Pitch Black: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 1) (34 page)

It was there that Nick found me, squashed in one corner, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around my legs and my head resting on the jumper. I could have sworn it still smelled of him, but it had been three months, so maybe that was just my imagination.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

“I don’t really know. I thought it might help.”

“Has it?”

“No.”

Nick sat down on the other end of the couch. “Talk to me.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I’d reached the stage where I could no longer keep everything bottled up inside me. The pressure had built, and it was either let it out or end up exploding. I smacked my head back on the couch.

“I’m so fucked up, Nicky. Inside. I’m not capable of having a normal relationship without making a mess of it. Everything I do ends up hurting someone.”

“That’s not true, Emmy.”

“It is—look at my track record. My mother disliked me so much she didn’t bother to see me after the age of ten. When I moved to the States I upset Jimmy, and after that there was my succession of sleep disasters. Then with Luke, I lived a normal life for the first time and managed to balls that up, and to top it all I’ve made you, Nate and Mack hate me. The only person who can stand to be near me is Dan, and that’s only because she’s made of bloody Teflon.”

I turned away from Nick, gulping in air as I tried to control my runaway tongue.

He shuffled closer and laid a hand on my thigh. “I don’t hate you, and neither do Nate or Mack. We were just hurt you didn’t talk to us. We wanted to help.”

“Logically, I know that, but three months ago all I wanted to do was get as far away as possible. I had visions of whatever crazy maniac is out there picking you off one by one.”

Besides, avoidance was a tactic that had worked pretty well for me over the past decade. By avoiding being in a relationship, I’d avoided hurting people.

Nick sighed and shook his head, showing me his opinion of my thought process. “And I don’t blame you for the whole sleep episode, I’ve made that clear,” he said. “Nobody, least of all you, knew that you would react like that.”

A decade had passed since I’d tried to kill Nick in my sleep, but it seemed like yesterday. “It wasn’t just you, Nick. What kind of woman tries to kill her own husband?”

For me, that was worse than what I did to Nick. CCTV showed me wandering through the house, my movements smooth, my face blank. Moonlight glinted off the four-inch Sabatier paring knife I selected from the block on the kitchen worktop—perfect for getting in between a person’s ribs. 

I moved with purpose, looking for something. Someone. I found him in the study. My husband sat at his desk, concentrating on paperwork until I’d darkened the doorway. He only had time for half a smile before I’d launched myself at him. Luck was on my side, and he managed to fight me off long enough to Taser me. If it had been anyone else, I’d have woken up with a body in the house.

To this day, I have no idea why I did it.

“He never blamed you for that either. He loved you more than anything,” Nick said.

“Did he? He never once told me. I was more of a project and perhaps that’s just as well. It’s not like I could ever have been a real wife to him.”

“You were far more than a project. Maybe that’s how it was at first, but he moved on a long way from that. Don’t underestimate the strength of his feelings for you.”

“He kissed me once,” I blurted. “Then told me it was a mistake.”

“I know.”

Really? He’d told Nick that?

Nick chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. Men talk occasionally too.”

The kiss happened four long years ago. At first, our marriage had been purely one of convenience. The training my husband put me through was hardly compatible with a romantic relationship. He pushed me. Hard. He had more confidence in me than I had in myself, and he understood my limits better than I did.

Some days I hated him.

No, most days.

It never occurred to me to sleep with a man whose death I plotted over breakfast every morning.

The change happened gradually. As I became stronger, my animosity turned to gratitude because it was him who made me that way. He was always there for me, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. And finally until death do us part. My husband became more than just my mentor and trainer—he was my confidante, my rock and my best friend.

I fell in love with him, but until that night, he never showed the slightest inclination he might have felt the same.

Hungry and tired, we’d stopped for a break halfway through a journey up state. Heavy rain soaked us as we ran from the car to some little honky-tonk bar, the only sign of life in the middle of nowhere. Dinner was nothing special, but sick of the cramped car, I dragged him onto the dance floor afterwards to delay our journey a little more.

