Ethans Fal (41 page)

I FEEL NUMB
, sick, and I can’t focus on a single word of apology that Sky is trying to bestow. AlI I want is to get back home and talk with Ethan. He didn’t say a word in the car on the way back and his clipped tone and icy demeanour when I said I should talk to Sky, was a perfect accompaniment to the anger radiating off him like a solid force field of rage. I don’t know his friend’s name but I did recognise him. Small fucking world–too small. His cousin was a friend of my best friend, Helli, and we all spent that
one
summer together. That was the same summer I fell for Cal, so it is hardly surprising I don’t remember much about him. I only had eyes for Cal. But the look on his face tonight chilled me with the knowledge that he remembered me, it was unmistakable and more than a flash of recognition; he definitely knew who I was. It doesn’t even matter if he told Ethan the truth or a version of the truth, it was still probably more information than I had told Ethan. Fuck, why didn’t I just tell him everything last night? Why didn’t I take that last step to trusting him…I love him enough. God, I love him so much and I hate that now I don’t know if everything is ruined. He wouldn’t look at me, not even a glance and I know it’s because all he sees are the lies I told and the truth I didn’t. At best, he sees another manipulative woman, at worst, he sees a manipulative woman who doesn’t trust him. I have to fix this…If I get the chance, I know he’ll understand none of this was about him, or how I feel about him. It wasn’t about not trusting him. It was just self-preservation.

I hug Sky and she seems a little happier. I don’t know what she said, I really don’t, but it doesn’t really matter. I can forgive her flirtatious nature, her jealousy, but using my past as a weapon to cause damage that I am more than capable of causing without any outside assistance. That will take time and more than a hug and a sweet smile to get back to how we were. Even if that’s possible, it doesn’t mean I will ever trust her again. I silently open the front door, careful not to wake Luca, and put my shoes down by the front door. I take just two steps inside and I freeze. Raised voices coming from Ethan’s bedroom. No, not voices, just one voice; his voice. Angry, defeated, heavy with accusation, his voice is determined. My blood drains and a numbness seeps in with each hateful declaration. I knew he was furious but I never thought he would truly believe such lies. That I lied about having a baby, or that I could steal or even
kill
a baby! He actually thinks I am capable of… I clasp my hand to stop a sudden broken cry from revealing my presence. I swallow it back and steel myself for the worst.
Of course he believes them, why wouldn’t he? It’s not such a huge leap; after all, I am an escaped mental patient.

I turn and slip through the door tumbling down the stairs clinging to the rail to stop from falling. I hit the street and collapse into myself. The cold, smooth cobbles hard against the soft arch of my feet but I push myself to move. I feel like my chest has been wrenched in two; a gaping hole, raw and bleeding. My heart had begun to beat again, with hope and love and now it’s just pumping life from my body with every step I take away from him. I stumble forward and a bright light hits me from behind casting my shadow, skeletal thin and distorted on the road ahead. I press against the wall, the street is narrow and the deep purr of the engine indicates a large vehicle, maybe a truck. The sleek, black Range Rover pulls slowly past and I feel strangely exposed and vulnerable, my small human body next to that ominous tank-like car. I hear the window whirr and I freeze when I recognise the voice inside.

“Arti?” Cal’s deep voice rumbles through the night air.

“Cal? What are you doing here?” I press a little harder into the stone wall. My face is still streaked with tears and I am shivering from more than the cold breeze gently whipping my skin.

“I came for you.” His tone sounds like
I
have said something stupid. I scoff and start to walk off but the car shunts forward and steers to stop me from going any further without circling back on myself and back around the car.

“Let me explain…please, Arti… I came for you because I’m sorry. I am so sorry for everything.” His voice pleads with passion. His fingers are curled over the open window, knuckles white and I can’t help but think the apology is hurting more than the death grip.

“I don’t even have the words to express how much I don’t give a shit about your apology, and there is no explanation on earth that would justify what you did.” My voice breaks and I am angry that the tears are still falling. I wipe them away roughly. They are not for him; they are for everything I lost not just back then… but tonight too.

“Let me make it up to you.” His voice is soft and coaxing, a familiar timbre I remember with only bitterness now.

“You can’t!” I grit out with utter venom.

“I have Pip. I’ll take you to her…we can be a family again.” I jolt like a current of high voltage electricity has shocked my heart.

“What?” I gasp. I press my hand to my chest to feel the urgent pumping beneath my fingers. “What did you say?” I am breathless with fear and hope.

“We can be a family again.”

“We will never be a family again, Cal.” I spit. “You said you have Pip. How is that possible? She was adopted; my father showed me the papers
you
signed.” I rush my words with confusion and hatred.

“Get in and I’ll explain. We don’t have to go far…” He didn’t get to finish, I had my hand on the handle, pulled the door wide, and jumped in. He slid back in surprise. I didn’t even hesitate. Why didn’t I hesitate? The doors clicked locked before the car even pulled away. I felt the instant chill of a million ominous prickles cover my skin–fine, tiny hairs standing at attention. Then a sheen of nervous perspiration coats my body and I start to shudder. A swell of sickness forms in the pit of my stomach. That was a stupid fucking thing to do.
What were you thinking? That you could trust him? Trust the man, who sold his own child?
I take a shaky breath as the car pulls away. I shuffle back to the door as far as I can go.

“How did you find me?” The sense of foreboding seeps through me like a noxious gas, laying waste to hope with every passing second.

