The Redeemer (10 page)

She proceeded to smooth down both cases and checked that everything looked in order.

On her way back out, she decided to straighten the sofa cushions. As she bent to readjust them, she caught a trace of the same fragrance. She bent closer and found that it wasn’t all over the sofa; it was only on the arm. She finished tidying up the cushions but she was perturbed. Something was niggling in her mind but she couldn’t say what exactly. She’d taken two steps towards the door before her mind began to join the dots.

That’s where Dean’s head was lying. Why would that smell like the bed?

Then something else hit her.

Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s Dean’s aftershave I can smell.

She strode back into the bedroom and picked up the other pillow – the one her head had been resting on when she’d awoken that morning. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils.

Hmm, there’s a faint fragrance but nothing like the masculine one on the other pillow or the sofa.

Reaching across, she snatched up the other one and compared the smell of them. One was totally different from the other.

Oh my God . . . Dean must have been lying in bed next to me. And . . . holy shit . . . I was naked . . .

Those dreamlike images of her and Xander began to swirl around her mind again along with a sensation of feeling frustrated and unsatisfied. Then words from the night security staff’s report jumped into her head. Then, like slow motion video clips, other parts of the puzzle began to slot into place.

A slow, gnawing sensation began in the pit of her stomach, building and spreading until it threatened to overcome her. She stood there, transfixed to the spot with the realisation that they were in fact memories and not dreams that she was experiencing.

‘No . . . no way,’ she muttered as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake her. She dashed into the en suite and thrust her head over the toilet. She retched violently but since she’d eaten so little, nothing came up. She staggered back into the living area and leaned against the wall. She felt weak and her head was fucked.

Fuck. No wonder Dean hasn’t shown up for work. What if he shows up later? Oh crap, this day just gets worse. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Suddenly, she needed to get out of there. She raced to the lift and, as it descended, she plucked the keys to her new car out of her handbag.

What’s the use of buying the thing if I don’t get to drive it? Xander’s not lying in wait any more so it’s safe. A drive with the windows down and some rock music blasting . . . yeah, that’s what I need while I figure out how the fuck I get out of this one.

She dashed through reception, ignoring Belinda and Nadine’s cries. Through the revolving door she went, ignoring Derek’s salutation and Smith’s piercing stare. As she flung the car door open, she heard Jones calling to her urgently. She fired up the ignition, not bothering to strap the seatbelt across her. She saw Jones running towards her as she threw the car backwards. She didn’t have time for him; she needed to escape, take some time where she could put her foot down and experience the thrill of driving her V8 and forget about everything for a while until she could think rationally again.

She heard him banging on the car and shouting to her as she tore out of the entrance and on to the road, ignoring the voice of reason inside her head that told her to take it easy because she didn’t know the car. She headed for the A4, too busy cursing at any vehicles or traffic signals that held her up to notice a nondescript saloon that had pulled off after her and was sitting three cars behind her.

As she left the A4 and joined the start of the M4 motorway, she began to relax. The car was a dream to drive, so much so that she began to understand why Xander had been so attached to it. She clicked through the pre-set radio settings until she found a rock station. The White Stripes’
Seven Nation Army
was just starting. She cranked it up, filling the car with the bass-heavy track as she sang along. Next up was a classic Nirvana anthem. Isla began to sing along but then blurted out sarcastically, ‘Yeah right, that’s bollocks; it’s more dangerous with the lights off.’

Affronted by the unwelcome reminder of her own stupidity the night before, she stabbed her finger on the pre-set channel control until she found another decent station. She settled into The Red Hot Chili Peppers’
Snow
and relaxed into her driving once more, flicking stations whenever there was a commercial break.

Once she’d cleared Reading, she had a practically open road. Singing her heart out to Guns N’ Roses’
Sweet Child O’ Mine
, she soon had the powerful V8 eating up the miles as her muscles relaxed. She’d not driven for months and was enjoying every single second. Swindon passed in a blur and, before she knew it, she was nearing Bristol.

Argh! I didn’t intend to go as far as Wales. But I’m having so much fun and I’m not done yet.

She turned on to the M5 motorway instead, heading north but as she neared Gloucester, the traffic thickened and she couldn’t just floor the accelerator. Upon impulse, she turned off and chose a random road, having no clue where she was or where she was going. She just wanted to keep driving and, now that she’d got to grips with the car’s handling, she felt that some country roads were in order. Following signs for Leominster (wherever that was, but it sounded rural enough) she put her foot down and flung the car effortlessly around the twisting, rural road. That was, until she got caught behind a particularly slow-moving tractor.