An upbeat country song on the scratchy jukebox turned to “Desperado” by the Eagles. I went to sit down, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me into him. Never before had I felt his heart beat so close against mine. I could recall resting my cheek on his shoulder as we danced, like it happened last night.

Then his eyes darkened and he kissed me.

Lost in the music and lost in him, I kissed him back. The magic lasted as long as the song, then my brain short-circuited. What had I done? I’d fucked up every other important relationship in my life—I didn’t want to lose what I had with my husband by trying to change it into something never meant to be. So I flipped out and took off. See? Avoidance—it was my specialty.

That night I walked for miles, until the rain soaked me to my knickers and blisters blossomed on my feet. By morning, my mind had twisted my thoughts. What if we
were
meant to be together? I couldn’t shake the feel of his lips on mine, and my soul craved his touch.

At breakfast the next morning, words got stuck in my throat. How could I tell him I wanted more of what he’d given me? 

It turned out I didn’t have to. As I picked at my plate of eggs, he spoke first.

“Diamond, I’m sorry. What happened last night… I shouldn’t have done it.” He shook his head. “I need to lay off the beer before I make any more mistakes.”

I was a mistake? Shattering my already damaged heart was a mistake?

He wasn’t done. “Can we turn the clock back? Forget it ever happened? Please?”

What could I do but nod?

That night still played on my mind, years later. Why had he told Nick about it?

“So what did he say?” I asked.

“Just that the moment felt right, and he’d kissed you.”

“That’s it?”

“No, he said you broke away, looked at him like he’d gone crazy and sprinted out the bar. He didn’t know where you’d gone, and he spent the rest of the night terrified you wouldn’t want anything to do with him again.”

“He was terrified of nothing.”

“Except losing you.”

“But he said the next day it was a mistake.”

“He only thought it was a mistake because of the way you reacted.”

“I was scared,” I admitted. “Scared that if I fucked up things the way I do anytime I get close to someone, I’d lose him. And I couldn’t lose him. I decided I’d rather keep what we had than put all my chips on black with a chance of losing the lot. Except now I’ve lost him anyway.” I smacked my palm on my forehead. “I’m so
fucking
stupid.”

“Never stupid, Em. Nobody could ever describe you as stupid.”

“Well, I am. I wish I’d told him how I felt. I’ll never feel like that over anyone again. He was it for me.”

My heart ached once more, a yawning chasm that would never be filled. What if Nick was right? What if my husband
had
felt the same things for me as I did for him? I’d never know. But I did know I’d always blame myself for not having had the courage to find out.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” Nick said, guessing my thoughts. “You can’t change what happened. You need to get some closure and move on. Learn from the past, but don’t live in it.”

“How the hell do I get closure? There are reminders of him everywhere in this house. He’s all I’ve been able to think about since I’ve been back.” I motioned at the jumper draped over my lap, the photos of us on the wall that I couldn’t look directly at.

“When Jana died, it helped to talk.”

Except six years on, Nick’s voice still cracked when he mentioned her name.

“I’m not one for talking.”

He squeezed my hand. “I’ve noticed. I guess it doesn’t work for everyone.”

 
“If someone got a look in my head, they’d lock me up and chuck the key down a mineshaft.”

“How about writing a letter? There were so many things I wished I’d said to Jana. That’s what hurt more than anything—knowing I never would. The counsellor I saw made me put them down on paper.”

“How does that help?”

“It lets the grief escape. She told me to leave the letter somewhere I associated with Jana—I left it under the tree where the eagles live at the back of my house. Maybe doing that would help get the grief out of your system?”

“Maybe.”

And then I made the mistake of thinking about what I would write. When I felt the words “I love you” on my tongue, I lost it. Big time. I guess not crying for over twenty years meant I had a lot of tears stored up because I dissolved in a puddle of them in Nick’s lap.

The old Nick came back, and he held me until I had nothing left inside. My eyes were as empty as my soul, my dead hopes dampening his shirt. When I stopped shaking, he kissed my hair and hugged me tighter, then lifted me up and carried me upstairs to bed.

