Against the Tide (14 page)

“You’re lying,” I reply shakily.

“There’s a lot I’ve protected you from. I’ve only ever done the best for you. No one will look out for you like I do. I’d lay down my life for you, babe, you know that.” He puts a hand on my waist and rests his forehead against mine. “I love you, Meg. Always you.”

The smell of fresh cigarette smoke fills my nostrils and makes my stomach churn. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I have to go.”

I twist out of his grasp and head out of the door. “Meg,” he calls out from behind me, shouting as I walk further away. “You can’t run from the truth, Megan.”

I fly down the stairs as fast as my legs will carry me, out of the open door and in to the street.

“Harley, I need a favour,” I ask immediately as he picks up the call.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, just a small one. I need you to confirm an address.”

“No,” he replies flatly. It was the reaction I was expecting but I had to try.

Julian Price was very cooperative in the end and told me where Damien lives, but I didn’t want to risk it, just in case he was wrong, or had fobbed me off. “Please, mate.”

“Finn,” he sighs. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

I know how seriously Harley takes his job and in any other situation I wouldn’t ask him to compromise his integrity. But I’m not asking him to do something really drastic, just bend the rules a little. “Yes, I do. And I’ll pay you back tenfold. It’s really fucking important. Just confirm the address for me. I won’t ask for anything else,” I plead.

“Who?”

“Damien Brooks.”

There is silence for a few seconds before he answers, “What do you want his address for?”

“Do you really want me to tell you? Isn’t it easier if you just confirm the damn address and be ignorant about the rest of it?”

“He’s known.”

“I’m sure he is. Look, I’m going to eight Bay View, is that right?” The last thing I want to do is involve Harley too heavily. All I want to know is where he lives, I don’t need Harley for the rest of it.

“Look, I’ll be home in a couple of hours. We can talk about this then, yeah?”

“Fine,” I grumble at him. “I’ll see you then.”

“Finn?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try,” I joke, lightening the conversation in the hope that he won’t suspect that I’m going to pay a visit to Mr. Brooks at Bay View anyway. “Harl?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you, man.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles.

“Oh, Harley?”

“What?”

“I’ve borrowed your car.”

“FINN!” he yells, and I hang up fast. I fire up the engine of Harley’s Audi TT, his pride and joy, and drive off in the direction of town. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get to Bay View. I know what I want to do, but that would get me banged up for a very long time and even he isn’t worth that. I drive along the sea front, looking at the roller coaster at the end of the pier. It’s flying around so fast it looks like it’s going to derail, but that’s what makes it so much fun, isn’t it? The fear, the adrenaline.

I slow down as I come over the brow of the hill to the main strip of houses overlooking the marina. Bay View is off to the left and I indicate and turn, finding a parking space about a quarter of the way along. The houses are numbered odd on one side, even on the other. Tall and imposing, these houses aren’t cheap. Posh fucker. I wonder how many lives it took to pay for the prestige of living here. There’s a well maintained green separating each side of the street, and it’s fenced with ornate wrought iron railings, and well planted with bushy green shrubs. I observe the street from the car, scanning carefully for number eight. I don’t know what I expected, it’s not like it would have a neon flashing light above it saying ‘Brighton’s biggest dealer lives here’. Bingo. The door to his place is wide open and my eyes linger, waiting to see if anyone is going in or coming out. Then a whirl of dark hair and ripped jeans comes darting out of the door, running away so fast she almost gets tangled up in her own feet and those sharp four inch heels.

It’s
her
. It’s Megan.

I don’t know whether to feel pleased to see her or fucking enraged that she’s coming out of his house. She runs down the road and crosses blindly, causing a car to swerve and blast their horn. She darts in through the bottom gate and across the green. I quickly glance back to the house to see the door closing, before I fire up the engine and drive in the direction that Megan ran in.

She’s not much further ahead, only just around the corner from Bay View and without thinking, I mount the kerb in front of her with a bump. Shit, if I’ve dented this car, Harley is going to kill me. It stops her in her tracks but she panics and darts around it before I can get out of the door. I run to catch up with her and close on her fast, clamping my hand across her mouth and an arm around her chest. She gasps and twists her shoulders to try and get loose before she tries to scream, which only comes out as muffled moans against my hand.

“Shh, don’t struggle, okay?” I try and calm her a little. I actually don’t know why I went after her, it was instinctual. I couldn’t have let her run away. She stills as she recognises my voice and I feel her soften a little. I loosen my grip around her shoulders and slowly take my hand away from her mouth.

“Get the fuck off me,” she yells, bringing her elbow back as hard as she can in to my stomach, and jumping up and down to try and get away. I almost laugh at her feeble attempt to get free as I slap my hand over her pretty, filthy mouth once again, this time holding her much tighter than I did before.

“You like it rough, Megan?” I growl in her ear and she narrows her eyes, her breaths coming fast out of frustration and anger. As I pull her tight to my chest; I push back every instinct I have to kiss her neck, to nip at her soft skin, to devour her right here. I know this is not the time or place, not that location had bothered me before with her. “You want to be restrained, is that it? All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear, making her shiver. “Now, I don’t know what you’re doing here, or why you’re running, but I think you and me need to have a little chat. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take my hand from your mouth, and you’re not going to scream. You’re not going to try and get away, you’re just going to walk with me to my car and get in like a good girl. Got it?”

Her nostrils flare, a clear indication that she doesn’t like being ordered around. She flicks her head to try and get loose but I hold her tightly. “I said, have you got it?” Her jaw clenches underneath my fingertips as she nods her head. I release her slowly and she throws back her shoulder blade, twisting away from me as fast as she can. “Take my hand,” I order, holding out my upturned palm.

