack, voice stern.

  “Been around, yeah.”

  “Did you see anyone go inside this camper?”

  King frowned, his brows drawn together as he thought about it. “Nah, don’t think so.”

  “Yes or no, King.”

  “Fuck’s sake. No, I didn’t see anyone,” he shouted then, words slicing from his lips like razor blades. His arctic-blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and for a moment I was frightened. What if King was the one who attacked Lola? He had been hanging around all night. But then, we did see someone running away, someone fast enough to outrun Jack, and I didn’t think King was capable of that in his current state.