Echoes Read online

  As the lull of the road seeped into her, so did tiredness. Man, she was beat. Not much sleep yesterday, worked all night, was out all day checking a few things and to avoid meeting up with Tom and Wells Security. Which reminded her, she had to swing by and pick up the key. Not that it mattered, she had a spare, but if she went in the morning she ran the risk of running into Ryan. But would anyone be at Wells Security this time of the night? Maybe. Mulling over the time and distance, she sighed at the realisation that she was now well past the inner city. Bugger it, she’d get it when she knocked off one of her night shifts, he wouldn’t be at the office then anyway. And even if he was? So what. She was a client picking up her key, nothing more.

  Ten minutes later she was home, Boof greeting her at the back door with a complaining meow.

  “Okay, okay.” Opening the door, she let him in first.

  Boof walked straight over to the pantry, parked his furry bum, and stared at the door as though he could open it through sheer will alone.

  Tossing her jacket onto the kitchen bench, she opened a tin of cat food, tipped the fishy lot into a clean bowl and placed it beside his water bowl in the corner out of the way. Only then did she take a Diet Coke from the ‘fridge, pop the tab and take the paper from the jacket pocket. Turning to lean her hips back against the bench, she flicked the paper open and studied it.

  Satisfaction flowed through her. One step closer, another one down. And a new man to fake some documents. “Mmm, mm.” Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back. “Not long now, you bastard.”

  A knock from the front of the house had her stiffening. Dropping the paper on the table as she passed it, she walked down the short hallway to the front door. Peeking through the peep hole, she stiffened. Shit. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the door.

  More knocking, the firm tattoo short but authorative.

  The man dressed in Wells Security uniform standing on her veranda could kiss her rounded rear.

  Turning on her heel, she returned to the kitchen, picking up the Diet Coke and taking a fortifying mouthful. He could knock until the cows came home, she wasn’t letting him in. The only way he was gaining entrance was if he broke a window.

  A click from the front had her groaning.

  Or used her door key. The one she should have bloody picked up after all.

  Frustrated, ignoring the faint tingle, she kept her gaze on the doorway. Sure enough, he walked right into her kitchen like he owned it, dropped the key atop the open paper on the table after a brief glance, then stood there, arms loose by his sides, legs slightly spread, boots planted firmly on the floor, exuding authority and subtle ruthlessness, his brown gaze travelling over her from the top of her head to the tips of her sneakers before tracking back up to lock onto her eyes.

  “Thanks for returning the key,” she said shortly. “You can get out now.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Does your boss know you’re a stalker?”

  Ryan just stood there, the shadows of the dark hall behind him seeming to almost curl around his shoulders, which just went to show how tired she was.

  With an exasperated sigh, she slammed the can onto the bench. “What the hell do you want, Ryan? Sweet talk? Me begging you? Or how about me forgiving you? How does that sound?” She snapped her fingers. “Wait, are you here for an old-times-sake nookie? Sorry, mate, that door closed after the horse bolted. Literally bolted.”

  His mouth tightened, a glitter starting in those dark brown eyes.

  “Come on, you’re here now, don’t waste the moment. I’m sure it’ll be good,” she added bitterly. “The last time was a real doozy.”

  For a second the danger in the air was almost choking, but then he seemed to haul it back, gathering all that darkness inside him, tamping it down. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Well bully for you.”

  “You didn’t sprain your ankle.”

  The switch of topic caught her off guard. “What?”

  “Your leg was broken in two places.”

  “How did you find out?” She glared at him. “Have you been snooping into my past?”

  He took a step forward. “Broken when your car stopped on a lonely road on your way home.”

  Like she could ever forget that. She stared at him for several long seconds before shoving away from the bench. “I’m not doing this.”

  “You were badly hurt.”

  “A broken leg isn’t that bad.”

  “Bad enough that it couldn’t quite heal properly.”

  She shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

  “Can you honestly say that?”

