Saved By You Page 4

  “Amelia, he gets enough pussy to keep the world turning,” Megan adds. “The day he settles down it will end.”

  “I’m happy as I am, Ginger Spice.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “And why would I lie?”

  “He’s got a secret, Megan. It’s a big one, and he’s not telling us.”

  My skin instantly heats, the air in my lungs stilling as I feel my sister’s eyes land on me. A slight concern washes across her face. I know damn well what Amelia is referring to, and it involves the drunk from last night and my reaction towards him—a reaction I’ll happily do again if it means keeping someone out of danger. Only what she doesn’t know is why it affected me like it did.

  All it takes is one simple trigger and you’re back to the hell you’re desperate to break free from.

  I quickly change the subject to one I know I can fool them with, feeling like a dick for lying.

  “She’s referring to what Marcus has planned. I told her in small detail that he’s got a surprise but won’t tell her anymore. She’s stressing.”

  Megan smiles, looking back to Amelia with excitement in her ice blue eyes. “Babe, trust me don’t stress. You’ll love it.”

  Marcus and Andrew now join us, and the feeling of that unanswered conversation and the stern yet drunk eyes from Amelia is enough to have me running before I’m pulled any deeper in. I knock back my drink and stand. “Look, I’m going to head off.”

  “So soon?” Megan says, sounding disappointed. “You’ve just got here.”

  “Sorry, sis. I’m just whacked. I need to crash.” I kiss her on the head and give both Marcus and Andrew a slap on the back before coming back to Amelia who’s still eyeing me. I pull her into a hug as she whispers in my ear.

  “I know you, Lucas, and I know you’re hiding something.”

  I kiss her hair and reply with the only thing I can. “I love you, Ginger Spice. See you soon.”

  Once I’m out of the club, I rest back against the wall, inhaling the ocean as I glance up at the sky full of stars. I can’t have them knowing of my mistake. They won’t look at me in the same way again and I hate myself as it is. I can’t go through life knowing they secretly feel the same if they were ever to find out what I did.

  Stretching the muscles in my back, I take a step in the direction of home when a flicker of something shiny catches my eye. I halt my step when I see a woman standing in the middle of the cobbled road. She looks distant and I search around to see if anyone is with her but it’s just the two of us in the glow of the moonlight. I take in the full length of her body. Converse shoes, skinny black jeans that fit her like a glove with holes in the knees, a black vest top and a black leather biker jacket with big silver zips on the cuffs. Her raven-black hair is up in a messy bun as long thin strands blow across her face with the breeze.

  She’s thin—maybe a little too thin as her collarbones are prominent under her jacket.

  She’s focused on the chain rope light that shines the word ‘Rubies’ above the club door, completely lost in her own thoughts.

  It’s clear by her composure she’s not drunk, but there’s something about her poise that’s completely captivating and has me moving towards her. She doesn’t register my presence; her eyes remain solely on the sign. I want to know why she’s so engrossed but more importantly, why she’s out here alone. Spring Rose may not have a high crime rate but it’s still dark, which makes her vulnerable.

  “Are you alright?” I ask softly not wanting to startle her. When her eyes, slowly move to mine, I feel every ounce of air leave my lungs with just how beautiful she is: piercing smoky grey eyes are coated with long black lashes; soft pink lips that I want pressed against mine; and skin so pure you could mistake her for a porcelain doll. I fight the urge to reach out and touch her. For a moment we seem to lose ourselves in each other, locked in each other’s gaze as her eyes run wild with so many untold stories. I want to know more about her, and I need to know what’s so special about this creature in the dark because no woman has ever made my heart pound like she’s making it right now.

  She blinks, breathing out in a whisper. “What?”

  “I asked if you’re alright?” I keep my voice low. “You looked a little absent just then.” My words are ignored as she’s back to staring at the sign above the door.

  “Still here.” It’s barely a whisper but I’m sure that’s what she says. I’m confused, not knowing if she was talking to herself or trying to form a conversation. I take another step, somehow needing to get closer. “Would you like to go in for a drink?” I smile.

