by Jade Winters
‘Because I could never be happier than I am at this moment.’
Morgan tucked a lock of hair behind Skye’s ear, looked deep into her eyes and said, ‘Me neither.’
To Morgan’s astonishment, every word she had said was true. Skye had literally turned her life on its head and shaken out all the bad things that had been weighing her down.
So this is what it feels like to be loved up. If it was, she could quite understand the appeal.
Skye propped herself on her elbow and dropped her chin to her chest. ‘But like every story, there’s a sad ending, isn’t there?’
Lifting Skye’s chin with one finger until their eyes met, Morgan whispered, ‘There doesn’t have to be. It can end any way we want it to. Didn’t you say yesterday that we’re in control of our destinies?’
Skye wrapped her arm around Morgan’s waist. ‘Hmm, so I did.’
‘So?’
‘So…?
‘We can make this happen, right?’ Morgan said, sounding like a motivational speaker.
Skye rolled onto her back. ‘I don’t see how.’
‘Well, that’s easy. Come back to London with me.’
Skye covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh Morgan, you know I can’t. I’ve got too many responsibilities here.’
‘I know, but—’
‘There really aren’t any buts.’ She dropped her arms to her sides. ‘Let’s not spoil the time we have left together by talking about the impossible.’
The look in Skye’s eyes told Morgan that the subject was closed.
There had to be a way for them to be together. There had to be. But now was not the time to press the subject.
‘Okay, point taken.’ Morgan took her hand. ‘I promise I won’t say another word on it. Looks like we’ll have to cram a lifetime into five days.’
She heard the sad edge to her voice—the same sadness that went straight to her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Meet me at twenty-one Goddard House. Three o’clock. Come alone.’ The deep voice was familiar.
‘Jones, can you just let me explain?’ Thomas said, keeping the shakiness in his voice at bay.
‘Just be there.’
The line went dead, and Thomas stared down at the phone.
The rendezvous was in less than an hour. Anxious, he downed the rest of his whisky and poured himself another. No doubt Dick would be up in arms when he got home from work to find that Thomas had polished off his bottle of malt whisky, though that was the least of Thomas’s worries. He knew he’d have to face Jones at some stage, but if he were honest, he’d been expecting contact a lot sooner.
He’d been out of prison for a week—more than enough time for Jones to settle the score with him if that’s what his intentions were. The fact that he hadn’t gave him hope. At least he didn’t have Claire to worry about; Jones couldn’t hurt her now. But he can and will hurt her children unless I stop him.
It would be easy to point his attention in Morgan’s direction and let her deal with the consequences, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t do that. Not even if his life depended on it.
Despite his instincts screaming at him not to go, Thomas rose onto unsteady legs, the floral sofa giving a creak. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He rubbed a hand over his face. Time to face the music!
Leaving the empty bottle on the table, he walked out the front door, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and jeans, not feeling the cold air lashing against his face as he hurried to his destination. Winter had come with a vengeance, bringing with it rain and freezing temperatures. Even the thick tree branches bent under the weight of the wind.
Thomas rushed along the pavement. His feet heavy, he stumbled on a raised slab, landing head first on the wet concrete. Numbed with alcohol, Thomas didn’t feel the impact. In one swift movement, he turned over and pushed himself into a sitting position. He probed his head, and his fingers came away covered in red. The pelting rain mingled with the blood, washing them clean. Unperturbed, he rose to his feet and carried on walking. His destination, a high-rise block of flats, came into view in the distance.
The dark and menacing building should have been enough to make him hightail it straight back to his mother’s house, but as the saying went: there’s no fool like a drunk fool. In his alcohol-sodden state, he thought he could make things right.
The door to number twenty-one stood ajar. He stopped for a second, cautious in his approach, but then pushed it open with his foot.
As he stepped in, he called out, ‘Anyone here? Come on, let’s get this over with, man to man.’ He laughed nervously as he walked along the hallway, opening doors. ‘Hello?’ He closed the last door behind him and turned to leave. ‘Don’t say I didn’t come.’ The words died in his throat. A large, hooded man stood in the doorway, filling the whole frame with his bulk.
Thomas’s muscles tensed. There was no way he could rugby tackle the bastard. Jones was too close to him, and besides, judging by the size of him, he probably wouldn’t move an inch.
Thomas resigned himself that he would have to take the beating like a man, just as he had in prison. He didn’t doubt he would end up in hospital. He needed to get his story across before it was too late. A man with a wired jaw couldn’t speak.
‘Jones, you’ll get your money. I didn’t mean to double-cross you, man. It was stupid of me to think I could get away with it.’
Even with his life on the line, he couldn’t bring Claire into it by telling the truth about the drugs she had thrown down the toilet after the death of her grandchild—five thousand pounds worth of drugs straight into the sewers. How could he explain that one to Jones, who was notorious for his cruel ways of dealing with those who crossed him?
Floorboards creaked under heavy footsteps.
I’ll recover from this no matter how bad the beating is.
A roar of wind shattered the stillness, rattling the windowpane. Thomas didn’t take his eyes off his potential attacker. He knew that would be fatal.
