The Runaway In Love (The Runaway Trilogy Book 2)

by Helen Bright

  I can never keep my hands steady when holding a pistol. They make it look so easy on TV but it’s not. Once you load the magazine it feels heavier than it looks and the recoil makes my hands feel weird. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shoot one-handed.

  Franco let me practice by loading just five bullets. It made the gun feel a lot lighter. He said the standard version held between fifteen and seventeen rounds, but this gun could hold thirty.

  After a few minutes practice I added fifteen bullets and tried again. With my arms stretched out in front of me, I took aim at the dark silhouette figure but missed the target completely. Franco shook his head and came to stand close behind me. He placed his arms and hands over mine, holding them steady. He used his knee to nudge my legs open and told me to hold my position for five seconds before firing.

  I hit the outside of the target with the first two shots then my aim went wide. I lowered my arms in frustration.

  “I can’t get it right,” I told him. “It feels awkward. Too heavy in my hands. It’s making my arms ache.”

  “You need to concentrate more, focus on the target. Centre yourself. Here, let’s try this,” he said as he placed his hands below my belly button. “Take your strength from here, deep in your belly. Let it rise up through your arms as you aim. Let your core muscles take the strain.” I felt his lips brush my ear as he added, “Now imagine this gun is loaded with horse shit instead of bullets, and that target is Caroline Dawson.”

  I pictured her smug face and proceeded to shoot, firing off twelve shots in one go. Franco took his hands from my belly and pressed the button to reel the target in. I’d delivered five shots to the chest and seven to the mouth.

  “Great job, Tess! You certainly made her eat shit. Feel like having another go?”

  We did three more rounds which were timed, and each shot hit the target. By the third round my arms started to shake again so Franco called it quits. He was quiet when we cleaned the guns and put everything away so I asked if he was okay. He looked up at me and just stared for a few seconds before he spoke.

  “You know I’m here for you, right? If you need anything at all, you only gotta ask and it’s yours.”

  “Right back at you, Franco,” I told him. I wondered if he’d overheard my conversation with Nan earlier. I hoped not.

  He stepped towards me and placed his hands on my cheeks. Looking into my eyes he said, “You can count on me, Tess. I’ll always protect you. But I need to go home for a while so I can get my head around…stuff.” He let go of me and took a step back. “I’m flying home tomorrow to stay with my sister and her family. You can call or message me anytime.”

  I nodded my head, unable to say anything in that moment. It wasn’t so much his words that had rendered me speechless; they were just sentences to reassure and provide information. It was the feeling that so much had been left unsaid that made me swallow hard and breathe a little deeper. The air around us was thick with tension, and I wasn’t the only one affected. Franco’s handsome face seemed paler, and was devoid of its usual confident expression. He looked…vulnerable. His dark chocolate eyes were filled with sadness and I worried that something was dreadfully wrong.

  “What is it, Franco? What aren’t you telling me? Is your sister okay? Is she ill? Is that why you’re going to stay with her?”

  I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. “The calls and messages work both ways, remember. If you need me, Franco, I’m all yours.”

  “I’d like that, baby, more than you know,” he’d whispered before pressing his face into my neck and breathing deeply.

  That worrying conversation was still on my mind. I decided to ask Nate and Jonesy if they knew whether his sister and her family were okay.

  Ivan was first to enter the kitchen. He headed straight for the covered pie dish, picked it up, kissed my cheek, then asked if we had any custard. Before I could answer, I heard Kolya ask, “Could you give us a little privacy, gentlemen?”

  I turned around to find Kolya staring at me. Jonesy and Nate were behind him.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Nate said before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. Ivan grunted something in Russian. They all wished me goodnight then left Kolya and me alone.

  He took out his phone and pressed a few buttons, switching off the in-house cameras and remotely locking the door.

  “I hope you don’t watch me through those,” I told him, looking at each of the cameras. He said nothing, just raised one eyebrow and continued staring.

  “I think it’s creepy,” I stated.

  “I like to see you,” he replied. “It calms me.”

