by TJ Hamilton
FINDING
THYME
TJ HAMILTON
www.harlequinbooks.com.au
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TJ Hamilton is an ex-police officer who uses her first-hand experience of working the city streets of Sydney to write sexy stories of mystery and intrigue. TJ worked in challenging roles within the police force such as intelligence, and on the beat at Redfern Local Area Command. Through her policing, she developed a deep understanding of the seedier side of life, and loves writing about taboo subjects. Her head has been buried in crime since studying criminology at university over a decade ago, and she just can’t seem to shake her fascination with the macabre. TJ now lives a quieter life in the tropics with her handsome husband and kids where she writes a weekly column for her local newspaper, and relives the action-packed life she may once have had through her strong fictional characters.
ALSO BY TJ HAMILTON
Buying Thyme
This book is for my friend who has the strength of a battalion of soldiers, and never gave up on love.
CONTENTS
About the Author
Also by TJ Hamilton
Part One
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Part Two
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
PART ONE
ONE
All I see around me are boxes, boxes and more boxes. I am living in a sea of boxes. Not that I’d call this living. Despite the fact that I can barely see the floor in my new apartment, it feels bare. Or maybe it’s my life that’s bare? I hate this apartment already. It’s not my old place.
Now that I’m back in the city, I just want to be at my home in Paddington. But I can’t return there. Not yet. Not until I’ve completed my training with the Organised Crime Taskforce Unit, the OCT-U.
Another agency, another life.
They could’ve at least given me an apartment that wasn’t so high up. Seventy-two floors up. “You’ll be secure in this building,” Nick Davis said to me. Well unless Sydney is the next target for a plane hijacking, nothing can get me this high. There aren’t even birds flying up here. I am literally locked up in my ivory tower, soaring above Sydney.
The only two things here that resemble the old me are my name on the boxes and my cat Flossy. But can I ever shake the title of whore? I stare at the writing on the boxes. The name is a distant reminder of being known only by a first name for so long. Now I’m only known by my last.
THYME
I want to unpack the boxes but as soon as I do, it will be the final validation that I am actually back here in this city. If I just leave them unopened then maybe I can pretend I’m not here for long and this will all be over soon.
I stand on the edge of the massive floor-to-ceiling window and press my head against the cold glass to look down at the city below. The height makes me dizzy … but I just want to see if I can recognise anyone, or see anything familiar. Tiny cars and people as small as ants … that’s all I can see.
The loud knock at the front door startles me and I’m ripped from my pointless thoughts.
The familiar figure in the peephole is just the person I was waiting for.
I can’t stop myself from grinning. “Ten days is too long between visits, Nick,” I say as I open the door.
Nick Davis. It still takes a little getting used to calling him that. I want to call him Tom. But he isn’t Tom Smythe, heir to a mining company. He is Nick Davis, undercover agent for the OCT-U. Nick casually strolls through the doorway. I secretly inhale the air around him as he passes me. He smells just as I remembered him … and looks equally as appetising.
“You’ve made yourself at home, Mia,” Nick says sarcastically as he looks at the numerous unopened boxes still flooding the apartment.
“I’ve been blissfully unaware that the world exists outside, thanks,” I lie.
Nick’s eyes continue to scan the room. “I can see that.”
Great. He’s judging me. I begin to run over my internal checklist. Hair brushed? Check. Teeth brushed? Check. Shit … have I even changed out of my pyjamas yet? Check … just.
So did he think I could just get dropped off here … in my prison? After all the bullshit I’ve been through, did he expect me to just act normal? My life has been anything but normal in the past six months. Me not opening some boxes is the last thing he should be worried about right now. I think I’ve handled this pretty well, really.
“I’ve needed it, Nick,” I practically snarl.
He smiles in reply and walks towards my kitchen. I follow him like a lost puppy. I can’t stay angry with him. I’m just happy to have some company. Nick waltzes straight to the fridge and opens it. He reaches in and I wince at the thought of what surprises could be in there waiting for him.
“So are you ready to start working?” he says as he sniffs the milk carton. “Coffee? Latte with one, right?” he continues and winks.
His sexy smirk returns, as do those dimples. Damn it! Why does he have to be so damn sexy? He knows me too well for more than one reason. Not only does he know how I take my coffee … he also knows that I’d have my Nespresso coffee machine unpacked before anything else. Or was it just a really good guess? No. Everything with Nick has been careful and calculating. I need to learn not to be so naïve. “I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question, Nick. You know exactly how I take my coffee. No doubt you knew before we’d even met.” The sudden epiphany solves so many unanswered questions that I had about the supposed mining heir Tom Smythe. How much did he know about me before our first meeting? For instance, he knew my exact clothing size just minutes after meeting me in Bondi for the first time.
