“Fuuuck!” He crumpled to the floor in agony. He held his crotch, letting go of Bethany.
She spun around and sprinted out to the dining area almost delirious that she’d worn trainers. Heart racing, she tried to present a semblance of calm. But calm was nowhere near when the devil himself was on the floor.
“Bethany, hey! The food’s not ready!”
“Sorry, Corrine. I’ve got to go.” She said in a rush at Corrine who stood by the bar counter. She wove her way through the tables already plotting the route she had to take to get back to the shop. Terror made her gait stilted, cold wanted to freeze her in place yet rationality was the lantern guiding her way out of the dark.
Bethany couldn’t breathe no matter how hard she tried. Her throat started to close, her vision swimming. The face floating above her spurred her to continue. Clique’s doors neared. She had to get out, get air back in her lungs.
Just…a…little bit more.
A group of people entered the bar at that moment blocking the doors.
Fuck propriety.
Bethany stormed through, weaving like the drunk that she wasn’t, pushing those near her away.
“What the hell!”
“Shit!”
“Sorry! Sorry! I can’t breathe!” she wheezed almost tripping at the threshold.
Then she was free. The endorphin laden spring air hit her face and Bethany took in her first huge gulp of air since being cornered in the hallway. Her skin crawled as if leeches were stuck to it. Sweat trickled down her temples, into her hair, leaving cool trails before disappearing. Frigid cold iced her veins. Her knees knocked under her as though she was scheduled for a new set of knee caps.
And her heart was internally haemorrhaging, knowing what lay in store.
“Bethany, what happened?” Lissie touched her, her face worried.
Bethany jumped as though she’d been electrocuted.
Lissie’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”
Bethany saw Corinne inside sweet talking the indignant group. Her gaze darted around.
“I have to go.” Her voice broke, the panic still unstable within her. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”
“Bethany, wait!” Lissie held on to her. “What got you spooked? What happened?”
Bethany trembled, unable to stop the shudders coursing through her. “That man…”
“What man?”
“The one who raped me.”
Lissie reeled back in shock. Bethany escaped her grip and ran.
“Bethany! Come back!”
She didn’t. Didn’t turn back to the women who showed nothing but kindness to her. And she ran, hell bent on getting back to Expectation Blooms. She needed to lose herself in the crowd like prey losing itself in a host of its own kind from a predator. Better them than her. She’d learn that, perfected it through the years of hiding.
She took the long route to the flower shop, hiding herself in the throng crossing the street before ducking into the side of a building. Panting and swallowing through a dry throat, she peered from her hiding place. No sign of anyone chasing her.
Bethany exhaled sinking against the wall before pushing away.
She entered the shop surprising a few of those looking around and waiting in line.
“Thank you, make sure you come back again.” Joe Brooke smiled jovially at a customer before greeted his daughter. “Lunch go alright?” he paused, his smile fading. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”
She spoke to the staff . “Debbie, could you and Adi take over for the day?”
“Yeah sure.” Debbie and Adi couldn’t hide the bafflement on their faces.
“Dad, I need to talk to you. Just let me speak to Debbie first.”
Joe looked at her with a worried frown, but in the end nodded before entering to the workroom.
After giving Debbie and Adi instructions and giving them the key, Bethany rushed to get her father’s coat.
“Hey, hang on. What’s got you panicked out of your skin?” Joe stopped her, holding her upper arms.
All of Bethany’s fear surged like a fountain in her whisper.
“Andrew Tabler.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Bethany stared at the passing scenery as the distance increased between herself and Manchester, away from danger, and from the man she loved.
The countryside stretched outward with pasture land hob-knobbing with huge concrete industrial estates amid a backdrop of tree capped hills. Normally, scenery didn’t make her feel anything. They kept moving from place to place every time Joe’s friend —who was a private investigator—told them Andrew Tabler was close to where they lived at that time. It didn’t matter if Andrew wasn’t looking for her. Just the thought that he was in nearly the same vicinity brought a frenzy in Bethany’s chest and a churning in her gut that wouldn’t leave. She made it a point never to attach wistfulness to places she stayed in to make it easier for her to go.
But the house she bought in the southern part of the city? After over a decade of not hearing from her father’s friend, Bethany believed she could finally put down roots, give Amara the stability which she didn’t have growing up. And after having so many incredible moments with Drake there…
She couldn’t leave it without desolation tearing her apart when every part of the house had memories of their time together. Hours of exploring each other mixed with respites of pillow talks and eating naked in the kitchen. How could she not forget the streets where she had strolled with him, the club where she met him for the second time, or Expectation Blooms where she climaxed in his arms while dozens of people were outside enjoying the shop’s opening?
Her fear was greater than the love that urged her to stay.
That would hurt Drake—but not as much as it hurt her and shamed her to know she wasn’t strong enough for them both. Drake had been brave for her and she couldn’t do the same thing for him. Heart and mind were a debating club inside her head, telling her a migraine was crawling up the walls of don’t-even-try she kept building every time the culprit breached them.
