Quiver (a Suspenseful Romance Novel) (7 page)

“
P
ass me my bag
, would you please?” I requested, as I struggled to get my top back on and tried to flatten my wild, tangled hair.

Our watchers had made a hasty exit while we weren’t looking. I’m not sure how I would’ve reacted if they’d stayed. But I was glad we were now alone.

“What the hell do you have in here? It weighs a ton,” he asked, his arm outstretched like the prong of a crane holding a swaying, heavy burden.

“Actually, there’s something in there for you. Take a look.” I was grateful that he’d had the foresight to bring it with him when he’d carried me unconscious from the office to the snooker hall.

He shrugged and sat down on the seats besides me. To my disappointment, he was back to being fully dressed. I planned to rectify that as soon as possible.

Resting the bag upon his thighs, he seemed reluctant to check inside, as if were a trap.

Gingerly he reached in and fished around. He grew still when his flesh came in contact with the cold, hard, distinctive shape of the gun.

He took it out and asked, “Where… Max’s office?”

I nodded. “Yeah, in a hidden drawer. There was also a ledger or diary in there with it, too.”

“Wait, how do you know Max?” I asked, puzzled.

Ignoring me, he checked his back pocket and withdrew a bar-rag. He wrapped the gun safely within its cotton folds.

“What’s in the ledger? Did you look?” he asked, now searching the depths of the leather bag eagerly.

“I don’t know… I didn’t have a chance to look, what with the hiding and being scared out of my mind,” I replied, keeping my face dead-pan.

Finding his prize, he bent his head over the open pages of the ledger, squinting at the small, hand-printed script. The sound of crisp pages being flipped echoed around the room. He stopped and scanned a page, reading a line over and over again. “Gotcha.” He grinned, causing his eyes to sparkle like the ripples of a lake when a sunrise hits. I could bathe all day in those sea-blue eyes.

Eric suddenly leaned over and kissed me fully on the mouth, too quickly; I didn’t have the chance to enjoy it. Careful not to the let the book fall, he caressed my cheek with his free hand. I tilted my head towards his stroking fingers. I savoured every pass, knowing it wouldn’t last.

“You have to go to the police,” he said, spoiling the moment.

“Wait, why? I’ll just quit. I don’t need to go back there.”

“If you quit, they’ll know it was you who took the gun and the book, and they’ll come after you.”

“If I go to the police, they’ll definitely know it was me,” I countered.

“The police would protect you, at least.”

“I don’t know anything,” I protested, shaking my head. “Obviously, the whole business is shady, but…”

“You stole from them. You don’t understand,” he said, pacing. “These are dangerous people. You don’t mess with the Quadrello family.”

“C’mon, this ain’t Chicago. They’re not the mafia!” Briefly forgetting my time spent hiding for my lift in a cupboard. “And anyway, if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be involved! This is allyour fault!” I shouted. “What I am supposed to do now?” I was close to tears.

“I’ve told you, you need to go to the police and take these with you,” he said, trying to reason with me, handing me the gun and heavy-bound notebook.

“Just tell them what you know.”

“I know nothing,” I repeated, “You haven’t had the decency to tell me! Why don’t you go? You obviously know more than I do.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? I can’t…” he trailed off.

“Well, neither can I.” I let my arms go limp. The book and gun, held tight in either hand, fell to my sides. “I couldn’t do that to Max, anyway.”

“Ha! Sod Max, you don’t owe him anything!” Eric raged.

“The hell I don’t! It’s OK, I’ll talk to him,” I said, trying hard to calm down. “He’ll understand. I’ll give these back to him, and—”

“You doom us both if you go to him.”

His eyes blazed with hatred. The bruises on his face became darker as blood rushed to his fuming head. I couldn’t understand how he could hate a man I knew to be sweet and sensitive, a regular good guy. I’d known Max for over two years, and he’d never let me down before. I wanted to ask if we were talking about the same man, but I knew from Eric’s stern expression that I wouldn’t have any joy getting that information out of him.

“Make your decision, Kate. If you choose to go to him, know that I won’t come to your rescue again.”

“I didn’t need rescuing,” I muttered.

