"I want to go home," I announced and I wasn't ashamed that it sounded whiny. He could kiss my whiny butt.
"Baby, we need to talk."
He walked closer, somehow I found myself pressed against the headboard, knees to chest, arms out to ward him off. So, that was the trick, don't think about the movements, just let the body do its thing. He cocked his head at me and frowned.
"Gen, it's me, Brett." I did the blink thing again. "Baby I know your head got hurt, but we need to talk. I wanna come home."
No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. Brett kidnapping me was a shocker, but Brett still insisting we should live together made it pale in comparison. He just didn't get it, but then I'd sent plenty of confused messages, hadn't I? This was really all my fault. I'd let him back home four times. I had no one to blame but myself.
"Brett," I said shaking my head and then quickly closing my eyes as the room picked up speed around me. I swallowed the small amount of sick that sprang uninvited up my throat. "You can't come home."
"Is there someone else?" he demanded and the soft voice had disappeared. This was the Brett who threw things at the wall, who stormed out of the loft and spent six hours at the pub, then phoned me to come pick his sorry, drunk arse up. This Brett didn't come out too often, more so at the end, but it was well hidden behind soft voiced Brett. It was how I convinced myself things would be OK.
But I was past OK now, I had finally woken up. And there was no bed of roses anymore, just cup throwing, drunken Brett who threatened to take my dream away.
"It's over, Brett," I said, surprisingly softly. "You've got to know it's over." Maybe if I said it enough times he'd eventually hear me.
"Is this the way you want to play it, Genevieve?" My name did not sound nice on his tongue. "You push me away, baby, I will go for your store."
"I have a lawyer," I said, regretting confiding that little bit of news immediately. "It's not as easy as you think. You lost my gran's inheritance." Shut up now, Gen! "You didn't pay a cent in rent or board when you lived with me. I carried you completely." Shut it! Shut it! Shut it! "Your threat is hollow."
"Is it?" he said casually, as though none of what I had just said meant a blind thing. "I've bailed you out more than once. I've picked you up when you've been so down, you couldn't even work. I ran errands for you, dropping off crap to your folks down south, bringing shit back, looked after the apartment. Cleaned it, changed washers, made sure the windows didn't stick." That was a lie! I did all the domestic stuff and maintenance did the rest. He saw the look on my face. "My word against yours, baby. Can you risk it?"
I couldn't and he knew it. It was my dream. The only dream I will ever have and I couldn't even stand up to Brett for fear of losing that one chance at my dream. He knew me well, he knew what buttons to press and he knew I couldn't do it. I sagged into the pillows at my back, defeated, exhausted and disgusted at myself.
"I've just got a coupla things I need to sort out and then we can move back in. Kelly will be fine looking after the store in the meantime and you can stay safe here, watch some TV, get some rest. Heal those eyes, so no one sees how bad you look right now. You wouldn't want anyone to see you like this, would you, baby?"
I stared numbly at the hideous floral bedspread under my feet. I felt his weight settle on the side of the bed next to me, his hand came out and wrapped around the back of neck. The world stopped and not in a good way.
"We're meant to be together, you and me. You know it and I know it. And if you question that, baby, just remember I can take away your dream. Just like that. Then where would you be? No Sweet Seduction, no man, nothing. I'm all you've got and all you're gonna get. Don't fuck it up."
I bit my bottom lip and blinked my eyes several times to stop the tears that threatened to spill. I'm not sure it was working. He pulled my head towards him and kissed my forehead. I pretended I wasn't there.
"Tell me, you're mine," he whispered, hot, sticky breath against my skin. "Tell me, we're meant to be together. Say the words, Gen."
I flicked my eyes up to him and let the tears fall. Fuck him. His face didn't soften from its determined look. He expected an answer. I just stared, crying silent tears and thinking I would do anything to save my dream. If this is what it takes, then I'd do it.
Maybe he saw the conviction in my eyes, maybe he just knew me that well. Because he didn't press for me to say the words. He kissed one cheek and then the other and then stood up from the bed.
