I’ve played this out in my head so often. Josh was right; escaping onto the tube network is the place to start. Although it’s riddled with CCTV, I’ve changed my appearance, and the mechanic’s scarf and the beanie cover most of my face and head. It’s winter and the weather’s turned cold, so I’ll look no different from everyone else who’s dressed appropriately for the season.
Morden Underground Station is on the Northern Line, but instead of taking a through train, which would take me directly to the mainline station, I take the first tube that arrives at the platform, making a change onto the Victoria Line at Stockwell. This takes me to Euston Square, and then a quick walk will take me to Euston station from where I could catch a number of trains heading all points north. To avoid detection I use the knowledge I’d picked up when living as a student in the area, and don’t take the direct path, instead doubling back on my tracks and taking a convoluted route around the side streets to get there.
I know Ethan and the lengths he can, and will go to, to find me—I can’t afford to take any chances. He’ll be using any dirty trick he can. So as per my plan I do whatever I can to evade detection. At Euston, I buy a ticket for cash to Birmingham, and another for Watford Junction. Feeling like I’m in a spy movie I change to the second, dark brown wig in the Ladies, then hover between the platforms checking no one is paying me any particular attention and leave it until the last minute before I decide which service to get on. It looks clear, so when the Birmingham train is just about to leave, I jump on.
My nerves are shot, I’m running purely on adrenaline as I sit shaking on the train, hugging my aching wrist to me, waiting to be exposed, keeping my head down to avoid the surveillance cameras in the carriage. When the guard comes to check my ticket, I give a guilty start. Then I have to fight down panic when anybody walks past me, which they do with frightening regularity, my seat, unfortunately, being situated halfway between the buffet car and the toilets. Every moment I think I’m going to be discovered, but eventually, the train pulls into the station, and I reach my first destination safely.
I find an information desk with a helpful local map on the wall and discover there’s a shop well-known for low-priced clothing not too far away. Ethan’s dressed me in designer clothes for the past sixteen months, but that life’s lost to me. Now I have to replace my wardrobe at rock bottom prices, buying cheaply and ignoring any ethical arguments about how the store sources its wares. Quickly, I grab enough clothes and underwear for a week as well as a cheap rucksack to put everything in. In the shop entrance, I put on a new waterproof over my jacket and swop the beanie for a fedora I’ve just purchased. My appearance again hopefully sufficiently changed, I return to the station where I use more of my precious cash to buy a ticket for Glasgow, almost baulking at the price which seems exorbitant, but telling myself it’s worth it to leave another false lead.
Time’s getting on now; it’s nearly five o’clock. Even if he hadn’t discovered it earlier, by now, Ethan is certain to know I’ve absconded. I’ve no doubt he’ll be using every means at his disposal to try and locate me. It’s a race against time to find a safe haven. He’ll be getting all the CCTV footage analysed, probably using facial recognition software, as well as calling in favours from the many people he’s got under his thumb. He could even set loose his private army. There’s nothing I’d put past him. He’ll report me to the police for some reason, and get me listed as a missing person, or perhaps even a criminal or lunatic. I lived with him long enough to know the way he operates; little does he know all his boasting and threats serve to help protect me from him now. Can I do enough? Whether I can or not, I’d rather die on the run than like a mouse in a trap.
As jumpy and cautious as prey being chased by a hunter, I find the right platform and get on the next train I’ve chosen, making my way to a vacant seat. My wrist throbs, my back aches, I want to sleep, but daren’t close my eyes. As the train starts to move and is soon thundering over the tracks, I sink back into my seat, as much on edge as I was on the last journey, finding this no less tedious than the first. Finally, after watching station after station fly past, I leave the train at Crewe, and then board a local service for a place called Ludlow, a town I’ve plucked out of the air. I’ve never been before, and I don’t know anyone who lives there. But as far as I am aware, neither does Ethan.
I arrive at the quaint medieval market town in the late evening, not quite knowing what to do. Walking into the main street I’m unable to shake the feeling that everyone is looking at me, or that someone is following me, but after ducking into doorways and waiting for someone to appear at last I accept it’s just my nerves making me so jumpy. Just up the road I find a friendly enough looking pub and go inside. I don’t buy a drink, not wanting to linger in any place for long. The landlord doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not there to buy anything, but only to ask if there is a cheap bed and breakfast nearby while trying as best I can to hide my face from curious customers. The cheerful chap behind the bar directs me to a slightly run down but clean B&B on a side street, which, on entering, I find has an available vacancy.
Giving my name as Claire Ranger, using my middle name and a surname picked at random, I’m shown to a room with a freshly made, but obviously well used double bed. Finally alone, I sink onto it, uncaring that the mattress is lumpy and has seen better days. I rub my hand over the tired, faded but clean duvet cover, I realise I’ll be that tonight I’ll be sleeping alone. It’s a comforting thought.
A few moments later I visit the tiny en-suite bathroom where I splash cold water on my face, gazing into eyes reflected by the mirror, hating the haunted look that stares back at me. But slowly, as I watch the corners of my mouth turn up in the beginnings of a smile and it’s at that point jubilation starts to bubble up inside me. I’ve escaped! I’m out of his clutches. Unlike last time when he found me and dragged me back within hours, this time I’ve had freedom for a whole day.
