by S. R. Jones
“I’m Ann.” My sister saves the day by getting up and going over to Isla. “You look like you need a drink. Something stronger than coffee.” She holds the wine up, but Isla shakes her head.
“I don’t drink, thanks.”
“You deeply religious?” I ask. Genuinely curious. It explains the no sex, no booze stuff.
She flushes and shakes her head. “No,” she snaps.
“Only asking.” I hold my hands up.
“Do you have decaf coffee?” she asks.
“Yeah. You into eating clean or something?”
“Or something.” She doesn’t elaborate.
“Come sit, Isla. That’s a pretty name.” Ann heads back to the table and pats the chair next to her.
She smiles and heads to sit next to my sister.
“You’re gorgeous, if you don’t mind me saying,” Ann says. “You ever thought about modelling?”
Isla shakes her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Oh, why?” Ann pushes the plate of nibbles toward Isla, but she puts a hand up in a no sign.
“I’ve some scars. I doubt they’d want me to model with those. And I’m not tall enough by a long shot.”
“They can cover things like scars up with make-up these days, and you could do beauty work anyway. Head shots and the like. Your hair is amazing too. Are you naturally blonde?”
Isla flushes and nods.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to give you the third degree. I worked as a make-up artist before I had my little terror, and I notice these things.”
“Do you still do make-up?” Isla asks.
Nibbling on a cracker, Ann considers her. “Only for friends as a favour. Weddings, and things like that. But I’m considering getting back into it at some point soon, part-time only. You got an event coming up or something, you want help with?”
“No.” Isla accepts the coffee I hand her. I’m about to ask if she wants sugar, but she sips as is and makes a happy sigh, so I shut my mouth and let her carry on with what she was saying. “My mum died when I was younger though, and I’ve never worn make-up as I didn’t have anyone to learn from. My friends don’t wear it, so it’s not something I’ve tried. But Mum used to wear it, and I’ve always wanted to give it a go. My regime is a coat of mascara and some lip balm.”
I don’t think she needs make-up. She’s gorgeous as she is but Ann pipes up.
“Oooh, a virgin!” Isla flushes and I bite my lip to stop from smiling. “I’d love to help you pop your make-up cherry. I love playing about with it all still, and you’re pretty, you’ll be fun to do some different looks for. How long are you staying?”
“We’re not sure.” I intercede, not wanting Isla to say too much. “I need to check some things out, and we’ll know more then.”
Ann nods and doesn’t ask any further questions.
I sit down across from Isla and watch her sip at her coffee. I’m a good judge of character, but this girl has me stumped. She’s gentle, shy almost, but then she has a real bite to her when she wants to. I sense underneath her soft exterior there’s a woman made of real steel. She survived the death of her mother, and a nasty accident. And she’s sipping coffee in a stranger’s house, not long after said stranger attacked her…or at least so she thought. And she’s not going to pieces. I’m impressed.
“You looked for any jobs recently?” Ann’s words drag my focus off Isla and I turn to scowl at my sister.
“Nope.”
“You need to.”
“Why?” I shoot back.
Ann holds her hands up and starts counting off on her fingers. “One, it’s dangerous, you could get beaten up by a jealous husband. Or catch a disease. Two, it’s not a long-term plan, and the longer you have a gap on your CV that you can’t fill, the harder it will be to get a real job. Three, it stops you having a relationship because who wants to be in one with a…sex worker. Four, at some point Katie is going to start asking what Uncle Ethan does for a living, and I don’t want to have to lie to her. Or for you to have to lie to her.”
I sigh. I’d been about to rebut all her points, but the last one is a killer. I don’t want to have to lie to Katie, either.
She turns to Isla and narrows her eyes. “Sorry for being blunt, but you don’t look like someone who’d hire…my brother.”
“Whoa.” I hold my hands up. “Enough of the judgemental shit. There’s no such thing as a typical client.”
