Chapter 5
Five quid. What could that get her in Glasgow? Not a bed for the night, surely. She wouldn’t take Rose and sleep on the streets. Nor would she go back to Johnny, no matter how bad things got.
Where could she go? A distressed sign caught her eye with a red T hanging right above the door. Billy’s Bar. From the outside, it looked like the sort of place her last remaining five pounds in cash could get her two pints. Not for her and her bairn, of course not.
But it was also the sort of place Johnny wouldn’t look at twice. Besides, she was really tired now and in need of putting her feet up.
Twisting her head around, Molly ensured there were no stragglers to point the finger at her. Then she held Rose close and ran towards the pub’s door. Right when the musty heat of the pub slammed into her, Rose let out a loud scream.
The bartender jerked up, holding the glass in his hand like a weapon. His shoulders slightly relaxed when he spotted Molly and Rose. Er…
I’m so sorry. It’s just that she’s— Molly shook her head, running a soothing hand over Rose’s back. The man obviously would not care about a crazed woman with a bairn, apart from ensuring she left the place on time and didn’t disturb his customers.
Molly reached into her pocket for the remaining cash and found only lint. Her heart sank. Please, God, please, I can’t have lost the last one. I’m sorry… I…
She moved Rose from her left hip to the right, then dug into her left pocket. Nothing.
Oh hell!
Molly’s cheeks flushed. Why didn’t the ground just swallow her? Urgh!
She looked around for a spot to place Rose down and hopefully find the money somewhere. But since pubs weren’t designed for toddlers, Molly didn’t find anywhere appropriate.
You can have a seat first, if you want. The bartender’s gruff words caused Molly’s back to tingle, not because she knew this man or thought he was a threat, but because she could imagine him uttering those in abject anger and then striking—
No, she wasn’t going there. Molly shook her head again. She had run away from all that, and her only focus now would be to get Rose safely out of the clutches of that monster.
With a mumbled Thanks, Molly carried Rose to a booth in the back. At least sequestered away from the patrons, they wouldn’t disturb anyone.
She kept a soothing hand running over Rose’s back while cooing at her.
Molly slid into a booth at the back and settled Rose’s bag down flat on the table. Then she placed Rose on it, studying her daughter’s reddened face. Oh baby. You’re okay. You’re safe now. Mum will… I will… Molly swallowed. Mum will find a way out for us. For both of us.
Of course her baby didn’t understand. She’d only ever known one way of living: violence.
And Molly would be damned if she let it continue. Not after Johnny had threated her wee girl that morning.
She reached out and swiped a hand under Rose’s eyes. Big hot tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were red. Oh baby, please, please take a breath.
Molly pulled Rose into her arms, trying desperately to calm her daughter. If they got kicked out of here, she had no hope of building a plan.
Hugging Rose close, Molly swayed from side to side, hoping the movement would soothe Rose and, if she were being entirely honest, herself. She couldn’t go to an ATM and withdraw cash. She had no cards and no phone.
And there was no one she could go to, not without ending up back in Johnny’s lair. Ending up there would mean sure failure.
Oh darling. Oh my baby. Molly cooed at Rose.
Aye, five pounds won’t go very far. But Molly could make sure she fed Rose. At least that was easy.
Looking around, she checked if someone could see them in the booth. There was no one except—
His blue eyes sparkled, like the glint of binoculars, staring straight at her.
Molly gasped at the intensity of his gaze.
A single ray of sunlight illuminated part of his face, showing only hints of a chiselled jaw. A beer sparkled on his table, the fizz bubbles twinkling in the golden liquid.
His aura was as solitary and terrifying as the darkness surrounding him.
Cooing at Rose, Molly turned towards the wall, showing her back to the stranger. Aye, that broke the rule of self-defence. That man was dangerous. But her instincts had died an abrupt death three years ago when she’d met Johnny, hadn’t they?
She wouldn’t find another nearly quiet pub like this one where the manager let her sit in and gave her time to find her five pounds. She’d just have to deal with this creep.
With Rose cocooned in her arms, Molly peeked over her shoulder to where the man had been. Those blue orbs were gone, including the sense of broody danger. All that remained of the man was his beer.
Molly whipped her head around, trying to see if he’d snuck closer or had gone over to complain. But from where she sat, she couldn’t see the man nor the bar.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d done the decent thing and given her privacy.
When Rose placed her palm on Molly’s jaw, Molly turned to the wee cutie. Are you hungry?