‘Argh,’ she muttered, frustrated that every time the road opened out enough to overtake it, something came the other way, thwarting her intentions. ‘The evils of country roads. Come on Farmer Joe, turn off into a field or something.’

But no, the farmer didn’t comply. She followed it on to the A49 towards Leominster, convinced that she’d be able to get past it on a major road but, as she crawled behind it into the town and saw it was continuing straight on, she turned left upon impulse. She just wanted to put her foot down and test herself with driving at speed so that her mind would be too occupied with keeping the car on the road to be able to drift on to other matters that she wished she could forget.

A tractor-free, open road lay ahead of her and she put her foot down, testing her reflexes as she pushed the car onwards. Singing along to Golden Earring’s
Radar Love
, she was in her element . . . until the fuel light lit up.

‘Bollocks!’

She glanced at the clock, widening her eyes when she saw that it was mid-afternoon.

I suppose I’d better find somewhere to fill up and get back before I get stuck in rush hour traffic. That’s if I can find a petrol station in the middle of nowhere.

Obeying the reduced speed limit as she entered the next village, she saw a sign for a petrol station and sighed with relief. She remembered that the delivery guy had said the car needed premium unleaded fuel but she couldn’t remember which side she should fill up from or how to open the flap. She pulled up on the access road on the approach to the Texaco garage so that she could figure it out without embarrassing herself on the forecourt.

Men are only too willing to laugh at the incompetence of women in all motoring matters. Well, I’m not going to give any man the satisfaction of belittling me. I’m no airheaded bimbo. I can figure it out for myself.

She was too entrenched in her thoughts to notice that a black saloon had stopped a few hundred metres behind her. As soon as she got out of the car to check which side the petrol filling cap was located, the other car pulled off at speed and shot up right behind hers. Isla flicked her eyes away from the rear wing of her car in surprise at the sound of tyres skidding.

What the—

She gasped when she saw the intimidating figure climbing out of it.

Xander! What the fuck’s he doing here?

She dashed back to the driver’s door, her mind whirling as she snatched at the handle. She’d been determined not to speak to him anyway but, from the menacing expression on his face, there was no way in hell that she wanted a confrontation. She slid into her seat and yanked the door. Just before it closed, a hand appeared. With a sickening thud, the door struck it, making Xander curse vehemently. Impulsively, Isla let go of the door grip with a shriek.

Xander threw the door back with his other hand before leaning in. His expression was now murderous but he didn’t say anything. Isla willed herself to press the ignition and pull off but she was powerless. She’d forgotten the intensity of that stare that was pinning her to the seat, not to mention the ‘Defy me at your peril’ presence that he could switch on whenever it suited him. And, although she hated him with a passion, the knowledge that he could still affect her in that way only served to make her despise him more.

‘Well, well, well,’ he muttered. He sounded calm but there was a definite undertone. ‘We meet at last.’

Isla jutted out her chin just a little and stared back at him with a belligerent expression.

‘I hope you enjoyed your little sojourn in
my
car because, believe me, it was your last.’ His voice was low and threatening.

‘Actually, it’s
my
car now. You sold it. I bought it.’ She tried hard to deliver her retort in the same tone as his but it was hard to rein in her naturally feisty manner.

One eyebrow jumped. ‘We’ll see about that, Red. I can assure you that I’ll be driving it back to London and if you’re a good girl, I might even give you a lift.’

Her lip raised into a snarl but she bit back her instinctive retort. She was no pushover but she was no fool either. Xander radiated a contained fury that she guessed wouldn’t take much provocation before it found release.

‘Key. Now,’ he growled.

‘Fuck off,’ she retorted and then kicked herself.

So much for not antagonising the beast. Oh well, in for a penny . . .

She continued, ‘You are no longer my lover, my boss or even my acquaintance. You lost that right as soon as I found out that you were married. You’re no better than all the other cheating fuckers out there. Despite you knowing what Jamie had done to me, you continued to seduce me into your web. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I didn’t even
think
to suspect you. Not once did it cross my mind that
you
were living a double life. So yes, I put my hands up and accept that I didn’t see the signs and that I blindly and naively went along with everything you said. Because I didn’t see any reason to doubt you. I thought you were different; I was wrong.’ Her voice became increasingly croaky as she spoke, as she fought hard to hold back the emotions that were surging to the surface.

She kept her eyes on his and she could feel them probing hers relentlessly. Once more, she felt naked under his gaze but she would not look away. She had nothing to hide.

