by JD Nixon
I threw myself into his Mercedes, slamming the door hard enough to make the whole vehicle shake, and sat with a stony face, staring straight ahead of me. He sat in the driver’s seat and sighed.
“You’re not jealous because I’m seeing Vanessa again tonight, are you?”
I turned to him in disbelief. “No, Heller, I’m not jealous! I’m pissed off at you. Can’t you tell the difference?”
He shook his head as if not convinced, and we drove home in silence.
Chapter 8
I stalked off as soon as we parked in the Warehouse and childishly stomped up every step to my flat. I took a long, hot shower and was about to start making dinner when there was a firm but unfamiliar knock on my door. For obvious reasons, I didn’t receive random people coming to my door, so I opened it curiously.
There was a man standing there, same height as me, in his mid-thirties, flinty faced. He had a wiry but very muscular build, close shaven dark hair, beautifully shaped but grim mouth, and incredible hypnotic eyes of light gray with a pronounced black ring around each iris. I recognised him as a man I’d worked with briefly on a job involving an IT billionaire.
He was reasonably good-looking in a rugged way, dressed casually in blue track pants and a black muscle shirt, with tattoos covering his well-muscled upper arms and shoulders. One of them was of the Heller’s logo – a tattoo that the security men were only allowed to have done after a year’s loyal service. That wasn’t Heller’s rule; it was something the security men had imposed on themselves. I had inadvertently started the tradition by having the logo discreetly tattooed on my inner left ankle, and after that everyone had wanted one.
The man at my door looked me up and down and didn’t appear too impressed with the results.
“Chalmers?” he asked brusquely in a voice that sounded as though it didn’t get used much.
“Yes, I’m Tilly Chalmers.” As if he didn’t know who I was – I was the only woman working in the business. Everybody knew me. “Who are you?”
“Farrell. The Boss asked me to give you some hand-to-hand training. Said you wanted to start tonight.”
“The ex-SAS guy?”
He nodded. So this was Heller’s idea of a treat for me. As if some tough training – and I could tell that this guy was going to push me to the limit – would make up for a lost night of sex with my boyfriend. Heller was going to receive a huge piece of my mind tomorrow.
“Give me five to put my gear on. I’ll meet you at the gym on the floor below. Door’s to the left,” I said in a hard voice.
He turned and walked away without another word. Great! I thought to myself as I scrambled to put on a sports bra and my shoes. An evening of pain with Mr Personality. Just what I needed!
He waited for me in the third floor gym. It wasn’t a huge space and I asked him if it was big enough for his needs.
He nodded.
I told him that my jaw was sore and asked if we would be doing anything that might injure it further.
He shook his head.
I gave up talking to him and concentrated on his instructions, which he barked out at me constantly throughout the next hour. He was tough on me. He was obviously bigger than Daniel and smaller than Clive, but was immensely strong and quick and blocked every move I attempted to make on him. I was soon sweating up a storm and growing more and more determined to make some progress.
He yelled at me ferociously when I kept making the same stupid mistakes, but also gave me some rare gruff praise when I finally managed to do something right. He was a good but hard teacher, patiently explaining each new move to me and taking me through it a dozen, two dozen times, until he thought I had mastered it at the required level. By the end of the session I was chuffed to see that he was sweating heavily too and I felt proud that I had given him a workout as well.
“You’re not as soft as you look, Chalmers,” he commented curtly.
“Good,” I replied, equally curt. “I’m happy for people to underestimate me.”
He nodded approval. “I’m available Tuesday and Thursday nights, six o’clock. Okay with you?”
I nodded and held out my hand. He stared at it for a moment before taking it and giving it a perfunctory shake, one of those men not comfortable with shaking women’s hands. “Thanks . . . um . . . what’s your first name?”
“Just call me Farrell.”
I rolled my eyes. Not another one-namer, like Heller. “You must have a first name.” He shook his head. I smiled at him. “I’ll find out, so you might as well just tell me.”
He shook his head again. “Next time wear some baggy clothes, Chalmers. We’ll do some moves for when people grab you by your clothes.”
“Please call me Tilly. I don’t like you calling me by my last name. You make me feel like I’m in the army.” He shook his head again and I sighed in exasperation. “Okay, Farrell. See you next time.”
He took off without another word and I cleaned up the gym, turned the light out and went to have another shower and a late dinner. I slept like a log and skipped the gym in the morning, giving myself a sleep-in, figuring I’d worked hard enough last night to make up for it. I had a leisurely breakfast and was just about to walk down to security to cadge a lift downtown from someone, when there was a knock on my door. This time I recognised the person knocking and flung the door open, blocking his entry, my hands on my hips, my eyes sparking.
“That was not a treat, Heller! You lied to me,” I started straight away. “And if you think that a horrible, sweaty hour with Mr No-First-Name Farrell equals a night with Will then you are clearly insane and have no idea about sex and I feel sorry for the poor woman you were with last night!” I took a much-needed breath.
He leaned on my doorway, incredibly gorgeous, fulfilled and surprisingly well-rested. “I don’t believe that Vanessa would agree with that statement, Matilda,” he drawled, giving me that very sexy half-smile.