  Kolya’s eyes never moved from mine, his expression undeterminable. He was making me nervous.

  “Is something wrong, Kolya?” I asked, a slight quiver to my voice.

  “The whole day has been wrong, Tess. I should have been here with you. It wasn’t enough just to hear your voice and see you on a screen. I should have been able to touch you, kiss you, and make love to you.”

  “Well you’re here with me now.”

  He nodded his head, still holding my gaze.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. His eyes left mine for the first time since he’d entered the kitchen, glancing down towards my lady parts as he spoke.

  I felt the blush hit my cheeks as I replied, “It felt a bit tender this morning but I’m okay now.”

  “That’s good to hear, my love,” he said as he pushed my legs apart and stepped between my knees. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of my knee-length night dress, tracing his fingers up the inside of my thighs. When he reached my knickers he gently ran his fingers over my lace-covered sex.

  “When I remove these will I find you wet for me?” he asked in a voice that was pure sin.

  “You know you will,” I told him breathlessly.

  He began to tug on my knickers so I placed my hand over his.

  “Not here, Kolya. Nate or Kevin could walk in.”

  “I can assure you they won’t.”

  “We should go to bed,” I told him.

  “No. When I watched you today you were over there, peeling fruit. So domesticated. I imagined you lying on the countertop with your legs spread wide, ready for me to eat my fill. Would you like that, Tess?” he whispered before running his tongue over my right ear.

  I tried to say yes but it came out as a whimper, so I nodded my head. Kolya took off his suit jacket and tie, discarding them on the floor beside us, then he hitched my nightdress up and asked me to lift my bottom off the stool so he could remove my knickers. Even though he’d assured me that Nate and Kevin wouldn’t disturb us, I still glanced towards the door that led to the hallway and their rooms.

  “I need you,” Kolya whispered, before lifting me up onto the breakfast bar. He pressed his hand to my chest, pushing me down so I lay flat against the cool marble, then he hooked my legs over his shoulders and used his mouth to make me forget about anything but him and what he was doing to me. I kept my breathy moans as quiet as I could, but as soon as my body began to climb to that glorious peak, they became much harder to hide.

  As soon as my orgasm had ebbed away, Kolya lifted me up and placed me back on the bar stool. In between sensual, tongue-filled kisses I heard the jangle of a belt buckle, followed by the lowering of a zipper.

  He groaned my name as he entered my body. The reverence in his voice wasn’t lost on me, despite the way he thrust so forcefully. I held onto his shoulders as he pulled me onto his hot length, both of us trying to keep up with frantic kisses in between cries of pleasure and words of love. The stool scraped loudly against the floor when he picked up the pace but I didn’t care who heard us at that point; the look on Kolya’s face when we both found heaven cocooned me from thoughts of anyone but us.

  26

  Tess

  Yannis Markos is smart, funny, loves animals, and can’t stand Caroline Bitchface Dawson, so we get on really well. He’s been staying with us for the past week and has invited us to g
o back to Greece with him to stay on his OWN PRIVATE ISLAND!

  Fancy being so rich that you own an island!

  Due to the fact that Yannis isn’t married and doesn’t have any kids of his own, he’s made it so that Kolya’s son stands to inherit the island and everything he owns. As if James isn’t wealthy enough already! The saying “money goes to money” is most certainly true.

  I feel bad for him that he doesn’t have someone to share his life with. He was betrayed by his father and his first wife in the worst possible way, and his last two wives were just after his money, it seems. But there’s so much more to him, and he’s drop-dead gorgeous in that sexy Mediterranean way.

  Standing at around five foot ten with an athletic build, light brown eyes, and coal-black hair, Yannis will have plenty of women after him wherever he goes. Yet he says he’s not interested in getting married again. I find that quite sad.

  Kolya and I are so happy together—now that he’s no longer worrying about my age. Our days are filled with happy smiles, hand-holding, kisses, and love; our nights are dominated by unrestrained passion and sexual need. I can’t get enough of him, and never dreamed it was possible to be so happy.

