In Safe Keeping (19 page)

‘They really tried to shrink your world, honey, didn’t they?’

She rolled over on her side and looked at him, reached out a hand and stroked his jaw with tender fingers.

‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

Evan lay down beside her, guided her head onto his shoulder, and wrapped them both in the bath towel.

‘Please don’t feel sorry for me.’ She drew a circle on his chest with her index finger. ‘Many people don’t have the strength to detach. I did, and I’m proud of that. I walked away from my parents, empowered, knowing I would never let anyone play me or manipulate me ever again.’

A defining moment in her life.

His had come at the age of nine.

He understood why she didn’t want sympathy. Hard times made you strong, not weak. It was the reason he didn’t want people poking around in his past. Men didn’t worry so much, they just accepted his background, but he’d always been scared that some soft-hearted woman would think he needed mothering.

Fuck that.

‘What about you?’ she asked suddenly, raising her head and smiling down at him. ‘Star footballer. Handsome lawyer. I bet you’re the apple of your mother’s eye.’

Evan’s heart began to thud and a cold dread welled up inside him. He wasn’t going to talk about his life, not with Laila, not tonight. She’d had it hard enough herself, without him laying the misery of his early years on her.

‘That’s for another time.’ He threw off the towel, sat up and grabbed the bottle of massage oil. ‘Let’s get on with this rubdown.’

5 a.m. Friday

Laila blinked in the darkness and stretched her limbs, luxuriating in the comfortable warmth of Evan’s bed. The only light in the room was the tiny red glow from the TV and a narrow column of light shining from the direction of the ensuite bathroom. She smiled and turned over, feeling for him, but the sheets on his side were cool. How many times had she woken this way, relaxed and sated, only to find him gone?

Laila sat up, listening for sounds of running water, but all was quiet in the bathroom. Throwing off the covers, she climbed out of bed and wrapped the bath sheet around her. At the top of the stairs she paused to survey the shadowed living area below. Light shone from the partially opened door leading to the veranda.

She raised a hand to her grumbling stomach. The last time she’d eaten was lunchtime yesterday. Perhaps hunger had also woken Evan, and he’d gone downstairs for a snack.

Laila descended the stairs, bare toes gripping the polished wooden steps, right hand on the brick wall to steady herself. In the living room, she skirted around the modular lounge where Evan’s coat lay forgotten, drawn towards the sound of pounding feet and the whir of a treadmill programmed to a fast sprint.

Staying in the shadows, Laila peered through the doorway. Evan’s back was to her, the treadmill positioned to face a large window. But it was the scenery inside the room, not the ‘city by night’ view that held Laila’s attention.

Dressed in running skins and gym shorts, Evan’s body was energy in motion, a perfect example of male anatomy. He ran with the easy coordination of an athlete, shoulders loose, skin gleaming with sweat, trainers a blur on the moving rubber mat. A man primed to take on the world after four hours of sleep.

Laila caught her breath, gaze settling on well-defined muscles rippling beneath smooth, golden skin. Smooth, apart from the reddened, claw-like slash where her nails had raked his back.

Right then the treadmill slowed, and he glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hi.’

Before the machine completely stopped, he hopped off, sure-footed and agile for a guy of his size. Grabbing a towel from where it hung on the handrail, he wiped his face then ran it around the back of his neck.

‘I saw your reflection in the glass. I was going to have a shower, then bring you breakfast in bed.’ He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees, gulping air into his lungs and speaking between snatches of breath. ‘There’s hot tea in the tea maker.’

‘Do you always push yourself so hard?’ With a rush of affection, Laila leaned forward and ran her hand through his damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. ‘It’s only 5 a.m. It’s still dark.’

He straightened, swiping at the rivulets of sweat running down his heaving chest. ‘It’s the only time I have.’

Laila understood. Working at Poole Greenwood wasn’t for the fainthearted. Many young lawyers had resigned over the years, unable to sustain the workload, while others cracked under the pressure of meeting their monthly fee targets.

Was that the reason he had always left her house at 4 a.m., so he could get back here and exercise? If that were the reason, why hadn’t he just told her?