“Look, I don’t want to hear the dirty details of your sordid love life, so just keep what a stud you are to yourself, all right?”
“Matilda,” he said pityingly, “there’s no need to be so jealous. You’ve had plenty of chances to partake of my studliness, so don’t begrudge someone else the pleasure.”
“God!” I screamed quietly in frustration. “For the last time, I’m not jealous.”
I could see that he didn’t believe me, but I gave up trying to argue with him about it. He informed me that he’d actually come with a purpose other than gloating about his satiated state, and offered me a lift downtown.
He talked about the sublime Vanessa the entire way, and by the end of the trip I was sick to death of hearing about the perfect bitch. He was obviously completely smitten with her, and when I looked at his animated and exultant face, I felt a major twinge of pain in my heart. I had lied to him. Of course I was jealous, bright green to be precise, and I really needed that sex with Will to take my mind off the possibility of Heller in love with another woman. I could handle the idea of him shagging other women as long as he kept moving on, but the thought of him being serious about someone made my mind shut down.
Did that mean I was in love with him? I didn’t know and I didn’t care to examine my feelings too closely. It was much easier to pretend that it meant nothing to me. I was such an emotional coward sometimes. So I listened patiently to some very intimate details of their evening together. I heard all about what a prodigy she was in bed, how witty, clever and beautiful she was, how perfect her skin was, how sultry her eyes, how intense her emotions, and bit my inner cheek in silent pain. He told me that he was planning to see her again, soon.
I thanked him for the ride and couldn’t scrabble out of his Mercedes fast enough. I went to Patricia’s room and found her much happier than she’d been the whole time I’d worked for her.
Glad someone’s happy, I thought sourly and escorted her to Corella’s car.
Once again she drove like a maniac, sending the car airborne for a few seconds when she recklessly failed to slow dow
n for a large speed bump. I clung to Patricia’s seat in terror when we crunched back onto the road. We arrived at the negotiation room first, yet again.
I was sitting glumly in the waiting room, staring at the wall when Bick walked in. It was as if clouds blew away from a rain-soaked sky and the sun came out. I sat up immediately and favoured him with my most dazzling smile. He smiled back warmly. I virtually pushed Patricia into the mediation room, impatient, just so I could talk to Bick. When everyone had entered the room and we were alone, I warned myself to play it cool, so I just smiled at him again and remained silent.
“Hey,” he said finally, sick of waiting for me to speak.
“Hey,” I replied.
“Did you miss me?” he asked with an impish grin.
“Yes,” I answered honestly. “I wasn’t very keen on your replacement. We didn’t hit it off.”
“Describe him. I might know him.”
“Ugly, big, mean, foul-mouthed, complete misogynist.”
He shrugged in amusement. “Could be one of hundreds, I’m afraid.”
I laughed. “Where were you?”
“Boss wanted me to fill in on another job. He hollers, I obey. It’s the way of the world.”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed.
“Anything exciting happen yesterday?”
“No, they were disgustingly civilised.”
“Your bruising is coming along nicely.” He moved over to sit next to me and boldly ran his fingers gently over my jaw. I let him. It felt good. “You’ve covered it up well.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.” We smiled at each other. “I spoke to Heller. He said to send your CV to him.” I gave him the general email address for the business and he wrote it down on the back of an ATM receipt.
“Thanks Tilly. That’s really nice of you. I won’t forget what you’ve done.”
“No problems, Bick.”
“Do you still have a boyfriend?”
I laughed. “Yes. It’s only been one day since I saw you.”
“Shame.” He moved back to his seat, across from me. “Do you have a waiting list?”
“Bick! You are so cheeky!” I laughed again.
“I just want you to remember me.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” I thought about my dream the other night and hoped my face didn’t redden. No chance of me forgetting him in a hurry.
“We might be workmates one day. Does Heller allow fraternising?”
“I don’t know. The men probably hang out together after work. I wouldn’t know. I don’t hang out with them.”
“No, I mean fraternising between you and me?”
“Heller would probably kill you if you tried to, um . . . fraternise with me.”
“Oh, like that between you two, is it?” he commented, disappointed.
“No! He’s my boss. He’s just very protective.”
He cheered up again. “Noted for future reference. Do not bring up fraternising with Tilly at any interview.”
“That’s probably a good plan,” I laughed.
“Any other tips?”
I shook my head. “Not really. He’s not an easy person to impress.”
“You must have some tips. You successfully went through an interview with him.”
“Yeah, but he only hired me out of pity. I had a truly awful interview. I was kicked in the face and nearly killed by a cannon ball. I didn’t even want to go through with it, but Heller forced me to, tortured me through it and ended up hiring me. I’ve never really been quite sure why though.”
“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me. You’re a very unusual person.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I did the best thing and said nothing. We didn’t get to chat any further because the door to the mediation room was flung open violently again, but it wasn’t Warburton storming out this time, it was Corella.
“That is just absolute bullshit!” she screamed back into the room. “Patricia, you are going to regret this, believe me! He is bullshitting you. He is taking you for a ride! Grow a brain!” I was horrified to see that she wasn’t angry, she was very upset, almost on the verge of tears.