"I've gotta get things sorted, I'll be back late. Greeny will be in the next room if you need anything." I nodded, I just wanted him to leave so I could cry, for real, alone. "I love you, baby."
I didn't reply.
Finally he left, when it was obvious that all he'd get was tears.
How had I let it let it come to this? Where was the old Gen that I knew existed? The one who saved hard and worked even harder and never lost sight of the dream. I was tenacious. I was unstoppable. And then I met Brett.
But there were times when Brett had been cute, had sweet talked me, treated me as though I was a princess. Had made me feel like I was the only important person in his world. It had been heady and addictive and then just plain nice. But dreams don't last forever, especially dreams you don't nurture anymore. I was determined to never stop nurturing Sweet Seduction, I was never going to let my love for that dream die, like it had for Brett.
I did not love him. I did not want to be doing this. But I could not give up my most important and precious dream.
The tears stopped as soon as he left, strangely enough. Maybe I had cried so many over the past year I didn't have any left. He'd had his quota, now all he'd get was numb. Because that's all I felt. So numb and cold and alone and desolate. I was saving my dream, but somehow I didn't feel at all happy about that. But I couldn't allow myself to dissect the emotion, if I did that, it could jeopardise my dream. And I wouldn't let anything do that.
Greeny knocked on the door an hour or so later. Short, fat, balding guy in his forties, I'd say. How the hell Brett got mixed up with him, I did not know nor want to know. He had ginger hair, and a ginger beard, and beady little bug eyes in steel grey. Freckles dotted what you could see of his cheeks and tomato sauce - or blood, I thought distractedly, my blood - splattered over a faded Levis T-shirt and denim jeans. The thought that he had got close enough to be smeared in my blood was not comforting. I wondered how hard Brett had wrung them out. Not hard enough, I was sure.
"You want some food?" he asked in a surprisingly high pitched voice for such a big guy. I couldn't stomach a thing, the room had only just stopped spinning, but my head and nose still hurt like fuck. I shook my head once to say no. He didn't hang around, just shut the door and locked it I noticed, from the loud click that followed.
I got up, waited for the world to tilt - it didn't - then walked to the window. I don't know why I bothered, I'd decided to stay, to save my dream I'd take Brett back again. So trying the window to see if I could climb out of it was a waste of my time and energy. Both of which could have been used up curling in a ball on the bed and staring into space. But something made me do it, some part of me buried deep that refused to accept this was my life now.
It was useless, a useless thought or emotion, but it still made me check the damn window. Which ended up being bolted shut anyway. Even though we were on ground level and if I broke the glass I could get out. Then what? Greeny would chase me, maybe more blood would smear on his T-shirt and it would only piss Brett off. No, I had to lay low, be smart and only ever give Brett the numbness I now felt and nothing more. He didn't deserve it.
More time passed and I watched the sun getting low in the sky outside the window. Greeny didn't come back in, neither did Lofty, who would have received, at the very least, a scowl. And neither did Brett. I didn't switch the TV in the bedroom on. I didn't want anything to eat. I just lay there, numb. The word numb was becoming a permanent fixture in my head.
Then I heard a thud and a crash, which sounded
just like the pottery lamp did when I broke it, then a few curse words shouted by Greeny - I'd recognise that voice anywhere - and a few more sickening thuds and then finally silence. I was back at the head of the bed, knees to chin, feet to butt, part of the broken lamp in my hand. God alone knows what I was intending to do with the lamp, but if some of those bad guys Nick had warned me about, had caught up with Brett and his merry bunch of men, then I would use it.
The door handle shook, then an ear splitting sound followed as the door was torn off its hinges and almost wrenched from its frame. I sucked in air at what met my eyes.
Dominic stood inside the room looking like he wanted to kill someone. I was hoping it wasn't me. His eyes flowed over my body and flicked back up to my face, and then he went entirely still. I didn't realise someone could do that, go so still the air around them looked more animated than they did. He was no longer in his expensive looking suit, he was wearing jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a T-shirt that had the same honour with his chest and shoulders. The jeans looked so well worn I thought they'd start to unravel, the shirt had an emblem on it I couldn't quite decipher.