How could he make me choose? Did he not care for me at all? I knew I should choose Max’s friendship over lust, but my body and soul longed to be near Eric, to touch him, to be a part of him. And yet, it was clear he would never let me in. He was a wall I could never climb; he’d never let me pass the barriers that he clung to. There were too many unanswered questions that he was reluctant to discuss.

We hadn’t formed a relationship. I’d just been used; for what exact purpose, I still didn’t know. It infuriated me that he couldn’t just talk to me and tell me what this was all about. Would I always be doomed to play 20 questions with him, which ultimately, would lead to more questions and arguments?

I studied the floor; a tacky residue stuck to my shoe.

“I’m sorry, Eric. I have to give him a chance to explain.” I looked up at him, hoping to see a change of heart, but his stubborn face was set; rigid like chiselled stone.

“You’re on your own then,” he said. My heart sank as he turned his back and walked towards the bar.

Silent tears streamed down my cheeks, and I told myself to pull it together. Not to let him see me like this. Fine! Fuck him, I thought. I shoved the wrapped gun and the ledger back into my bag and looked for the exit. I had no idea where I was, and hoped I’d be able to recognise a landmark once I got outside.

The snooker hall was like a dingy maze, and I struggled to find the exit. Turning on the spot, I wanted to crumple and give up. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric watching me, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him for help. But oh, how I wanted to go to him. I wanted to forget the gun, Max, and the trouble I’d gotten myself into and crawl back into Eric’s protective arms. We’d go to bed and let the covers shield us from the world as our tangled bodies made sweet love.

“Kate?” I heard Eric calling me.

Hopeful, I turned to look at him.

“The exit is that way,” he pointed.

I ran for the door. I was in danger of falling to the ground if I didn’t move my legs. My heart had been ripped out and served up in a cocktail glass – a bloody Mary with extra salt for the wound.

D
ialling Max’s number
, I prayed he’d answer. He would reassure me. He’d fix it, make everything go back to normal.

He had to.

My only other option would be to… I couldn’t think. There was no one else I could turn to. If I went to the police, I’d be deflecting the problem straight onto Max. I had no idea how long you got locked up for possessing a firearm. But then again, I tried to walk through my foggy thoughts: The gun was in my bag, not in his hands.

It took a couple of rings before he picked up.

“Hello, Kate, is that you?” he said with a yawning, thick, groggy voice.

I paused, trying to decide. Was there any reason not to go to the police?

“Kate? Are you there? Are you OK?” His voice was filled with worry. I couldn’t not talk to him.

“Not really. I fucked up, Max. I don’t know what to do,” I blurted, choking on my words.

“Breathe, Kate. Where are you?”

“I’m not sure. Chinatown, I think,” I said, looking around, taking in the distinctive red archway for the first time.

“You’re not far from the office then. Can you make it there? I can pick you up or meet you there.”

I didn’t deserve a friend like Max, especially not after what I put him through earlier.

“I can get to the office. I’ll be there soon. Thanks Max,” I sniffled.

I
turned
into a familiar street and was able to get my bearings. Dawn was approaching and rosy streaks, the consistency of watercolours, blotted the misty blue-grey sky that I spied over dirty rooftops.

It wasn’t long before I could see the office door in the distance. My pulse had calmed, and I’d managed to stop the torrent of tears.

The door was unlocked, and the alarm stayed quiet as I walked past.

“Max?” I called up the stairs, hearing no movement above.

I took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as possible. I’d tell him everything: Meeting Eric, what he ultimately made me do. Max would forgive me. I’d give the gun back, hand over the ledger, and it would all be over.

I would go back to being a simple, boring filing-clerk, but alive and happy. Working a 9-to-5 job, happy with an uncomplicated life. No more craziness, no more dangerous encounters with strange men, I promised myself. Simple and normal. Maybe I’d even try again with Max, if he’d have me…

Out of courtesy, I knocked on Max’s office door and pushed it open.

I smiled at my friend. Max sat in his tall-backed leather executive’s chair, but I knew something was wrong the moment I saw his cold eyes. They were avoiding me; there was no longer a warm, flickering flame. His face was like a mask, without emotion. My smile evaporated as I took in the rest of the room. It was as if a bucket of ice had been poured over me and then, just for good measure, I’d been chucked head-first into the river Tyne.