I’ll find the money to repay Jones somehow.
The man’s breath moistened his cheek.
Once I’m in the clear, I’ll move out of the area, somewhere far away where I can put the past behind me and start afresh.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The weather had changed since Morgan’s arrival in Marlborough. The once bleak grey December skies had been transformed into clear blue ones. Even the icy wind had stopped blowing—an added bonus, because it meant Skye could take Morgan on long scenic walks through the countryside during the day, whiling away the hours until they could spend the evenings locked in each other’s arms. They spent very little time apart, knowing that their time together was limited.
All too soon, the day came when Morgan had to leave. She would be gone in an hour, and Skye would return to her mundane existence. Just thinking about it sent a dark, thick cloud to cover the sun, a cloud that would never disperse.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Morgan asked as if reading her mind.
‘You … me … us.’ She paused for a second. ‘Tomorrow, the day after and the day after that.’
Morgan gave her a sad smile before striding into the bathroom and returning with her toiletry bag and dropping it into her case. ‘I can always visit.’
Skye let out a long frustrated sigh. ‘It won’t be the same. I feel so selfish. After having you all to myself, I don’t want it any other way.’
Morgan stopped packing and glanced over at her. ‘So, then … have you thought any more about what to do about your aunt’s long-term care?’
Skye addressed her question with a small shake of her head. ‘I don’t want to think about it. It’ll only make me more miserable knowing I’m bound to this place.’
For the past few days, Skye had been living in the moment and loving every minute of it. Strangely, her dad had been avoiding her. Each time she had seen him during the week, he had grunted something at her before disappearing—quickly. He hadn’t even asked her for money, which was
something in itself. She hoped this was a sign he had taken her threat on board.
Morgan moved around the room collecting the rest of her belongings. Skye knew she wasn’t the only one who was feeling the immense pain of their impending separation. She had caught Morgan staring at her on more than one occasion with the same sadness that resonated in her heart.
A thought came to mind, so simple she could have slapped herself for not thinking of it sooner. She had already saved up four thousand pounds, or thereabouts, and needed an additional four thousand five hundred to pay for the two-week detox and aftercare at the rehab centre for her dad. All she needed was a loan for the remainder. With the wages she would earn singing at Morgan’s club, she could easily pay it off in a year.
‘Hey, I thought you were sad about our parting,’ Morgan joked. She walked over to Skye, pulled her up to her feet and slid her arms around Skye’s waist.
‘I think I may have found a solution,’ Skye said.
Morgan nuzzled Skye’s neck and placed a small kiss against her skin. ‘Really? Mmm, do tell.’
‘Not yet,’ Skye said, leaning her head back to give Morgan full access to her throat. ‘Before I say anything, I need to make sure it’s feasible first.’
Morgan drew back. ‘Skye, if you need any financial help to look after your aunt, you only have to ask.’
Skye frowned and lowered her head. ‘Oh no, I could never do that. I’ll manage just fine, but thanks anyway. That really means a lot, though. If all goes to plan, I should be free—’
‘—to come to London?’
‘Yep.’ Skye smiled. ‘Just think, in a few weeks’ time, I could be your club’s star attraction.’
‘That—’ Morgan kissed the tip of Skye’s nose. ‘—would be the perfect end to an already incredible story.’
Skye’s eyes took a slow tour of Morgan’s face. ‘I was thinking more like the perfect beginning.’
She looked into Morgan’s eyes, so warm and deep like the ocean on a summer’s day. The future looked bright again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As Morgan drove away, she watched Skye’s figure grow smaller until she was just a dot in her rear-view mirror. She could still feel the imprint of her body against hers and the lingering kiss on her lips, and smell the scent of her perfume. Even if Skye’s plan failed, Morgan would move heaven and earth to bring them together—permanently.
Lost in the blissful memory of the past few days, it took Morgan a few seconds to realise her mobile phone was ringing. Muting the radio, she pressed the hands-free answer button.
‘Morgan, where are you?’ Adrian’s voice had a nervous edge to it.
‘Well, good morning to you too. Why do you sound so glum.’
‘It’s Thomas Kidding.’
‘Thomas!’ She swerved the car onto the side of the road, ignoring the angry hoots, and brought the vehicle to a halt. Disconnecting the hands-free, she put the phone to her ear. ‘Has he been bothering you?’
Adrian’s voice was barely audible. ‘No. Where he’s gone, he won’t be bothering anyone ever again.’
‘Don’t talk in riddles, Adrian,’ Morgan snapped. ‘Tell me what you mean.’
‘He’s dead.’
The news hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. Her breath came out laboured as she processed Adrian’s words. ‘He’s dead?’
‘Yes. Looks like suicide. He jumped from a block of flats yesterday afternoon. An old lady walking her dog found his splattered body on the pavement. Must have been pretty grim for her.’
‘Oh my God.’ She slammed the steering wheel with her free hand. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’
Tears blurred her vision as she looked ahead at the cars whizzing by. She didn’t know why she was crying. She should have been happy, laughing even. It was over. The focus of her hatred was gone, but she felt no glory—just guilt. The image of him standing in her office, pleading to talk, tormented her.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ Adrian sounded concerned.
