Page 2 of Scent of Home

I turn back and glance around. There’s a down pipe beside the balcony, and I grab hold of it, swinging myself into the air. I edge my way down and drop the last half a dozen feet. With a gasp and a wave of my arms, I just manage to keep my balance, even though my ankle twinges painfully. I’ve managed to save my dad’s guitar, which is a relief that I’m not ready to explore.

I can’t go home. I want to go home. Raider and Kelly would help me. Ryn and Lia would be just as fierce. My cousins would protect me. I hesitate, torn.

I love them. They are the only good in my life.

Which is why I need to protect them.

I can’t tell them about this. I can’t drag them into this world.

No, I signed up for this nightmare all of my own free will.

No one would believe me. Hell, I don’t believe me.

It’s better if I just go alone. I slip into the shadows and tiptoe around the perimeter of my mansion. The further I get from the building, the more trees and bushes there are to hide me. That darkness is like a cold hug, and I gratefully slide into its embrace.

On the far left-hand side of the property is a specially hidden back gate. It’s for moments when the house is under siege by fans. I key in the access code and push it open.

On the other side, the streets are empty. In the distance, I can hear cars grumbling around the city. I hear one getting closer, and then sirens erupt into the night. I jog up the road, turning back when I get to the top of a hill. One last glance at my old life. My mansion collapses in a thunderous roar and a flurry of sparks.

For a moment, I’m so exhausted that I consider just letting them have me. Just laying down and dying since it’s what they want so bad. God knows my life is miserable enough as it is. I don’t see a way out of it.

But I can’t give up. I’m not ready yet.

I can’t stay here, though. They’ll get lucky and kill me, eventually. Or I’ll take my life into my hands and end it. I reach into my bag, pull out a cap, and drag it over my hair. Time to disappear.

And as sirens and help arrive, I turn and run, praying I can run far enough away to not only escape the nightmare that has me imprisoned but also my own reputation.

Running to a place where the name Locke Raines means nothing.

Chapter two

Erin

The bus to nowheresmells like dirty socks and perfume, like someone had squirted twenty pumps of strong, cheap, floral scent into the air, and it now pervades every surface. But still, nothing on earth could mask the dirty sock smell that is embedded in the very frames of this metal vessel of freedom.

Nowhere better have fresh air.

I lean back in my seat and cross my legs, grumbling out loud when my knee hits the seat in front of me. These cramped conditions are ridiculous. Why am I doing this? Oh, yeah, I’ve been sent on an unnecessary break from my firm. And after spending two days wandering around my empty, soulless condo, I researched what people do on a holiday. A trip came up first, so I went to the local bus charter. Booked the first bus out.

I should have thought this through.

Nope. I’m committed. I’m doing this.

Erin Bradley can do a holiday.

Seven people get on and shuffle down the aisle. All of them are old and muttering to each other like chickens in a chook yard. One last person gets on, lucky passenger number eight, a young man who looks like he could be a couple of years younger than my thirty-two. He’s got golden blond hair that falls over one side of his face, a guitar, and along with his all-black clothing, he’s got a crap ton of rings and necklaces. There’s an aura of seduction that surrounds him and arrogance that just oozes out of his pores. He’s slender but muscled, lanky, yet attractively lithe.

I take him in, unable to look away. Everything in me stills. He is incredibly attractive. At last, I draw a shaky breath and force myself to look away.

Golden hour has arrived, bathing the world in gold. It’s my favourite time of the day. For a long moment, I look out as the golden rays turn even this dismal bus terminal into a world of art. We’ll be driving through the night and arriving at our stop some time tomorrow. With a view like this, I can feel hopeful of the success of my venture.

Argh, why did I do this? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

What the fuck was I thinking? Maybe I had a stroke?

I shift on the uncomfortable cushion as the guy takes the seat across the aisle from me. He glances at me, and I note his eyes are a strange blue-green colour, framed by long lashes. I inhale discreetly, but strangely, I can’t catch his scent.

No matter.

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