Laila sighed. There were many things she didn’t understand about Evan Barclay; his urge to be answerable to no-one was only one of them. But something drove him on, drove him to be the best man he could be.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked, eyes watchful.

Something primitive in Laila’s brain propelled her forward, something basic, biological, something she hadn’t experienced before. ‘I don’t want tea.’

‘Okay.’ He gave her a funny smile. ‘I won’t make you drink tea.’

‘I want you.’ She didn’t ask him to make love to her, because he’d already done that, tonight and many times before. Nor did she say ‘come to bed’ because she didn’t want to wait that long.

With trembling fingers, she undid the towel and let it slide to the floor.

She heard his breath hitch, watched his eyes widen as they moved slowly up and down her body.

‘Five minutes,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘I’m sweating like a pig.’

Gripped by a sexual hunger so raw it overrode everything else, Laila linked her arms around his neck, the morning chill failing to cool her heated skin. ‘Here.’

Evan’s mind clouded, his body turning brutally hard as Laila’s soft curves, still warm from his bed, pressed into his hard frame. She was so darn beautiful, so soft, so fragrant. So selfless.

Everything he wasn’t.

And yet here she was, taking control.

‘Hit the light behind you. We’re not putting on a show for the neighbours.’ It sounded like an order, but he didn’t care. Laila wore the expression of a woman determined to have her way with him, eyes burning with an intensity that sucked the oxygen out of the room.

She turned and showed him her back, long hair curling over one shoulder. Like a model on a photo shoot, she glanced back at him, her smile sending a bolt of heat straight to his groin.

Greedy for one last look, Evan ran his gaze down the long sweep of her spine before she raised her hand and flicked the switch. The room darkened, the red glow from the treadmill’s dashboard the only artificial light in the room.

She came towards him, all creamy skin and silky hair. He sat down on the edge of the machine, telling himself his unsteady legs were from the hard run and not a sudden onset of nerves. Heart pounding, blood crashing through his veins like river rapids, Evan reached for her hand and drew her between his thighs.

‘Perfect height to do this.’ He trailed a line of kisses from her hip to her navel, felt her hands slide into his hair as he thrust his tongue into the small, sensitive hollow. He moved lower, licking and tasting his way down to the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs.

She gave a soft gasp and stepped back, breaking contact. Then she leaned over and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back until he lay on the rubber mat of the treadmill.

‘Is it off?’ She grabbed hold of his shorts and dragged them downwards.

He lifted his arse off the mat so she could pull his shorts all the way off. ‘Just don’t press any buttons.’

Evan’s head was clearer now that he was horizontal. He stared at her in awe as she tossed his shorts over her shoulder, long hair swinging over her breasts as she straddled him.

‘Fuck,’ he groaned, as she placed her knees on either side of his hips then reached down and took hold of his dick with a firm grasp. Holding it at the right angle, she lowered herself onto his throbbing erection.

Evan stared up at her as she began to rock, internal muscles clenching around him so he had to plant his feet on the floor and grab hold of her thighs. She was like some blonde goddess of love, determined to ride him, determined to use him as an instrument of pleasure, and he had absolutely no complaints about that at all.

Her breath was coming faster now, her eyes half closed as he pushed higher up inside her. She sat up, arching her back, seeking more friction, taking him deeper.

‘Hold onto the handrails.’

She did as he suggested, reaching up to grab hold of the bars. She lifted her weight off him, then slid back down again, and he brought his hands up to span her waist, to hold her steady.

She looked as if she was exercising, pulling herself up with the bars then letting herself down over and over, quicker and quicker, until her breasts bounced and Evan couldn’t take any more.

‘Oh..f…
shit!
’ He came with a wild rush, jackhammering his hips into her until she tossed her head, arched her back and came with a scream.

‘
Yes
….’

‘
Jesus
!’ Waves of pleasure crashed over him as she rode him, eyes closed, mouth open in wonder, her expression a mixture of unadulterated pleasure and sweet torture.

Eventually, she was spent.

Letting go of the handrails, she collapsed on top of him, and he folded her in his arms, pushing her damp hair off her face as warm breasts crushed against his chest.

She was a marvel, a revelation.

