Page 17 of Poisoned Pawn

“I’m aware, Roxy. I was literally bathed in his blood.” The words come out with a little more sarcastic bite than I had intended. “I know you want answers, but I don’t have any. I’ve been home all day, fell asleep on the sofa and when I woke up, he was breaking into my house,” I tell her, my tone softer, which isn’t hard considering how exhausted I am.

“Okay, if that’s the story you’re sticking with,” she says knowing she isn’t going to get anymore from me tonight. Getting to her feet, she walks forward and stops in front of me. “Me and the guys will crash here tonight. And because I know you and that you’ll insist on going to work tomorrow, I’ll arrange a security detail”—I roll my eyes and sigh, but she continues before I can protest—“You don’t want to talk, fine. But this is not up for negotiation, Star.”

I don’t take her veiled jab at my unwillingness to talk to her to heart. Just like she shouldn’t take it personally that I refuse to open up to her. I’m like it with everyone. Except Parker, Aidan’s fiancée, something that Roxy isn’t fully aware of because I know how much it would hurt her.

She pulls me into a hug, and I hug her back, holding on tightly to soften the blow of not giving her what she so desperately wants.

“I love you, Star. And nothing will ever change that.” She drops a kiss to my cheek before pulling back. “Get some sleep. We’ll be right next door.”

“I love you too.” The words stick in my throat. Not because I don’t mean them, far from it. But because I do and with every bit of me.

I manage to hold back the tears until she’s closed the door, then I drop to the floor and let them fall. They flow like a river down my face as pain rips through me. It’s a pain I’m well acquainted with; one that has been with me since the day I witnessed the carnage of my mother’s death and then was snatched from my home and sister.

I’ve mastered the art of compartmentalisation and most days the darkness that surrounds those memories and that period of my life is there in the back of my mind but that’s where it stays. But some days, like today, something will trigger a memory, or I’ll be reminded of the pain my disappearance caused Roxy. Today it’s my inability to share my most inner thoughts and feelings with the one person who loves me unconditionally like a mother would.

The man who rescued me tonight, the same one who managed to give me the most intense sexual experience of my life so far and without eliciting the usual feelings of disgust at myself afterward, has now also managed to compound my inability to talk to Roxy and in turn lie to her and Aidan.

A lie that I know will be discovered, yet it didn’t stop me from telling it.

For that, and that alone, I’m livid with him.

It’s not like I haven’t told a lie before because I’ve told plenty. More a case of why and because of who.

I’m not even going to think about how he made me feel tonight when he was holding me, growling filthy words and threats of fucking me in my ear.

What kind of sick person gets off on being chased like prey? What kind of person enjoys pain and rough sex while being told what a good girl they are?

Me. I’m that person.

My sobs increase, and as I try to contain the sound, not wanting anyone to hear me, my head throbs with the pressure. I curl into a ball on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Basically, I’m holding myself together physically and emotionally, although I’m failing at that last part right now.

I’m not sure how long I lie there, but as my sobs subside, goosebumps break out across my skin. I swipe at my face with my hands, brushing away the last of my tears and then drag myself off the floor.

I climb under the covers, tugging the duvet up to my ears as cold and exhaustion take over my emotionally wrought mind and body.

* * *

The following morning, although shattered and emotionally wrung out, I wash and dress for work as usual. I refuse to allow events in my personal life to crossover into my work.

Roxy doesn’t try to talk to me again about last night, which sets my mind spinning as I wonder why. What she doesn’t fail to do is make it clear that Zak is coming to work with me. I don’t waste my energy arguing with her. There’s no sign of Aidan, which is another red flag and fits perfectly with her lack of quizzing this morning.

There’s also no sign of the dead guy in my kitchen or that he was even here. The only sign that anything happened last night is the bullet hole in the wall as I descend the stairs and my missing mirror from the hall.

I don’t eat despite Roxy’s persistent nagging. I do manage to drink a cup of coffee before we head out.

Zak parks down the road and follows a few paces behind me all the way to my office. Only as we get closer it becomes clear that something is very wrong and a sense of deja vu comes over me.

Police stand outside the entrance to the building and across the road are several reporters. Approaching the officer closest to me, I explain that I work here, but his response isn’t what I expected at all.

“What do you mean Mr Graham is dead?” I ask, shifting Mr Graham’s dry cleaning from one arm to the other.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more than that at this time. We have a list of employees, and an officer will be in touch with you in due course.”

I sense Zak behind me, and the officer’s gaze shifts to him. He doesn’t say anything to Zak, merely scans his eyes over his nice suit contrasted with the tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of his jacket and neck of his shirt. It’s clear from the look on the officer’s face what he thinks of Zak.

“Let’s go,” Zak says, taking hold of my elbow and steering me away, giving the cop a lingering look over his shoulder.

It’s not till we are in the car and heading back to the house that I realise I’m still clutching Mr Graham’s dry cleaning.

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