Surefire (11 page)

He’s glaring at me, and the room’s silent. I gaze at him, wide-eyed, wait for Tom’s reaction. When it comes, it’s in the form of one of his customary low chuckles. “Does that seem clear enough love? Either you drop the apologizing or you drop that towel and bend over. You choose.”

It’s certainly a tantalizing image, but I know my limitations. One angry Dom is more than enough for me. My answer is quiet, but firm as I look from one to the other, “I’ll keep the towel, if that’s all right with both of you.”

“Good answer. Now please continue.” Nathan settles back to listen.

I open my mouth to start, then close it again. Take a deep breath, try once more to work out where to start.

Tom grips my shoulder. “Would you like me to tell him, you just chip in if I get anything wrong, or miss anything important?”

I nod gratefully. “Yes please.”

“Okay, this goes back to when Ashley’s baby died…” Tom calmly, concisely, accurately, tells Nathan what happened, how I came to leave Kenny, how he came to be arrested, and my own stay at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Nathan’s eyebrows shoot up at that, although if I didn’t know better I’d have thought he looked vaguely impressed. He definitely looks impressed as Tom explains about my calls to Crimestoppers. On hearing that again, another thought strikes me. “Should we tell the police about this last stuff? We should, shouldn’t we? If he set the fire, I mean… Or is that just me grassing again?”

Nathan and Tom exchange a look, then Tom speaks for them both. “It’s all of us being honest, law-abiding citizens. And, sweetheart, this is serious stuff your Kenny’s got himself into now. Arson, attempted murder, probably attempted abduction too. We’ll definitely tell the police what we think. It’s up to them to prove it. And just assuming they manage to string a few clues together and come up with the right arsonist this time, he’ll only be getting what he deserves. It’s not your responsibility to protect him. He ought to pay for what he’s done. Especially to you. Maybe this time they’ll lock him up for a bit longer.”

That had occurred to me too. “He was sentenced to three years, but he can’t have served more than eighteen months for the ram raids if he’s already out.”

Nathan nods. “Makes your four months look even more outrageous, given what others seem to get away with.”

I shudder. “And, I really thought I’d be going back. Today. If it hadn’t been for Julia Montgomery…” I look up at him again. “It was kind of you to get me a lawyer.”

“Me? Not guilty, Ms McAllister. That was Tom. Eva gave the detailed instructions because we were both in the car on the way down here, we kept losing signal. But it was Tom who remembered that Jules was down in this part of the country visiting someone or other.”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees, “she mentioned her old school reunion last week. I was chatting to her at The Hermitage. You were at the loo I think, love.”

I look from one to the other, baffled. “But I thought… Julia Montgomery said her firm was retained by Darke Associates. That’s your company. Your corporate lawyers…”

Nathan smiles widely. “
Our
company.
Our
corporate lawyers. Who do you think’s the ‘associate’ part. Tom owns fifty percent. I started the company, and then Tom came on board. We just never bothered to change the name. I tend to lead on the regeneration stuff, construction projects, development. Tom leads on rural enterprises, renewable energy, that sort of thing. We each have a few other interests outside the company, small things really, but the bulk of our business activity is a fifty-fifty partnership. I’m the one who always gets rolled out in a suit, and yes, I tend to deal with the lawyers, but golden boy here’s the creative genius” He glances sharply at Tom. “You should have told her all this, bro.”

Tom shrugs. “Never came up. ‘Till now. And if we’re all quite done airing our little secrets, unless you intend to stay and watch, I’d like you to bugger off now. I’m about to fuck my sub until she screams and I don’t intend to share.”

Straight faced, Nathan gets to his feet, downs the remainder of his drink then nods politely to me. He turns to Tom. “Now that’s downright unsociable, but hey, I’ll leave you two to work up an appetite. I suppose I could always phone Eva and talk dirty with her—usually gets me my reward in the end. So, I’ll see you in the restaurant. Will an hour be enough time?”

Grinning, Tom turns to me, hunched up on the bed, my face burning, mortified at their casual exchange. “What do you think, Ashley, can I make you scream in an hour? You were saying you wanted a decent fuck, and I did promise you a spanking too. Will that be enough time for you? I wouldn’t want you to feel—hurried.” He waits a moment, then, “Ashley? An hour?”