He wanted to keep her here forever.

‘Wow.’ He pressed his lips to her hair, closed his eyes and held her tighter.

Only then did he remember he was still wearing his trainers.

10.30 a.m. Friday

Parked in the allotted space for visitors, Luke Neilson rested his hands on the steering wheel and stared at the sprawling expanse of land before him.

Once Australia’s largest barracks, the army base at Holsworthy was now home to several special forces and army reserve units, as well as the Active Air Regiment. The regiment had been established to transport special forces troops in the fleet of Blackhawk helicopters, and to assist in reconnaissance missions, and it was the ‘Double A’ unit that Luke had business with today.

Locking the car with the remote key fob, he headed towards the commander’s office. As always, the homecoming was bittersweet. The army had trained him to the highest level. The success of his company, Neilson’s Security, was built on the foundations laid down in this place. His training had helped save Allegra’s life.

Now, another woman was in danger.

The early-morning drive to the base had cleared his thoughts, cementing in his mind that a direct approach was best. Sniffing around, trying to locate a couple of pilots, would only arouse suspicion. And while Laila wanted an independent investigation into the matter, he doubted it would be necessary.

In his experience, the best way of bringing the army into line was to plant one of their own grenades under them.

And who better to do that than him?

Five minutes later, Luke was being shown into the office of Commander Reuben Lawrence, a soldier he’d known for years. A wary tolerance existed between them, and they shared enough history to dispense with formalities.

‘What’s so important it brings you here on a public holiday?’ Lawrence waved his hand towards a chair. He had a few years on Luke, a few more inches around the middle too.

Luke sat opposite Lawrence, casually raising one booted foot until it rested on the opposite knee. ‘Word is, there’s trouble with your night vision.’

To Lawrence’s credit, his face remained impassive. He didn’t speak right away either, just blinked a few times and stared hard at Luke.

‘Says who?’ he asked eventually.

‘Laila Richards.’

Lawrence’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Will Richards’ widow?’

Lawrence wouldn’t win any prizes for acting, that’s for sure. He knew very well who Laila Richards was.

While Luke remained silent, the other man made a ‘pftt’ sound with his lips and laced his fingers across his middle. ‘What Laila Richards knows about night vision she learned from her husband. And he crashed a bird, remember?’

The commander’s dismissive attitude rankled, and a latent anger unfurled inside of Luke. Typical bloody army! It asked the impossible then hung you out to dry.

‘The word’s coming straight out of Holsworthy, Lawrence. You’ve got pilots reluctant to fly because of problems with goggles.’ He held the commander’s stare. ‘I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Richards put in a formal complaint prior to the crash.’

‘That’s classified information!’ Lawrence barked out the words.

Luke smiled. Was that the best he could do? ‘You have a security breach, Reuben.’

Luke stared in satisfaction at the flush rising in Lawrence’s face. The man had gone from dismissive to defensive in a matter of seconds, and the fact that he hadn’t thrown Luke out and accused him of talking bullshit was a good sign. It told him the army was likely involved in the break-in at Laila’s office. As to the extent of their involvement, he didn’t know. He only knew Lawrence was prepared to sit through this when he didn’t have to.

Luke tapped his foot in time to an imaginary beat and waited for the other man to speak.

‘You know the score, Luke,’ Lawrence said eventually. ‘Some pilots handle night flying better than others. Doesn’t mean there’s a problem with the equipment. It’s been checked, and the crash has been investigated.’

‘That’s not the way Laila Richards sees it.’

‘Damn Laila Richards! She’s been a thorn in our sides ever since her husband crashed that bloody Blackhawk.’

To Luke’s surprise, Lawrence turned his chair around and stood up. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his regulation army pants, complete with knife-edged crease, he walked over to the window and stood looking out at the airfield.

‘Tell me how she sees it then?’

Luke spoke to Lawrence’s back. ‘She believes the military covered up the cause of the crash. She’s set up a foundation for the defence force wives. According to my sources, she’s lodging a class action on Monday on behalf of the men who were on that Blackhawk. She has two pilots to subpoena. You don’t have to be a genius to see you’ve got major problems here.’