She sunk her head into her hands. ‘No, no I’m not! This is all my fault.’
‘Your fault? Morgan, don’t even go down that road,’ Adrian said, his voice full of reason. ‘He was probably as high as a kite. He was scum. Remember that every time you want to feel sorry for him. What is this, anyway? You hated him, remember?’
‘Adrian, I was … I was going to …’
‘I know, Morgs, I know, and I have to admit that I thought you were responsible at first. I’m sorry, but I did. You were so angry when he was let out and so full of hate …’ His voice softened. ‘That was until Daniel told me how it happened. It doesn’t matter what you were going to do. The main thing is you didn’t, and in the end, you didn’t need to. Karma gave him his just desserts.’
‘It sure did.’
‘Are you okay to drive? Do you want me to come and pick you up?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. I’ll drive back slowly. I’ll see you soon.’
Morgan disconnected the call and leant back in her seat. She’d thought his death would bring an end to all of her misery, but it hadn’t. All she was left with were more questions, and now that he was dead, she would never get any answers to them.
She hit the steering wheel again. ‘Damn! Damn! Damn and blast him straight to hell!’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Skye sat with her fingers crossed on her lap, staring at the computer screen. In two minutes, her problems would be over, so why was she so nervous? Because there’s so much at stake.
Memories of Morgan and her time at her club filled her mind. She remembered feeling like she’d found her place in the world when she’d stood on that stage. If she got this loan, she would be free—free to live her own life, a life with Morgan.
The small electronic hourglass stopped turning, and in a large font, the words ‘Your application has been approved’ flashed up on the screen.
Skye let out a wild scream. It was done! All she needed to do was arrange for her dad to get a referral from his doctor, and he could go to rehab.
When he returned home, Skye would be the nominated supervisor to monitor him in the first few weeks and make sure he attended Narcotic’s Anonymous. After that, she hoped he could access the support he needed through NA and find a mentor to live a drug-free life.
Ecstatic, Skye jumped from her chair and crossed over to her bed. She would need to put the cash she had been saving into her bank account so when the loan was transferred, she could pay the detox fee in one transaction. Lifting up the mattress, she slid her hand underneath and felt around. She would call Morgan in a few hours to tell her she had a plan in action and would be seeing her sooner than she thought.
The thought filled Skye with a joy that bubbled out of her in laughter.
‘Oh for God’s sake, where are you?’ she said aloud upon failing to find her bundle of money. Thinking it must have been pushed to the far side of the mattress, she stood and lifted the mattress off the bed. She stared, dumbfounded. The bed base was bare.
It must have fallen down the side. Don‘t panic. All your tossing and turning must have moved it while you were sleeping, that’s all.
She bent down and pulled the base away from the wall. The strip of carpet behind the bed was empty. No money. Frantic, she lifted the slates off the bed and looked underneath. Nothing there. The carpet was clean and bare. The money was gone.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Only one person could have taken it. But how? She glanced at the lock on her door—it hadn’t been tampered with. Then her gaze fell to her slightly open window. How could I forget to lock the window?
Taking the steps two at a time, Skye stormed downstairs and burst into the kitchen.
‘Where is it?’ she screamed, doing everything in her power not to shake her father until his bones rattled.
Why the hell didn’t I just put the money in the bank? I should have known he’d find a way into my room.
Oliver kept his back to her and continued pouring hot water into a mug
.
‘Where’s what?’ By the tone of his voice, it was obvious he knew exactly what she was talking about.
Rage built inside her like lava in an active volcano. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot! Where’s the money from under my bed?’
He snorted. ‘What you asking me for?’
‘Can you at least look at me when I’m talking to you?’ She balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking and planted them on her hips.
He turned and looked at her, then lowered his gaze to the floor. Guilt was written all over his face. Skye shook her head at him and peered closer to see if he had any humanity left in him at all.
‘How could you do this, Dad? How could you do this to me?’
‘How could I?’ He spat the words out with contempt. ‘You had all that money squirreled away, and you didn’t want to give me any of it. None of it. Dishing it out in tiny bits like I was a child. You kept all that from me, and I’m the bad person? Saving it so you could run away on another fancy holiday, I bet. You are so selfish!’
‘Selfish? Really, Dad? You want to know what that money was for? Do you? That was money I’d been saving to get you help. Yes, very selfish of me. All I ever did was work to save money to help you, and you stole it. You stole from your own daughter.’ Her voice sounded weary. She had finally reached the end of the line. If he could do this to her, she didn’t even know who he was anymore. ‘Dad, you just pushed away the last person who cares about you.’
‘You don’t care about me.’
‘Okay, I don’t. If that’s the only way you can live with yourself, think whatever you want. Now you’ll really see what me not caring is like. This is the last straw. You’re on a road to self-destruction, and I was a fool to think I could stop you.’
Skye walked into the hallway and took a suitcase and Zeus’s basket from the cupboard.
Oliver followed her. ‘Are you doing that emotional blackmail bullshit your mum used to pull on me? ’Cause it ain’t gonna work.’
He sneered at her, his arm folded across his scrawny chest.