  “I just did.” Crossing to the ‘fridge, she placed the soft drink can inside. “Go home, Ryan.” When he didn’t answer, she looked over her shoulder at him.

  He’d gotten closer, his gaze searing into her. “It wasn’t just your leg, though, was it?”

  “I’m not doing this with you.”

  Another step forward, his head angled slightly, eyes locked on her face, expression unreadable though she could almost feel the constrained fury in his tightly controlled, muscular body. “I saw it. Your photo.”

  “I’m sure it brought tears to your eyes,” she replied sarcastically. “Besides, it was only a few knocks around the face and a broken leg.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” The edge underlying his tone sharpened. “Don’t ever lie to me.”

  Exasperated, she strode right up to him, grabbed his upper arm, ignored the feel of the muscled bicep flexing under her hand, and tried to shift him. “Look, Ryan, just go. I’ve looked after myself for a long time now, and I don’t have to answer to you or anyone else. Take your pity and go.”

  He moved all right, but not the way she’d intended. Before she knew it he’d grabbed her t-shirt and started to raise it. Immediately she let go of him, struggled when his hands grabbed her wrists, kicking out at him as panic surged inside her. “Let go! Ryan, stop!”

  Her wrists in his hands, he towered over her to look down out of a face that reflected nothing but merciless determination. “You’ll show me.”

  “You don’t have that right!”

  “Show me.”

  Instead, she aimed a kick at him.

  Bastard had always been quick, but whereas once before they’d tussle in hilarious competition, this time he moved with a deft swiftness that was almost frightening in its silent intensity.

  Before she knew it he had her pinned up against the wall, her hands above her head in a firm grip, his other hand taking the bottom of her t-shirt.

  “Ryan! No! No!”

  But then it was too late, her shirt rucked up beneath her bra with the hem beneath the band to hold it up.

  “Don’t…” She was almost horrified to hear the unsteadiness of her voice. “Please, Ryan.”

  He gazed into her eyes for several long seconds, she couldn’t even begin to know what he was thinking, but then he stepped back, his fingers trailing down her belly, fingertips tracing over the ridges of scar tissue.

  Swallowing, she met him stare for stare.

  Keeping her wrists in one hand, he moved further back, his gaze dropping to her belly to where his fingertips still traced the scars.

  Defeated, she slumped against the wall, closing her eyes. Silence filled the kitchen, the only sound that of the ticking of the kitchen clock on the wall and her own unsteady breathing.

  She couldn’t see him, but she sure as hell could feel him and not just the delicious sensation of his fingers smoothing over her skin, but a danger that throbbed in the very air.

  Slowly, his fingers spread wide against her, then his palm, the heat of the skin, the calluses, flat against her, partially covering the scars.

  “Why?” His voice was low, a harsh grating.

  She shook her head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Not wanting to look at him, she refused to open her eyes, shook her head again.

  “You should have told me.” />
  That statement made her draw in a deep breath, the feel of his palm so hard yet oddly reassuring against her belly.

  A touch as familiar as though he’d last touched her yesterday instead of all those long, lonely years ago.

  “Ella?” She felt his body shift, the warmth as he leaned closer though his palm remained on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you?” With a sigh, she opened her eyes. “Apart from the fact that I didn’t even know where to begin looking, why would I tell you?”

  “Because…”

  “You weren’t there, Ryan. You left, remember?” Resting her head back against the wall, Ella allowed the tiredness to wash over her, the lack of sleep and drop from the adrenaline of her earlier visit to the pub, combined with the struggle with Ryan, sapping her strength. “You left me. You walked away. You never again made contact.”

  His handsome face, so hard and ungiving, didn’t so much as twitch, but he released her wrists. However, rather than step back he leaned forward to rest his hand on the wall above her head.

  Staying so close that she could feel every breath he took, the aura of danger and strength seeming to seep into her. Surround her.

  It was disturbing. Pride made her stay where she was.

  Or was it? Right now she felt so…protected.