“Yes, there is,” she shoots back. “Don’t forget I know a few of them, the mortification. They are generally aged forty to fifty-something. Well off, attractive, well groomed, and ignored by their husbands. You don’t look old enough to be married.” She turns her attention back to Isla.
“I’m not, there’s been a mix up.” She nibbles her lip, and I get hard watching her. Fuck my life, this woman is going to give me a nervous breakdown.
I wait for her to carry on, wondering if she’s about to let my sister know exactly what some of my jobs entail, but she goes on. “I didn’t book your brother, and we want to find out who did, as it seems they might be setting him or me up.”
“Wow. That’s fucked up.” Ann turns her worried face to me. “This is the sort of thing I’ve always dreaded happening. But maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe some friends thought it would be a nice surprise and did it for you?” Ann asks Isla, and I need to change the fucking subject.
“Do you want me to take Katie to school tomorrow? You can have a bit of a lie in and make Isla breakfast.”
Ann beams. “That’d be great, bro.”
I smile, until I realise I’ve given them an hour without me in the morning to put their heads together. Fuck my life.
Chapter Six
Isla
I get up the next day and Ethan is gone, taking Katie, who I still haven’t met, to school. I’m sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee with Ann, enjoying a companionable silence.
“So…You and my brother. A mistaken booking, he says.” Ann looks at me and her words jar me right out of the comfort zone I’ve got going on. “I’m thinking there’s got to be more to the story. I know what he does.”
I frown. Of course, she does, he told me as much and they talked about it together in front of me. “I understand that.”
“No.” She frowns. “I’m aware of exactly what he does for some clients. His…niche you could say. So, I’m a little bit worried. He says he went to you by accident.”
I’m at a loss what to do. He told me not to discuss his specific skills with his sister, and he still scares me a little, or a lot, and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.
“Did my brother hurt you?” She is serious and her eyes are scared.
He didn’t hurt me, but he did scare me half to death. I try to allay her worries. “He didn’t hurt me, and he realised quickly something had gone wrong. He erm…he thinks you don’t know. About the special niche, as you say.”
“I know. And I don’t discuss it with him. Bit embarrassing to be honest. But a friend of mine, her best friend hired him, and one night when we were all out and drunk they were talking about it, and passing around his picture. They don’t know he’s my brother. It’s one of the main reasons I want him to get out. Not because I disapprove in some sort of moral way, although I suppose I do, but because I don’t want him to get into trouble. Get stitched up. So, what happened with you?”
I don’t want to talk about it. When I think about it, it still scares me. The moment I awoke to see a huge shadow looming out of the dark of my room. Ugh. I shudder. I go for factual and unemotional in an attempt to distance myself from it. And from the frankly disturbing little thrills I get along with the fear whenever I think about it.
“Ethan thinks someone hired him to pretend…well, you know. With me. But I panicked, truly panicked, and he realised and he stopped, and the rest you know. I’m here because he doesn’t think I’m safe at home.”
“Do you live with housemates?” she asks.
“No, with my father. And h
e’s away on business in America.”
“I see.” She seems a lot less friendly this morning, and I’m starting to think I’ve maybe got her all wrong.
“My brother’s a hero, you know?”
I don’t know what to say to that so I simply listen.
“Not only because of what he did in the military, and his medals, but he’s a hero to me because of what he does for my daughter and me. I know part of the reason he does this job is so he can be there for us. Help us out, pick her up for me, and drop her off sometimes, and help out financially.” She laughs and it holds a bitter edge. “Being a bastard in the sack pays well.”
“I don’t judge him, but I want him to stop, and I need to get my shit together for that to happen. It’s been two years since I lost Mike. I need to get my act together. At first, I spent days, weeks, and months if I’m honest, in bed, and Ethan took over most of Katie’s care.”
