Dirty Twisted Love (2 page)

“
N
o way
, we’re not skipping legs and abs.” Dominic shook his head, pointing to the mat he’d spread out on the patio. “Give me a plank hold. Let’s see if you can break yesterday’s record.”

Harley crossed her arms and stood her ground. “No. Exercise interferes with my focus and we need to talk. There’s not much time left.”

Dom’s full lips curved at the edges. “We could have talked for hours last night after Jasper went to bed. You’re shameless, H. Any excuse to get out of a workout.”

“There’s a reason I was happily scrawny and lacking in muscle tone before you came into my life.” She let him draw her into his arms and linked her wrists behind his neck, running her fingers through his silky black hair. “I need the contact information for your friends in Bangkok. I think I’ve figured out a way to get free from Marlowe, but I’m going to need help.”

Dom’s grin faded. “The people I know in Bangkok aren’t nice people, Harley.”

“I don’t need nice people. I need people who won’t have a problem breaking into the house while I’m asleep, roughing me up, and leaving enough of a mess behind that anyone who bothers to look will assume I didn’t make it out alive.”

“A mess?” His brows drew together. “What kind of mess?”

“Blood, probably some tissue too,” she said frankly. There was no time for either one of them to be squeamish. That’s why she’d waited to bring this up. She didn’t want him to be able to put her off. She wanted him under the gun with no choice but to give her the names she needed. “And it has to be mine. Marlowe will have it tested. He doesn’t leave boxes unchecked.”

Dom tried to pull away, but she held tight to his neck. “It’ll be okay. I’ve lost a lot of blood before and been just fine.”

“Yeah, I was there,” he snapped, wrapping his fingers around her wrists, breaking her grip, and holding her hands captive between them. “You weren’t fine. You almost died. If your dad hadn’t had a doctor on call, you might have.”

“The only way Marlowe is going to let me go is if he thinks I’m dead,” she insisted. “You know I’m right.”

“I do. That’s why you need me here to help you.” He gentled his touch. “Let’s cancel the flight today. We can call your friend Louisa, put Jasper on a plane to Paris as an unaccompanied minor, and—”

“No.” She pulled her hands free with a shake of her head. “Jasper can’t go back to Paris. Ian’s men found me there. That means Marlowe’s could follow the trail, too. They would figure out who my friends are and they would eventually find Jasper. I can’t risk that. Marlowe can never know about Jasper.”

“You think he doesn’t know already?” Dom said, pacing toward the rack of free weights at the edge of the patio. “He’s fucking paranoid as hell, Harley. I’m sure he knows everything about you, right down to what color you shit in the morning.”

Her nose wrinkled, but she refused to dignify that comment with a response.

“You need me here with you,” Dom continued, prowling back toward her. “If someone is going to help you fake your death it should be me. At least you know I won’t sell you as a sex slave while you’re unconscious.”

“I’m too old for the slave trade,” she said, a part of her wishing Dom was still on her father’s payroll so she could get away with giving him orders and expecting them to be obeyed. “They like innocent little girls, not twenty-nine-year-old mothers.”

His lips parted, but she cut him off before he could speak.

“And I’m not going to change my mind about this. I need you with Jasper. If you really want to do what’s best for me, then take care of him.” She closed the distance between them, taking his hand in both of hers. “Please, Dom. You’re the only one I trust to be prepared for whatever happens. Louisa is wonderful, but she doesn’t know how to handle a gun or how to find Hannah if things don’t go as planned.”

His eyes narrowed “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t have anyone else,” she said. “I won’t let Jasper be raised by my parents, and Aunt Sybil isn’t in good enough health to raise a child. Hannah is the only one I trust to love him the way he deserves to be loved.”

“She’s married to a psychopath,” Dom said. “That’s the only reason I agreed to keep your location a secret in the first place, Harley. To keep you and Jasper safe from him. Jackson loves Hannah now, but I saw the way he treated her in the beginning. He’s a monster. I would never trust him with a child.”

“So I guess I’ll just have to do my best not to die,” she said with a soft laugh.

His scowl deepened. “That isn’t funny. None of this is funny. You should never have gotten involved with a man like Marlowe.”

“I know that now, Dom,” she said, checking her impatience. “But when I met him I was a single mom who couldn’t risk coming out of hiding, wondering how I was going to make ends meet when Daddy’s money ran out.”

“Stewart would have given you more.”

“I didn’t want more,” she snapped. “All I want from Stewart is for him to be out of my and Jasper’s lives. Permanently. This is the only way to do that. I finish the job, collect my last paycheck, and disappear in a way that ensures Marlowe doesn’t come looking for me.”