  From nowhere her stance changes instantly. Her composure becomes rigid, her shoulders broad. Stepping back, her expression now fully aware of what’s happening and the hint of attitude behind her words proves it. “I’m fine.”

  “Really? Only you don’t seem—”

  “Look arsehole, I appreciate your concern but there’s really no need. I said I’m fine.”

  Whoah.

  I raise a brow and hold my hands up in defence, both shocked and delighted at this little firecracker. “I’m sorry to intrude. I was just doing the neighbourly thing of making sure you were okay.”

  “Next time don’t bother,” she scowls.

  “Wow, you’re such a charmer.”

  She spins around, leaving a blissful scent of fresh linen and lilac as she heads off without another word. I start to walk a few steps behind and I can only imagine how it’s going to go down when she realises I’m following her. My house is at the top of Fitzford Hill—another one of Marcus’s development projects. My five-bed property has an indoor pool, a balcony and a huge garden. When Marcus knew of my plans to move over, he gave me first choice of which place I wanted before the rest were sold privately or rented. I don’t need a place that big but wanted one that overlooked the ocean. I’ve never taken a woman back there and never intended to, but this woman, the one that’s currently throwing daggers at me over her shoulder, I can see laid between my sheets with her black hair spread across the pillow.

  I continue to follow as two things cross my mind: one, it’s unusual for a woman to be walking away from me, and two, it’s also unusual to see a woman as sexy as her in Converse shoes.

  Jesus, I can only imagine what she’ll look like in heels—naked.

  The moon highlights the tip of a tattoo on the base of her neck that’s peeping out from the top of her jacket. I want to know how many more she has decorating her skin, but I’m caught off guard when she quickly turns.

  “Why the hell are you following me?”

  It’s not in my nature to leave a woman alone in the dark, but I’m not intentionally following her either. “I’m not, princess. I just happen to live at the end of this street.”

  “Is that the answer you always give to the women you like to creep up on?”

  “It’s the only answer you’re going to get. And I’m not creeping up on anyone, so you can carry on walking.”

  She does, only this time it’s backwards as if she needs to keep her eyes on me. Not through fear: there isn’t an ounce of that in this woman right now, and in all honesty, I’m not sure I like it. I don’t know whether I’m impressed with her self-assurance towards a stranger in the dark or frustrated because of how open and vulnerable it does make her.

  “You know there’s a name for men like you?”

  “A fucking God. Yes, I’ve heard it many a time,” I quip.

  “I was thinking more of a predator.”

  With each slow step she takes back, I step one forward. “I’m no murderer, sweetheart. I’m too pretty for prison.”

  “You have a pretty big ego too.”

  “You’ll grow to love it.” I’m rewarded with a small smile. It isn’t there long, but fuck me it feels like I’ve won the lottery, and I’m hoping that since she’s lost the edge of her attitude she’ll let me walk her home. “What’s your name?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’m Lucas.”<
br />
  “Well, congratulations.”

  I laugh. “That’s not the answer I was expecting. You could have given me a little more.”

  “How about, fuck you and good night.”

  God, she’s killing me.

  “Jesus, you’re a sassy little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Some say it’s more confidence.”

  Confidence that drips off her like raindrops. “It must be hard keeping it up?”

  She shrugs. “It’s not hard when it comes naturally.”

  “So, what’s your weakness?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “You must have. No matter how confident a person can be, we all have a weakness.”

  “Not me.”

  Something tells me there are unspoken truths behind this bold yet tiny little thing. She’s assertive, yes, but I know there’s more than what meets the eye. I can feel it.

  “So, what is it?” I push.

  “What’s what?”

  “Your name.”

  “Jane Doe.”

  “Of course, it is.” She’s got me grinning like a fucking schoolboy. All traces of anxiety I felt in the club now gone because of this beautiful raven bird. “And what is Jane Doe doing out at this hour?”

  “I’m just searching the dark for big cats. I’m a massive wildlife fan.”

  “You need to be careful; some big cats are known to chase.”

  “Good job I’m a fast runner then.”