  Shaking away that disconcerting thought, Ella tugged her t-shirt back down - or tried to, because his palm was still on her belly. “Do you mind?”

  Wordlessly, he took the hem from her fingers and smoothed it down, making something long-forgotten curl deep, deep inside the recesses of her loins. Unnerved, she started to slide away only to have his hand settle on her opposite hip to keep her in place. Automatically, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tugged.

  Why was she not surprised when he didn’t move?

  So very aware of those watchful eyes, she sighed. “What do you want, Ryan?”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said quietly.

  Giving up on fighting him, she rested against the wall, the feel of his hand on her hip so disturbingly welcome. No, familiar. Just familiar. “Why?”

  “They’d never have touched you if I’d been there.”

  “But you weren’t, were you? You were God knows where, and you’d been at that particular place for a long time.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, genuine regret showing briefly in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ella.”

  “Sorry for leaving me? Or sorry that you weren’t there to be my hero?”

  “Both.”

  “Well then, that makes everything hunky-dorey, doesn’t it?” God, he actually flinched, and a stab of regret shot through her. She hardened her heart almost immediately. “You know, nice as this catch-up and all has been, I’m tired and need to go to bed. So if you don’t mind…?” She gestured to where his hand rested on her hip.

  “Ella-”

  “No. No, Ryan. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to walk back into my life and demand answers. Because, you see, that works both ways. Only you never gave me an answer, you made the decision to walk away. You have no right to walk back in and think that I owe you anything.” Lips firm, she looked him right in the eyes. “You want to do something for me, Ryan? Go out that door and never come back. Ever.”

  He looked down at her, seconds ticking past, before giving a short nod. “Right.” Pushing back, he straightened.

  Unexpectedly, she almost immediately missed his warmth and nearness.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Turning, he strode across the kitchen.

  All she could do was watch him, not game to move from the wall when her knees were trembling.

  At the doorway he turned to give her a fathomless look. “Be careful when you go out to pubs and clubs at night.” With that cryptic comment, he disappeared down the hallway, the front door clicking shut behind him.

  Only then did she push away from the wall, going into the hallway to listen as his car started, the headlights spilling through the curtains across the lounge room walls as he reversed out onto the road. Only once he’d gone did she lock the security screen and wooden door, turning to place her back against it.

  Only then did she let her trembling knees give out, sliding down the door to sit on the floor.

  Only then did she allow herself to start crying.

  Crying when she’d promised herself she’d never cry over Ryan Hargreaves again.

  Stupid stupid stupid. Even as she thought it, she sobbed. Stupid to cry over a man who’d left her years before.

  Stupid to have regrets.

  Stupid to feel bad for deliberately hurting him in turn.

  Stupid to feel so sad over emotions, sensations and feelings that echoed in her heart no matter how much time had passed.

  Boof’s big head nudged her arm, his nose poking under her elbow as he demanded a pat. When she obliged with a half laugh, he licked her hand and sat looking up at her out of his one eye.

  “Yeah, matey.” She stroked his head, sniffed. “We make a pair, don’t we?”

  He blinked slowly, nudged her hand again.

  “I’m just tired,” she assured him. “Good sleep and I’ll be right as rain. Got things to do, people to see.” Lifting her other arm, she wiped her face on the sleeve of her t-shirt, only to draw back with a scrunched-up nose at the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol that permeated the material. “No wonder he knew where I’d been.” Giving Boof a last stroke, she pushed to her feet. “Time for a shower and bed, kitty. Got a busy couple of days coming up.”

  Firmly pushing Ryan from her mind, she sought the shower before flopping into bed with Boof a comforting, heavy, purring weight curled up against her knees.

  Cracking open the book from the TBR pile on the bedside table, she commenced reading.

  Horror seemed a perfect choice under the circumstances.

  Chapter 3

  Tired as she was, Ella was up early the next morning. Dreaming of a certain man and waking up with tears on her cheeks hadn’t put her in a good mood.

