My head follows the path of his car and my jaw tenses when he rolls to a stop outside the main entrance. Just as I take one step out into the light, I spot two high-heeled shoes attached to a pair of long, lithe legs poke out the back of his car.
Hastily, I shrink back into the shadows.
The tops of the legs are wrapped in a tight cocktail dress and the woman they belong to has shimmering platinum hair. Another female, with a similar look, follows her and then Carlos and Isaac exit from the front.
Shit. I suck in my stomach and press my back into the brickwork; cursing myself for taking the chance without a confirmation text back from Isaac.
Anxiously, I wait until they disappear inside his apartment building and then I scurry across the street to my car with my heart pounding in my chest.
I sit, thinking of what I might do. Repositioning the rearview mirror so it shows the apartment block entrance, I lower my seat so I’m out of immediate view. It’s stupid I know, because he would recognize this car a mile off. But so what? I’m not hiding from him, only Carlos. Who I’m sure is the reason Isaac is acting like a prick. Warning of me of dangers which can’t be seen and making out he’s a criminal mastermind.
The concierge emerges and drives Isaac’s car into the garage. Then moments later a limo pulls up in its place.
Repeatedly, I check my watch and phone to make sure Hope is still okay at her friends. She went to Tiggy’s straight from school and I need to pick her up soon.
But curiosity has me sat here, waiting on Isaac to be alone, so I can tell him he’s father to a beautiful girl and I’m going to sell the car and put the proceeds in trust for her. And I would appreciate him forming a relationship with Hope, but one based on how a father should be to his estranged child. Caring. Kind. Thoughtful.
But it doesn’t seem it’s a conversation we will have tonight. I’m about to drive off, when Isaac strides out of the building, followed by Carlos and one of the blondes. The other woman hovers by the door, adjusting her shoe strap, stooping low so even at a distance I get a good view of her ample cleavage. Bitch.
Isaac waits at the limo door, blocking my view of Carlos and the first woman getting in the car. Then, he turns and holds out his hand for the other, whispering in her ear when she trots to him.
Bile hits at the back of my throat.
He raises his head in my direction before ducking into the car, acknowledging he knows what I’ve witnessed.
“Motherfucker.”
I wait until the limo glides by, sunk in the seat like a fugitive again. Then, I spin the Porsche around and speed away to collect Hope.
She’s had a great time. And when I strap her in the back of the car, she tells me about it and doesn’t stop until we arrive home. Tiggy’s puppy, the wonderful food they had, the family trip to the carnival in Granville, and the tree-house in the garden. I love she’s enjoyed herself but I can’t help feeling inadequate.
“Can I go to Tiggy’s again, tomorrow?” she claps her hands.
“It’s our turn next,” I tell her. “Tiggy can come around after school next Thursday, if you like.”
“Will we have a puppy by then?”
I laugh. “There’s no-one to look after a puppy during the day, Sweet Pea. It wouldn’t be fair on the dog.”
“Tiggy’s momma doesn’t work. She stays at home and looks after their puppy all day. You could do that.”
“One day, Sweet Pea.” I reach my hand through the gap in the seats and squeeze her knee, for which she rewards me with a stuck-out tongue which curls in at the sides.
I stick mine back, so it does the same, and she giggles. So uplifting.
16
Isaac
The scene is as boring as ever. The women, the men, the music, the alcohol, the drugs, and most of all the banter.
Why would anyone choose to hide away night after night in this dark, seedy club? I miss the fresh air, the sunshine, the ocean.
But then this is how this shit goes down. I snap back into Raul mentality. Thank fuck there is only two weeks to go before I can rid myself of this charade.
I decline the Tequila offered to me.
Carlos shrugs his shoulders and downs my shot and then his.
Maybe I should let his liver kill him off. Slowly. Like he deserves.
It was touch and go when I saw Cate outside my apartment earlier. I blocked her number and deleted the text when it came through on Monday and the concierge was under strict instructions to turn her away if she tried to gain access.
At least here, Carlos is occupied and nowhere near her. And Juan and Diego are under strict instructions not to let her in the club.
But I do have to fix this whole clusterfuck before it throws everything off plan.
Zoya has bored of my cool attitude and has re-seated herself on the other side of Ulyana. If I wasn’t already in one sticky situation, I would play her game. She’s not ideal because she’s like her sister. Full of bitterness.
It’s one of the few things I admire about Carlos—he chose the one woman to be by his side who he can never control. I bet she’s a bitch at home and a bitch in the bedroom.
Lucky Carlos.
“What's up?” Carlos angles away from Ulyana and growls in my ear. “Anyone would think you’re not enjoying yourself.”
I snort. “It’s killing me but I’m on countdown.”
He lifts his chin, asking me to explain.
“You not seen the movie, Rocky?”
For a moment his expression is blank. Then he titters, bringing his arm from around Ulyana completely. “Yes. The fight. No sex. No drink.”
He’s now laughing.
Others around the table teeter on the edge of a chuckle—not sure if they’ve missed the joke and they need to join in before Carlos throws a moody.
“Fuck man, you must be some kind of saint to be here with all this going on.” Then his expression hardens. “You need to go home, hermano. I’m a bad influence.”