He looked fantastic. If not a little scary, with the way his jaw was clenched and his fists were too.
He stalked over to the bed and loomed over me. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he was not alone. Nick appeared behind him and winced when his eyes fell on my face. Ben could be seen through the now open door, and he was talking to someone else. Maybe Greeny? But none of it mattered, because Dominic god-like, sexiest smile and name, Anscombe was in my face and that was all I could see. And it was a little frightening.
I still grasped the lamp in a death grip, I still hadn't moved from my position - a position I noticed made me as non-threatening as I could possibly be - and I still hadn't let that last breath out.
"Breathe, sweetheart," he rumbled, as he sat slowly down on the side of the bed. He didn't reach for me, he just waited for me to breathe. I let the breath of air out in a rush. Somehow obeying his command seemed natural. Somehow releasing a little of the rage and anger and fear I had felt with what had happened with Brett, was easy with Dominic nearby. As though I was giving some of that burden up to him.
As soon as I did that he slipped his hand into mine, his other hand gently prying the broken lamp from my fingers, his eyes never leaving my face. The moment he touched me, his face softened - no longer killer lawyer let loose, but more along the lines of god-like knight in shining armour.
"What did you do to Greeny?" I asked from out of nowhere, even I had no idea that would spill from my mouth.
"Not nearly as much as I would have liked," he replied evenly.
"What would you have liked to do?" I asked, cocking my head to the side trying to decipher his mood.
He didn't answer my question, instead he asked, "Did he do this to your nose?"
"Who? Greeny?" He nodded. I shook my head in answer.
"Did Elliott?" There was a decided growl on those words and Nick stepped further into the room at Dominic's back. My eyes flicked to Nick's face, he was watching his brother intently. I looked back at Dominic, some of that killer lawyer was back in the room. It was impressive. I suddenly realised why he thought he could be my bodyguard, he had bad-ass written all over him.
"You look kind of frightening right now," I admitted. "But impressive," I had to add - of course I did. He furrowed his brows at me, it just improved the whole kick-butt persona he was channelling. It was hot. "Didn't think you had it in you." I kept on going, because, well, I was me and this was a hot guy and my mouth had a tendency to do that sort of thing. "What with the manicures and silk shirts and highly polished shoes." His lips twitched at the edges, I couldn't pull my eyes away. "Do you do ride-alongs or something with your brother?" Oh, crap, where did that come from?
"Something like that," he said on one of those coughs-which-could-have-been-a-laugh. "Who hurt you, sweetheart?" he asked gently, his hand coming up and trailing a feather-light touch down the side of my face. All killer lawyer gone. Tender, heavenly, god-like Anscombe in its place.
"Lofty," I said just as gently, transfixed by his touch, his presence, his voice. "He didn't mean to," I added. "He kind of lost his balance when I took the chain off the door and fell through, a bit keystone cops really." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I don't think they're very competent for kidnappers. Brett wasn't impressed."
Killer lawyer was threatening to come out, but he was fighting it. Valiantly.
"We'll talk about you unchaining your door later." I got the impression that was a promise, not a suggestion. "Does it hurt?"
Yeah, it hurt like a bitch. Constantly. But I wasn't going to admit that. I did have some pride left.
"Nah, it's OK." An eyebrow rose in question.
"Were you knocked out?" I bit my lip, beginning to see that bad news opened the flood gates to killer lawyer. Being knocked out could be construed as bad.
"Um..."
"Genevieve." Oh, and now he'd done it, used that voice, saying my name. I leaned toward him, as though he simply had to say my name and I was his. He smiled, really pulling me under the spell now, his hand came up and cupped my face, the other still holding my hand securely. "You have no idea," he muttered under his breath as though it was me pulling him under a spell.
"No," I whispered. "I don't." Yeah, great come back, Gen.
He laughed, absolutely not a cough and shook his head from side to side.
"This is definitely going to be fun," he said from out of nowhere.