  Boof was in just as foul a mood when she bundled him into the cat basket and drove him to the vet for his vaccination and health check. Looking balefully up at the vet, he dared him to come forward.

  “You’re looking good, old son,” Gus said happily.

  He wasn’t so happy when he’d been left with a bleeding hand from a bite, the vet nurse had several nasty scratches along her arm, and Ella had to shove Boof back into the basket with help, resulting in blood smeared across her once-white t-shirt.

  “Sorry about that,” she apologised.

  Washing his hand under the tap, the vet eyed Boof, who hissed back at him. “Maybe next time we’ll take him out the back and do it.”

  “How about we just do him in the basket?” Ella suggested.

  “How about we sedate him and do a dental at the same time, a scale, polish and vaccination all in one hit.”

  Feeling both sorry for the vet and nurse, but unable to help being a little amused by Boof’s aggressive stance against the rectal thermometer, Ella added, “How about you give him the worming tablet at the same time?”

  “How about you just do the spot-on worming,” Gus shot back. “Put the stuff on his skin at the back of the neck.”

  “I may need reinforcements for that.”

  “Good luck finding someone.”

  “You know, Gus, it’s a good thing I know you secretly love Boof.”

  “It’s a good thing I allow you back in here with him.”

  “Aw, you don’t mean that.”

  Gus shot Boof a glare.

  “Seriously, I’m sorry.” Ell picked up the cage. “I owe you.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Remember when I found him on the front lawn and brought him in, a scruffy mangy cat with an ear ripped half off, bleeding, one eye hanging out? Remember how you ranted and railed about drivers who hit animals and didn’t stop to help them? Remember that?”

  Gus poured antise
ptic over the bite on his hand. “Remember he was almost dead and didn’t rouse?”

  “Remember how I always pay my bills on time, no complaining, no matter how astronomical it is?”

  “I remember a time before you and this feral walked through my door.” He sighed dreamily. “Those were the days.”

  “He’s not feral.” Ella made kissy noises down at Boof, where he kept his one eye on Gus and continued hissing before settling to a low growl. “Aw, Mummy’s widdle baby, aren’t you? Mummy’s little tiddle-dums. Gussie doesn’t mean it.”

  “Gussie bloody does so.”

  “Okay. I’m sending you a cheesecake, all right? Geez.”

  “You think a cheesecake is going to fix it?”

  “How about a box of chocolates?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’ll even throw in a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze.”

  Gus rolled his eyes.

  Settling the basket in the passenger seat, Ella slid behind the steering-wheel and looked at Boof. “Do you know how much you cost me?”

  Boof hissed.

  “At this rate, Gus might toss us out on our arses. Now I have to swing past the cake shop and put an order in to sweeten up your doctor. I don’t even do that for my doctor.” She paused. “Mind you, I’ve never bitten her. Apart from during the Women’s Health Check, that can get dicey. That duck-bill…” She faked a shudder.

  Boof glared at her, turned his back and settled with a thump to stare moodily into the corner of his cage.

  “Cripes.” Grinning, Ella drove to the cake shop. Parking right in front where she could keep an eye on the car, she went inside, ordered cheesecake and a sponge cake filled with cream to be delivered to the vet clinic immediately, paid and got back into the car. “It’d be cheaper to hire a male pro for company,” she informed Boof.

  He wasn’t talking to her.

  “This is going to cost me steak to get back into your good books, isn’t it?”

  Still not talking.

  Grinning, she drove home. Man, she loved the big cat ever since the day she’d almost had to scrape his blood-drenched hide off the lawn and took him to the vet. Not meaning to get a pet until she’d settled down, she nevertheless couldn’t bear to see the big tom put to sleep and had urged Gus to save him. That had resulted in surgery, sterilisation, vaccination, worming, microchipping, daily visits to stroke him and get him through his recovery and used to her, and finally taking him home. His Majesty had surveyed her house with an air of ‘I guess this will suit me’, chowed down on mince steak, and after exploring the house had made himself comfortable on her bed.