“Fuck you,” she spits. “Who the fuck do you think you are, eh? You come to my place of work and speak to me like a total arsehole then you come here, outside my−”

“Outside your what?”

“My home. Outside my home. And then you have the nerve to grab hold of me. What gives you the right?” she yells, drawing attention from passers-by. I grab her hand roughly and grip it so tightly that when I stride forward she has no choice but to follow. She tries to protest by digging her heels in but I tug harder, yanking her forward and she stumbles, then rights herself before almost running to catch up. I drag her to the car, feeling my nostrils flare as my head races with thoughts and feelings.

“Get in,” I order, flinging the passenger door open.

“No way.” She shakes her head and tries to back away, but my grip on her hand stays firm.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. One of us has to back down and it won’t be me.”

She lunges forward with fierce eyes and with her spare hand she grabs for my neck, digging her nails in hard and raking them down my skin.

“Argh, you little bitch,” I hiss. Her claws sting like a bastard. “Hard way it is then.”

We struggle on the roadside for a minute, with her being damn obstinate and me trying my hardest not to accidentally hurt her. I can’t say I blame her for putting up such a fight, especially as I haven’t given her a very good impression of me so far. But if I’m honest, her fighting me is the biggest fucking turn on, she’s a scrappy little thing. I dip low, wedge my shoulder in to her stomach and stand up straight, flipping her over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. She kicks and screams, and tears at my t-shirt. I fling open the door one handed and drop her in to the passenger seat, shutting her in and clicking the key fob to keep her there while I walk around to the other side. I unlock my side with the key, so her side stays locked, and get in.

“Let me out,” she snaps. Her face is glowing from her anger, and also from being tipped upside down over my shoulder. She still looks fucking sexy.

“Buckle up,” I command, indicating the seat belt, before I start up the engine and pull away fast, throwing her back in the seat. She reluctantly does as she’s told as we weave our way through the back streets of Brighton. I want her to be confused about where we are going even if I don’t know myself. I hadn’t planned this bit, all I know is that I want a chance to talk before we stop and she runs away.

“Why were you running?” I ask, trying to piece it all together.

Silence.

“Do you live at number eight?”

More silence.

“How do you know Damien Brooks?”

She snaps her head in my direction, not expecting me to know as much as that, but still, more silence.

We drive a little further, out to a secluded spot on the South Downs hills. It’s a beautiful view, especially now as the sun is just starting to go down. Perfect for romantic lovers, which is a million miles from what we are. I’m pretty sure she hates me right now, and I’m trying hard not to think about how I feel toward her. I still blame her for that night but there’s something, just something. I park up in an isolated car park, shut off the engine and take my seat belt off before turning to face her. She stares out of the window, refusing to acknowledge me. 

“Okay. I know you’re pissed at me but I need you to talk.” I try the softly spoken approach, but it doesn’t seem to work.

She snaps her head in my direction and glares at me, shooting daggers from those piercing eyes of hers. “Pissed?” she screeches. “You think I’m pissed? Oh, I’m way beyond pissed, mister. You have been nothing but a total prick to me, and I’m pretty sure that this,” she waves her hands around, “Is called kidnapping. What do you want from me? I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t have any drugs if that’s what you were at Damien’s house for−”

“Damien’s house? I thought it was your house?”

“It is!” she growls in frustration. “It was. I−”

“Is Damien Brooks the guy you were at the club with, the night we …”

“The night we fucked in the alley?” she answers brazenly, shocking me a little.

“You’re not very lady like.”

“I never claimed to be a lady,” she hisses back at me.

I lean forward, closing the space between us, and she pulls back until her shoulder hits the door trim and she can’t get any further. “Is Damien Brooks the guy you were at the club with the night we fucked in the alley?” I say in a low, soft voice. My eyes linger on her lips as her mouth drops open slightly, and the next breath she takes shudders through her chest.

“Yes,” she breathes out. “What does that matter?”

“Was he selling drugs there that night?”

“I …I don’t know what he …I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.” She unbuckles her belt and starts tugging on the door handle. “Let me out. I must be fucking insane. You’re a psycho, a fucking lunatic. Let me out of this fucking car before I kick the fuck out of your window with my heels,” she demands.

“Go ahead. Not my car,” I laugh, sitting back in amusement to watch the show.

“Should have known that too. Did you steal it? Of course you stole it, you just take what you want, don’t you? You wanted me that night, and you took me. You just took me again, against my will, from outside my home,” she utters. “So what will you take next? What is it that you want from Damien, from me? I don’t have any money, I don’t have any drugs−”

I silence her hysterics by grabbing the back of her head roughly and crashing my lips against hers. There’s something about her that shoots a charge through my body, and it’s against my better judgement but the frustration I have around my feelings toward her fuels the passion that burns up between us. She struggles against my hold, pushing against my chest and protesting until she knows it’s futile. The grabbing becomes less frantic, less of an assault and more of an urgent exploration. Her hands mirror mine, tangling in my hair and pulling me as close as she can. She moans as my tongue explores every inch of her mouth. I grab her breast roughly and squeeze and she groans from deep in her chest. When I tighten my grip and tug her head back by her hair she whispers, “Oh fuck.” I lean over her and kiss the hollow of her neck, licking a trail up to her lips and she whimpers, sending a shiver up from the base of my spine. Her mouth captures mine desperately while her hands move from my hair, raking her nails down my back, and moving around my waistband to my belt buckle. “Megan?” I whisper on a ragged breath. “You want this? I won’t−”