The air had been swiftly sucked from the room, and I struggled to breathe.

On either side of Max, flanking him, stood two men in the shadows. They walked in tandem, as if they’d rehearsed their steps. A bulky silhouette came out concealment and placed a hand possessively upon Max’s left shoulder. Terry.

To Max’s right stood a statue of another man. His outline was skinnier than his bookend on the other side. I stared in horror; I realised I’d seen those wire-rimmed glasses before. I recognised his large, ogling, dull eyes magnified through the panes of his spectacles. It was only a few hours before that he’d skimmed my body with those eyes.

“I hear you like to be watched, Kate.” Terry sneered, breaking the thick silence. A disgusting grin pinned his smile high up on his face, baring his crooked teeth, partially capped in gold, displaying them like trophies.

“Max?” I croaked, pleading him to spring into to action, to say something - that it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding.

But all I saw was betrayal. I was helpless and spent. There would be little point to running. I knew my legs wouldn’t get me far. I fell to the floor, crumpled in a pitiful heap, and gave up fighting.

Max wouldn’t meet my gaze. He only stared at the spare gun lying on the desk in front of him.

I
sat crumpled
on the floor in shock, mentally exhausted. I’d let my life spiral out of control. I wasn’t this person, I had never given up. When I lost my parents to a car accident, I didn’t yield to the crushing pain. When I could no longer pay for university and subsequently got kicked out, I didn’t abandon my dreams. This time would be no different.

I told myself to get up.

With my fists clenched tight I willed my legs to move, to support my warring body. I slipped my feet out of my heels and used the wall to brace myself. I managed to stand and raised my head in defiance as I confronted the three men in the room.

Max, my friend, my boss, sat at the desk directly opposite with his head bowed, not daring to look at me. His father, Terry, stood like a watchdog to his left, smiling at me like I was his favourite chew-toy.

The ugly man with the glasses to the right of Max glanced only at my boobs; distracted perhaps by what he’d seen earlier that evening.

No one spoke.

I was determined and felt like I had an edge; a small glimmer of hope blossomed within me, and I tried to keep my face neutral.

Terry was a large man; he’d never be able to catch me. He’d give himself a bloody heart-attack, I thought. The man in the glasses didn’t look like the sporty type. He was not one of Terry’s regular muscle men; too tall, too skinny… snivelly, more like a rat, a snitch.

Max was the only one I really worried about. He was strong and fast. He’d played plenty of sports at University and although he was less active now, I’d noticed that he was leaner and becoming more chiselled. But he sat stationary, not paying attention to me, behind a bulky desk. I had a small advantage, and there was enough rage fuelling my fire.

I needed to at least try. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.

I glanced at the door and bolted.

“Get her!” Terry shouted.

My naked feet flew across the office floor heading towards the stairs. My legs felt heavy, but I didn’t dare stop; I heard breathing close behind me. If only I could make it down the stairs and onto the street, I thought. There’d be people awake by now, starting their day.

I made it to the top of the stairs, the front door in sight at the bottom, when skinny bony arms captured me around my waist and pulled me back. My ribs felt like they were being crushed. I kicked like a donkey trying to make contact, but it had little effect. I was being dragged back into the office, back towards the private room.

I reached for the man’s head and clawed at his face and searched for his eyes, with the intention of scratching them and causing some serious damage. I’d poke them out! He’d have to release me then. My fingers stumbled over his scrawny face, bumping into his nostrils and coming in contact with his glasses. I ripped them from his face, threw them to the floor and started my search for his eyes again.

I flinched and my hands stopped their search as he suddenly grabbed my breasts, squeezing them painfully. My hands instinctively rushed to the source of the pain and attempted to pry his hands away.

“Get off me, you perv!” I screamed.

He dragged me into the small office, still clutching my chest, and held me in front of the desk, forcing me to bend over in front of Max and Terry.

Tears streamed down my face and the man continued to roughly fondle my breasts.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Max shouted, “Let her go!”

“She enjoys it, don’t you pet?” tweaking my nipples. He pressed himself against me. He was hard; he was enjoying this way too much.