Fleetingly, she saw his eyes soften and felt herself unpinned from his powerful aura. She knew she should take advantage of it and start the engine but his eyes had lost their hardness; they looked sad, mournful even, and she just couldn’t tear hers away.

Eventually he spoke. His voice was raw, conveying his own torment. ‘If that’s what you really think then there’s no point in me trying to explain the situation. I’m no angel but I told you no lies. I may have kept a few things back that I didn’t want to burden you with but I never once told you that I wasn’t married and you never once asked. Don’t tell me that you didn’t question why, when there was nothing I wanted more than to spend every night with you, that I didn’t. Don’t tell me that you never once wondered where I was and what I was doing.’

‘I trusted you,’ Isla whispered, as her eyes filled with tears.

‘If you’d asked, I’d have told you. The marriage was over. It was infected. Rancid. Done.’

‘But she’s pregnant for fuck’s sake. You, of all people, should know what it’s like to grow up outside the loving confines of a happy family. It’s bad enough that you were willing to walk out on your wife but what of that unborn child? Weren’t you willing to keep your dick in your pants and try to sort out the problems in your marriage for
its
sake? And how do I know there aren’t others like me? For all I know, you’re on first name terms with the receptionist of the local clap clinic.’

The hardness returned to his eyes, halting her speech. She braced herself for his vitriolic reply but it never came.

Instead, he simply shrugged. Isla drew in a deep breath and prepared to berate him for his callous disregard for his unborn child but he left her speechless when he said simply, ‘The poor little bastard isn’t mine.’

Isla stared at him open-mouthed, but he just awaited her response.

‘Not yours?’ she managed. ‘But how . . . I mean, what?’

He sighed, heavily. ‘Not here. It’s a long story and I’m not going into it now, not standing here in the middle of nowhere. If you want to hear the whole torrid tale, you’ll have to come with me, somewhere more suitable – a café perhaps, although God knows I could really do with a drink so a bar would be much more preferable.’

‘You’re driving,’ she muttered absent-mindedly.

‘So are you,’ he retorted. ‘But I hope that, if you’re willing to hear me out, when you’ve heard all that I have to say – and I promise I won’t keep anything from you and I’ll answer any questions you have fully and frankly – that you’ll agree to stay overnight here. By the time I’ve finished it will be getting late.’

She shook her head but even as she did so, she knew it was without conviction.

He’s not the father. So does that mean it was an artificial insemination? Is she a surrogate for someone else? What the fuck is going on?

It doesn’t matter . . . he’s married and . . .

Xander’s voice interrupted her thoughts but she didn’t hear what he said.

‘Hmm?’

‘Please,’ he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Swallowing, she found herself unable to speak. There were too many thoughts racing around her head. She had more answers than questions and was tying herself up in knots.

Oh God, what a fucking mess. He’s right – we shouldn’t be doing this here. It’s far too complicated and I too need a drink. I’m hung-over and I’m tired. Emotionally drained. Driving in this state is probably not the best idea in the world, especially since I’d have to cope with rush hour traffic. I suppose I could stay overnight. A few drinks – hair of the dog – and a nice, comfortable bed . . . that sounds good. If it all goes tits up and different rooms just won’t cut it, I could stay in another hotel. Rouge Passion can cope without me for a few more hours. I’m in no mood for dealing with anyone right now.

She gave a small nod. Her stomach flipped when she saw relief flood though him. His whole body relaxed and that he sagged visibly.

That’s not fake. Nobody can fake an emotion like that. I’m doing the right thing hearing him out. What harm can that do? If I don’t like what I hear, I can just walk away and battle lines can be drawn afresh. Jamie had no answers for me. He couldn’t tell me why he’d cheated on me and that almost drove me insane. I blamed myself. I tortured myself. If nothing else, hopefully I’ll have a better understanding of how I came to be ‘the other woman’ and that’ll help me to move on.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered before recovering himself. ‘Now move over, I was serious about that being the first and last time you drove my car.’

Isla opened her mouth to protest but decided against it. His sudden reversion back to his usual arrogant self was more than her fragile nerves could stand. Arguing with Xander, even when he was on the back foot, took more energy than she had so she slid over to the passenger seat.

He looked surprised. ‘Well, that was easier than I thought.’

She fixed him with a pointed stare. ‘It’s still mine legally. I’ll allow you to borrow it, just this once since I’m here with you. I just hope you’re insured. What about your car?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean? This
is
my car.’

Isla smiled wanly. ‘We’ll see about that. Now just drive. I need a drink.’