  A sudden dip in the road catches her off guard, making her stumble back. Acting on instinct, I grab her by the arm and pull her towards me. And then I feel it. The warmth of her hands on my chest channels through the fabric of my shirt, sending a foreign sensation inside which makes my heart beat twice as fast and my stomach cartwheel. The proximity of her against my tall frame is enough to wrap my arms around her, keeping her close, but it’s when I look into her eyes that my intentions of wanting her safe intensify. Behind those beautiful smoky greys is a depth of anguish that makes my heart heavy. It tells me so much when I know so little. She's wounded, damaged, and her cuts are running deep.

  Searching my face, her eyes travel to where her hands are pressing against my chest before coming back to me. Her breathing is staggered, her heart vibrating hard, and I want nothing but to kiss her when the tip of her tongue wets her lips. The dark fire in her greys has the blood rushing through my veins as she glances up at me. She’s breathtakingly beautiful and I know without even questioning it, she feels it too: this spark; this connection. With our bodies locked together, she satisfies me in a way that no woman ever has, and I’m unsure I like it.

  When she pushes off me as though I’ve burned her, I go to speak but stop when the screech of car tyres comes from behind us. I turn quickly, locking eyes on the car as a couple of teenagers get out arguing. I curse, turning back to the beauty that has me so enchanted, but all I get is a wide-open space and a sudden ache of disappointment smacking me in the chest.

  She’s gone.

  Completely fucking vanished.

  “The fuck…” I look around but the linger of her perfume is all that fills the night air of the main street and alleyways. Even though I’m frustrated to shit, the amusement of this stranger’s behaviour has me shaking my head, laughing to myself in disbelief. I have no idea who she is or how long she’s here for, but I need to see her again. Because something tells me she’s not the type of woman I can easily forget.

  And I don’t think I want to.

  Chapter Five

  Victoria.

  I’m sitting in my favourite spot, the one I would always visit when I was a child: the cliff tops of Briston Beach. The place where the sea breeze catches your hair and the sunsets make you feel like you can almost touch them. Even though everything is familiar, it’s aged. The grass is dryer and the rugged rocks look tired from the constant battle of the tide. This had always been my place—my hideout, and my sanctuary. Huddled in my blanket to stop the chill, I lost myself in the roar of the ocean and my wild imagination. My mum first brought me up here when I was six. She had refused to let go of my hand as she feared I’d fall over the edge. “I can’t lose my best girl,” she would say, sweeping my hair from my face as it blew with the wind. Even at the early age of six, I’d felt at peace up here and found myself coming back without telling her a few years later because I needed to feel that calm inside of me when things at home turned nasty.

  I’ll bring Charlie here when he’s older so he too can experience the effect this place has.

  Anxiety grips my stomach just thinking about him. It’s the second time in two years I’ve left him in the hands of someone else. This week has been crazy with settling in and sorting out more paperwork and registration forms, but thankfully all that is over. I don’t think I can take another person looking at me the way they do when I mention I was homeless for years. They don’t have to say anything, and they can smile as much as they like but that look of disgust and pity will always be there. It drives me fucking wild.

  I feel lost without Charlie today. Lucy managed to secure him a place at the local nursery so he could interact with the other children. He never looked back when I left him. She also arranged one of the care assistance to look after him the other night so I could get a good night’s rest as his sleep pattern has been a little unpredictable since the move. Only I’m an insomniac and the thought of Charlie not being with me had my anxieties all over the place. So, I found myself wandering the streets and absorbing the memories as well as the haunts of the past.

  I hadn’t expected to come face to face with a delicious stranger, whose body was built for so many things it should be illegal with his chiselled jaw, thick dark hair and those strong blue-green eyes that caused a crazy sensation in my stomach. I could tell in just the short time I was with him that he was like no other. There was something about him that had caught me off guard. But it was when he’d pressed me against his body that I felt the extraordinary spark shoot to every nerve ending that possesses my body, creating a powerful sense of need deep within me. The way he’d looked at me was nothing I’ve ever encountered. I felt protected—wanted—just by his touch. Behind his ridiculous hot and smug exterior, there was something in his eyes that I couldn't put my finger on. A haunt? A sorrow that consumes him? I’m not sure, but I hadn’t been able concentrate on what lay behind them because I’d been too consumed by the sudden awareness of safety that devoured my body with his hold. The way he’d looked at me was as though he could read every part of who I am—like he saw deep into my soul and knew every one of my secrets and fears without having me verbalise them. Just for a moment, I’d felt his power easing the storm and suppressing my pain. It had felt foreign. It had felt wrong, and even though I hadn’t like it, I wanted more.

