Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  I stand, forcing my body to relax, not letting my fury show, “You’d do well not to threaten me, Sheikh.”

  His hands come up in supplication, and he casts a quick glance over his shoulder, seeming to realise the position he’s put himself in. I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows rapidly, and seeks to reassure me, “No, Emir Kadar,” using my title must stick in his throat as he continues, “Obviously I’m not talking about myself. We’re family, after all. I just wanted to make sure you realised the risks of treading the path you have chosen. I hear others speak and so I’m only passing on what has come to my ears. I only wish to help and support you, as family should do.” And with that passing shot, he finally turns and leaves the room.

  Definitely a snake. And I’d best remember a very poisonous and slippery one. Even the air seems cleaner once he’s gone.

  He’s right on one point; I can’t afford to alienate the desert sheikhs. But what he doesn’t know is that I’ve already got ideas how to go about that. A proposal to keep the tribal leaders on my side, while ensuring the needs of the desert are balanced with those of the cosmopolitan cities. A plan that Abdul-Muhsi would hate.

  How far would Abdul-Muhsi go to depose me? That’s the unanswerable question. And what support does he have? The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as his threat echoes in my head. If he had his way my reign would be a short one, as would my life.

  Chapter 5

  Zoe

  I daren’t drive far. As soon as Ethan realises I’ve left the house, he’ll get a trace put on both me and the car. And I’m not so naïve as to think after last time’s attempt he’ll have hidden GPS trackers in everything I own. So I only travel a couple of miles from his estate into the nearest town, Guildford. Parking in the city centre’s multi-storey, I leave the keys inside as it’s served its purpose. If it’s stolen, it will help spread a false trail.

  Quickly I enter the already busy shopping mall and take out as much cash as I can from the first ATM I see. I can only get out a measly six hundred pounds, the total of the maximum three hundred pounds I’m allowed from each of my debit and credit cards. Then, entering the first clothes shop I find, I take next to no time purchasing an entirely new set of clothing, right down to underwear and shoes. I put it all on in the changing room, exiting the shop carrying a bag full of anything and everything that could have been tagged by Ethan. Finding the nearest bin, I dump everything I’d left the house with, including, reluctantly, my iPhone, old bag, and purse.

  A stall selling wigs is my next target. I buy a couple and walk away, my head now a mass of auburn curls. The final stop I make is Boots, where I purchase the morning-after pill after being subjected to a rather intense, but sympathetic scrutiny by the pharmacist. I know he’s seen my black eye when he doesn’t question my purchase, limiting his conversation to just giving me clear instructions as to its use. With relief I put the little box in the handbag I’d bought along with my new clothes. I want no lasting reminder of Ethan St John-Davies. Lastly, before leaving the shop, I buy painkillers and bandages.

  So far I’ve paid for everything by credit card, Ethan’s of course, he cut up my own long ago, telling me he would support me which in reality, was just one other way to control me. I drop the cards in another handy litter bin, removing any temptation to use them again. I’d rather starve than have him find me. Pausing only a second as I say goodbye to my past, I take the first step towards my future. Hiking my bag up over my shoulder, I exit the shopping mall by dipping out through the back entrance of a shop and start walking.

  As I’d discovered from his business card, Josh, the mechanic who’d so kindly helped me the day before, doesn’t work too far away, and his garage can easily be reached on foot from the town centre. At least I don’t need to take a taxi where the cabbie might remember me, nor use a bus that will have CCTV. Marching on, I ignore the throbbing in my wrist, ruefully thinking, at least the past year has taught me how to cope with pain and how to ignore it. And that makes me sad; I’m now so far removed from the girl who used to scream blue murder at the slightest little scratch. No one should have to put up with abuse or be proud it’s raised their tolerance for being hurt.

  I know this detour might be futile, Josh might not even be working there today, but in that case, I’ll have to summon up a Plan B quickly. I don’t know this man at all, I had only met him for a few minutes, yet something about the vibe coming off of him yesterday tells me he’ll help me if he’s able to. And he gave me his business card for a reason, even if the assistance I’m going to ask for today might not quite be what he intended. But the other reason for going to see him is to warn him. If Ethan remembered the details on the business card I’d been so stupid to keep, he’ll need to be prepared for a visit.