My mind rapidly becoming a blank I mumble my response. “I, yes, yes—that should be fine. Thank you.” The door closes behind Nathan with a soft click, an instant before I’m grabbed and flipped onto my stomach, the towel sailing through the air.

Chapter Nine

As I snuggle up in bed next to Tom, the crisp white hotel sheets cool against my naked skin, I’m reflecting drowsily on what a bizarre day it has been. It started so normally with breakfast at Black Combe and ended here in Gloucester, stopping off at my mother’s fire-damaged house and custody suite at the local police station in between. I’m still deeply thankful not to be spending my first night back in prison. But for Tom, and Julia…

Our evening meal in the hotel restaurant was a surprisingly convivial affair, given that my bottom was smarting from the attention it had received only an hour earlier, and I could only sit still for a few minutes at a time. Both men had knowing smirks on their faces, and Tom kindly offered to fetch me a pillow from the room to sit on. So considerate. I thanked him politely but declined, glowering at him.

We planned what we needed to do, all three of us in agreement that the sooner we could get out of Gloucester and back to Yorkshire the better. Our first hurdle was to tell the police what had happened after I’d been released from their tender clutches, hopefully set them on the right track. I dreaded that, convinced they’d manage to find some reason to point the finger at me again, but in fact it went well. PC Tall and Stupid was no doubt off duty by the time Tom phoned the police station and asked to speak to someone in connection with the arson attack. As luck would have it, the young sergeant who came to see us at the hotel was sharp and polite and seemed to grasp entirely the significance of Kenny’s presence in Gloucester. Nathan had also noted the registration number of the van so, unless it’s stolen, it’s only a matter of time before the police start to round up my would-be abductors.

After the police sergeant left, we considered our next moves over coffee in the hotel bar. We agreed to be at the offices of Hampson and Miller in time for them opening at nine o’clock in the morning, and from there we can instruct my friend Mr Miller regarding insurance, arranging the repairs, and so on. That just leaves the cemetery, a visit I’m anticipating with a mixture of dread and joy. But mostly joy. I really do believe this could be a chance, a real chance, at closure. My opportunity to move on, to really move on this time.

Nathan was the first to head back upstairs to his room, I suspect for a late-night telephone conversation with Eva. Tom and I were not far behind. And we’re all agreed, we definitely don’t want to stay another night in Gloucester if we can help it.

* * * *

The meeting with Mr Miller went incredibly smoothly. He was visibly shocked at the attitude of the police, shaking his head at the idiocy of the whole idea. “Pity they didn’t interview me before leaping to conclusions. Anyone with a commercial head could have told them this was no insurance scam. That house is a sound investment, turning a respectable profit. Very respectable indeed. It would make no financial sense at all for Miss McAllister to destroy her business.” More head shaking, more disgruntled muttering, then down to business. Given that the police have now been disabused of their foolish notions regarding my part in this whole affair, he assured us that there would be no barrier to submitting the insurance claim on the basis that the fire was started deliberately, by persons unknown. Well, persons not yet proven—I’m pretty certain who did it even if I’m at something of a loss as to exactly why. Mr Miller was happy to arrange for estimates for the repairs, complete the insurance forms and to oversee the works in due course, consulting or reporting to me as required. We left his office knowing the matter was now in safe hands.

Our next, and final, stop is the cemetery. We cruise up the central driveway in Nathan’s Porsche, my own car waiting for us back at the hotel. Huge imposing gravestones tower over us on both sides as I direct Nathan first to the small, discreet plot where my mother was buried a little over a year ago. Nathan parks the car nearby and we all three walk in silence to the graveside, the small headstone announcing the presence there of Susan Spencer—

1970—2012

A much loved mother, sadly missed.

I’m thinking that maybe I should commission something grander, something more in keeping with the wonderful woman she was. Dry-eyed, I reflect on a life cut cruelly short, and I wish she could have seen me now, enjoying the future we planned together and expected to share. I particularly wish that she could meet Tom, that she could hear all about my thriving new business, visit me in my new home, meet my friends.