  Watching the banter between Kolya and Yannis as they sat talking about their time at university made me smile. I’m surprised they managed to pass any of their exams. It reminded me of the messages that Franco and I had been sending each other these last few days. I was pleased to hear his family are all fit and well; I just think he needed to go home because he missed them. In our messages he’s been telling me to find a way to carry on with my education. I’d studied two years for my A levels and missed my exams due to hiding away with Kolya. Now all that work seems like such a waste.

  I brought it up with Kolya who said it was up to me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. He said I could work for him if I wanted, or I could set up a charity to run. He suggested doing something to help those leaving care—I thought that would be a worthwhile cause.

  One thing we did decide on was contraception. After the second night we’d had unprotected sex, I asked if we could start to use something. I explained that I just wasn’t ready to be a mum and would like to build our relationship before we brought a baby into the world. Kolya agreed, and ever since then we’d been using condoms until I can go on the pill.

  “You seem lost in thought, beautiful Tess. Is our conversation so unriveting that you find yourself daydreaming to avoid it?” Yannis asked.

  “Maybe,” I teased.

  “Kolya, I vote we take your wife out dancing again. Where do you suggest we go?”

  We’d gone out to a club in London a couple of nights ago, and Yannis had insisted on dancing with me as often as possible. It was the first time I’d ever been to a nightclub. I’m glad it was with Kolya. Being under eighteen, I wouldn’t have got in otherwise.

  The club was owned by someone he knew, so we were able to hang out in the VIP section, along with well-known footballers, models, and singers. I’d felt a little overawed at first. Yannis knew quite a few of them and introduced me to as many as he could between our dancing. I have to admit to being a little bit tongue-tied when speaking to them, but none seemed to have the airs and graces I expected of someone famous, and not one of them had as many guards as Kolya.

  I wondered if our security team intimidated them. Though they tried to stay in the shadows it was hard to miss Jonesy, Nate, Dave, and Lucas. Yannis only brought one guard, Deo, and had teased Kolya for insisting on bringing so many. Kolya had scowled at Yannis and said the last time he’d taken security advice from him there’d been an attempt on his life and I’d gotten shot.

  That had been the only sour point of the night, the rest of it was amazing. An experience I’ll never forget.

  “Where would you like to go, Tess?” Kolya asked.

  “It’s all new to me, Kolya. I have no idea where to suggest. You know all the best places.”

  He tugged me onto his lap and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Kolya didn’t seem to care about showing his affection for me in public. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I didn’t mind the hand-holding but Kolya’s kisses had quite an effect on me. I didn’t like people seeing me so flustered.

  He picked up his phone to see what was on locally; none of us felt like travelling down to London. Of course, any day or evening out had to be planned with security in mind, so it wasn’t as simple as just choosing what we fancied doing. I leaned against his shoulder watching him scroll through a list of evening events around Oxford, when a call came through from PC Foster. I stiffened, dreading whatever she had to say.

  Kolya let it ring for a couple of seconds before answering. As I was sat on his lap, I could hear every word that was spoken, though I almost wish I hadn’t.

  PC Foster informed him that they’d finally released Sarah’s body for burial.

  The conversation lasted less than three minutes, but it was enough to send my previously happy thoughts into a cold, dark place. Feelings of dread and a veil of sadness surrounded me.

  It would be so easy to give in to my grief once again. Kolya would organise everything while I sat around and cried. But that wouldn’t be right. I had to sort this, and I needed to be strong for Jean, and for Sarah.

  Kolya informed PC Foster that both Jean and I thought it best that Sarah’s body was cremated. We were worried that a grave might be attacked by one of the accused’s friends or family, so I’d suggested we scatter her ashes in the loch at Glengarran. It was such a beautiful, peaceful place. Jean and I could go there and talk to her anytime we wanted while looking out onto the water.