In a swift movement Max came out from behind the desk and moved to my side. I’d never seen his face like this before – tight and raging, his eyes burning.

He raised his arm, his hand clutching the gun he’d picked up from the table. He pointed it at the man’s temple.

“Let. Her. Go,” he said through gritted teeth.

In a matter of seconds I was released, and the man stepped away from me. I held my arms around my chest trying to soothe the pain.

“Woah, Max. Calm down. I was only having a little fun.”

“Go get your kicks elsewhere. You’ve done your job. Get out of here. Now!” shouted Max, the threat of the gun still very present.

“What about my money? You still want me to track down Eric? C’mon man, I brought you good info, I should be rewarded,” he squeaked.

“Your reward is me not putting a round into your skull. Go, before I change my mind,” Max replied. He was livid, and I didn’t think it was just the bespectacled guy that’d gotten him so worked up.

“Wait! Yes, bring him in, alive if you can,” Max shouted at the man who stood beneath the doorway.

“And then I get my money?” he asked.

“Fuck-sake, yes. Now go.” Max waited for the man to leave before he spoke again. “Dad, you can go, too.”

“I’m not leaving! You can’t chuck me out of my own bloody office,” Terry bristled.

“I can handle this.”

“You better. This is your last chance, son. Don’t fuck it up,” Terry replied. He made his way towards the door, then stopped and looked directly at me. “She knows too much. God knows what that little shit has told her. Or what else she’s stolen or found out while working here.”

Terry shook his head and paused again, then pointed at Max. “Remember, if you don’t fix this, you know I will.”

My stomach plummeted; I knew exactly what that meant. I stayed quiet, not wanting to antagonise the big man further. It wouldn’t be wise to open my mouth now.

The air in the room lifted as he left. I could breathe again and looked to Max optimistically. He wouldn’t follow through on what he said, surely?

“Kate. Take a seat,” he said, not really asking, the gun by his side. He wouldn’t hurt me, I thought, but there was no need to take any chances.

I brushed passed him and took up the empty chair behind his desk.

He paced in front of it, wearing the carpet thin and rubbed his forehead.

“Max?” I ventured.

He didn’t respond. His face contorted, his jaw muscles clenched.

“Max, I’m sorry,” I said.

He whirled around to face me and slammed his fist against the desk, “Sorry? Sorry!” He yelled, “What are you sorry for? Snooping around and stealing from me or fucking him? Him of all people.”

His words were like a slap to the face, and I could feel the water level rising behind my eyes. I bit my tongue; I’d shed enough tears tonight.

“Goddammit, Kate. Why him? Why the hell did it have to be him?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play the innocent, Kate. Eric West, that’s who!”

“I was coming to tell you everything. I told you on the phone I messed up. But you’re not exactly an innocent party in all this are you?”

He flexed his fist and winced. I didn’t like seeing him in pain and started to rise out of the chair; my instinct was to see if his hand was OK.

“Don’t get up Kate.”

“But, Max, your hand -”

“I said, sit down!”

Stunned by his commanding tone, I fell back onto my rump. The air from the chair’s lift mechanism whooshed out and the seat dropped a few inches under my weight.

He loosened his tie and slipped it out of its knot and off his toned neck.

“Put your hands around the back of the chair.”

“Max?”

“Don’t make me ask again,” he said.

He came close, and I tried to get him to look at me, but he spun the chair around and grabbed hold of my forearms. The silk tie that had hung around his neck only moments before, he now wrapped around my wrists. I needed to placate him, to calm him down, and so I let him bind me.

When he was finished he turned me back around to face him. He was still down on his knee looking up at me as I came into view.

“What now?” I asked.

“I need to figure out what to do with you. You know too much.”

“I’m getting pretty tired of people saying that. I know nothing! Nothing concrete anyway,” I murmured. “Eric didn’t tell me anything.”

“You expect me to believe that?” he snarled. He moved in closer and grabbed hold of the arms of the chair. He leaned in, barely millimetres from my face.

“Yes, Max, I do,” I said before he could continue.

His eyes locked upon mine, trying to figure out if I was lying or not.

“Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?” His eyes dipped to my lips. I could feel the tension vibrate between us and I did the only thing I thought would help.

I kissed him.