But practicality always trumped emotions. It was how she’d been able to live under the radar. Andrew Tabler may have been finished with her but the aftermath had striped her bare of self-worth like some Gunther von Hagan model— a slab of meat exposed in all of its macabre glory. Nothing had come out of Joe and Cora reporting the rape to the police. The police did a lackadaisical investigation. They took Andrew to court. He had the best barrister money could buy. They had a no win-no fee one who was only half interested in pursuing the case for them. They lost. Some consolation that was when they were told Andrew had left the country. No justice there either. So her flight response won all the time.
Bethany was jarred from her musings and realized they had reached their destination when she saw the imposing Angel of the North. Newcastle. Amara stirred from her nap beside her. Joe and Cora started gathering their belongings together as though it was second nature even though the last time they did this was seven years before.
“How are you holding up, Dad?” Bethany asked from across the table, worried that the journey had taxed him.
Joe grunted. “I should be asking you that.”
Her tight-lipped smile said everything.
“Let’s get ourselves settled first,” Cora intervened. “Amara, help me darling.”
“Sure.” Amara blinked sleepily and stood.
Bethany watched her daughter and rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension collected there. Her arms crossed over her stomach as if to steel the anxiety at Amara’s sombre mood.
“She’ll get over it.” Joe hugged his daughter. They hauled their luggage from the compartment before climbing down the train.
“I don’t think so. I only told her someone was after us which isn’t the entire truth.”
“Are you going to tell her everything?” Joe’s bushy brows rose.
“Not everything,” Bethany replied. “Just the reason why we had to go.”
; Joe exhaled noisily looking at his wife and granddaughter walking ahead of them.
“I hope there’s a nearby twenty-four hour Tesco or Sainsbury’s where we’re staying. Eating on the train wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Bethany nodded. It was just past nine in the evening. Tired and frazzled, eating was the last thing she’d think of, but after her father mentioning food, her stomach gurgled.
“All this is going to cost a lot,” Joe grumbled from out of the blue.
“It’ll be fine.” Bethany assured him as they started walking down the aisle. “The house is up for sale and your rent is paid until the end of the month. So we’re good.”
“Still a waste of money.”
“Dad.” Bethany scrunched her eyes forcing the persistent headache away. Lord, what she wouldn’t do for the downy softness of pillows and a bed. “Don’t worry, please. We’ve been here before.”
“Like seven years before.” He shook his head, his face as grim as his granddaughter’s. “Let’s go. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
The huge ballroom windows of the Portico were ablaze with lights. They left the station and took a taxi to the small hotel where Bethany had reservations. The atmosphere inside the cab was tired as it was strained. Bethany looked at her daughter leaning against Cora’s shoulder. She turned to the window. The inevitable had arrived.
She would have to tell Amara tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Drake stared, unseeing, outside the window of the loft. The sun had set hours ago and night had taken over the same way darkness returned to his heart.
If only he hadn’t stayed longer with Barry trying to understand what the solicitor was explaining about the intricacies of money laundering for terrorist activities. If only he hadn’t stayed and relaxed for one fucking minute, confident in knowing that he’d be seeing Bethany that evening. If only he’d answered Oliver’s call when it came in but he didn’t because he had thought Caius wanted to beg him for mercy when he had nothing left to give.
Then he wouldn’t have his heart torn out to find Bethany gone.
Again.
He should have listened to his gut when he called Bethany and she didn’t talk as though she had been in a tussle. He should have already realised something was wrong when he texted her but she didn’t text back. He didn’t expect her to reply immediately so he continued to listen to Barry explain the intricacies of money laundering. Thinking about Bethany and knocking Andrew flat on his sorry ass at the same time was like separating them even inside his head. A fucked up combination if there was one. But when he still hadn’t heard from her and his call went to voicemail, alarm bells were like the sonorous sound of calling everyone in to church, making it difficult to hear even his own thoughts.
Then Oliver called.
He threw instructions at Barry on the fly as he ended the meeting. He rushed to Clique arriving just as the police drove away. An emergency service vehicle was parked in front of the pub. Drake inhaled sharply.
Bethany.
He parked behind the vehicle. The hell with the fucking fine. He needed to make sure she was okay despite the doubt gouging his chest.
Drake saw Oliver standing by Lissie while Dominic stood beside Corinne. The bar was empty save for the staff coming in and out of the kitchen.
Lissie was cradling her arm close to her chest.
Drake’s mind raced. “What happened?”
“Bethany left in a panic after lunch.” Oliver replied, his mouth in a grim line. His eyes narrowed when Lissie winced, a muscle ticking on his jaw.
“Doesn’t look like anything’s broken.” The paramedic assured him. She gently touched the spot on Lissie’s upper arm. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise though.”
Oliver swore under his breath. Drake understood. If someone hurt Bethany…
Don’t go there.
Drake sat down as soon as the paramedic left. He leaned his elbows on his knees.
“Lissie, where’s Bethany?” His calm kept a tight rein on the rising panic inside him.
“Bethany went to the restroom after lunch, but suddenly left, deathly afraid.” Lissie’s troubled gaze moved between Oliver and Drake. “She couldn’t get away fast enough.”