Dom sighed. It was a put-upon sound, but she could tell she was winning. She just needed to drive her argument home.

“And then Jasper and I can find a house in a little village in a corner of the world where Marlowe and my father and all the other bad guys will leave us alone and we’ll be out of your hair for good.” She leaned into him with a smile. “And then all you’ll need to worry about is how you’re going to spend the twenty grand I’m going to pay you for services rendered.”

“I don’t want your money.” His arm went around her waist, holding her close. “And maybe I don’t want you out of my hair, either.”

Harley looked up at him, chest tightening at the soft look in his eyes. “You don’t mean that. I’m not the one you want, Dom. We both know that.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.” He bent low, silencing her with a kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips and his hand plunged into her hair, drawing her closer. He kissed her with a hunger she hadn’t felt from him before, but she knew this was as much about being forced to say goodbye as anything he might feel for her.

It was easy to mistake the thing that was hard to get for the thing you really wanted. She’d been swept away by her share of unattainable men when she was younger, before she’d met the man who had taught her that love was sweetest when you didn’t have to fight for it. Loving Clay had come easily. Being with him was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing, like she’d been born to laugh at his jokes, fit perfectly in his arms, and get lost making love in a way she never had before.

She hadn’t made love to anyone else—before or since. The part of her that had been capable of that kind of closeness had died in the car crash with Clay.

Even as her body came to life, responding to Dom’s kiss and the feel of his hand up her shirt, under her bra, rolling her nipple between his fingers, her heart remained calm and quiet. She let Dom pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, locking the door behind them before laying her on the bed, because he needed this and she needed him. She needed his help and she needed to feel something good before he and Jasper left and took all the light in her world with them.

She was a strong woman and she pretended to be even stronger, but there were times when she needed softness in her life.

She needed Dom’s mouth hot on her bare skin and his tongue flicking across her nipple before he suckled her hard enough to bow her back off the bed. She needed his rough palms smoothing over her hips to grip her behind the knees and spread her wide, needed his thick fingers fucking her slow and deep while their tongues fought a battle they were both going to win. She needed his cock at her entrance, pushing inside, filling her, building the sweet tension swelling low in her body.

But she didn’t love him.

When he stared deep into her eyes as he began to move, silently asking her to let him in, she closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck. Her hands trailed down to claw into the thick muscles of his ass. She urged him to thrust faster, harder, to take them both where they needed to go, but she didn’t give him any reason to believe that this was more than a moment of shared pleasure.

This wasn’t the beginning or the end or anything worth writing home about. It was a moment to catch their breath and brace themselves for the downpour before running back out into the rain.

“Damn, Harley,” Dom whispered against her forehead. “You feel so good. Look at me, baby. Look at me. Let me see you.”

Harley relaxed back onto the pillow with a moan and gave the man what he was asking for. She held his gaze as she lifted into his thrusts, letting him see her face twist as she neared the edge, letting him watch as her orgasm claimed her, rippling through her body with enough force to make her lips part in a soundless scream.

But most importantly, she let him see the emptiness at her core, the calm, untouchable pool where the water never rippled and no man would ever see his reflection. It was a lifeless place, ruled by the ghost of a dead man and no other man would ever stake his claim on it.

There were other worlds inside of her, where friends were treasured, where Hannah was loved with a ferocity only twins could understand, and where Jasper had ruled as the prince of her heart since the moment he looked up at her and blinked his eyes for the first time. But there was no place for what Dom wanted.

It was as impossible as asking the sun to rise in the west or the stars to shine through the daylight.

“Fine,” Dom said, hurt flashing in his eyes as his jaw clenched tight. “I get it, but you’re going to come for me again. If this is the last time I fuck you, I want to be sure you remember it.”

Without another word, he pulled out and flipped her over on her belly. A moment later, he drove into her from behind. Harley groaned as she gave in to him, letting him take her hard and rough if that’s what he needed. She would come for him again—he was an amazing lover, that had never been the problem—and he would be able to get off without looking into her cold, dead eyes.

Now that she had dyed her hair back to its natural brown and grown it as long as her sister’s, maybe he would be able to pretend he was fucking Hannah. The good sister, the one he really wanted, the one everyone loved.

And why shouldn’t they—Hannah had been born whole and sweet of spirit without any inclination to self-destruct and take the world out with her. Hannah was easy to love. Harley was complicated and hard to handle and sharp to the touch, even when she was trying her best not to hurt anyone.

