“And listen to the man, Ella. Behave yourself and stop whining. The cameras are going up.” Tom was definitely annoyed. “I’m coming over tomorrow to see this vandalism for myself, so don’t think you’re going to paint over it so I won’t know. Ryan sent me a photo and Mrs Featherstone filled me in when, apparently, you couldn’t be bothered. We’re going to have a few words.”
Oh, like that bothered her. But that he could actually take the side of the sanctimonious prick standing across the other side of her kitchen bench was like rubbing salt into a wound.
“There’s no need for any of this,” Ella replied. “I can look after myself.”
“Then you wouldn’t need security cameras at all, but you went looking for them so what does that prove?” Tom shot back.
Ohhh, Tom was seething, she was so worried. Not. Normally a sweet, placid elderly man, by tomorrow he’d have cooled down. She’d talk him around and that would be an end to this fiasco.
Tom hung up and Ryan turned his mobile off, placed the pen down and looked at her. Unblinkingly, gaze boring into hers, not giving away anything of his thoughts.
“It’s not happening,” Ella informed him frostily.
He just continued to watch her.
“So don’t put too much effort into the quote.”
Releasing her, he pocketed the mobile and notebook while keeping those inscrutable eyes on her.
“Well, you got your way. Now get out.”
“Any idea who vandalised the wall?”
“Someone who can’t spell.”
She watched as he walked around the bench to stop right next to her, facing her while resting a lean hip against the bench and folding his arms loosely, causing his biceps to bunch impressively.
Not that she cared.
Refusing to back away, she arched an eyebrow in silent, angry query.
“What happened to your leg?” Ryan asked abruptly.
“My leg?”
“You limp when you walk.”
“Old war wound.”
He waited silently.
“Twisted my ankle a week ago, it’s still a little tender.”
That steady regard didn’t waver.
“Why the hell would you care, anyway?”
He didn’t blink.
Suddenly tired of it all, Ella said tightly, “You lost all right to ask anything personal a long time ago, Ryan. Your choice, remember? You walked away and I picked up my life and moved on, just like you did. So that includes anything personal.”
Something flickered in his eyes but he didn’t argue.
“Your dealings with the cameras are between you and my landlord.” Moving past him, she picked up her shoulder bag and plucked the keys from the hook on the wall. “Now, I’m going out to attend to a few things, so if you’re not going to leave and let me lock up then at least shut the door behind you.”
Yeah, that had him moving. The thought of an unlocked door just had to rattle his security-conscious nature.
She stood aside to let him exit.
The man couldn’t just walk out, could he? No, he had to stand there and hold the door open for her, waiting in silent contemplation. In no mood to argue she strode past him, locking the door when he shut it before walking off the veranda and around to the garage without looking at him, passing Boof lying under a bush on the way. Ryan must have let him out while she was showering.
Sitting in her car, she watched in the rear-view mirror as the Land Cruiser pulled out onto the road, Ryan handling the large car with ease. Once he’d disappeared down the street, she let out a deep breath and eased the tight grip on the steering-wheel, not really surprised to find her hands trembling.
It was ridiculous. Lips tightening, she backed out onto the road and drove off, blinking away the sudden sting in her eyes.
Lack of sleep, she assured herself. It was all due to lack of sleep.
Chapter 2
It was dark by the time Ryan arrived home. The quote was in, Tom was happy and Kent was booked in to go out to the house the next day to put in the cameras. So far it was simply to record film, not to be monitored by Wells Security, but knowing the cameras were there would put a lot of crooks off, especially when they saw the Wells Security sticker in the corner of the window.
To say seeing Ella had been a shock was an understatement. He’d never expected to meet her again. Sure, he’d kept track of her for awhile from afar until he was sure she was getting on okay, but then he’d cut ties, not wanting anyone to track him back to her. After what had happened, he’d made sure to do it in time to save her.
Plus during those years he’d drifted further away from his original nature.
It was long ago, he should have been immune to her.
Surprise, surprise, looked like he wasn’t as immune as he believed. Seeing her again had raised old feelings, he could feel it churning inside him like…well, heartburn? Too mild, because it sure as hell hu- he shied away from that thought.
The house was quiet, blinds pulled against the night when he wandered barefoot into the lounge and stood at the big glass doors, sipping on the fragrant hot coffee as he looked out into the small courtyard with the neatly boxed plants. His own private oasis. He liked courtyards, the privacy they provided, the freedom for him to do what he wanted without prying eyes to see.
Flicking on the soft outside lighting, he slid open the glass door to allow the cool breeze to flow inside through the security screen along with the sound of the small fountain tinkling in the corner. The scent of gardenias was heavy in the air. Not one weed dared grow between the flagstone pavers.
Sipping slowly on the hot coffee, he angled his head from side to side, easing the tension in his neck, rolling his shoulders before turning away and setting the cup on the low coffee table. Only then did he sit at the piano that stood against the wall. Sitting side-on to the courtyard allowed him to hear the fountain and see the plants out of the corner of his eye if he wanted.
Running his fingers across the keys, he let his mind drift, his fingers smoothing across the ivory as he played softly.