  In the end, the garage is easy enough to find, a sign swinging and squeaking in the chilly winter breeze shows I’ve arrived at the right place. Out front, there’s a man bent over, looking under the bonnet of a car, and even from the rear, it’s easy to recognise the man who I’d met the day before. Going over I stand close to him, waiting for him to extract his head from looking at the engine. Whether he sees my legs or just senses my presence, I’m not sure, but it’s no time at all before he straightens up. The fact he doesn’t recognise the woman he helped yesterday pleases me, suggesting my disguise is working. I’m a different person today, with the wig, the bruises I’m sporting and the way pain makes me hunch over and move like I’ve aged twenty years overnight.

  I give him a little help. “You changed my tyre yesterday?”

  He stares at me, looking very closely at my face. His eyes widen, and I see the exact moment it all drops into place. He puts down the wrench he was holding and takes a step towards me, growling out. “Shit, girl! What the fuck happened to you?”

  As he straightens, I give him the short answer, “I was late home.”

  It takes him a few seconds, then his mouth drops open in shock as the implication of my words sinks in, and I see his whole body tense with rage, his reaction showing me I was right, he is one of the good guys. Clearly fighting to keep his anger under control, his hand touches my chin, and I try not to pull away. With an unexpected gentleness belying his large frame, he moves my face so he can see me more clearly, his scrutiny full of compassion. His eyes drop down to my left arm, and he sees the bandage not completely hidden by the sleeve, “Your hand?”

  I shrug. “It’s my wrist.”

  “Have you seen a doctor? Do you want me to take you?” I try to ignore the concern in his eyes. Sympathy won’t get me anywhere.

  “No, and I won’t, can’t go.” Surprised, he’s looking for more of an explanation, so I give it to him. “He’ll trace me.”

  When he understands my fear of being found, he starts to tell me, “There’s a woman’s refuge…”

  Shaking my head violently, I reject his suggestion, but give him my reason, “No, he’s too powerful. He’ll get me back, and I’ll put other people in danger.” I swallow a couple of times and put my good hand on him arm. “Josh, I’m sorry, but he saw your business card. I’ve taken it now, but he might have noted your details. You need to take care. That’s one reason I came here, to warn you.”

  “You’ve left him.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I still nod my confirmation. “Thank fuck for that. And there’s no need to worry about me. I can look after myself.”

  Like yesterday, I notice his build. He’s a big, powerful man, but then he doesn’t know what he’s up against. Again I shake my head, “He’s dangerous, Josh.” I need to explain just how much. I swallow my mouth suddenly dry. I tell him exactly who he’s dealing with, spelling it out by giving him Ethan’s full name, and then try to make clear the risk he could be in. “I tried to run before, a friend of mine, Sophie, helped me. She…” I break off as tears come into my eyes then continue with new determination. “She’s in a wheelchair now. I haven’t dared contact her since the accident, in case he hurts her again.”

  “Wha
t the fuck?” He sounds so angry I take a step back.

  While he’s still processing that information, I prepare him for the favour I’m going to ask him. “Josh, I had to run. I couldn’t stay.” I wave my good hand at my face; there’s enough evidence there. “I’m worried Sophie, could be in danger. I haven’t been able to ring her as he might trace I made the call.” I swallow a couple of times, “Josh, you offered me help if I needed it…”

  “I did. Just tell me what I can do?”

  “It’s Sophie, Josh. Could you possibly speak to her to warn her? Tell her to take extra care?”

  “Fuck! Of course, I can! But why would he go after her? Are you going to ask her to help you again?”

  “No, I’m not going near her. But Ethan might use her to try to get at me. Threaten her, hurt her. To persuade me to come back. He could even kill her. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” My hand comes over my mouth to stifle a sob, and I feel sick. It’s all down to me, if I hadn’t got mixed up with Ethan in the first place, Sophie would still be walking.

