Playing His Dangerous Game (15 page)

She blocked.

And then she punched.

Brady staggered backwards before crashing to the ground.

Several patrons jumped to their feet. A waiter arrived, demanding to know what was going on.

Royce ignored all of it.

He grabbed the tops of Shara’s arms. ‘Are you all right?’

She nodded, shaking her hand in the air. ‘I think so. Although my wrist hurts.’

Royce swung on Brady, who was rising to his feet. ‘Down,’ he commanded, as if he was ordering a dog to sit. ‘Or, as God is my witness, I will punch you so hard you won’t ever get up again.’

Brady subsided back to the ground.

Royce glared at the waiter. ‘Call the police.’ Then he gave a general stare around the café. ‘Don’t any of you leave. You’re witnesses to what happened here.’

The police arrived. Asked questions. Took statements.

Royce wanted to wrap his arms around Shara and hold her close, but the knowledge that he’d crossed a line he’d promised himself he’d never cross stopped him. Instead he contented himself with standing at her side the entire time.

Finally it was over. Brady was taken away in handcuffs.

Royce led Shara to his 4WD. After seeing her inside, he rounded the bonnet and got in beside her.

What had just happened—what had almost happened—flashed across his mind.

He saw again the fist directed towards Shara’s face. It if had connected it could have broken her nose or her eye socket or worse.

Worse still was seeing his reaction with the benefit of hindsight.

He’d frozen—again.

Which just went to prove that taking a step back and reestablishing their professional relationship had been the right thing to do.

So why, then, was there an ache in his chest that threatened to consume him?

S
HARA
glanced at Royce for the hundredth time since they’d got into his 4WD.

He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d driven away. His profile looked as if it had been cut from the hardest and most unyielding granite. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

They were halfway home before Shara got up the nerve to break the silence. ‘Well? Aren’t you going to say something?’

His hands clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. ‘Not while I’m driving.’

His words were clipped and abrupt.

‘I know you’re angry, but—’

He spared her the briefest of glances. ‘I’m not angry. I’m beyond anger. But I would rather postpone our conversation until we get back to the house.’

Shara fell silent, a deep frown creasing her brow. She glanced at Royce again from beneath the shield of her lashes.

Royce wasn’t lying. He wasn’t angry. He was …

Cold. Emotionless. Distant.

Even though he was sitting right beside her, he might as well be sitting a million miles away.

Her insides turned to ice. She wrapped her arms around herself.

As soon as they were inside the house Royce turned to her. His arms were folded in front of his chest, his face grim. ‘I thought I’d seen an end to this nonsense, but I should have known better. What on earth possessed you to sneak out of the house like that? How dare you go behind my back and meet Brady?’

Royce hadn’t spoken to her this way for a long time. Not since those first few days when they’d clashed over her need for a bodyguard.

Stalling for time, she asked, ‘How did you know I’d gone anyway?’

‘I connected my laptop to the in-house security system the day I arrived and I’ve been monitoring it ever since. But that is beside the point. Why on earth did you agree to meet Brady? And why on earth didn’t you tell me he’d contacted you?’

She remained silent.

Royce was speaking to her like a bodyguard.

Not like her lover.

This conversation underlined the radical shift their relationship had undergone since last night.

Why he’d changed, she didn’t know.

The important thing was that he had.

‘Shara?’

She dragged in a breath, trying to ignore the pain in her chest which she knew was the feel of her heart breaking into a million pieces.

She angled her chin into the air. ‘I arranged the meeting.’

She heard the air rush from his lungs.

‘Are you
mad
?’ Royce roared.

‘Don’t yell at me!’ Shara ordered.

She was proud of her reaction. Not that long ago if anyone—particularly a man—had shouted at her she would immediately have shrunk in on herself.

Now she had the guts to counterpunch—just as she’d had the guts to punch Steve in the face.

Royce dragged in a breath, then said calmly, ‘I repeat. Are you mad?’

‘No. I’m not mad. I just decided it was time to end this once and for all.’

As she spoke Shara realised that the decision to end this once and for all didn’t just apply to Steve.

It also applied to Royce.

It had to.

She’d asked Royce if anything was wrong and he’d said no.

Once she would have sat back and let him get away with his behaviour. She’d have let him go on hurting her.

Now her self-preservation instincts were much stronger.

She
was much stronger.