The music flowed through him, flowed through his fingertips, everything he felt, everything he was, his emotions that he didn’t show to the world coming forth in the music.
Tonight his music was whimsical, a little regretful, the songs more sad. The theme song from “Beauty and the Beast”, “Dona Nobis Pacem 2” from the TV series ‘The Leftovers’, and ‘Roads’ by Portishead. It was when he found himself playing Johnny Farnham’s ‘Burn for You’ that he stopped abruptly, his fingertips resting on the keys as he gazed at the unopened music book on the music rack.
No denying it, seeing her again had really rattled him.
Turning to straddle the stool, he looked out at the softly lit courtyard.
It was no use.
Picking up the now cold coffee, he walked out into the courtyard to sit in one of the two comfortable chairs bracketing the small metal table. Draining the contents of the coffee cup, he set it down, rested his ankle on the opposite knee and leaned back in the chair to gaze unseeingly at the water cascading gently down the fountain.
Breathing deeply, he allowed his thoughts to ebb away and flow back, this time carrying the image of Ella’s face to his mind.
Ella Attwood. Beautiful, golden-haired Ella Attwood. God, he’d loved her. Loved her so much. Loved her laughter, her bubbly nature, her enjoyment of life, those big grey eyes that had gazed into his so lovingly.
That was a long time ago. A lot of water under that bridge he’d well and truly torched. Today those big grey eyes hadn’t shone with love. Today they’d been cold, angry. His plan of keeping her at arms length had certainly worked.
He should be glad. So why wasn’t he?
Idly he traced his fingertips around the rim of the empty cup.
One thing he never did was lie to himself, sure as hell wasn’t starting now. Yes, her reaction to him had hurt. Shit, had it ever. Yet he’d no right to feel that way.
&n
bsp; But there was something different, he just knew it. His leaving her would have broken her heart - did break her heart, he’d known that, watched from afar while keeping tabs on her, but when she’d appeared to recover and started dating another man, he’d closed the door on that chapter of his life once and for all. Locked it and thrown away the key.
All this time he’d imagined her happy, getting married, having a family. The kids, dog, cat, picket fence and steady husband.
While she’d been showering it had been easy to take in the inside appearance of the small house. Not much in it - basic furniture, a photo of her parents and grandparents, some prints on the wall, DVDs and CDs on a small shelf, TV, stereo, a stack of books in another small library, a couple of small statues. The basics. No husband, no kids, no dog.
Had a cat, though, and he wasn’t surprised that it was a mangy looking thing. She’d always had a soft spot for the strays.
Tipping back his head, Ryan looked up at the night sky. Beyond the courtyard wall cars sounded, voices of people as they walked past before quiet descended once again, the distant noise of the city a familiar background sound.
The years had been kind to Ella. Still golden-haired, still beautiful, still deliciously plump. The shorts she’d worn had skimmed shapely legs and curvy hips, the t-shirt clinging to that bountiful bosom. But there was a faint bracketing of lines at the corners of her eyes, hardness in the once gentle grey irises, and more firmness in the lush lips.
And a whole world of pain that had shown fleetingly before disappearing again, so fast that a less observant person would never have noticed. Her pain had hit him deep down, maybe that was why he reacted to it. To her. He’d always reacted to her moods, been so attuned to her.
They’d been so attuned to each other.
Long time ago, mate. Too long ago, too late. Do you really want to go down that pathway even if she’d let you?
No, he’d made his choice, forced her to accept it, and it was done. Regrets didn’t lead down a good pathway.
Pushing to his feet, Ryan took the coffee cup inside, dropping it into the sink and pulling a light beer from the fridge. He meant to turn on the TV, try to divert his thoughts with some mindless drivel, but instead of picking up the remote his hand hovered over it before moving up to draw out a photo album from the shelf above.
Dropping onto the sofa, he regarded the album for a long minute before placing it on the coffee table, leaning forward as he opened it. His parents as kids and then grown up, their wedding photo, his christening, his first day of school. Laughing, bright eyed, so excited in his little shorts, socks, shoes and shirt, holding a bag almost as big as himself. Helping his Dad fix the car, more of a nuisance because he kept dropping the tools while his Dad laughed and kept tinkering. His first dog, his second dog, the family cat.
Flipping through the pages, he remembered how happy they’d all been.
He stilled, his hand hovering over the page before he picked up the beer and took a pull without removing his gaze from the photo of himself and Ella as teenagers. So many memories.
He and Ella meeting the first year in high school, almost instantly becoming friends, best friends within a month. She’d been curvy, he’d been skinny, they’d both laughed a lot and they’d fit together like a hand in a glove. Everyone knew it, everyone accepted it. Their first date, the day they’d become more than friends, more than best friends. Romance in the air, their first kiss.
The first time they’d made love.
Closing his eyes, he could remember it so clearly, unlocking that treasure chest of precious memories.
The scent of her perfume, the flush in her cheeks, his fumbling attempts to don a condom that had made her laugh, their nerves getting the better of them both. Two virgins with only their friends’ boasted experiences to go by - plus a lot of R rated movies that Ryan had rented when his parents were out of town to ‘teach’ himself what to do.