  “The fucker would really do that?”

  I draw in a deep breath, but despite the additional air in my lungs, my admission comes out as a whisper. “Ethan St John-Davies would do anything.” Now the sob escapes me. The mechanic’s eyes narrow as he watches me, frowning. After studying me for a moment, he suddenly yells out,

  “Horse, get out front!”

  The biggest man I’ve ever seen in my life somehow squeezes through the door at the side of the garage and comes across to us, his gait rolling like a cowboy’s. Josh takes him to one side and mutters to him for a moment, filling him in on what I’ve told him. ‘Horse’ well over six feet tall, and build like a brick shit house. I’ve never seen such large muscles. He’s wearing a cutaway T-shirt that reveals full sleeve tattoos down each arm. My gaze moves up his large frame and settles on a face that is certainly easy on the eyes. He has a gold earring and dark hair just long enough to flop over his forehead. As he listens to Josh I watch his face muscles clench, and his eyes darken. He’s nodding in agreement. At one point in their discussion, I hear Horse ask incredibly, “The St John-Davies?” As Josh confirms it, Horse just replies, “Fuck!”

  After a couple of minutes, Josh comes over, “Come with me.”

  I follow him into an untidy but surprisingly clean office and watch as he spins around, rummaging in a cluttered desk to find what he wants, before turning back. “Write your friend’s name, address and telephone number on here, love.” He hands me paper and pen. “Horse will check it out and make sure she’s not bothered.”

  “He’s got people working for him, Josh.”

  “So have we.”

  I realise I don’t know quite who these people are, but his confidence is probably misplaced, and I’m impelled to utter another warning. “You can’t underestimate him.”

  The enormous man with the strange name clears his throat. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near your friend.”

  Casting a grateful glance towards Horse, it occurs to me although I don’t know these people at all; there’s something in the giant’s voice and the way they are both looking at me that gives me confidence that if anyone can keep my friend safe, they will. I quickly jot down Sophie’s details, while offering up a silent prayer that I haven’t brought trouble to anyone else’s door. Horse takes the piece of paper, stares at it for a second, then nods at Josh. He disappears out the back of the garage, and shortly after I hear the throaty sound of a powerful motorbike starting, and a few seconds later the loud roar as it takes off down the road.

  Turning his full attention back on me, Josh asks, “How the fuck did you get mixed up with a man like that?”

  Fifteen months ago

  This time it was my fault I’d missed the last few of our get-togethers—Ethan kept me busy— so I was eager to see Sophie again tonight. Tonight she beat me to the pub and was already waiting when I arrived and thankfully had already lined us up with a couple of shots. As soon as I was within hearing distance, she yelled out, “How’s it going with lover boy?”

  Laughing at her eagerness to know all the details, remembering how she’d been on at me for ages about finding a man, even going so far as to set me up with a couple of disastrous blind dates, I quickly put her out of her misery. “Oh, Sophie, he’s gorgeous. He’s so gentle and kind! I’ve moved in with him. I live in a fucking mansion now. Servants, the lot! I don’t have to clean, cook or even do my own laundry!”

  It wasn’t often I was able to shock her, but I saw that’s what I’d done when her mouth fell open. “Blimey, that was quick! So, what’s the fucking catch?”

  “No catch!” I giggled at her, “He’s amazing. So generous. So attentive and caring. He can’t do enough to keep me happy.”

  “What?” Her face creased, and she looked incredulous. There was no jealousy there; she was genuinely pleased for me. “Shit! You’ve hit the bloody jackpot babes.” Then her face tightened, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion, “It’s moving a bit fast, isn’t it? You’re actually living with him? Have you given up your place?”

  I shook my head and grinned at her. “Yes, I’ve terminated the lease. Let’s face it, it was a crap place in anyone’s eyes, and Ethan persuaded me to let it go. It feels right, Sophie girl. He spoils me something rotten, and I want for nothing.”