My smile turns into a grin as I realise Ethan can’t hurt me anymore. He’ll never think of looking for me here in this out of way town in the West Midlands. He’s no connection to the area, and neither do I. Pulling my shoulders back I stand up straight. Step Four complete. I start to laugh. For all his assets and money, little old me has beaten him. I imagine him ranting and raving as he initiates the hunt for me and I giggle. I got away! I’ve no frigging idea what to do next, but I’ve escaped him. Tomorrow’s another issue, but for tonight, I’ve won. I allow myself a moment to revel in my success.
Returning to lie on the bed, I switch on the tiny TV hanging on the opposite wall. The last occupant of the room must have left it on Sky News, so it comes to life just as the newscaster is going through the main stories again. When I see the picture and hear the headlines, vomit rises to my throat and I only just manage to make it to the en-suite and puke into the porcelain rather than my hands. They’d had a recent photo of me on the screen—without bruises of course―and I can hear the newscaster’s words coming through from the bedroom.
“Billionaire’s girlfriend, Zoe Baker, who is suffering from severe depression, has disappeared from their multi-million pound home in Surrey today. It’s unclear at this moment whether she left voluntarily or whether she has been abducted. Mr St John-Davies is appealing to anyone who might have seen her to come forward and is offering a reward of a quarter of a million pounds for information that will help locate her. So far no ransom note has been delivered, and Mr St John-Davies has told Sky News that he is extremely concerned about her safety. The number to ring if you have any information is…”
I switch off the TV with trembling hands. Of course, Ethan’s concerned about my safety. He’s setting it up so I won’t be found alive.
Oh shit! Is my disguise good enough? I knew he’d use everything he had at his disposal to try to find me, but didn’t consider he’d get almost everyone in the UK on his side by using such a plausible appeal and offering that incredible reward. Oh God! The man at the pub, the customers, the B&B owners an
d God knows how many others may have seen me. Could they have recognised me? Could they even now be thinking of lining their bank accounts?
Frantic thoughts race one after the other through my mind until I try to think rationally and calm myself. They described me on the news as blond, but I arrived here with mousy brown hair. Surely no one would link me with the missing woman, even if they’d seen the story? And they wouldn’t have paid me that much attention, would they? My hosts hadn’t given me a second glance. To them I’m just another anonymous guest; one among the many they must have staying here.
Running through my decidedly limited options I know I’ve got no choice but to sit tight for tonight and just hope that no one is already coming for me. It’s below freezing outside; I’d die of hypothermia if I tried to rough it. I’ll just have to pray that I’m safe.
But every footstep outside my door makes my heart beat faster, and even when all the guesthouse lights go off for the night, I can neither close my eyes nor relax despite my lack of sleep over the past thirty-six hours. If these are my last moments of freedom, I don’t want to waste any of them. So I lie awake all night, and worry.
Fourteen months ago
Another month had passed before I met Sophie again. She greeted me with her easy smile, motioning to my wine she’d bought already. She barely let me sit down before she started. “How the fuck are you? Wouldn’t have minded a phone call, babes, or an invite to that fancy mansion you live in!”
I sat down opposite her, trying not to grimace. Ethan had been particularly rough the previous night, taking me well before I was ready for him, pounding into me for what seemed like hours before getting his relief. I’d known something had upset him at work, and he needed to relieve his tension, so I tried to respond as he wanted me too, giving him the release he desired. I really can’t understand how other women apparently enjoy this sex thing, but it was a subject I didn’t want to get into knowing my friend’s view of it is at the opposite end of the spectrum to mine.
“Sorry, Soph. I’ve been so busy. What with work and starting a new life with Ethan. We have so many functions to attend, so when we get to stay in it’s a luxury, and I’m just dead to the world. How’s you?” I’d lied to my friend. Something I never thought I’d do. I might not tell her everything, but an out and out untruth? The fact of the matter was Ethan had become extremely possessive. Jealous of any time I spent away from him. In truth, the parties and evenings out we used to enjoy had trickled down to almost nothing as he wanted me all to himself. Our evenings consisted of me reading or watching TV with my headphones on while he sat and worked. He liked me in his line of vision at all times. I didn’t make phone calls as it was too awkward in his presence.
“Same old fucking same old.” Sophie grinned, “Hey, you ought to have seen the fella I met last week. He was an electrician doing some wiring at work. Well, we got chatting, and one thing led to another. Let’s just say I’ll never look at the broom cupboard in the same way again.”
“Soph, you didn’t! Not even you would do that!” I covered my mouth but was unable to suppress my snort of laughter.
“I fucking did! I couldn’t walk straight the rest of the day.” Her grin widens. “Another thing crossed off my bucket list. Now, what’s going on with you and Ethan? I’m not joking about that visit; I’d love to see how the other half live.”
I tried not to squirm; there was no way I could invite anyone back to Ethan’s mansion. I lived there, but I wasn’t comfortable enough to treat it as though it was my home. I attempted to distract her. “Didn’t anyone see you?”
