Target (An erotic romantic novella) (2 page)

“Yes please, if that is okay.  I mean it’s quite expensive.”  Rick gave an impromptu chuckle.

“It’s fine.”  He glanced over to the waitress and gave her a nod.  Wandering over she flipped open her pad.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Two English breakfasts, with toast please,” he said, as he closed the menu and popped it back into the holder on the table.

“Sure
, won’t be long,” she replied, walking back over to the counter.

Sarah sipped her tea, and glanced out of the window, at all the people minding their business and
scurrying passed.

“So Sarah, do you mind me asking, how did you end
up on the street?” Rick asked.  He watched her fingers as she undid the buttons on her coat and then slipped it off.  Underneath she wore a t-shirt, it was tight against her large breasts, and he could see she was not wearing a bra, as her nipples were pert from the sudden chill.  He felt his cock harden.  Fuck, he thought, and he looked away from her, took a deep breath, and picked up his mug of tea.

“My sister died,” she said
bluntly, as she looked at him, waiting to see his reaction.

“I a
m sorry,” he replied, giving her a rueful smile. Her eyebrow lifted at his response, he seemed genuinely sincere.  His cock still tight in his pants, Rick fidgeted on his seat.

“I lost
my job, then the flat and I have no family, so nowhere else to go,” she said, giving a little raise of her shoulders.

“I
am sorry,” he said again, as he forced his mind to think of something other than her.

“How did you k
now I was an artist?” she asked.

“
Erm, you said, at the shelter,” he replied, thinking quickly.  In fact, he knew a lot more about her than she realised.  He already knew about her sister, her flat and in fact, there was not much about her, that he did not know.

“Oh,” she mumbled, not r
emembering that she ever told anyone she was an artist.  Then maybe she had, in the hope of finding work.  She moved back a little as the waitress plopped a plate of hot food in front of her.  She inhaled, god that smelt good, and she felt her mouth-watering.  She resisted the urge to shovel it all into her mouth as quickly as possible; instead, she savoured every bite, and ate every morsel, including the toast.

He watched her as she ate, he could see she was starving, yet she ate graciously and politely, and her manners were impeccable.

“Wow you were hungry,” Rick remarked as she put the last piece of toast into her mouth, and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.  She looked up, suddenly realising that she had not said a word to him since the plate had arrived.

“
Yes I am sorry, I - I have not eaten for a couple of days,” she confessed.  He shook his head sadly, as he finished his toast.  He wished he had found her sooner.  He just thanked god that he had decided to check in once more at the shelter, they told him that she had been in a few days ago and was often seen down by the river.  He walked through the town early in the hope of seeing her, and when he had, he had nearly died, as she looked so distraught.  He followed her as she headed towards the old bridge.

“Do you want anything else?” he asked.  Sarah shook her head; she would not take anything else from him.  “Perhaps an ice-cream when we get to Devon?” he suggested,
and gave her a little smile.

“P
erhaps,” she agreed, eyeing him.  Now she was full, she studied him more closely.  He was, as the girl in the toilet had said, hot. In fact, she thought, he was hotter that hot, he was so incredibly handsome that she wondered how she had not noticed him at the shelter. She watched him as he sipped the rest of his tea, he was about twenty-seven, she concluded, and had deep dark eyes that held a certain mystery to them. He was quite muscular, but not over the top like a body builder and he had dark hair like hers.  She glanced at his watch, it was expensive, his nails, perfectly manicured, and as he pulled out his wallet to pay for the breakfast, she noticed his gold card, and the wodge of cash tucked neatly inside. He was not short of a few quid that was for sure.

He grabbed
her holdall, and she gathered her coat in her arms and followed him out of the café.  She had no clothes to wear for this camp; all she had were the jeans and t-shirt she was wearing, and her red coat.

“Rick,
I am sorry to ask, but do they pay you weekly?” she probed, hooking a lose strand of hair behind her ear.  If they did, she may get away with just scrubbing her jeans and t-shirt, until she could go and buy some clothes.

“Yes, if you want,” he replied, taking out his car keys and pushing the r
emote.  Sarah looked at the cars, seeing which one flashed.  It was an old Landover.  Rick threw her holdall in the boot and then opened the passenger door for her.

For a moment, she hesitated
unsure if she was doing the right thing, she needed the money, she need to get her life back and let go of the past, but she knew this man could be a murderer.

“You okay?” he asked at her hesitation.

“Yes, it’s just.  I really don’t know who you are,” she whispered, still trying to make her mind up.  She was going to kill herself, and she knew she would have if he had not come, but now he was here she was not sure if she could do what the man wanted, after all, if Rick had wanted her dead, he would have let her jump.

Rick
scratched his cheek in thought; she had to come with him.  He reached into his inside pocket, pulled out his wallet and took out his driving license.

“There, Ri
chard Hemmingway,” he said, showing it to her.  Sarah looked at it, and lifted an eyebrow at his full name. It was definitely him; she noticed the address, Mayfair, London.  He then pulled out another ID badge.

“For the shelters
,” he said, as he gave it to her.  She glanced at it and then back at him.  “But please don’t call me Richard, it’s Rick, otherwise I’ll have to shoot you,” he said.

Sarah’s eyes flew to his in horror.

“I was joking,” he laughed, seeing the sudden fear in her eyes.  “I hate being called Richard,” he added with a grin.  “It makes me feel like I’ve been naughty when people use my full name,” he explained, “echoes of my mother yelling it at me when I was up to no good.”  She smiled at him.

“Okay
,” she said, handing them back to him.  She got into the Landrover, she had nothing to lose, even if she could not do it, she will still be paid for six weeks work, so she could still put her life back together.