  She went silent for a moment, as if considering what even I had to admit was an impulsive action, jumping straight in with both feet. I kept my face impassive, making sure none of my lingering doubts about giving up any refuge showed. Then she asked, in her unique way. “So what’s he like to fuck? Must be good if you moved straight in. Tell me you did the deed before you committed? You can’t live with someone without putting him through his paces first. What’s his dick like? Large, medium? Does he know what to do with it? Ah, waiting a fucking minute! Don’t tell me it’s tiny? You’re living the life of Riley, but there has to be a snag somewhere. Still, I suppose if he’s got the money, the size of his prick probably isn’t so important as long as he can use his hands and mouth. Does his tongue compensate?”

  “Sophie!” I covered my mouth to stop my shocked giggles escaping, partly wondering how she could ask so many questions without stopping to draw breath. “Why is it all you can think about is sex?”

  “Hey, Zoe, bless you, you’re beautiful, but sex is what makes the world go round. But if you’re telling me he’s got a big dick, then go you! You’ve won the fucking lottery!”

  “I am not discussing the size of his appendage with you,” I told her, primly. In all honesty, I wanted to change the direction of this discussion and fast.

  She gestured with a hurry up movement. “Come on, spill the fucking beans!”

  As I raised a querying eyebrow, she clarified in her unique blunt manner, leaning forwards and smirking. “Is he a good ride?”

  “I, er…” I thought back over the past couple of months and wondered what I could tell her. After our dinner date, Ethan wasted no time or money courting me, continuing to be the perfect gentleman, but never taking things further than a goodnight kiss or holding my hand. Against my protests, he insisted on giving me expensive gifts of perfume and jewellery and totally spoiling me. I’d never had a man treat me so well before. It wasn’t until our third weekend when we’d taken that all-important next step. He’d booked a lovely five-star hotel in Brighton where we shared a room and slept together for the first time. To be honest, no bells pealed in heaven, but we just needed time to get used to each other, didn’t we? Ethan enjoyed it, although, if I’m honest the repeat performance the next morning left me equally unsatisfied while he roared out his climax. And the sex hadn’t improved much since then, but I was probably expecting too much. My expectations of the earth moving came from the romance novels I’d read, and not from real life. Except for someone like Sophie perhaps, she was unique, not every woman was could come from penetrative sex, though perhaps a little foreplay would have been nice. Ethan seemed happy enough with our
sex life, and I enjoyed everything else about living with him, so where was the bother? So, a little reluctantly, I confessed, “Not great. But that’s me, not him.”

  She slammed her empty glass down on the table. “For goodness sake, babes. What do you mean it’s not him?” Her eyes widened.

  “Well, I, er, never… Not with anyone else either.”

  “You’ve never come before? Christ, Zoe, your first experience was losing your virginity in a drunken fumble on the back seat of a car. And the men you hitched up with after that were selfish pricks. I’m not surprised you didn’t get much out of them. But you must have come sometime, what about with your BOB?”

  Sometimes I regretted how much I confided in my friend. My face went red, and I quickly glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Well, of course,” I hissed. I didn’t add my BOB was now out on the rubbish tip after Ethan happened to find it one day.

  I saw her face tighten, “You can’t live with a man who’s too selfish to get you off. Doesn’t he know the woman always comes first?” She waggled her eyebrows. “If he’s really a gentleman he knows that.”

  “Sophie, you might think sex is important, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” I started to get annoyed. “I’ve never come with a man; I doubt I ever will. In every other way, he’s perfect for me. There’s more to life than sex!”

  Eyes open wide she stared as though she couldn’t believe I’d said that, and subjected me to an intense scrutiny. To get a moment’s peace, I collected the dead glasses and took them up to the bar; splashing out on another round even though it was really her turn. As I waited for the drinks order to be filled, I risked a glance back at her. She was still watching me intently, her gaze moving from my head to my toe.

  When I returned to my seat, she put her head on one side. “You look different, babe. Hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad fucking thing. But your clothes, hun, they’re not you.”