Oh crap. I was in so much trouble.
Chapter 8
The Worst Kind of Crazy
"What do you mean, you won't lay charges?" Killer lawyer was threatening another appearance.
After Dominic had ascertained that I wasn't too badly injured; I could follow his finger when he waved it in front of my eyes, I could move my chin and place it on my chest without difficulty - I didn't tell him about the headache, but I think he already knew I had one, maybe I grimaced or something when the police knocked loudly on the door - and the blood was only from my nose. Which although broken, was back in alignment and the paramedics simply cleaned me up and lay strips of tape across the sides to keep it secure, gave me paracetamol and offered me a cold pack to ice the swelling. He took me through to the main room of the motel to be interviewed by real detectives.
Greeny had disappeared, I didn't ask where to. I suspected to a police station, but I really didn't want to know. He had been replaced by two detectives. One was called Harvey Stone, a tall, muscular sandy haired guy with an awesome tan. He could have been a surfy, with those ice blue eyes and stunning smile. He greeted both Nick and Dominic warmly; hand shakes and a slap on the shoulder. I gathered they all knew each other quite well. Maybe they met up at scenes like this on a regular basis, how was I to know? The second cop, another detective, was called Ryan Pierce, and had dark brown hair curling down around his jaw - I didn't know the police force allowed their members to wear hair a little long - which mixed with the goatee beard, gave him the appearance of rugged, bad-boy. I expected he'd do really well under cover, that look could shift to bad-ass, bad-boy with minimal effort on his part. He had chocolate brown eyes, that trained on me the moment he walked in the room. Along with the intense gaze came a smattering of tension in the air. A little like killer lawyer right now.
I fidgeted with the bottom of my blouse - which on close inspection was trashed beyond repair, blood stains were difficult to get out under normal circumstances, but I'd been wearing this for over twenty-four hours, it was not going to be revived - and bit my bottom lip.
"Genevieve," Dominic said on a sigh, my name didn't carry its usual sensual effect this time, "he was part of the team, arranged by your ex-boyfriend to kidnap you. During which you had your nose broken and spent a considerable amount of time unconscious. You need to press charges."
"How do you know how long I was unconscious for?" I asked, surprised he'd guessed accurately.
/>
"How long were you unconscious for?" he shot back, I bit my lip. "Need I say more?" I glared at him, he stared impassively back.
"As your lawyer, I advise..."
"You're not my lawyer."
"...that you press charges, as..."
"I don't want to press charges."
"...their intentions were quite clearly to hold you here against your will."
"Um..."
He stared at me, the room went completely silent. Nick and Ben, and another guy from ASI called Eric, were huddled in the corner, but when the room went silent, their eyes trained on Dominic. Dominic not me. I got the impression they were waiting for him to blow like Mt Vesuvius.
Detective Stone stepped into the pyroclastic blast range.
"Maybe it would be best if Ms Cain slept on it and we address pressing charges tomorrow?" he offered, quite reasonably I thought.
"Maybe Ms Cain would like to explain herself?" Dominic bit back.
Maybe Mr Anscombe can go to hell, I thought, but didn't say. I don't think it mattered that I hadn't verbalised that, Dominic was staring at me in a such an intense way that I think he had access to my thoughts. His eyes held mine, there was a challenge there, but also a hint of disappointment. The disappointment made my throat constrict and tears, again, threaten my eyes. I blinked several times to still them.
"Gentlemen, can you give us a moment." It was a question, but Dominic didn't phrase it that way. Quite clearly he expected everyone to comply, which, to my surprise, they all did.
The room cleared within seconds and I was left alone with Dominic, who hadn't given up on killer lawyer yet and was quite clearly thinking of bringing scare-me-half-to-death lawyer out as well. He didn't speak immediately, just stood several feet away watching me. The silence was worse than if he shouted. His stillness, worse than if he threw something or punched a wall. All of it held a type of menace I had never seen before in my life. And Brett had been, on occasion, quite menacing, but he had nothing on Dominic Anscombe.
Sweet Seduction Sacrifice Page 8