He chuckled, started the car and pulled on to the petrol station forecourt. As he filled up the tank, Isla wondered about the return of his cocky nature. She knew he was reverting to his natural persona but she was worried that she’d just given him the impression that he was holding the winning hand. That he could play her at will. But as she watched him walk into the building and back to the car, she picked up subtle differences in his demeanour.

He’s not relaxed. Not at all. Now is that because of all the crap that he’s been dealing with at home or is that because he’s not confident of winning me over? Something’s bothering him. Is it the thought of losing me or is he anxious about getting his car and hotel back? Well, bring it on . . . I’m not handing everything back on a plate, Xander Rhodes. I’ll hear you out but I’m making no rash decisions. If you’re a practised schemer, I’ll suss you out. You’ve deceived me once but this time I’m ready for you.

As Xander toyed with the satnav screen, Isla continued her musings. As he drove into the village, both were silent; the atmosphere was fraught with tension. Isla barely noticed the name of the place until she realised how close she’d come to the Welsh border. When he pulled up outside The Burton Hotel, a former coaching inn in the little village of Kington, she felt the butterflies in her stomach morph into a pit of snakes. Whether Xander felt it, she couldn’t say but when he cut the engine, he sat motionless for several seconds. When he spoke, he was staring straight ahead.

‘I didn’t mean to chase you and strong-arm you into this. Well, I did but only to have you hear me out. I came after you to force you to listen to me and I had every intention of letting you walk away for good if you chose not to listen or not believe me. But I think it’s only fair to warn you that I know now that I can’t do that. I can’t let you turn your back on us and walk away. I’ll do whatever it is that you wish me to do to put things right. I’ll move mountains if that’s what you want. I’ve been making plans for weeks, working towards the moment when I could walk out on my marriage and be with you but now it means nothing. I’ll gladly give you control and let you decide how this plays out, no matter what it costs me. Just as long as it doesn’t cost me you. That’s a price I’m not willing to pay because everything else in my life is meaningless.’

Isla could see the muscles in his jaw tensing. Her gut instinct was that he was telling the truth but the last couple of days had hardened her. Seemingly heartfelt words could be conjured up amidst an Oscar-winning performance and she had no idea just how good an actor he was.

Her voice was clipped when she replied, ‘Let’s just get inside and you can start giving me some answers. I’m making no promises, Xander, except this one: if you pursue me against my will, you’ll just make me more determined to fight you. You won’t wear me down with brute force. I’m not some easily impressed airhead who is going to fall for grand gestures and I won’t be manipulated. And as for losing me, well I’m afraid you already have. Now, shall we?’

She pushed open her door and got out. She held her head high as she entered the hotel. She requested a double room and then informed the receptionist that Mr Rhodes would like another double. As she strode into the bar, she congratulated herself for the strength of her resolve under such difficult circumstances but, when she sank into an overstuffed chair, she doubted whether she had the energy to maintain it. It was only late afternoon and she was already exhausted. If it had been later, she would have suggested that they go to their separate beds and do this in the morning, although she doubted that Xander would run the risk of her disappearing overnight.

He bought two gin and tonics over from the bar and settled into the chair next to her. They both took large sips from their respective glasses but neither spoke. Isla was content to sit and sip her drink; it was as though it was an antidote to her poisonous hangover. She knew that she’d be walking away from him but she hoped that she’d do so when she was in full possession of the facts that had led to their parting. She also felt it might give her a better idea of how to handle the whole hotel ownership issue and she felt some hope that they may be able to resolve that amicably. If he had a reasonable explanation for his behaviour – and he certainly seemed to think he had, she hoped that it might be possible to continue working as the general manager, although their personal relationship was dead in the water.

‘I’m finding it difficult to know where to start,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ve been mulling over how to tell you this for weeks, and since your goons apprehended and then evicted me from my own property yesterday, I’ve done nothing else. Yet, here we are and I still don’t know where to begin.’

Isla raised an eyebrow. ‘At the beginning,’ she said, in a mild tone.

He gave a bitter laugh. ‘It’s difficult to know exactly where that is. Feel free to ask me to back up or fast forward. I met Janine through a mutual friend at a dinner party. I was attracted to her instantly and made a half-hearted attempt to chat her up but she was much more interested in talking to some boring investment banker. I’d not long bought the other hotel after the death of my grandfather and I’d been incredibly busy and preoccupied. I’d used my whole inheritance and I had nothing to fall back on if I fucked it up so I was putting in stupidly long hours, doing anything that I could to make it work. I’d work behind the bar or in the kitchen if we were short staffed. I was determined to keep a tight grip on the budget.’