“No. And don’t change the subject. How’s that man of yours treating my bestie?”
I’d always enjoyed the evenings spent with Sophie, but tonight seemed to drag. When she questioned me about Ethan, there wasn’t much I found I wanted to share with her. Sure, I was living what appeared to be the perfect life, but it wasn’t quite everything I thought it would be. Eventually, my friend took over the conversation, telling me after the electrician she’d hooked up with a guy from the solicitors she’d met when dropping some documents off. She’d packed more fun into one day than I’ve had in four months! Certainly, she’d had more orgasms—and she’d described every single one! Surreptitiously I kept glancing at the clock, and when ‘last orders’ was called, I couldn’t help but be relieved. As we made arrangements to meet again, I resolved that I had to do something to change my relationship with Ethan in the meantime.
I enjoyed his company, but, while I’d never admit it to anyone else, I’d come to accept he was a selfish lover, uncaring about my satisfaction as long as he got off. Such a contrast to the caring person he was proving to be in other parts of my life. Perhaps he didn’t realise? I mean, I’d never come out and admitted it before.
I decided I had to man up and talk to him about my needs, however difficult a conversation that was going to be. But I neither had the experience or the audacity to find it easy to ask for what I wanted in the bedroom. Sophie wouldn’t have had any such problem! It’s not even as though I was going to ask for much, all I wanted was a little more warming up, and him to touch me where I needed him to.
Hearing about Soph’s experiences made me determined to address the subject for both my sanity and comfort. So, knowing delaying the conversation wouldn’t make it easier, the very next evening, while he was removing his clothes getting ready for bed and I was already naked and waiting under the sheet, I took a deep breath and started telling him my problem as tactfully as possible.
“You fucking what?” I didn’t know what reaction I’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t for him to get angry. “You’re complaining? You want me to touch you like a slut?” I shrank back against the pillows as he approached me, his face is red. Belatedly I realised, to him I was criticising his technique, his manhood. As he stared down at me, I’d never seen him so enraged. “It’s that fucking whore Sophie, isn’t it? You’re not going to see her again. She’s a bad fucking influence on you. You really want to copy her whorish ways?”
Wiping his hand over his forehead, he looked exasperated, “If you don’t like it, Zoe, you know where the door is.”
I didn’t know what to say, anything that came out of my mouth at the moment would probably be the wrong thing. I was aghast Ethan thought he could prevent me seeing my friend, but now wasn’t the right time to protest.
He continued to stare down at me; his features were tight, and then he dropped his bombshell. “And you know that cow was fucking with your ex behind your back, don’t you?”
I gazed at him in horror. “Sophie wouldn’t…”
“She’s been bragging about it, you stupid bitch! Laughing at you behind your back. And she’s probably like a bit of my action if she could get it. But I’m faithful to you, though fuck knows why. You don’t fucking appreciate it, do you? Make your choice; it’s her or me.”
With a cold feeling inside and remembering how Sophie loved to talk about her conquests, I started to believe him. Although the relationship I’d with my ex was both short and unremarkable, and we’d only had sex the once, it still hurt me to think she might have got there first. Had he been comparing me to her? He certainly hadn’t wanted a repeat performance with me. And if she had, I could so imagine her gossiping to all and sundry about it. What he’s telling me all at once seemed credible, I could even picture her laughing at me behind my back.
“Well? Make your choice!”
I swallowed a couple of times; I didn’t want to lose him. “You, Ethan. I choose you.” What choice had I got now he’d told me my best friend was a cheating liar?
He grabbed my shoulders with both hands and shook me violently, then pulled me off the bed, pushing me down to my knees. “Now you better give me a fucking blowjob like the slut you are. And I better fucking enjoy it!”
Anything to appease him. Feeling about as turned on as a turkey being made ready for Christmas I put out my hands and ran them up and down his shaft, then I slid them down to his balls
, rolling his heavy sacs around and squeezing them gently.
“Oh for fuck’s sake woman! You can’t even do that right! Ethan took hold of my hair and fisted it tight in his hand. Roughly he pushed my head to the tip of his cock, forcing the drop of pre-cum around my lips. I opened my mouth, and he pushed inside with no finesse. Luckily he wasn’t a big man, and though he thrust to the back of my throat, it wasn’t too uncomfortable. He controlled me, fucking my mouth. I felt like he was treating me like the whore he’d called me; I was just a vessel to be used. It wasn’t long before I felt the swelling in his prick and his warm semen gushing into my mouth. He held me in place, forcing me to drink every drop.
Then he straightened, his limp cock falling out of my mouth. I glanced up and didn’t like the expression on his face, a trickle of fear ran down my spine. He’d still got hold of my hair, and for the moment, he wasn’t letting me go. “Your mine, slut and don’t you forget it. You’re fucking lucky to be here. I should just throw you out. You’re as common as muck; I should never have bothered with you in the first fucking place, just left you in the gutter where you belong.” Before I realised what he was doing, he backhanded me across the face. Shock flooded through me; No one had ever hit me before. I was stunned.
“Now, perhaps, you’ll remember. I don’t want to see that sluttish side of you ever again.” He released me and stormed off to the bathroom.
Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3) Page 8