Thank fuck for that.
Not only does this reprieve me from these godforsaken evenings of debauchery but it also means I can deal with Cate with a clear conscience. Since I’ve had her body beneath me, I’m done for any other woman.
Carlos doesn’t need to tell me twice. With my hand held out to shake on his, he pulls me into him, wrapping his other hand around the back of my head and pressing his forehead on to mine. “This fight is important, hermano. Do what you need to.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t worry.”
I stand and, with a breath held in, I walk out into the fresh air. My two bodyguards filing out behind me.
When we’re safely outside, I turn to them.
“Did we have a visitor?”
They both shake their heads.
Good. Cate’s a hot-head and it wouldn’t have surprised me if she followed me here for a showdown. And that would have been disastrous.
I need to change tactic with her, otherwise everything will be ruined.
Diego goes to bring the car around to the front door and I give instructions to Juan. Carefully. This is Carlos’s club, and he has cameras everywhere.
17
Cate
My eyes snap open but I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black from the heavy-lined drapes at my bedroom window.
It took ages to drift off to sleep last night, tossing and turning with thoughts of how Isaac had ignored my text and let me turn up to witness him slope off with the long-legged super-model. How little I must mean to him, compared to how important he is to me and Hope.
So, after what seems like a few snatched moments of sleep I’m awake again. Or should I say, I’m woken.
I sniff in a breath but the heavy hand on my mouth also covers my nostrils. This is no nightmare; the hand is very real.
Panicked, I strain to sit up but the weight across my chest is too heavy.
Tears of fright sting at the side of my eyes when I draw in my knees and try to lift my hips off the bed to find myself completely tr
apped.
All manner of crazy thoughts whizz through my head.
Then I hear a whisper in my ear, “Cate.”
It’s Isaac. Of course, it is.
“I’m going to remove my hand but you have to agree not to scream. Blink if you understand.”
Slowly, as my eyes become accustomed to the dark, I make out his form, blink, and he cautiously removes his hand from my mouth.
I gasp and then cough violently, having to wait until I have my breathing under control before I can lash out at him. Randomly striking the air in front of me.
“Pile of shit,” I hiss out and his hand immediately clamps across my mouth.
Then I feel the mattress dip as he lays at my side. “Shush, Kitty.” He loosens his grip on my mouth. “You need to listen.”
For a few seconds I consider my options, of which there don’t seem to be many. I can’t afford to have Hope wake and find him like this, or worse, hear us fighting and be scared.
“Okay,” I mumble through his fingers, the taste of his skin, salty and warm.
I reach over to my nightstand and he immediately grabs my wrist, squeezing on it until I yelp. “Get the fuck off.”
“What are you reaching for?” he growls. “A gun?”
I snort. “Yes, I have got a gun in the drawer,” I lie. “But it’s not what I’m reaching for. I’m turning on the goddamn light.”
His grip releases once again, and I rub at my wrist as I twist to turn on the wall light.
As well as long shadows, I can now see his face. Tanned and glowing with a mist of sweat.
Shuffling up the bed to a seated position, I try to pull the duvet with me but it’s weighted down by him. “Why are you here?”
“I thought it would be obvious.” He smirks, dropping his eyes to my neck and licking his lips as he savors the rest of my body.
I draw up my knees and wrap my arms around them. Thankful I put on sleep shorts and a cami-top last night instead of sleeping buff-naked as usual. “How did you get in?”
“It was easy. You need to get your security checked out.”
My mouth drops open at his level of audacity. “First, you kidnap me. Twice. Then you break in to my house and tell me it’s my fault. You’re nuts.” I throw my hands in the air. “A criminal.”
He laughs sarcastically. “It’s a proven fact. Having spent the last seven years in prison.”
I huff. Then reach over to the nightstand again—which makes him flinch—to pick up my phone and squint at the time.
“It’s five am, Isaac.”
I then scan his clothing, taking in sports leggings under running shorts, a loose Everlast wife-beater, and a hoodie tied around his waist. “Have you been running?”
“Yes, I’m going to the gym.”
What is up with this guy?
“Ugh. I need to get ready for work soon, so stop playing games and tell me why you’re here.” I rub my palms onto my gritty eyes.
“To apologize.”
Apologize? Has he had a lobotomy?
“You could have text.”
He closes in to my face. “No. No texting. No visiting without agreement.”
My stomach loops at the proximity of his lips. “But we need to talk. It’s why I came to you last night.”
“Go on, I’m listening.” He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, the tattoos flexing across the muscles in his biceps.
“Not now.” I want him out of here before Hope wakes. “Look you need to go.”
“I will. As soon as you promise not to contact me.”
“I can’t do that Isaac. We need to talk. I’ve got things to say.”
“Okay. Tonight then. My place. I’m free all night.”
I snort, unattractively. “Don’t worry, what we’ve got to say to each other won’t take all night.”
He stands. “Fine. Wait in the same place as last night. I’ll drive by at six pm. If there’s anyone else in the car, go home. If I’m alone, wait five minutes then go into reception. Do not follow me into the garage and do not wait in the reception area. Got it?”