He paused.

‘The point of telling you all that, is that I hadn’t had time for relationships. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that I had no time for women but there was nothing meaningful. So when she turned up at the hotel one night, with the stuffed-shirt investment banker, one thing somehow led to another and I woke up next to her the following morning. At the time, I didn’t realise that her change of heart had only come about once she’d found out that I owned the hotel. Born and raised on a council estate, she was determined to escape the life she was used to and had cut ties with her lazy, benefit-scrounging family. I could identify with that – my lowly beginnings had made me strive for something better. We had something in common that I hadn’t found in many people. The boys at school all came from affluent families. A deprived start to life was unheard of in my school. I had a huge chip on my shoulder and she seemed to share my determination to do better; we both went out of our way to dress and act as if we were upper middle class for example. The difference was that I was prepared to work for it – yes, I had a whopping boost in terms of a good education and considerable inheritance, courtesy of my grandparents – but she wasn’t. It took me a long time to realise that it was her mission in life to find some poor sap to fund it for her.

‘Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of fun and laughter at the beginning and she was stunningly attractive on the outside – whenever we went anywhere, I was the envy of most men in the place. And not just for her pin-up body and her face. She acted so demure and sophisticated, like she was born into money. She had the natural self-assurance and confidence that brings. It was a huge ego boost for the bastard son of an alcoholic hippy, born and raised in peasantry.’

He paused again when Isla frowned.

‘When my grandparents brought me over here, I was almost feral. I had no social skills to speak of, not much of an idea of right and wrong. During my early years, I learned that disputes were settled with your fists and it was your masculinity that defined you, not a decent education or morals and values. My grandmother used to refer to me as her rough diamond.’

He smiled fondly at the memory.

‘I got into a lot of trouble as a youngster. I had difficulty understanding that if you wanted something, let’s say someone’s nice shiny bike, you didn’t just take it. And, if anyone objected when you did, you didn’t give them a beating. That’s all I knew. The whole concept of obeying laws was totally alien to me. I also couldn’t attend the local comprehensive because I’d had no formal education so I was way behind – and I mean, waaaay behind. I was basically illiterate and I was the bastard child of a drunken whore. I remember the first time I heard a teacher refer to me with those words . . . Anyway, God knows how they knew about my early years – I’m sure my grandparents hadn’t made it public knowledge; they were proud people. They’d have been mortified. So I never reported back all the insults that were flung at me, nor the whisperings and judgements that followed me around. I was small for my age, courtesy of malnourishment as a youngster but that didn’t mean I was a pushover. What I lacked in size and strength, I more than made up for in cunning and endurance. I was scared of no one and I could never walk away from an argument. So, as I’m sure you can appreciate, I got a bit of a reputation and I didn’t have many friends, well I had none really. Unfortunately, the only kids that would have anything to do with me were hardly what you’d call role models.’

Isla’s expression showed her incredulity at his words. He laughed harshly.

‘It’s okay, I’m not after the sympathy vote. I’m just trying to help you to understand how, when someone like Janine, or at least who I thought she was, showed an interest in me beyond a quick one-night stand, I was blinkered. I’d endured the embarrassment of having private tutors teaching the teenage me the same stuff they taught to pre-schoolers. Then my grandparents managed to bribe some fancy boarding school to take me on. I had no chance of catching up so I didn’t sit my final exams until I was almost twenty. It was a single-sex school and I was four years older than the others in my classes. I have no idea how much it cost my grandparents in compensatory donations just to get them to keep me. Man, the fights I got into. That habit was the hardest one to lose.

‘Oh, and as for girls – the school was in the middle of nowhere. I was something of a late starter, having kept myself to myself so yet another type of education began. And remember, I’d been raised in a den of iniquity. From as far back as I could remember, I’d seen nudity and sex just as surely as you watched kids’ cartoons on TV. And what I witnessed wasn’t tender love-making. And there was neither shyness, nor inhibitions, nor shame. Gangbangs were a regular occurrence and, since the measure of the males was solely by their masculinity and females were there for their pleasure, it was pretty hardcore. And that’s the only thing I had to go on . . . so, my first few experiences didn’t go well. I found that the Tarzan approach wasn’t typical. If I did what came naturally to me, the poor, traumatised girls were out of the door in minutes like I was some sort of sex offender or something. I was lucky I didn’t have the police at my door, more than once. I learned to adapt over the years but it never felt quite right. It was bland and unsatisfying. Until Janine.