Chapter 33

TURNED OUT MY meltdown chased the nightmares away. Maybe I should try it more often? When I woke, storm clouds still raged in my mind, but this time there was something else. A chink of sunlight. While it hadn’t chased the shadows away, it had pushed a few to the side. With that glow came a newfound positivity. I’d spent the last three months running away from things—the time had come to fight.

But before that, I had to face Nick. Embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how I felt. That girl last night, the one overflowing with tears, dramas, emotions—that wasn’t me. How was I supposed to face him?

I lay in bed pondering this as the door clicked open. With all the mess last night, I’d forgotten to lock it.

Nick peered round the edge. “Is it safe?”

I inhaled deeply as the rich aroma of coffee floated over to me. “Don’t worry, I’m awake.”

He stepped into the room and perched on the edge of my bed, his battered jeans a contrast to Bradley’s choice of plum velvet throw. My eyes alighted on the cup in his hands. Please say that was for me?

“I brought you coffee,” he said.

Hallelujah. “Did I ever tell you how fucking fantastic you are?”

“Many times, each of them when I was carrying something hot and steamy.”

I took a sip—black and strong, just the way I liked it. My ecstasy was short lived when I realised Nick wasn’t leaving.

“Look, about last night, I’m so sorr—” I began, but he interrupted me.

“Nothing to be sorry for. It was time you let go of that crap stored up inside. You need an outlet for it or it’ll poison you.”

He was right, of course he was right. I did need an outlet. Or, should I say, a new outlet. I’d always unloaded on my husband, and he’d known what to say or do to make the pain go away. Talking to Nick was different, but his stepping in had been a blessing.

“I know I do.”

“I’m always here, baby. Talk to me, don’t bottle it up. Please.”

If Nick was offering to be my sounding board, I had to accept. Nobody left could do the job better. Did he understand what he was letting himself in for? The black parts of my mind scared even me.

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Nicky.”

“No need for thanks. I’ll do anything for you, you know that. And remember, it’s always darkest before dawn.”

“I hope that’s true.”

Surely something had to give? If not my sanity, then something on the case. The longer the bastard held onto Tia, the greater the chance of something going wrong.

“Another ransom demand’s gonna come in soon,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Agreed. Are you planning to lead the team at the drop?”

“I was hoping you would. Luke may well have to go too, and it’s not good for me to be around him. The situation’s stressful enough without adding the atmosphere between the pair of us into the mix.”

Nick shrugged. “Guess I’m with you there. I’ll get a team together this morning. What are you planning to do?”

“Get my head back in the game, firstly.” I’d been wandering round in a daze, but at last the fog was lifting. “I’ll start with a visit to JJ’s.”

JJ’s gym belonged to Jimmy. It got its moniker because his name was James James. Yes, his parents really did that to him. Over a beer I wasn’t supposed to be drinking, he’d once confessed the endless taunts he’d received as a child were what drove him to become so good with his fists.

I’d stayed fit while I was living with Luke, but nothing compared to a good fight, and I hadn’t been in one for months. If I wanted to get back in top form, I had to pay Jimmy a visit.

“It’ll be good to have you back at a hundred percent. We’ve all missed you, even Nate, no matter how much he pretends otherwise.” Nick leaned over and gave me a hug. “You go do your thing.”

Once he’d left, I got dressed in running tights and a sports bra then zipped a hoodie over the top. It was still only six thirty. JJ’s was in East London, just off the Mile End Road—I’d use the six mile run as a warm up.

When I arrived forty minutes later, I found Jimmy next to one of the boxing rings, watching a pair of welterweight fighters go at each other. He’d always been an early riser.

I crept up behind him. “Boo.”

He spun around and when he saw it was me, he crushed me to his massive chest. “Amanda! You should have said you were gonna stop by.”

Jimmy had once been a super heavyweight fighter. To say he was big was like saying the Empire State Building was a little on the tall side. He topped out at six foot six, and he had the width to match it. Beside him, I felt like a Barbie doll. Luckily he let go before he cracked any of my ribs.