Page 7 of Taming Her

It seemed he had some level of success and the man strode past then crossed the road.

He went to Ava’s house and knocked. He poked at something on the ground with his shoe while he waited for the door to be answered.

Griff’s breathing was shallow when the door pulled open and a spill of amber light fell onto the steps.

Ava stood there in pink sweats and a white t-shirt with a love heart on the front. Her hair was messy hanging around her face, her feet were bare, and smoke from the cigarette she was holding plumed into the night air.

She glanced up and down the street, didn’t appear to notice the cop car, then motioned for the man to enter the house.

“What the hell?” Griff muttered.

His cop instinct bristled. This man wasn’t Ava’s type. He was small, thin, and gave off a bad vibe. He was there for another reason. The question was what reason was that?

* * *

Ava spotted the cop car the moment she opened her front door. What she struggled to see through the darkness was if there was someone inside it or not.

She tried not to let her heart skip out of control as she puffed on her cigarette and let Knobby in.

“Here,” he said, pulling his hand from his pocket.

“Stop,” she hissed. “Wait.”

She shut the door. “Didn’t you see the cop car in the road?”

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open in that gormless way he favored. “What? No.” He went to open the door again.

“Stop it.” She slapped her palm on it. “You can leave the back way.”

“Yeah, I will, don’t need the attention of the pigs.” He shoved a small package into her hand. “Here’s the stuff you ordered.”

Ava quickly tucked it into a vase on the hallway table. It was only enough for a couple of lines next weekend. Not a big order. “Here.” She opened a drawer and pulled out fifty quid. “Now go, through there.”

Knobby dashed through the hallway and into the kitchen.

She stabbed out her cigarette and followed, but by the time she’d reached the kitchen he’d gone and the back door was wide open to the cool evening.

She closed it, then poured wine into a mug and knocked it back. Hair of the dog, the best cure for a hangover and it had done her proud all day, staving off the nausea.

She took another slug, then went up the stairs. Once in the spare bedroom, the smallest one she used as a junk room, she flicked off the light and sneaked to the window. Feeling hunted, a fugitive, she peeked through the curtain and out into the street.

Damn it. The cop car was still there. And yes, there was a policeman in it. Still as a rock, his wide outline was just visible.

She swallowed. What was he doing? Was she on their radar now? Fuck it. She’d only ever had Knobby drop off a couple of packages. Hardly big time drug deals. She was small fry. Surely cops had serious crimes to go and solve—hardened criminals and serial killers that demanded attention.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, flicking the curtain back into place. “He’s not interested in you, Ava.” The idea of someone not being interested in her went against her usual line of thinking.

Ava had breezed through life being effortlessly popular. Maintaining the position of center of attention hadn’t been difficult. She had a rich father whose idea of affection was to fill her bank account. Her mother had left him many years previously. Likely because her father’s idea of being a good husband was to lavish presents on his wife in the hope she’d turn a blind eye to his constant cheating. Trouble was, Ava’s mother had given up custody when she’d given up on her marriage. Ava hadn’t seen her since she was six years old.

Not that Ava cared; she had a host of female friends. There was never a lack of girly company if she wanted it. They were her family—family who liked to party… hard.

She wiped her nose, a habit she’d developed, and took another mouthful of wine before wandering out of the spare bedroom.

When she left the room, thoughts of the cop outside slipped from her mind. Netflix, that was next on her agenda, along with more wine.

Her phone trilled and she flopped onto her bed, clasping it to her ear. “Hey, Mel, how are you today?” She crossed one leg over the other, foot bobbing. Mel was one of her oldest friends. They’d known each other since college. If Ava could say she loved anyone, it was Mel.

“Fucked up. Don’t know what that was we took last night but my brain is trying to get out of my head.”

---