“My driver followed you in London and I joined him the next day to follow you here. Although, I didn’t know ‘here’ was the fucking furthest part of the country. Still we can remedy that.” He shucks his jacket and straightens himself like he is ticking off his business ‘to do’ list.

“Where’s Pip?” I can hear the panic in my voice; I feel it in my soul. My skin crawls as his lips curl in cruel amusement. His slow deliberate turn to face me, fills me with dread, the filtered light breaking through the darkness distorts his handsome features into something less than human. His hand grabs my chin and he pulls me sharply forward, so we are almost nose-to-nose.

“Why would
I
want to know that? It’s you I need. I have no use for a little girl. Not when my boss wants a woman.” He starts to laugh but stops when I spit right in his face. My face snaps round and I sink my teeth hard into the soft flesh in the inside of his wrist–not hard enough to pierce the skin but hard enough for him to curse and punch me in the cheek.

My left eye pulses and my face feels like it is going to burst with heat and pain. I turn and pull manically on the door handle, pressing the window to open but it too is locked. I feel his thick hand snatch the back of my hair. He pulls back sharply and I cry out at the sudden inverted angle my neck is forced into, and the harsh grip he has of my hair. I can feel the individual hairs being torn from their anchor; my scalp is tender and on fire. His breath is like a toxic mist against my exposed throat. “You shouldn’t have done that.” A sharp pull back and a sudden forceful slam forward my head is crushed against the hard unforgiving console in the center of the car. My eyes throb with intense pain, sparks and darkness float across my peripheral vision. I am pulled back one more time, I cry out and try to pull at his iron hard hold, his demonic laugh is the last thing I hear, before everything is bloody and black.

My body is shaking with a deep rumble and my bones feel heavier because of the drag and pull. My eyes flutter open but immediately squeeze shut with the shooting pain of light and noise–so much noise. The rumble I feel soars to a volume so loud I actually want to cover my ears, but then I open my eyes wide with understanding. I’m on a plane, the rumble is the engines, and the angle and pressure I feel pushing me into my seat is the take off. I try to move, utter panic gripping me. My arms are tied around the back of the chair I was slumped in, but am now bolt upright. I twist and pull at the restraints, which only slice into my skin. Regardless, I still struggle, the trickle of blood I hope will lubricate and help me slip out of the binding but it’s useless. My shoulders throb and ache. My fingers tingle with numbness as the constant fight cuts off the circulation. I drop my head with a frustrated push of angry breath.

There is blood stained down the front of Ethan’s sweater and I can feel that my mouth and chin are caked dry with it. We couldn’t have gone through airport security with me looking like this. The set of international clocks above the cockpit door have London time only a few hours from when I got in Cal’s car. I rack my brains to think of an airport that’s near…maybe Newquay but it’s a small plane so maybe a private airstrip.
Shit!
My breathing starts to increase in pace and I struggle to get enough oxygen in to stop the pure panic from rising. I jump and bite back a cry of terror when a door behind me opens. I hear the clink of ice in liquid before I see Cal appear beside me. He drops down onto his haunches and grabs my chin to make me look at him.

“You look like shit, Arti. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” His salacious grin makes my mouth fill with bile and I wish I had eaten because I know he would be wearing that right now, if I had.

“You can fuck off and die a slow painful death…That would be just about perfect.” My eyes narrow and I brace myself for his wrath. He doesn’t disappoint, his backhand is swift and hard like granite. My head flies back, I momentarily see bright white spots and instantly feel a fresh pool of blood on my top lip.

He stands and smooths his dark suit trousers, removing imaginary creases before taking the seat opposite. His pristine white button-down shirt is now peppered with tiny spots of my blood. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes are dark, brow furrowed with a look of confusion. His cropped back hair frames his face with hard angles and his thick lashes, chiseled jaw, and full lips don’t look so sexy anymore. How can someone so handsome look so ugly? He sits back and sighs, taking a long pull of his iced drink, black vodka…I remember it was his favourite.

“You are going to save my life, young
Lady.”
He sneers the last word then chuckles to himself. “Yes, you are… but you are going to need to watch that mouth.”

“Fuck you. You total fucking bastard! This is kidnapping…you are so going to jail for this!” I scream at him. He lurches forward and I flinch and try to evade his grasp but his hands slap the side of my face, both hands pinning me hard against the seat.

“If I’m going to jail, sweetheart, it won’t be for kidnapping. It will be for murder.” His eyes are dead, soulless, and I can’t look away at the certainty of his threat. My mouth is dry but I manage to whisper.

“Why?”

“Well since we have a little time until we land in Prague and since barring an act of God there is fuck all you can do about it…sure I’ll tell you why.” His smug smile of satisfaction makes me pray to a God I don’t believe in–not anymore. “I seem to have made a few poor choices and I need to make it up to my uncle. He is not a forgiving man, but I think if I can offer him you it will buy me enough time to make things right. You wouldn’t think he would notice a little skimming; actually thought the old man would give me credit for being entrepreneurial.” I snort at this and he narrows his eyes. “Anyway, he did notice and he’s given me until tonight to make good the shortfall. I have a deal set up but I need more time. Do you know how hard it is to find a buyer for these types of weapons on such short notice? You can’t just sell these things on eBay!” His righteous tirade is almost comical, but his stupidity is phenomenal. What fucking idiot steals from an arms dealer? He starts to look agitated, riffling in his pocket for something. He relaxes when he drops the little clear bag of white powder on the arm rest.