  Which is why I ran.

  I exhale and shake Lucas from my thoughts. And once again my mind is soon invaded with so many other memories—memories of before I left; memories of the cities I roamed. Years of running when, no matter which way I’d turned, nothing would have made any fucking difference. I am still that girl: the one that left the place and people she loved because of the evil of other’s and the lies they told. My dreams had been shattered because of what that bastard did.

  Memories—every single fucking one of them running through my blood. This life was never how I planned it: a lone parent needing to rely on strangers with ID tags for support to stop me from slipping back into a world that once suffocated me.

  I am so ashamed of myself it’s disgusting.

  Picking at the coarse grass beneath my crossed legs, I think of the one person that I know will be sickened with me if he knew of my bad choices: Marcus Matthews; my childhood best friend. The handsome boy with big hazel eyes and a smile that would make girls’ hearts pound that little bit faster. The boy that’d had so much potential in life it was inspiring and the one I’d never seen my life without. He’d been a huge part of my childhood and I’d loved him more than anything—probably in a
way I shouldn’t have because that wasn’t what our friendship had been about—that was never who we were. But I’d been a developing young girl with a body full of feelings that I’d never experienced before, and there hadn’t been many boys that would have taken care of me like Marcus did. He’d always put me, and those he loved, first. He’d made me smile when I hadn’t felt like I had a reason too. He’d kept my secrets when I cried on his shoulder. He’d made me feel safe and took away the anxiety of the devastation that my life had become at home. He’d been everything you would want from a friendship and more. I’d loved him. Growing up so quickly over the years, I realise now that my love for him was more of a need for someone to take care of me the way that I longed for—in a way that was different to my mother’s love. The men in my life when I was a girl had either left or treated me badly. All I’d ever been urgent for was that father figure of love. With Marcus being a couple years older than me, he became the brother I’d never had—he became that person I’d needed so desperately in life.

  Until the day he hurt me like the rest of them.

  I sigh heavily from the ache that’s now clenched my chest. I need to move forward because going back isn’t an option, and torturing myself won’t change the past. I need a focus, I need a purpose and most importantly I need to make my son proud. Standing from my spot on the cliff top, I brush the dust and blades of grass from the back of my legs and head towards the town. My shades and a cap covering my face hide my identity a little more. Even though I’ve returned, I don’t want to be noticed just yet. Most people from my era have moved on, but that won’t stop the questions and the speculation that will come with my return. That’s one of the reasons why that Lucas guy rattled me. ‘Are you alright? What are you doing? What is your name?’ They’re all questions I’m not ready to answer. But I need a job, so I guess I need to bite the bullet and be prepared for the invasion of questions that are about to be fired my way.

  The smell of leather, male sweat and feminine fragrances is potent as I enter the club. Cream transparent drapes with silver sequins cover the doorway on the opposite side of the black doors that lead down a red hue corridor. A combination of different music rumbles all around me while men in all shape and sizes give me the once-over before heading to their destination of choice for the night. To the naked eye, it’s just like you would imagine a strip club to be: places like these always are. I’ve not had much experience in working in them, but it’s been enough to know that being here doesn’t make me feel any less cheap. One thing that always fucks me off is how you instantly get branded with a name and a reputation. You say ‘strip club’ and they automatically think ‘gentlemen’s club’. If they’d only done the research—even though both clubs are similar in the sense that the dancing is the same—there is a difference in what we deliver. A gentlemen’s club offers sexual liaisons and escort services. A strip club offers nothing more than leaving the occupant sexually frustrated and dying to know what sexual services you can actually offer. That being said, I don’t doubt that there are girls in this club who sway towards the escort lifestyle—but that’s not me. However, in many ways, both lines of work are nothing more than a dirty version of an Alice in Wonderland story because once you fall there’s no going back, which is why I’m here because I need work and I know nothing else.