Nick continues, “Rhetoric. Really? So I guess you’re ready to start your training tomorrow morning then?”
I pull out an aluminium stool from under the black granite breakfast bar and watch Nick make himself at home in my new galley style kitchen.
“Again. That’s rhetorical, Nick. I don’t really seem to have too much choice anymore.”
Stay with me, confidence. You can do this. I’m not going crazy up here in this prison of an apartment … my ivory tower. I watch Nick make his way around my kitchen like he has been here before.
“You seem to know your way around the kitchen a little too well for someone who just walked through the front door a moment ago …” I even shock myself with the acknowledgement. “You’ve been watching me haven’t you, Nick Davis?” Now that I’ve said it out loud, I feel completely violated.
I
start looking around the room for possible places where the hidden cameras might be.
“Clever girl. You’re learning quickly, Mia.” Nick continues to make my coffee with his back to me.
How infuriating. I am a prisoner. No. Worse … this is like being in an asylum! Watched like some mental patient. Sure, let’s see what the crazy girl does after we tell her that everything she knew about a person was all a big fat lie and then we’ll dump her in an apartment in the middle of a city she hates and leave her alone for over a week. What did they expect to see? No. You’re better than this, Mia. I feel my bottom lip twist under my teeth as I try and control my pent-up anger.
Nick turns and hands me a coffee mug full of steaming hot coffee. He notices my obvious look of disdain and decides to give me some words of encouragement.
“Since you’re ready to learn, training starts today. Lesson one: your every move is being watched. Remember that.”
“Every move?” I think back for a moment and thank myself for not having had the urge to masturbate recently.
“For now it is, yes. It’s for your own safety.”
I continue to scan the room. There are at least four conspicuous looking holes that are possible camera locations. I feel Nick watching me as I search the room.
“Lesson two: be aware of your surroundings. Know your surroundings. Take notice of everything,” Nick continues on with his lecture.
I quickly find myself being pulled back to his amazing blue eyes as he takes a seat on the stool next to me. His eyes draw me in like a moth to a flame.
“So are you ever going to be normal again or will you always be giving me lessons like master Yoda?” I say lightly.
“Ah, so much to learn you have, young Padawan,” he quickly retorts.
I grin involuntarily and roll my eyes at his quick response. His wit is way too fast for me after being cooped up for a week. I watch his soft lips as he speaks and silently urge him to curl them around the rim of the coffee cup. Purely so that I can gaze at them like I would when we were together at Bondi. When I was Miranda … and he was Tom Smythe. Now we’re here. I’m no longer a whore, nor is he pretending to be Tom Smythe. It should be easier to be together, right? No longer any secrets between us … the real us.
“I’ll be back to get you in the morning, Mia. You’ll be coming to headquarters with me. We need you to sit a test.” He puts his untouched coffee cup back down on the bench.
“What kind of test?”
“It’s just our standard testing to see your level of intelligence and problem solving skills. We all have to go through it when we start. Then the boss can gauge what pace of training you’ll require.”
Nick abruptly stands and starts towards the door. I quickly get up and follow him. Where’s he going? His coffee hasn’t even been touched. They’re going to test my intelligence? Great!
“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave me again now? You can’t be serious.” I try and hide the desperation in my voice but fail miserably.
I can’t take being alone again. If he thinks he’s able to leave me here again like this, then I’ll just follow him out the door! Try and stop me, Nick Davis!
“Afraid so. I have work to do. I’ll be here to get you at zero six-hundred hours,” he says without so much as a glance back.
I frown in frustration at Nick being so aloof, and I can’t help but be annoyed at the use of this military style jargon.
“Oh so it’s zero six-hundred hours now, is it? What’s wrong with saying six o’clock in the morning?”
“It takes longer. Get used to it, Mia. You’re working for a highly sensitive area of national intelligence. You work for your country now.” Nick’s holding the handle of the front door and doesn’t turn to face me as he speaks. “Don’t fuck it up, okay? This is serious.”
This is not the gentle man I knew before. This is not the man who kissed me so passionately on the beach at Byron Bay. This is not the man who convinced me to come back to Sydney and work as an undercover agent with him.
I start to feel desperate and have the urge to grab him, but I just stand frozen and watch him leave. Words fail to find their way out of me. As he walks through the doorway he stops and turns to face me.
He holds the door slightly ajar and with a wicked look in his eye, he signals with his bent index finger for me to come closer to him. I move in slowly, unsure of what he wants. When I am in line with the open door, Nick grabs my hand and pulls me close to him.
He kicks his foot out to hold the door in its position and wraps his arms around me. He cups my face and kisses me deeply. The sensation of his soft lips sends a current of electricity up my spine and hits the tip of my head like a lightning bolt. I almost forget to breathe the second my mind registers his touch. His tongue strokes softly against mine. I want to fall into him.