“She didn’t even wait for her dad’s food.” Corinne added. “She had to return to the shop so we prepared food for her to bring. But she said she had to leave. She bumped into a group of people and I had to feed them on the house because they were raising such a stink.”
She snorted. “Bunch of bloody attention seekers.”
“I’m sorry.” Drake exhaled, unable to believe Bethany could do that.
“You don’t have to apologise.” Corrine held up a hand. “I just don’t understand what got her so terrified. Then a man came out of the restrooms holding his junk.”
Dominic snorted. “Well, there is that.”
Corrine scowled.
“Sorry.”
Corinne continued. “That guy looked like bats were piling guano on his head and face because he kept blinking. Then he left.”
“That’s when he pushed me against the door.” Lissie joined, wincing. “I was going inside here at the same time he was leaving.”
“Do we know who this motherfucker is?” Oliver didn’t bother to suppress his anger.
“The manager’s pulled out the CCTV. The police have taken the man into custody after he became abusive. I’ve never seen him in here before. The manager said this stranger had come in to eat but kept to himself.”
They all went to the office to view the footage of the corridor and the bar. Drake watched the events unfold until he saw the face of Bethany’s attacker.
“That bastard.” He seethed, spinning away as cold rage filled him. He needed to get to Bethany fast.
“Drake, a minute.” Oliver stopped him.
“Not now, Cray,” he snapped. “I have to find Bethany.”
“I think it’s important. It’s something you need to know.” Oliver’s face was hard but sympathetic. He looked down at the floor.
That floored Drake. He’d never seen Oliver look defeated. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he would have ribbed Oliver to no end.
“Drake, please.” Lissie spoke up.
His eyes darted to her. He huffed in exasperation. “What is it?”
“Dominic and I will get back to the Retreat.” Corinne stood. “Lissie, get some rest. We’ll be okay.”
Drake’s lips thinned. He was running out of patience. “Lissie…”
Lissie looked at him, pleading for understanding.
“Bethany told me something…”
The moment he heard the word rape, the room spiralled around him.
No, it’s not possible…God tell me I’m not hearing this.
But the more Drake listened and watched the footage he couldn’t stop truth’s train wreck. Pain the level of which he’d never experienced before slashed through him and also shredded his heart. Had he not been seated, his knees would have buckled underneath him. Guilt the size of the entire fucking country rammed into him like some violent upper cut against his jaw and a kick against his roiling stomach. He didn’t know if he could contain the excruciating pressure building inside his chest but he had to. He needed to keep sanity beside him and throw unreasonable violence in the lock-up until he found Bethany. Then and only when he knew she was safe would he let the monster out. It could land him in jail, he didn’t fucking care. He’d give up his freedom to make sure Bethany never had to run away again.
Even if that meant her leaving him.
“Thank you for telling me,” was all he said before he left. Oliver didn’t stop him. Drake wouldn’t have listened and might have flicked the bird. Now that wasn’t nice after what Lissie had told him.
Drake called Bethany again. Voicemail should have a cheery disposition after getting so many calls from him. He ran to Expectation Blooms but she and her father were gone. The staff didn’t know where they went
except that father and daughter left through the back door. Drake called again. No answer.
“Bee, call me.” Desperation set up camp in the centre of his chest.
He drove to her house. The blinds were closed but her car was there. He called at her parents’ house, pressed the door bell and rapped on the door until his knuckles became raw. There still was no answer until Joe and Cora’s next door neighbour told Drake they had left hours before. Drake’s anxiety settled heavily as despair became his constant companion. He went to the club but already knew what he’d find. Not even Cinzia knew where she was. The feisty Italian was about to lash at him.
“Don’t even start,” he warned when Cinzia drew a huge breath, her eyes flashing. “I didn’t do this.”
“Then who did?” Cinzia’s arms gesticulated wildly.
Drake didn’t bother answering, unsure whether Cinzia knew about Bethany’s past. He just left, ordering her over his shoulder to call him if Bethany contacted her.
Cinzia cussed in Italian until Drake left the club, her screech still echoing in his ears.
Oliver had taken over the search for Bethany. It had been eight hours since the search began. Drake let him. He didn’t think he’d remain calm after the hair pulling fear drowning him that afternoon. Inside he was an active volcano, Vesuvius personified.
He texted again.
Bee, call me. Please.
Nothing.
He had never been as unsettled in his life as he was now. He was furious at not being able to do anything. Being kicked out of the house or entering the cage for the first time was nothing compared to what he felt now. He opened the television to Bloomberg but he couldn’t concentrate. The shares in his portfolio could have fallen down a steep incline. Like he fucking cared. His mind kept taunting him with the worst case scenarios of what Andrew had said to Bethany to make her relive the nightmare. His hands fisted at the memory of stark fear that had stiffened her body. The bastard had definitely threatened her again.
He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms before he leaned against the window. Neither the cool glass against his cheek nor the newscaster’s drone from the television did anything to quell his unease that kept a constant attack on his already tense body.
Slow Dancing (The Second Chances Series Book 4) Page 24