Even though it was going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever had to do she had to cut Royce out of her life before he hurt her any more than he already had.

And she knew just how to do it.

‘By getting yourself killed?’ Royce demanded, breaking in on her thoughts.

‘You’re exaggerating.’ She waved a hand in his direction. ‘You trained me yourself. The odds were on my side. At the worst he might have knocked me out or given me a black eye. But that’s a small price to pay for my freedom, don’t you think?’

Royce stared at her, his eyes so wide they were deep, dark pools. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you saying you
planned
this? Are you saying you intended for him to hit you?’

She nodded.

Royce’s big body jerked as if he were a marionette and an invisible hand had just yanked on his strings. ‘What on earth would make you do something so stupid?’

‘It wasn’t stupid,’ she said defensively. ‘It makes perfect sense.’

‘And just how do you figure that?’

‘You said it yourself.’

He frowned. ‘Said what?’

‘You said, and I quote, “If Brady crosses the line once the AVO is in place we can have him arrested.”’

‘I didn’t mean for you to set yourself up,’ he said sharply.

‘I know you didn’t. So don’t go beating yourself up over it. I made the decision because I’m tired of this entire situation. I wanted—no, I
needed
it to be over so that I could get on with my life.’

Royce stared at Shara.

Why did he have the feeling that she was talking about more than just the situation with Brady?

Why did he have the feeling that she was talking about
him
?

‘What are you saying?’ he asked.

He waited for her to smile. Make some kind of light remark about the world being her oyster or something similar.

But she didn’t.

In fact there was something about her expression that wound his stomach into a tight ball.

Something was wrong.

He knew it. He could
feel
it.

His gut instincts were finely tuned and usually accurate.

The eyes that met his were ice-blue, with not a skerrick of warmth in them. ‘I’m saying that it’s over. Finished.’

His stomach muscles tightened some more. ‘What is?’

She waved a hand through the air. ‘Everything. Including us. I’ve come to my senses, you see.’

Her voice was cold. Her eyes even colder.

Royce frowned. ‘What do you mean you’ve come to your senses? About what?’

‘About what’s been going on here.’

His eyes narrowed at her tone. ‘And what exactly
has
been going on here?’

‘You’ve taken advantage of me.’

Royce reared back as if she’d slapped him. ‘I’ve
what
?’ he bit out incredulously.

‘You took advantage of me,’ she replied in that same calm tone. ‘Your job was to protect me, not seduce me. Is this how you get your kicks? Seducing frightened women into sleeping with you?’

‘No. It is not.’ He walked further into the room. His movements were stiff, uncoordinated. ‘I do
not
make a habit of sleeping with clients. The way you’re talking anyone would think I forced you to sleep with me, and we both know that’s not true. You were more than a willing participant.’

She nodded. ‘You’re right. I was. If you want to know the truth I confused gratitude with desire.’

Royce stiffened. The length of his spine contracted, vertebra by vertebra. ‘Explain,’ he snapped out.

She shrugged. ‘You made me feel safe for the first time in a long time.’

He heard the words. Of course he did. He wasn’t deaf. But for several long seconds they made no sense to him.

And then they did.

They ripped through his psyche like a bulldozer ripping up concrete.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. ‘Are you saying that you slept with me out of
gratitude
?’

She nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

Memories flashed into his head.

The day he’d rescued her from Brady Shara had flung herself at him and said, ‘Boy, am I glad to see you!’

Just the other day after the court hearing Shara had said, ‘I knew I was safe with you to protect me.’

Hell, she was right.

Why hadn’t he seen it before?

His chest felt tight, as if a heavy weight was crushing it.

He opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what—but just as quickly shut it again.

What was the point?

Their relationship was over. He’d already decided that. Her betrayal in going behind his back had merely nailed that decision solid.

It no longer mattered why she’d slept with him—except it did.

It mattered one hell of a lot.

Royce clenched his hands into fists. Dragged in a breath.

All he wanted to do was grab her and demand some answers. But that would be a mistake—because he would be allowing his emotions to make decisions for him.

If ever there was a time to apply cool, calm logic to a situation it was now.

‘Fine,’ Royce clipped out, making a slashing movement with his hands. ‘I won’t bother you again.’

She seemed to pale, but surely that was his imagination.