I jumped up. “What’s happening?”
Warburton came out of the room, victory etched across his face, his arm firmly clamped around Patricia’s shoulders. Gerry followed, looking ill. The mediator was obviously confused and rubbed his head as if he had a major migraine on the way. Patricia looked dreamy, not connected to this world at all, an eerie smile on her face.
“My wife and I have decided to reconcile,” he announced triumphantly. “We’re going to give our marriage another go. We love each other too much to stay separated.” And he leaned down to kiss Patricia passionately on the lips. I was so stunned I was speechless, but felt my stomach churning unpleasantly.
“Patricia, are you sure about this?” I asked anxiously, once I’d recovered my voice.
Her face was ethereal. “Yes, I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”
“Patricia.” I felt as though I had to try to connect with her again.
“You heard her, bitch. Back off! She doesn’t want you hanging around her any more. So piss off now back to the troll cave you came from,” Warburton said, pushing me on my chest with his palm.
“Patricia!” I said urgently, grabbing her arm and ignoring him. “Do you still want me here? Do you still need me?”
She turned to me and smiled radiantly. “No, Tilly. I don’t need you any more. Everything is fine now. I’m no longer afraid of my husband.” She looked up at him and squeezed his hand, but her smile quavered and didn’t reach her eyes. She was afraid. “I’ve paid Mr Heller for the full week of course.”
“You’ll get your money, so you can fuck off now, bitch,” Warburton taunted.
“Shut up, will you? I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Patricia,” I snarled at him. He took a step towards me. I ignored him again. I took Patricia’s hand.
“Patricia, are you really sure about this? Remember the abuse. Think about how badly he’s behaved this week. Do you really want to go back to that? He’s an arsehole,” I pleaded with her, so fearful of her life that I felt sick. “He’s going to hurt you again. Maybe permanently this time.”
Corella joined in, reminding her of his violence and insults during the last few days. She was oblivious to it all, just kept smiling that creepy radiant smile.
“We belong together,” she said faintly, with what I thought was more than a hint of fatalism. “It’s destiny. I’m too tired to fight it any more. Gary’s promised to look after me. He rang me last night to remind me about my vows for better or for worse. We’ve been through the worse. Now it can only get better.” She wasn’t even convincing herself.
None of what she said made me feel any less concerned about her immediate future, but in the end we had no choice but to let her do what she wanted. She was an adult of apparently sound mind, able to make her own decisions. She dismissed me and Corella, while Warburton dismissed his lawyer and Bick, not so quick to promise full payment to either. We watched them leave the mediation room together, holding hands, but there was no cheering or happiness from anyone at the reconciliation.
“I have such a bad feeling about this,” I confessed, and we all agreed that it was not going to end well.
It was horrible to be so helpless, as if we could almost predict the future but weren’t able to do anything to stop it happening. Corella offered me a lift home, but I declined, not wanting to spend another second in a car with her driving. Gerry gave us all a despondent half-hearted wave goodbye and left, shoulders slumped. The mediator admitted that it had been the strangest mediation he had presided over, and that he never wished another like it.
Finally it was just Bick and me alone in the room. He shook his head with incredulity. “That was really weird.”
“Sure was.”
“Do you want to go for a drink?” he asked.
“God, yes!”
Cha
pter 9
We found a convenient pub nearby and he bought me a G&T while he had bourbon on the rocks. For ages we sat silently at a small table across from each other, sipping our drinks slowly, bereft of conversation. I bought us a refill.
“I’m positive that something terrible is going to happen to Patricia,” I said eventually. “I have such a strong feeling about it. It’s making me sick in my stomach. That man is going to harm her. You could see it in his eyes. He wants to punish her for putting him through all that.”
“There’s nothing we can do, Tilly. He hasn’t abducted her or anything. She went willingly.”
“But didn’t you hear her talk about destiny? It’s almost as if she’s given up trying to escape from him. That she believes there is no escape from him.”
Bick shrugged helplessly, not sure what to say.
“Can’t we pre-warn the cops?” I thought about what I’d said. “Oh God, that’s so stupid. As if they’d listen.” I was on the verge of tears and I blinked furiously to avert any sudden waterfalls. “I just feel so powerless.”
He reached over and grabbed my hand, concern on his face. “I know what you mean. But I don’t know what we can do.” He squeezed my hand.
“Tilly?”
I closed my eyes. Shit! Will. Again. How did he manage to turn up every time another man was showing me some affection, no matter how innocent?
“Hi Will,” I said wearily. “What are you doing here?”
He indicated over to a group of people at the bar. “Quick drink after work. What about you?” He gave Bick the once-over with hostile curiosity.
“Same. Will, this is a colleague, Bick. Bick, this is my boyfriend, Will.”
“Pleased to meet you, Will. Tilly’s told me a lot about you,” Bick said diplomatically and stood up, towering over Will, holding out his hand. Will shook it, eyeing off his uniform.
“You don’t work for Heller?”
“Nah. I work for the competition. Tilly and I have been looking after opponents in a divorce case.”
“Who do you work for?” Will asked, in an even more unfriendly tone.