She goes and opens a cupboard but keeps talking with her back to me. “When he first got out of the forces, he worked in the local gym, but the hours were long and included weekends, and he was worried about Katie, so he packed it in.” She clears her throat. “It’s my fault he’s where he is now and I hate it. I want him to stop it. I hope maybe you can help me persuade him.”
Her words shock me. Why would he listen to anything I have to say? With a bright smile plastered in place, she turns to face me and holds up some cereal bags. “They’re all low carb, low sugar, paleo bullshit, but do you want some cereal with me?”
“Yes please.” I don’t know what paleo is, but I’m hungry. “I don’t quite know what you mean when you say I can help you persuade him. I don’t know Ethan at all. Most likely, I’ll be out of here by tomorrow, and then you’ll never see me again.”
“Oh, but I doubt that’s true.” She smiles a little mysterious grin.
“I’m sorry?” Ann is making my head spin with all her cryptic talk.
“Let’s just say, I know my bro. He didn’t have to bring you back here with him. He met you for a few minutes, but he’s already worried enough about your safety to keep you with him. He’s going to be looking into what’s going on, and he wouldn’t do that for simply anyone. I think you’ve got under his skin. How, in such a short space of time, I have no idea. But I think you have. And so, you may find you have more sway with him than you think.”
On that note, she stops talking and starts serving up our breakfast, leaving me with my head swimming.
An hour later, I’m fresh out of the shower and dressed for the day in a knee length skirt, and a strappy top with a cardigan over it. Downstairs I hear the door bang. With some trepidation, I make my way down the stairs. Ethan is in the kitchen when I walk in. He looks different, relaxed and happy as he chats with Ann about Katie. He looks up, his eyes meet mine, and the joy vanishes. To be replaced with something serious. Thoughtful.
“I need to start doing some digging today, Isla. You and I need to talk.”
Talk? What about? I don’t know anything. About to say as much, he carries on.
“I’ve considered anyone who might be coming after me, and my friend, Reece, has been busy hacking their accounts. So far, nothing.”
“You’ve hacked their accounts. It’s illegal. What if you get caught?” I’m worried now. He could go to jail, and for some reason the thought disturbs me.
“Reece won’t get caught.” He shuts down the conversational avenue with his firm words. “So far, things look pretty tight at my end. It seems more and more, someone wanted to hurt you.”
I drop down into a chair and look from him, leaning against the counter looking delicious, to Ann sat opposite me. “I can’t see how anyone would want to hurt me. I’m a nobody.”
“Yes, you are.” Ouch. Okay, his words sting. “But your dad isn’t.”
His words pull me up short. My dad isn’t a nobody. He’s a successful businessman and a big circuit speaker, as well as having his finger in a few political pies. Behind the scenes, of course. Dad doesn’t believe in putting himself out there, but he puts a lot of money into certain politician’s campaigns.
“And your dad has a partner, yes?”
I experience the familiar, involuntary shudder as I think of Dodgy Dave. “Yes, but he wouldn’t want to hurt me.”
He wouldn’t. I’m sure of it. Or at least, not by hiring someone else to do it. If anyone were to be touching me inappropriately, I’m sure Dave would prefer to be doing it himself.
“Your dad also has an ex. A woman it seems you didn’t get on with, and he ended the relationship.”
“I suppose you know my shoe and bra size, and what book I read in bed last night,” I snap. God, what did he do to find out so much about me in such a short space of time?
“Information is easy to find if you know where to look, Isla.” It’s as if he read my mind.
“Your father has more than a few enemies, and a couple of people around him, who all fit the frame for having reason to set you up this way. I need to dig deeper and it will take a while. It’s best your dad doesn’t know anything about this. People tend to find it hard to think those around them will betray them, and there’s a risk he might tell some of the people I’m looking into.”
“I don’t like the idea of lying to my dad.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache forming between my eyes.
“It’s not lying. It’s keeping quiet. And this isn’t a request.”
“You don’t own me. You can’t tell me what to do.” God, he infuriates me!