‘You most certainly won’t,’ she said, using her best hoity-toity tone. ‘You won’t get the chance.’

Royce raised a brow.

‘Steve is in jail, therefore your services are no longer required.’

Royce frowned. No matter how unpalatable and distasteful he found the conversation, and her accusations, there was no way he was going to leave her unprotected. ‘That may only be temporary. He could be out on bail within twenty-four hours.’

She shrugged, looking completely unconcerned. ‘That doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? Standing up to him the way I did today set me free. I’ll never be scared of him again. And he knows it.’

Royce searched her face. Her inner strength shone as brightly as her outward beauty. ‘You mean that, don’t you?’

She nodded. ‘I do. That’s why I had to meet him alone. I had as much to prove to myself as I had to prove to Steve. If it’s any consolation, you’ve helped me reach this point.’

It was no consolation at all. Although it proved that Shara had had a damned good reason for going behind his back—an acceptable reason, even—he still felt as if a big, dark thundercloud was hanging above his head.

‘I’ll fight to keep him in jail,’ Shara continued. ‘I don’t want any other woman to have to go through what I’ve gone through. But Steve no longer has the power to hurt me.’

Royce stared at her.

He couldn’t argue with her rationale.

Like most bullies, Brady had targeted Shara because she was unlikely to retaliate. After her performance today he would know that was no longer the case.

Shara was right.

There was no reason for him to stay.

Which should have been cause for celebration.

Why, then, did it feel as if she’d just shot him through the centre of his chest? As if the life force of his blood was gushing from his body and draining away?

His spine lengthened until he was standing as tall as it was possible for him to stand. Every muscle in his body was as stiff as a board.

He wanted to rant and rave. He wanted to demand that she take back every word. He wanted to tell her that he was staying and that was that. End of story.

But none of that made any sense.

So he simply said, ‘Fine,’ for the second time in as many minutes.

For a split second he thought he saw a shadow of pain flit across the surface of her eyes, but he decided he was mistaken.

Without saying another word he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He couldn’t.

Royce didn’t remember walking into the lounge room and zipping his laptop into its case. He didn’t remember walking up the stairs and packing his belongings. He didn’t remember getting in his car and driving away.

He was operating on automatic pilot.

He didn’t want to think. Or feel.

It wasn’t until a car horn blasted behind him that he came back to reality.

He stared at the traffic light and registered that it was green. From the continuing blare behind him it obviously had been for some time.

He pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The car surged forward.

He drove for about a hundred metres before he slammed on his brakes. The action earned him another horn blast, this time accompanied by a couple of expletives.

Royce rested his head on the steering wheel. His heart was racing, his breathing short and shallow.

It felt as if he’d sprinted that last one hundred metres.

His lungs felt fit to burst.

He
felt fit to burst.

He thumped a clenched fist on the steering wheel and then did it again.

This was all wrong. Wrong on so many fronts he could hardly count them.

He’d thought this was what he’d wanted, but it wasn’t.

Driving away from Shara had made him realise that this was not what he wanted at all.

He’d spent so much time thinking and analysing and rationalising and trying to be his usual cool, logical and reasonable self that he hadn’t even realised he’d been fooling himself.

Slamming the car into gear, Royce spun it around. Then, pressing his foot to the floor, he hurtled back in the opposite direction.

Shara sank down in the middle of the Aubusson rug, trailing her fingers over the fine weave.

Tears were close, but she refused to let them fall.

This was where she’d fallen in love with Royce.

Right here in this very room.

She could see him now, in the black loose-fitting cotton pants and singlet he’d always worn during their karate lessons. She could see his smile and the lock of hair that fell across his forehead.

She could hear him saying, ‘Again!’ in that determined voice of his as he pushed her to do her best.

He’d given her so much—probably without even realising he was doing it.

And how had she repaid him?

By letting him walk away without telling him the truth.

Worse, by telling him a bunch of lies that reduced what they’d shared to a travesty.

Her fingers stilled on the carpet. Her body grew rigid. Her eyes widened.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her mind whirling with thoughts.

‘My God, I’ve done it again,’ she whispered out loud. ‘How could I be such a fool?’

Once again she hadn’t taken the time to think things through.

She’d been hurt.

So hurt that she’d lashed out without thinking.

She should know by now that making decisions in the heat of the moment always backfired on her. When she was emotionally upset she almost always made the wrong decision.