But it’s not to be. I’ll always miss her, but her legacy is me, and the life I now have, in a large part due to her. I thank her silently, philosophically, and feel I’m at last ready to move on.

This next visit is much, much harder for me. Much more painful. The loss of my mother was devastating, but I know I survived it intact. The loss of my child, though, killed a part of me, too. Part of me is buried here under this cold earth, and I’ll never again feel quite whole without him. Tom and Nathan stand quietly back, flanking me a few yards behind as I stumble forward to the plot in the stillborn babies’ garden where David is actually buried. Tears stream unchecked as I recall that dreadful day when my mother and I stood here and watched as David’s tiny, tiny coffin was lowered into the ground. I think of what might have been, what he might have become, what he might have achieved. He’d have been around eighteen months old by now, a toddler probably. I wonder what he’d have looked like. Would he have taken after me? Or—God forbid—Kenny? I think about what my life might have been like but for this tragedy. If David hadn’t died I might well have still been with Kenny now, struggling to bring up my child, maybe even pregnant again, God help me. God help all of us.

I shudder, not yet ready to think in terms of silver linings, but I do thank whoever might be out there listening for my second chances. And maybe I’ll have a second chance at motherhood, maybe it could be different the next time. I look over my shoulder, my gaze still watery, and I see Tom a few yards away, silent, patient. He smiles briefly, his head cocked to one side, asking permission. I answer by holding out my hand and he comes to me, takes my hand then he folds his arms around me and just holds me.

I hear the crunch of gravel as Nathan walks away to wait for us in the car.

* * * *

As we walk back into the farmhouse that first day back, Tom slams the door shut then shoves me up against it, promising me a decent fuck in some privacy at last. I respond along the lines of preferring something rather more on the indecent side, and with a knowing smile, loaded with wicked intent, Tom calls my bluff. I should have known better. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a couple of cold Pepsis then takes my hand to tow me up the stairs behind him. He leads me into our bedroom and instructs me to undress. Fast.

I do as I’m told, quickly shedding my jeans, hip length tunic top and underwear, all the time watching Tom out of the corner of my eye. He glances at me, his warning clear. I know the rules and I drop my gaze, stand perfectly still, looking at the floor. I hear as Tom reaches under the bed, draws out one of the ‘toys’ he keeps there. Out of the corner of my eye I see it is the spreader bar. He turns to me, and with a brief flick of his head indicates I’m to get onto the bed. I do as he’s asked, but turn to look at him over my shoulder. He stops, one eyebrow raised in query.

“I’d like to ask you something, if that’s allowed. Just now, I mean.”

I detect a flash of irritation, then it’s gone. “Is it important?”

“Yes. To me it is.”

“Very well then. And would you prefer to turn around, and face me while you talk?”

“I would. Thank you.”

He nods, and still kneeling, I turn. He doesn’t approach me, continues to stand, towering over me, waiting. I place my hands on my knees and drop my gaze to them.

“I thought we agreed you could face me. Look up, Ashley. Look at me. And tell me what’s on your mind.”

I lift my gaze, and without preamble tell him what I want. “I want another baby. I want to try again.”

He has the presence of mind not to register surprise if that’s his reaction. Or maybe it isn’t. Those long minutes earlier today, spent beside David’s grave together, convinced me that I could re-write my future, choose a different course. Maybe he felt it too. In any case, now he simply nods.

“I expected that. Not quite so soon, perhaps, but I did expect it. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. This is what I want. This is how I can put it right, regain control…”

“Control? A strange choice of word, especially just at this moment.”

“I mean, control of my life, my future. That’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve never said…”

He raises his hand to silence me, smiles at me. “Yes, you do control what happens to you. Always. Even here. Nothing happens that you don’t want, that you don’t agree to. You know that. And if a baby is truly what you want, then as far as I’m concerned you can have that too.”

“Really? You mean it? I can stop taking the pill and, and see what happens.”

He smiles wryly. “Well, I think we both know what’s likely to happen, but yes. You can if you want to. It’s your choice. Always your choice, Ashley.”