“I should have known. You never said my name while we were in bed,” Dom said, his breath harsh as he reached beneath her, fingers finding her clit. “Never, not one single time.”

“Dom, please,” she said, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Don’t say it now, it’s too late. I just want you to come,” he said, riding her harder as his finger circled the top of her sex, making her gasp as she neared the edge a second time. “Come and then I’ll come and I’ll leave and take care of Jasper, just like you want me to.”

She wanted to thank him, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate it, so she didn’t say a word. She just let her head fall back and her hips tilt as she came a second time, her channel contracting so tight it would have forced Dom from her body if he hadn’t tightened his grip on her hips, keeping them fused together as his cock jerked inside of her.

She came in long, fierce waves, but the pleasure was bittersweet.

Because Dom was right. This was the last time. They had stopped at different places on the road and now the bridge had washed away, leaving them no way forward or back, at least not together.

“It wasn’t her,” he murmured, his lips kissing her sweat-slicked shoulder as he spoke. “I know you think it was, but the only person on my mind, when we were like this, was you. I could have loved you if you’d let me. I already love Jasper. So maybe think about him the next time you’re ready to get rid of someone who cares about you. You may not want more than this, but there’s no reason to shut love out of Jasper’s life.”

He pulled away, leaving her on her belly on the bed as he disappeared into the master bathroom to dispose of the condom. Harley heard the shower start and rolled over, staring up at the fan whirring softly above her.

Her throat went tight and the backs of her eyes began to sting, but before the tears could fall, a brisk wind from deep inside of her swirled to the surface, freezing the surge of emotion. Soon her inner world was cold and still once more.

It was the way things were. She couldn’t change it, even if she tried.

Dom was wrong. It wasn’t that she didn’t
want
more than this. She wasn’t capable of more than this. He was asking her to spread her arms and fly, stubbornly refusing to see that her wings had been ripped off a long time ago, the day she’d lost the only man she would ever love.

T
hey were
quiet on the way to the airfield on the other side of Ko Tao. Harley sat in the backseat of the tiny Figaro she’d bought their first week here, letting Dom play chauffeur as she cuddled Jasper. She did her best to memorize the feel of her son’s firm, warm body fitted against hers and the way the setting sun turned his drying curls into a golden halo around his head. She tried not to think about Dom and Jasper flying away, leaving her alone to take care of her unfinished business.

She had the names of Dom’s contacts in Bangkok, enough clay and other materials to make sure the statues with Marlowe’s drugs hidden inside were ready to ship by Friday, and an exit strategy.

This was going to work. It
had
to work. It was past time to stop running and give Jasper the forever home they’d both been dreaming about for so long.

“Update the blog when you get there so I know you’ve landed safely,” Harley said, avoiding eye contact with Dom as he fetched his and Jasper’s suitcases from the trunk. “Don’t call or text. We don’t want any traceable communication.”

“I know.” Dom sounded more tired than annoyed. But Harley had been told she was exhausting more times than she could count, so she wasn’t really surprised. “And I’ll post something every few days so you know we’re still doing fine.”

“Thank you.” Harley put her arm around Jasper. He leaned heavily against her, clearly worn out after his long, last day on the beach. “I appreciate what you’re doing for us, Dom.”

“Of course.” His smile was stiff until he transferred his gaze to Jasper and his expression warmed. “We’re going to have fun, aren’t we, buddy? We’ll play video games the whole way there.”

Jasper pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! No reading!”

“Do
some
reading,” Harley said, tapping her fingers on top of Jasper’s head. “You need to keep that big beautiful brain of yours growing.”

“What about Dom’s brain?” Jasper asked.

“My brain’s done growing,” Dom said wryly. “But I’ll read some, too. Keep you company.”

“Okay.” Jasper turned expectantly to Harley. “So I guess all that’s left is my surprise.”

“I guess so.” She grinned as she reached into the open trunk, pulling out a paper bag that she handed over to Jasper. This was the only good part of saying goodbye, seeing the look on his face as he revealed the latest addition to his collection of keeper toys, the playthings that went with them no matter where they moved.

He tore into the bag, giggling with delight as he pulled out the hideous doll she’d ordered online. It was half plastic and half fur, with the head of a Sasquatch, the body of a kewpie doll, and a red and gold skirt with green snakes printed on it. “Oh, Mom, it’s so ugly. Maybe the ugliest one yet!”