She slipped the seatbelt on and watched him as he opened the door and climbed in the other side.
Switching the ignition on, he pulled out of the car park.  She stared out of the window, twiddling nervously with her earing as she watched the town drift by, and as they crossed the river, she shuddered.  It could have been so different she could have been dead, her body floating in the cold, dark murky water.  She glanced at him. If he had not have turned up, she would have done it, she would have jumped, she would not have waited another day.  Sarah looked back out the window and gave a sigh.  She always thought she had good intuition, that she knew a person as soon as she met them.   She could not imagine Rick doing what the man had said, surely, she would feel anger and hate towards him.  She glanced back at him, she did not, not in the slightest, if anything she found him incredibly attractive, and under normal circumstances, he would have been her ideal date.  She looked back out of the window, confused.

They drove for a couple of hours
, chatting on and off about nothing in particular.  As Rick hit the M5 motorway, he kept glancing in his review mirror, he was not happy with the blacked out BMW behind them.

“Fancy a coffee?” he asked, nodding to the services sign.

“Yes, please,” Sarah, said, giving him a smile, she could really do with the loo, that tea had gone right through her, but she had felt too embarrassed to ask him to stop.  Rick indicated and pulled over to the slow lane, the BMW followed.  He grinded his teeth, he had a tail.  He pulled off into the services and parked up, the BMW parked a few cars behind them.   As Sarah undid her seat belt, Rick reached down under his seat, and slipped something into his boot, before getting out.  As he pushed the remote, he glanced to the BMW, but no one got out.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, Rick ushered Sarah towards the services.

“Shall we just grab take out?” he suggested, as they walked over to a stand.

“Up to you, you’re driving,” she said.  As he l
ooked at her, he glanced over her shoulder, and he watched as a man emerged from the BMW.

“Can I just nip to the loo?” she asked
, now feeling beyond desperate.  He smiled at her.

“Sure, coffee?”

“Can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Of course,” he replied, watching her as she went towards the
women’s toilets.  The second man emerged from the BMW, taking his phone Rick pointed it towards them; he zoomed in and took a picture.

“Latte and hot chocolate, please,” he said, placing a tenner on the counter. 
Running the picture through an ID scanner, his nose screwed up.

“Fuck,” he mu
ttered, he knew that name.

“With cream and marshmallows?” the man asked. 

“Sorry?” Rick said, looking up from the phone.

“In the hot chocolate, cream, and marshmallows,” he repeated.  Rick had no idea if she liked cream.

“Just marshmallows, in a separate pot,” he said, just in case she did not like them.  He put the phone in his back pocket, and took the drinks just as she emerged from the toilet.

“There you go,” he said, giving her the chocolate and pot of marshmallows.

“Oh thanks,” she said gratefully. “I love marshmallows.” Rick turned and began walking the opposite way to Landrover.

“Where are we going?” she asked.  “We
are parked over there,” she added, pointing.  Rick shook his head, casually.

“Of course, I was miles away,” he replied, taking her arm and slipping
her around the back of the coffee stand.  As he emerged around the other side, he watched the two men they were puzzling as to where they had gone.  He hurried her back to the Landrover, and before she had even put on her seatbelt, he pulled off.

It only took another ten minutes and they were off the motorway and driving down the country lanes. 
Forty minutes later Rick checked his review mirror for the hundredth time, and they were back.  He glanced at Sarah, but she was asleep.  The BMW drove up fast behind him, Rick put his foot down, keeping one eye on Sarah, hoping that she would not wake.  The BMW pulled to his right, and tried to overtake him, Rick swerved over, forcing them to drop back.  He glanced in his mirror and saw the passenger leaning out of the window; he had a gun.

“Shit
,” he cursed, as the man fired at the Landrover, putting his foot down, Rick sped along the narrow lane, he knew these roads like the back of his hand, and swerving right, he spun down a track and pulled over by a field, he looked at Sarah, she was still asleep.

Leaving it running
, he jumped out, walked back down the track and stood in the middle, waiting.  A few seconds later, the BMW spun the corner and drove at speed towards him.  Rick continued to wait he had to be sure.  The passenger hung out of the window, and took a pot shot at him.  It ricocheted by his foot, Rick frowned angrily, now there was no doubt. Reaching down he snatched a gun from his ankle, released the safety, aimed, and fired.  Hitting the windscreen, the car swerved, and crashed sideways into a ditch.  Rick ran towards it, he yanked the driver’s door open, and looked across at the passenger, half his body hung out of the open window he was not wearing a seat belt and was clearly dead.  The airbags had gone off and as Rick pushed it back off the driver, his eyes suddenly opened, and he reached for a gun. Rick grabbed his head, twisting it sharply he broke his neck, and then smashed his face into the steering wheel.

Hurry
ing back to the Landrover, he opened the boot.  He glanced at Sarah; much to his relief, she was still asleep.  He grabbed a jerry can and a box of matches from his rucksack, ran back to the car, and poured the fuel all over it. Darting back to the Landrover, he put the jerry can back inside, and closed the boot quietly.  He jumped back inside, released the handbrake, and turned the Landrover around.  Sarah stirred.  He glanced at her in panic, please do not wake up, he begged.  As he drove slowly past the BMW, he struck a match, lit the rest of the box, and threw them onto the fuel, the car immediately burst into flames.  He put his foot down, spun out of the track, and shot off down the lane.  He glanced in his review mirror, and turning the radio up he covered the noise of the explosion.  Sarah woke up.

“
Hello sleepy,” he said casually.  “We are nearly there.”

“I
am so sorry,” she apologised, as she pushed herself back up in the seat, a little embarrassed. She had been up most of the night before contemplating what to do with her miserable life, and it must have suddenly caught up with her.  God she hoped she had not snored!  He smiled at her, and then took a deep sigh, wondering whether those men knew whom he really was, or if Zeb had sent them.