  In the meantime, we had to arrange her funeral service. I knew from a previous conversation with PC Foster that both she and PC Winters, as well as Detectives Dickhead and Twatface, would be there—along with staff from The Willows and social services. I wanted to do something that showed them the beautiful, fun-loving girl that Sarah had been when we were living with Jean. When she’d finally had a family that cared for her the way she should have had all those years before, and after. I needed them to see the happy, smiling face of a girl that had her whole life in front of her, before the system failed her. Maybe by doing that I could make them try harder with other kids in care.

  27

  Tess

  Choosing Sarah’s coffin was so difficult. Jean wanted the same funeral directors she’d had when her husband died. It was a small family firm and they were so patient and understanding; I could see why she’d wanted to use them again.

  It had taken a few days to get the approval for a cremation. After a murder or a death in suspicious circumstances, the coroner and police prefer a burial. I think it’s in case they ever come across more evidence. With a burial they can always exhume the body, but they’d already performed the only autopsy they could on Sarah due to the state of decomposition. I wondered how many they’d need to do on Hassan Akbar’s body.

  After looking at the various coffins at the undertaker’s I became so disheartened. Jean suggested we had a white one or pale oak. As Kolya was paying for it, money wasn’t an issue, so one of the younger funeral directors brought out a catalogue containing coffins that we could special order. We chose one in blush pink with a slightly sparkly effect. It reminded us of Sarah’s favourite top that Jean had bought her for her birthday. She’d worn it nearly every day for a month. Jean used to wash it in the morning and have it ready for her to wear when she came home from school. It really suited her and went with everything.

  When we went to The Willows it went missing. Sarah was so upset about it and had cried for days before finding out one of the lads had ripped it. He was much bigger than her but she didn’t care. She gave him two black eyes and a split lip before the staff managed to pull her off him, then I kicked him in the balls for good measure. He didn’t steal anything else of hers or mine after that.

  I decided I didn’t want a hearse to carry her coffin from Jean’s house to the crematorium. I asked if we coul
d have a Cinderella-style carriage for her final journey. It seemed more appropriate. After all, we’d be scattering her ashes in front of a castle, it was only right that she arrived at her funeral like a princess.

  Even with the extra cash Kolya paid to ensure we got everything we asked for, it still took eleven days until we were able to have the cremation. It had given me plenty of time to sort something out for the funeral service.

  Everyone on Kolya’s team said they’d be honoured to be pallbearers. I can’t even begin to tell you how much that meant to me. Jean had cried like a baby and fell in love with each and every one of them. In the end it was decided that Danny, Jonesy, Nate, and Franco would carry her. It wasn’t practical for Kolya to do it, though I know he wanted to. But he still had to have at least three guards on close protection detail due to the crematorium being so exposed, and though Ivan had also offered to carry Sarah, he was much taller than the rest of them and she wouldn’t have been evenly balanced. So Ivan, Lucas, and Dave would be guarding us, along with Kevin.

  Nan and Jack had insisted on coming too, as well as Yannis. He’d gone back to Greece only days ago but said he wanted to support me, just like everyone else. I was so touched by the outpouring of love and support I’d received from everyone, I’d been shedding tears on a daily basis. I know that’s a natural reaction in a situation like this, but for what I planned to do at the service, it just wasn’t helping.

  Jean and I had been going through some videos she’d filmed when we’d lived with her. Sarah loved to sing, so Jean had bought her a karaoke game for the PlayStation she’d given her for Christmas. We’d pretend to introduce her on The X Factor and responded with some of the regular judges’ comments after she’d sung. We used to have a right giggle doing that.

  Sarah had such a beautiful voice. I loved to listen to her but it was hard to watch those videos now. When I’d shown Kolya and some of the guys they had all been blown away by her natural vocal talent. And yeah, they’d all had a good laugh at my fourteen-year-old self trying to be Sarah’s backing singer. It’s not that I was a bad singer, I could certainly hold a tune, but compared with my foster sister, my efforts were nothing. Nevertheless, she always included me on her songs. But there was one she insisted on singing solo, and that was the first video I wanted to play at her funeral. The trouble was, the song was so emotional that I knew I’d crumble as soon as it began.