His strong hands grip onto me, as if he never wants to let me go. I hear him breathe in deep as his nose gently rubs against my cheek. Nick’s body feels safe, firmly pressed against me in our embrace. I let out a subtle moan.
He finally pulls back out of our kiss and pauses momentarily before he opens his eyes, as if he’s relishing the moment. A serene smile overcomes his face when our eyes meet. He gives a cheeky wink and nods towards the door. I assume there are cameras on the other side of it, watching our every move. I can’t help but smile wildly back at him. I want you so bad, Nick Davis. I want to rip your clothes off and tear you apart. I want to do things to you that will blow your mind …
Is that ever going to happen, though? If my every move is being watched, when will we ever get to be intimate? It’s not like I care. Good luck to whoever is watching—I hope they all enjoy the show! It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been involved in voyeurism.
I stand in the doorway and watch Nick make his way to the elevator. A dark-haired woman in a black pantsuit opens the door of the adjacent apartment and watches me intently. She puts her hands on her hips and nods towards Nick as he waits for the elevator to arrive. As her jacket flares out, I notice the pistol in its holster on her hip.
“Davis,” she confidently says with a forced smile.
“Jane. How are you today? See you at changeover tomorrow.”
I stare at the woman. Her glare returns back to me. Her heavy structured eyebrows pull inward in annoyance as I remain standing in the doorway. A variety of people have been in that apartment every day, all from the agency, and all of them have stopped me from leaving the apartment whenever I tried. Nick has obviously been there also. This is bullshit! I give Jane one final glance and angrily slam the apartment door before Nick has even left the foyer. If I’m finally out of here tomorrow then I’m going to do something about this whole situation. I’ll start with all those cameras!
The cold feeling of the apartment returns now that I’m alone again. I look around the bland grey-walled lounge room with industrial-style polished concrete flooring and turn my attention back to the downlights that are systematically set across the ceiling. I never liked downlights!
I slide the chain lock on the door and then use an aluminium stool as a step to reach the first light bulb. I struggle to get the globe out with my fingers so I go to the kitchen for a knife. When I try again, the knife fails to pop free the globe so I start hacking at it instead. The glass breaks and I’m finally able to rip the remainder of the bulb’s casing out of the hole. The front door opens quickly, but is stopped short by the security chain.
“Mia, what are you doing?” I hear a woman’s voice call out.
“Go back to your little hole like a good girl, Jane. I’m not going anywhere, I’m just putting an end to your little private screening of the Mia Show,” I yell as I pull the stool over to the next light.
The woman at the door is silent for a moment until I hear her speaking again, but no longer to me. “Davis. You’d better get back up here. Mia’s destroying the apartment.”
I roll my eyes at her stupidity as I smash out the next downlight. The front d
oor closes again and to my delight doesn’t open while I finish taking out all of the lights in the ceiling. I’m hoping Nick is smart enough to realise what I’m doing and has just decided to leave me alone.
I completely rearrange my eclectic pieces of furniture around the apartment and unpack all of the boxes. In the frenzy, I manage to find twelve hidden cameras around the apartment. I can spot a hidden camera fairly well, nowadays. I’ve had at least four clients try to capture footage of me. Once you know what you’re looking for, you know where to find them. Some were easy to find but others were well hidden. I even had to smash a beautiful ornamental wall clock to find one of the cameras. The agency really did have their very own “Mia Show” going on here for the past week.
I’m so angry that I’m no longer in control of my life. Well, that’s about to change. I don’t even know what I’m getting out of this whole situation, so I’m going to play by my rules.
I make my way into the bathroom for a shower and see my reflection in the mirror. My blonde hair still catches me by surprise but I can see Miranda beneath it nonetheless. I don’t want to see a whore reflecting back at me. Things need to change, starting with my look.
Flossy jumps up onto the bench, and sits next to the sink. Her relentless look of disapproval is the last thing I see as I grab some scissors from the bathroom drawer and start cutting.
TWO
I wake up feeling brighter and better than I have for a long time. I feel like I finally got the better of Nick Davis and this whole “training” bullshit he’s got going on at the moment. I return to the scene of last night’s mild Britney Spears moment in the bathroom.
The clumps of blonde hair scattered across the sink are lasting evidence of my impulsive act. I style my new short haircut, ready for the day ahead, smirking maniacally as I wipe the hair off the bench and enjoy a moment’s delight in the idea that I am going to shock Nick when he walks through the door in an hour’s time.
I head back into the lounge area and press play on my iPod stereo. My favourite pyramid speakers spread around the apartment start playing “Gold On The Ceiling” by the Black Keys, the perfect tune for my upbeat mood this morning. I clap in beat to the music while I strut back through to the kitchen. The faithful Nespresso coffee machine delivers its morning magic and I make my way to my bedroom with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.