“Fine.” He marches to the door and yanks it open. “Leave.”
I stare at him in shock.
Ann’s mouth drops open. “Ethan, don’t be such a dick.”
“Stay out of it.” He jabs a finger in her direction.
“Decision time, Isla. You either stay, and let me work this out in my own way. Or you leave. Go on home and take your chances.”
Tears sting at my eyes and I feel stupid for letting him get to me, but he can be such an arsehole. A dickhead, and I only save that word for those who deserve it.
“I didn’t say no, did I? I merely questioned your ideas and said I didn’t like lying.” My voice rises and I want to crawl and hide as a tear slides down my cheek. I swipe at it with the sleeve of my cardigan.
He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed out, too. I want to know who did this. They’re fucking both of us over. And I need you to trust me for a few days while I look into this as thoroughly as I can.”
“Okay. But what do I tell my dad?” He’s not going to buy me going to stay with a strange guy. No way. He knows I don’t even date. He’ll likely lose his shit and come straight back home if I say I’m at a boyfriend’s house.
“Say you’re staying with me.” Ann touches my wrist to get my attention. “It’s kind of true. I can stay a few days, too. And that way you’re not lying. Simply say you didn’t like being alone, and a friend offered to let you come and stay.”
“Good idea.” Ethan gives his sister a jerk of his head. Which I take as arrogant, dickhead body language for well done. “You can say you met jogging.”
“Speaking of… I fancy a walk. Need to clear my head. Do you think I’ll be safe?” If I don’t get out of this room, I’m going to make a show of myself by crying my eyes out in front of Ethan The Dick.
“This is private land around here. My land. Fenced off. If you take the dogs, you should be fine. Cindy’s trained.”
I look at the massive Rottie and raise my brows. “Trained to do what?”
“Defend people,” he says.
Wow. Okay. Why does he need a trained attack dog? Maybe this guy is into more than selling himself if he has a guard dog.
I push away from the table and call the dogs to me. They all come, Ethan’s two trotting over as if they’ve known me all their lives.
“Stay in sight of the house, okay?” He looks at me and there is worry in his gaze, so I let his bossy ways go for once.
Stepping out the door, into the s
unshine, I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God. I needed some space. Some time to myself to think. Ethan seems pretty convinced the person doing this is after me, not him. Which terrifies me. A person would have to be a total psycho to try to get to Dad by hurting me, particularly in such a vile way. I shiver, even though it’s warm, and wrap my arms around myself.
After thirty minutes despondently walking around the field by Ethan’s house, I head back. I enter the kitchen and there’s no one around. After making sure the dogs have water, I go into the lounge, but it’s empty, too. I wonder if his sister has left, and the thought makes me nervous.
Walking down the hallway, I hear a metallic clanging and some thumping bass music, and I follow the sounds. I turn a corner and a door is open into a room that has been converted into a gym. There’s a treadmill, a rowing machine, and a bike. A lot of weights are piled up in one corner, and there’s one of those multi-gym things by a mirror. As I look to my left, I freeze. At the far end of the room, his back to me, is Ethan.
He’s bouncing on his feet, wearing only shorts, and on every thump of the bass, one arm swings out and hits the punchbag swinging drunkenly in front of him. The next beat and his other arm follows the same arc. I’m transfixed. He’s so powerful and controlled in his movements. He pummels the bag, and I check his hands, relieved to see he’s wearing gloves.
His arms are bulging with muscle, and his back is a map of ridges and dips as different parts of him flex and pop with his movements. Sweat has turned his golden tan skin shiny and slick. I want to lick him.
Wait, where did that thought come from? I need to get out of here before I make a total fool of myself and get caught gawking at him like some sort of pervert.
But as I begin to turn, he stops suddenly and hangs his head. He puts his arms around the bag and hugs it, head still hung, and there’s something almost abject about his posture for a moment. Then he pivots, and we’re facing one another. His brows shoot up and he cocks his head to one side.