“I know,” Harley said, laughing with him. “I had to search a long time for something uglier than the teddy bear with the chicken pox, but this guy…” She shook her head, her upper lip curling. “He’s something else.”

“You two are weirdos,” Dom said, the affection in his voice making her glance up to find him smiling at Jasper. “Why an ugly toy collection?”

“Because ugly toys are awesome and need homes, too.” Jasper clutched the monstrosity to his chest with one arm while he hugged Harley with the other. “Thanks, Mom. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned over, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, spotting the grains of sand still clinging to his scalp because, of course, he hadn’t bothered to take her scrubbing suggestion seriously.

She didn’t know why, but the sight of that sand made her even sadder to see him go. She had to fight to keep from crying as she walked Dom and Jasper to the airfield gate to meet the charter pilot she’d hired to take them to Bangkok and then on to Prague, where they would spend the rest of June.

“It’s going to be okay,” Dom said, resting a hand on her back, the compassion in his touch making her hope they might find their way back to being friends again, someday. “We’ll be fine and we’ll see you in a few weeks. Be careful.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I will. You, too.”

“Goodbye, Mom.” Jasper hugged her again, clinging tightly. “Never ever.”

Her eyes squeezed closed. It was what she’d always said to Hannah. It meant more than I love you. It meant you never ever wanted to be without the other person.

“Never ever, bug,” she said, hugging him hard, silently promising him that she would do everything she could to make sure he never had to be without anyone he loved. “Have fun and I’ll see you soon.”

She stood by the chain link fence, watching Dom and Jasper cross the hard packed dirt to where the small charter plane was waiting, concentrating on the warm wind stirring her hair and the gentle kiss of the evening sun on her skin.

It was time to ground herself in her body, in the moment, and let go of everything that didn’t serve her. She needed to be sharp, focused, and ready to respond to danger at a moment’s notice. Missing Jasper, worrying about what might happen to her son while she wasn’t there to protect him, and stressing about all the things that could go wrong in the next few days would only make her scattered and weak.

If she was going to pull this off, there was no room for weakness. It was time to become the woman she had been before Clay, before Jasper, before the years had taught her how hard it was to lose the things that made life worth living. Now wasn’t the time for grief or regret. It was time for hard, sharp, and ruthless.

By the time the plane took off, swinging out over the water before turning north toward the city, Harley’s pulse had slowed and emotion no longer fisted in her chest. She turned away from the fence, walking back to the car, focusing on lengthening and smoothing her breath and letting go of thought. It was a trick she’d learned from the man who had taught her how to fly a plane, a former Soviet spy turned smuggler for Marlowe. Quieting the inner world left more resources available to observe the outer world, and depriving the ego of fuel allowed instinct to take over.

Instinct, which only cared about one thing—survival at any cost.

Slowly, Harley’s awareness expanded to take in the light glinting off the ocean waves, the murmurs from the wild chickens pecking in the ditch, and the competing scents of ocean and airplane fuel on the wind. Her body slipped into ancient predator-prey mode, scanning her surroundings for cues that would tell her when to fight and when to flee.

If she hadn’t shifted her awareness, she might not have noticed the battered red truck on the other side of the field, parked down by the beach just before the black rocks turned to sand. She might not have seen the fisherman leaning over his tackle box and certainly wouldn’t have noticed the sandy hair sticking out from beneath his stained ball cap.

She hadn’t made any friends on the island—she deliberately kept to herself—but she recognized most of the locals she ran into around town and none of the ex-pats or Brits she’d met were men with blond hair. She supposed the man could be one of the more adventurous backpackers, come to explore the coral reef on the other side of the island, but the few tourists who came to Ko Tao rented scooters to get around. They didn’t drive trucks or dress in weathered Thai fisherman’s pants.

There was something off about the man who kept his back turned to her as she paused, the car door in hand, studying him over the top of her sun-warmed hood. After a long beat, she slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirror until she captured the man’s reflection. She started the car, watching him with her foot on the brake, but he didn’t turn around. He was focused on the line in his hands, and his face was invisible in the deep shadow beneath the brim of his hat.

Finally, Harley shifted into drive and pulled out onto the road. But when she came to the corner where she would usually turn left to make her way back to the house, she turned right, heading toward town. She’d hit the market yesterday to get everything she needed for the week, but her gut told her not to go home right away. She would feel better being surrounded by other people, at least for a little while.

When she reached the village, she parked just past the gas station and circled around to the trunk. She grabbed her straw hat and settled it on her head, taking her time fetching her cloth bags and shaking the sand from the fabric. As she moved, she scanned the road and the people milling about the open air market near the temple, but the early evening village scene was fairly typical.