She slid the sleeve of her shirt down. In her haste, she’d forgotten to get the old blanket she used as a coverup when breastfeeding in public. In this heat, she’d die if she covered any more of her skin anyway. Unclasping her maternity bra, Molly pulled Rose close. There you go, baby.
Patting Rose on the back, Molly settled into their booth. Right. Now was the time to think.
Maybe, just maybe, she could find someone she knew and ask them if they could shelter her for the night.
But who did she know? Growing up in care, she wasn’t in touch with anyone from her childhood.
She certainly didn’t have any family. In the last three years, her old life and friend circle had faded away, just like her old self. Now everyone she knew, Johnny knew.
She could try to reach out to people from her past life. But not everyone would be willing to hide her from a man like Johnny. He had access to so many resources as the Buchanan enforcer.
That should’ve been her first red flag when they’d first met. But her old self-preservation instincts had drowned in lust years ago.
Molly moved Rose to her other breast, adjusting her weight in her arms, then running soothing circles on her back again. The girl was so sweet. Despite everything, she barely ever threw tantrums. And yet Molly knew her daughter was too quiet and cautious for a bairn of eleven months.
Aye, Molly resented Johnny and what she’d become. But the last three years with him had led her to her wee angel.
Where could she hide them? Who would—
A loud thud pulled Molly out of her haze. She blinked at the large plastic bag that had just plonked on the table. Her gaze clashed with a pair of blue eyes.
Ah! She jerked, then swivelled around, trying to hide Rose from him and the state of her near toplessness. In her haste, her elbow connected with the wall, sending a spasm of pain up her forearm. Ouch!
Blinking at the smarting pain, Molly watched as the first fat tear slid down Rose’s cheek again, and—
I didn’t see anything. The man’s deep and husky voice washed over her, causing tingles to sizzle down her belly. Oh gosh.
Rose kicked her tiny feet and hands, wiggling before the first wee cry slid from her lips. Molly turned her so she sat up, and used Rose’s body to shield her own nakedness.
The crying bairn didn’t upset the man. He slid into the booth so casually, as if he owned the place. What if he did own the place and wanted her gone?
Still, no one just interrupted a breastfeeding woman who clearly had no means to cover herself up. What’s wrong with you?
Molly patted Rose on the back, waiting for the inevitable burp. The jerks made her breasts, still swollen from pregnancy and breastfeeding, shake. Another one of the reasons Johnny had lost interest in her.
Three years ago, Molly wouldn’t have given two hoots. Now she shrunk back, hoping the dark mahogany of the wood panelling swallowed her in its shadows. Reaching out, she slid her bra and shirt in place, at least as much as she could.
The man’s gaze though never once dipped low. He stared right into her eyes, as if he could read all her secrets. Do you have a place to spend the night?
Excuse me?
He gestured to her, then to Rose. I was raised by a single mother.
I’m not—
Don’t insult my observation skills.
Right. A handsome man, wearing a suit that looked fucking expensive, was mansplaining. What a shocker. Look, sir, I—
Fine. Using long fingers, he unfurled the jacket he’d placed on the seat, then draped it around her. Happy?
Molly’s best friend, the one she’d lost touch with three years ago, had been into suits.
Hell, the man had practically been born in a suit.
So it was fair to say she knew something about what made a suit high quality.
Even if she’d lost the eye for it, she could still make out that the jacket he’d so casually draped over her was high-end Saville Row.
Still, the more she stared at him, the more the picture she’d painted in her head didn’t add up.
He didn’t exude the sort of slickness men in suits generally did. This man was rough. The hands that had draped the jacket had callouses and scars.
She had never been into slick men. But this man? His scars she could kiss, his muscles she could trace with her tongue, and his—
Wh-what do you want? Molly managed to squeal.
He placed his elbows on the table, exposing muscled forearms.
Did the man exercise his forearms? He had muscles, defined muscles, including a gorgeous vein threading through it, a trail she could lick and—
Her libido hadn’t been this active since Rose had been born.
Molly hugged Rose to her. The wee bairn had drifted off to sleep, uncaring of this gorgeous male specimen sharing a booth with them.
Holding his hands up, the man shook them. I’ve got no weapons on me. See?
Look, sir— Whatever Molly was about to say was drowned under a loud crack of wood on wood. Startled, she turned around, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. Then she saw him. Her nightmare.