It’s too early in the morning for me to interpret what he means. “What’s with this cloak and dagger shit, Isaac? You sound like one of my law cases.”
A faint smile grows on his lips and he shakes his head at me.
“I should set Elliot on to it,” I say.
“Who the fuck’s Elliot?”
I whistle sarcastically. “No need to get your panties in a twist. He’s my research assistant.”
He sits and angles in to me, grabbing my chin with his thumb and forefinger so I have no choice but to look in to his deliciously stern eyes. “Cate. This is serious. Don’t tell anyone. Any. One. About me, or Carlos, or anything to do with this shit.”
He lets go of my chin and I feel my face flush, knowing Elliot is aware of everything. Including the parts even I can’t fathom.
“Carlos? What’s he got to do with it?”
He chews on the inside of his cheek. “Nothing. Forget I mentioned him.”
I swallow noisily but can’t help with a rebuke. “Don’t worry. I won’t let on how shit a fuck you are or… or… everything else.” I almost spat out how crap a father he would be too.
“Cate,” he growls out a warning.
“Fine.” I cast my hands in the air. “I’ll meet you tonight at your apartment. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll let you murder me and no-one will know jack-shit.” I swing my legs to the other side of the bed and step onto a piece of Lego; biting the inside of my cheek so I don’t scream out and be forced to admit to what I’ve stood on and why it would be there. “Now, will you get the fuck out of here.”
“Remember. Same place. Six pm. Wait five minutes after I drive by, then go to reception. Alone.”
18
Isaac
Without even seeing her face I know it’s her skulking in the shadows and peeking out from the corner of the apartment building. It’s not exactly where I asked her to wait, but then it’s a good thing. If it’s a surprise to me, then it will be to anyone else.
I don’t know if Carlos is watching, or has asked someone to follow me. My rebuttal of Zoya last night didn’t go down well. Apparently, she bitched to her sister about it after I left, which meant Carlos endured an ear full too.
Even though he agreed—if it was a good enough excuse for Rocky then it was good enough for me—I can’t assume anything about Carlos right now. It’s too close to the final showdown for that. Not long until the big fight and I need to stay focused.
Cate turning up on my doorstep every five minutes was not part of the plan. But I can’t stick to the order of events as I hoped.
She will have spotted me, and will come into the entrance now, hopefully accept the concierge’s invitation to take the elevator to my apartment.
He’s sent it to me first, so I quickly park the car and take the cabin to the reception area.
A ping signifies my arrival at the first floor and the door slides open. She steps in before seeing me pressed to the wall.
“Isaac,” she gasps, clapping her hand to her chest. A place my gaze lingers more than it should.
I punch my finger on the button which will send us below ground.
“Where are we going?”
I pull her over and wrap her in my arms. “Kitty, I’m sorry.”
“For?” She wriggles in my grasp.
“For how this will play out.”
She swallows noisily, her eyes sparking with fear.
I can’t help myself and I must come to terms with this. There’s no going back. I have to forge a way to make this work otherwise she will be my sacrifice.
The elevator sinks, causing my stomach to leap into my chest. There’s no easy way out of this, no escape. We can’t simply run away. I’m in too deep. I’ve made promises with dangerous men attached to them. Not only Carlos, who would stop at nothing to find out why I turned my back on his plan to make me famous and him rich. More deadly men than hi
m.
I’ve got to forge ahead with the plan and now make room for one more.
Seven years ago, me and Cate were like every other teenage couple. We spoke often about what would be, but our conversations were always measured in days and weeks, never months, or years, or a lifetime.
And here I am, thinking in lifetimes—how it will play out and how it will end.
Perversely, now should be the time to think about those hours and days and weeks because without that level of detail we will have no future. And no lifetime to live.
“Here.” I brandish an arm across the elevator doors to stop them closing on her while she steps into the dim, damp garage.
“Isaac?” she questions, her eyes open wide like a frightened marsupial. “This is the garage.” She curls her fists onto her hips, cocking one out in a way which makes me smile.
“Sharp, aren’t you?”
She rolls her eyes. Bingo. I fucking love her cocky, snappy way. The smile I’m hiding bursts through. “And this is where you need to come in next time.”
“Next time? Like there will be a next time? One conversation, that’s all this will take.”
I chuckle and pull her into my body, slowly rubbing the erection straining in my jeans across her stomach. The delicate fabric of her top bunches with the friction. “Don’t fight it, Kitty.”
She puts her hands to my chest and tries to push me away, which only makes me press into her harder. “You’ve changed your tune.” Still wriggling.
“We’ve got ground to make up and here is not the place to do it. So, listen to what I’ve got to tell you and then we can go upstairs.” I loosen my grip and take her by the hand toward the vehicle entrance. “This is the electrically operated door. If you drive up to it, it will open. Your car is fitted with an RFID tag, programed to this door.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
I ignore her question; I don’t want to spend longer down here than I need to. “Then you drive into that spot there.” I point at the corner, nearest to the garage door. Anyone looking from either the elevator or the garage door won’t see her car in the darkest part. “Under no circumstances should you park anywhere near my car.”
Bad Ink Page 12