There were a few stray dogs fighting over some rotted fruit near the curb, two teen boys without shirts on tinkering with a moped motor, their ribs showing through their nut brown skin, and a group of older women laughing over something on the shortest woman’s cell phone as they leaned against the side of the temple. The contrast of the traditional Malay clothing, the dusty street that hadn’t changed significantly in the past century, and the iPhone in a case with bright pink cherry blossoms jarred her the way things like that still did, even after months on the island. But aside from that brief flicker of “not right” nothing in the scene pinged her radar.

Slamming the trunk closed, she moved down the side of the road toward the market. There were no sidewalks here, but considering almost everyone drove mopeds or bicycles it wasn’t really an issue. There was plenty of room for people and vehicles on the road, as well as the occasional pickup trundling along with a bed full of local men bound for some construction project.

She wouldn’t have bought a car except that she had needed to transport large amounts of clay for her sculptures from the post office in town to her house and she didn’t want Jasper clinging to her waist as she zipped around on a moped the way the locals with kids did. There weren’t any other Caucasian children on the island—the non-local population was composed of older people who had retired here, scientists studying the turtle population, and a few musty-looking men Harley suspected were growing weed in the forest.

Jasper, with his blond curls, would have attracted attention and been remembered—two things Harley had always been careful about, especially since moving to the island.

In Paris, it had been easier to blend in and hide in plain sight. But then she’d made the mistake of getting too settled in, of making friends and establishing patterns that could be observed and predicted. Ian Hawke’s men had caught up with her near the flower market, where she’d gone every Wednesday to get fresh flowers for the flat. Even as she’d fought them, struggling to free herself and get back to Jasper, she’d cursed herself for making herself an easy target.

With that in mind, she veered across the street, stopping into the café for a Thai iced coffee, something she hadn’t done in months.

She perched on a stool overlooking the street and watched the world go by. There was a steady stream of mopeds headed inland from the ocean, several bicycles, and a four-wheeler with two skinny, barefoot children sharing the perch behind their father, but no larger vehicles and nothing suspicious. She stayed to see which of the dogs won the battle for the squashed mango—the little one with only one ear, never underestimate the underdog—and then slid to the ground and back out onto the street.

At the market, she took the opposite of her usual route, hitting the fish market first and buying a snapper filet, then stopping by the vegetable stalls for eggplant and cilantro before ending at the spice monger, who also sold cans of coconut milk she would need for fish soup. Once her purchases were snug in her bags, she took the long route back to the main road, circling around the back of the temple as the sun set, keeping her senses on high alert.

But she arrived back at the car without seeing or sensing anything strange. She scanned the road one last time, finding it even quieter than when she’d arrived an hour ago, before sliding into the car and heading for home. The island was beautiful at dusk and the smell of salt water and night flowers opening in the cooler air soothed the stress of navigating the winding pass through the mountain and back down toward the coast.

She passed a few people headed into town, but by the time she reached the dirt road leading to the cottage, the road had been abandoned for miles. Once she shut off the car, there wasn’t a sound aside from the waves rubbing gently against the shore and birds chattering in the palm trees as she passed beneath them.

An hour later, Harley had spicy coconut fish soup simmering on the stove, a beer in hand, and was sitting on the patio, trying not to think about how weirdly quiet the house was without the sounds of Jasper playing in his room or Dom singing along with the record player they’d found in the storage shed.

At least there was still music.

Tonight, she had on an old Eagles album that reminded her of childhood summers with her Aunt Sybil. Back when she was a kid, she and Hannah would swim in the lake all day and spend their evenings around the fire pit with long sticks and a bag of marshmallows, stuffing their faces while Sybil’s music drifted out to them on the porch. They would go to bed with sticky fingers, staring up at the starry sky through the skylight, talking about all the adventures they would have when they were older.

Instead, she and her sister had been ripped apart, and now Hannah was in another corner of the world watching the stars wink on in a different sky, and Harley was alone.

She truly felt alone and was as relaxed as she could be given what the future held. As she tipped her beer back for the last swallow at the bottom, the red truck and the mystery fisherman were far from her nostalgic thoughts.

That’s when he made his move, grabbing her from behind and shoving a needle deep into her neck, proving he was a superior predator.

Harley cried out as her muscles spasmed and her vision flooded black, but there was no one around to hear. No one but the man who grabbed her around her waist, lifting her into the air and carrying her away, leaving the music playing and the soup to burn on the stove.