Man knew the basics, but a man had to show his girl a good time, too. Especially when it was her first time - and his - and he loved her so much his heart felt like it jumped in his chest every time she smiled at him.
One of his friends had loaned him some porn but that had turned him right off, so he eventually decided to hell with it. He knew the rudimentariness, he wasn’t an idiot, and a female’s anatomy didn’t really change, right?
So he’d fumbled, she’d giggled, they’d both ended up laughing, but then they’d grown so serious.
God, he could see her eyes even now, the expression in them as they’d leaned their foreheads together. The love, the caring, the exact mirror of what he felt.
A kiss, soft, tentative, more, another, their breaths quickening, mingling, and then he’d lowered her to the old mattress in the back of his beloved old Holden van and it had all come so naturally, so sweetly.
He’d been eighteen, she’d been seventeen, and the world was theirs.
Every time they’d made love was better than the last, they lived and breathed each other.
Another photo. There he was, smiling and proud in his spanking new Army uniform, all spit and polish with Ella beside him just as proud. He knew he was going to marry her, had given her a promise ring the night he left for the Army. She’d cried but she knew he’d come back and they’d marry. It was a foregone conclusion.
Everyone knew.
They just hadn’t seen what was coming.
Abruptly snapping the photo album shut, Ryan pushed it back onto the table. Dropping back against the sofa, he took several pulls of the beer. The past was the past.
What had happened to them both? A lot, obviously. He knew the shit that had happened to him, every last, bloody detail, every kill seared into his brain, every mission. He knew each and every one down to the finest detail.
He’d been damned good at his job. Too good.
Enough of that.
Closing off that particular train of thought, he grabbed the photo album and replaced it back on the shelf before locking the security screen and heading for the shower. He had jobs to do, and thinking about the past wasn’t going to help the present.
Refocussing, he showered, cooked, ate, read, went to bed. Pushed aside every thought of Ella, every thought of the past.
It was two in the morning before he finally gave in with a curse and rolled out of bed.
“Damn it.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he strode into the kitchen for a bottle of water before going to his office to rev up the computer.
Bringing up the search engine, he typed in Ella’s name, wanting to know if he could find out what she’d been doing all these years. At first there were a few social media sites where she briefly chatted then closed her accounts, and a news article on an award she got for volunteer work at an animal shelter. No mention of marriage or kids.
He knew he was being stupid, if not a little stalkerish, but he did a search of Births, Marriages & Deaths, forgoing the usual submission email and using his own program and ways to get into the site. No marriage dates, no children. Looked like she’d remained single. Her birth date came up, her parents births and deaths, her grandparent’s deaths.
He remembered her grandmother whom Ella had lived with since her parents had died when she was six years old. She was pretty much all Ella had had in the world.
Another search on-line took a turn for the worst. What he found stunned him like a fist to the abdomen, a punch deep down in his gut. Shock was followed hard by fury that had his jaw clenching, his fists white-knuckling. “Goddamn, Ella. Why didn’t you tell me?” Shoving up from the desk, he started to move away only to whirl back to glare down at the news article on the screen. His heart felt shredded, fury beat in his temples. “Goddamn it!”
~*~
By the time the sun rose, Ryan’s anger had settled to a simmer. Once he estimated Ella would be home from work he went around to her place, but there was no sign of her car, everything was locked and Boof was sitting in the other side of the window giving him a one-eyed glare,
his head looking a little lop-sided with only one ear.
That cat had been through his own personal wars.
He dialled her mobile but it went straight to voice mail. She still hadn’t turned up by the time he was due to go to work so he made one last, terse phone call as he got into his car. “Call me.”
Pulling into the eight car garage, he found Kent loading up the camera equipment in preparation for Ella’s place.
“She’s not home,” Ryan stated. “Did she give you a time?”
“She dropped the key off early this morning,” Kent replied, “along with instructions to let Boof in and out of the house as he chooses.”
That fixed that.
Entering the office right on time, he was immediately waylaid by Raymond. “You need to sort out that damned woman!”
No need to guess. “Marietta.”
“Did you see what she did?” Livid, Raymond pointed to his computer monitor. “Did you?”
Yes. Yes, he had, but it was still a welcome diversion as any friction between the irrepressible Marietta and straight-laced Raymond always was, so Ryan obligingly walked around to peer at the computer screen.
Yep, there it was in all its glory, a blow-up photo of Raymond’s Shag Wagon. As an email attachment. Which meant everyone in Wells Security had gotten it. Which in turn meant there was a lot of laughing going on at Raymond’s expense.
“I’ve been getting these emails all night!” Reducing the photo, Raymond pointed at the email inbox. “Here, this is from Kent - ‘book me in’. And this is from Richie - ‘I want a hot blonde with big knockers’. Even Frankie, who is in Belgium on bodyguard duty, emailed me saying he was impressed with my after-hours job and could he get some action?”
Inwardly amused, outwardly stoic, Ryan nodded slightly.
“As for Kelly…” Seething, Raymond jabbed an email to bring it up on screen. “She says it’s discriminating if I don’t have a tanned, sexy bloke with a big donger for her!”
“Uh huh.”
Echoes Page 4
