Page 9 of Connor's Claim

The lock clicked, and I was alone once more. The fight left me, and I withered onto the sofa cushions, confused and mixed up. Connor was so different. Not only with his all-black clothes and the extensive tattoos from the backs of his hands up to his throat, the gang bandanna around his neck, but also his anger.

It had done something to my body.

His being near hadwarmedme. The aggressive, dangerous male element had always been there, but now it was a honed weapon. Easy to imagine him doing gang business, however that manifested. I needed therapy for how my toes had curled.

He hadn’t been careful with his language around me either. Two women had been murdered in awful, horrifying ways. The image loomed in my mind and deadened my unwanted lust. For a long while, I sat there and thought of their names. Cherry and Natasha. Though I’d read about them in articles, I’d skimmed the grisly details.

How awful to have their lives ended in that way. The terror they must’ve felt.

I crept my hand to my throat. Held it there like I could defend myself from a similar fate. My morbid thoughts stole any chance of getting back to sleep, so instead, I took the opportunity to explore Connor’s apartment. He’d flustered me, but I was glad to be here, even for a short while.

I paused, considering my change in perspective. I’d told Connor I wanted to stay at home, but that was a better-the-devil-you-know claim.

I’d never felt safe in my father’s house.

With a minute to process what had happened, my idea of going home shifted to something deeply unpleasant. So easily, the place had been invaded.

If it had been the killer, I’d be dead.

I continued exploring to take my mind off the horror.

In a stack of paperback books, I found a bookmark in one—a placemat from the Divide nightclub downstairs with the image of a skull wearing a bandanna over its jaw, neon pink around. Connor liked thriller novels. That was new.

I’d make the most of having access to the man who’d clearly never forgiven my crimes against him. From his comment about protecting me for my father’s sake, it convinced me even more that he was under the mayor’s thrall. That cut deeper than his obvious dislike of me.

Other than the comfortable main bedroom, there were two more rooms off the hallway and another bathroom. One was locked, but the other held a bed and nothing else. Not even a window. It also had a lock on the outside, and I didn’t want to think about why. The rest of the apartment was taken up by the big living space I’d already seen.

Except for a mysterious, narrow door.

I’d almost missed it because it was on the inside hallway wall, recessed, and in the opposite direction to all the other room entrances. I tested the handle. It gave, opening into what looked like a dark cupboard, except a draught swept down from above, bringing in the scent of the night.

A shiver ran over me.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom, and I made out rungs in the wall ahead. They ran upwards, leading, what, to the roof of the warehouse? Darting back into the bedroom, I grabbed a pillow to prop the door open in case the wind blew it shut, then ventured into the dark space.

The metal ladder was cold under the soles of my bare feet. I climbed up until I touched a hatch then ran my hand around, finding a sliding lock. It wiggled free, and the trapdoor opened.

I was on the roof.

Crawling out, I gazed around the vast rooftop. Here and there, vents released steam, and a low wall edged an expansive view. It was unnerving being so high, but I stood taller and peered around, gaining a small sense of freedom after Connor’s stubborn door locking. I didn’t want to run from him, not yet, but I didn’t enjoy the restrictions either. I had enough of those in my regular life.

Maybe I’d see him return this way. Freak him out by hiding.

On one side of the warehouse, darkness swallowed the river that headed out to sea many miles to the west. In the other directions, the city sparkled, with terraced houses in curved rows that echoed the shape of the hillside, tall office blocks with all-glass frontages, and cars twisting through the streets.

A cold breeze wrapped around my legs, damp air bringing the scent of autumn. I took a deep inhale, engaging my brain to solve the problem of Connor. If only I could speak to someone else here, they might be able to help me. Then, when he next disappeared from my life, I’d make every effort to remove anycontrol Father had over him and get life back to normal. If I couldn’t achieve that, all the heartache I’d suffered would be in vain.

“Oh, hello. Who the hell are ye?”

I yelped and spun around at the voice. A woman, Scottish by her accent, walked the low perimeter wall, her feet bare, and her hair a wild mass of dark curls. Unlike me, she was tiny, and clearly insane. One misstep and she’d fall to her death.

I covered my mouth in shock. “God. You scared me. Please get down.”

“From here? It’s fine. I have excellent balance.” To demonstrate, she pirouetted on one foot, the other extended over the deadly drop.

My eyes slammed closed of their own accord, but I picked up her snicker of a laugh.

“Okay, okay. I’m down. Where did ye come from? I’ve never seen anyone else up here.”

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