Chapter Thirty-Seven
Six Months Later
Verity folded the newspaper and placed it on the rickety table. Almost alone in the beach side bar, she allowed a small smile to stretch across her lips. The trial for one Michael Barnes had been rushed through the courts and no one seemed surprised by the guilty verdict. According to the police, enough evidence had been found on his premises to qualify for several life sentences. They’d been happy to settle for just the one, so as not to take up the court’s valuable time. All of which meant, dear old dad would be spending the rest of his miserable life behind bars. Although given the number of people he’d managed to piss off during his career, she doubted that the rest of his life would amount to very long.
Neither the papers nor the internet brought her any news as to what had become of Valentina or Cross, but that didn’t really surprise her, the Eighth Circle tended to handle these matters internally. Any hint of scandal would be considered bad for business.
Overcome with the heady sense of success, Verity waved her hand to attract the attention of the waitress who was wiping down a nearby table, and ordered a glass of fizzy wine. Well, she was celebrating, she told herself, as the girl raised an eyebrow in surprise at the unusual order.
Before Verity could apologise she’d already vanished behind the bar to find a bottle of something that might pass for prosecco. Fidgeting for a moment, Verity gathered up some of the empty glasses from other tables and returned them to the counter. She knew she would be gently shooed back to her seat, but other people serving her was something she was still struggling to get used to.
As she waited for her drink to arrive, Verity studied her appearance in the floor to ceiling window. The dye in her hair was starting to bleach back to blonde - she’d need to redo that. She gave a murmur of thanks as the waitress set the champagne flute on a paper napkin in front of her. Waiting until the girl had turned away, Verity raised the glass to her reflection and whispered a quiet toast.
“Here’s to you mum - we finally got the bastards - We won!”
She set the glass down and stared out at the beach and sea beyond.
Funny really, she’d thought winning would feel different?
But the words, like the fake champagne, tasted strangely flat.
Later that evening, the bar manager held the door for her himself as she left, his farewell, effusive and genuine. All the staff here were friendly and attentive. Not really surprising, Verity was instinctively appreciative of good service and always over tipped.
She looked down at the newspaper, carefully folded, but still clenched in her fist. Giving herself a quick shake, she stuffed it into a nearby bin. It was already yesterday’s news and represented the past she was trying to leave behind.
Slipping off her shoes she wandered barefoot along the pristine white sand. She’d arrived in this tiny Goan community almost four months ago and had immediately been seduced by its remote nature, tucked away between high cliffs and almost hidden by dense vegetation.
The distant growl of a motorcycle briefly broke the silence and she paused, tilting her head to listen, and then it faded back into silence and she nodded to herself. The fact that the only way in or out of the village was via a narrow, dirt packed road meant there was little passing traffic and, out of season, very few visitors. So, she had the beach to herself as the sun began its descent.
Dropping her shoes and bag, she sank onto the sun-warmed sand and wrapped her arms around her knees. This was her favourite time of day, staring out to where the lagoon met the Arabian Sea and watching the clear blue water turn molten gold as the sun slipped beneath its surface.
But today it wasn’t bringing the sense of calm that usually accompanied the gentle segue from day to night. She’d told herself that Mickey’s sentencing would give her the closure she needed. That everything would feel different once that happened. But seeing it in black and white hadn’t brought the sense of completion she’d been hoping for. Despite that fact she still felt….
Verity sighed and fell back against the soft sand, one arm thrown over her eyes.
Damn it, she was sooo bored.
Here in paradise, with nothing to do but soak up the rays and spend the money she’d stolen, Verity was honest enough to admit she was so bored she could scream.
She missed London: the noise, the smell, the constant bustle and throb of people clawing their way through life. A smile curved her lips, she missed those people: the noisy neighbours screaming at each other late into the night and the thin-lipped, early-morning strangers, buttoned up against the world with their thoughts already focused on the workday waiting for them.
Slowly the sky above her darkened, descending the scale of blues until it was almost purple. She missed the constant light haze that surrounded the city, the sulphurous glow from the streetlights and the flicker of broken neon reflecting off oily puddles. She missed last orders and sticky tables and greasy all night takeaways. She missed–
The sound of the motorbike returned, diverting her train of thought. It was closer now and Verity sat up, her eyes fixed on the final bend in the track. Her breath caught as she waited for the rider to appear…
But no one did, the noise fading once again as the vehicle turned off the narrow track and headed into the jungle surrounding the village.
Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled with a rush. She frowned at her reaction. When she’d first arrived, she spent weeks jumping at the slightest sound and diving into the undergrowth every time a vehicle passed too close. But that had slowly faded, the quiet harmony of village life dulling her fight or flight reactions. Or so she’d thought? Had the news from home brought her old fears with it?
Her frown deepened. No, this wasn’t relief she was feeling as the danger passed… that she would recognise…this felt different… this felt like….disappointment!? Her eyes widened with horror.
She’d been hoping it was him!
She dug her fingers into the sand and wrestled with that thought. She just wanted to know he was still alive, she told herself firmly. Despite the catalogue of atrocities still burned vividly into her memory, she didn’t want him dead. She’d never wanted him dead. Even as she’d set fire to the life he’d built, secretly she’d hoped that she’d left him enough time to escape the flames.
She stared at her sand-covered fingers and winced; even that internal admission didn’t ring quite true. It was more than that. Forcing herself to face the truth she wrapped her arms around her shins and buried her face against her knees. She didn’t just miss London, she missed him .
The arrogant, insufferable prick.
With a groan she dragged herself to her feet and collected her belongings. What the hell was wrong with her???
Silently picking her way through the halflight, she made her way to the beach hut she was renting. A board creaked at the end of the veranda as she reached for her keys and Verity paused, eyes narrowed as she listened for the faintest sound. But there was nothing but the soft rush and pull of the ocean against the sand.
She gave it another second and then slid the key into the lock. It was probably just one of the local cats prowling its territory in the moonlight and hoping for scraps.
She made the mistake when she first arrived of sharing her dinner with the first feline who came to investigate the new interloper and since then she’d been adopted by the entire extended clan. Her frown returned. Normally, at least one would be welcoming her home and winding round her ankles, hoping for a treat. Where were they?
She barely had the chance to finish that thought before a hand slammed between her shoulder blades, forcing the air from her lungs and robbing her of the ability to even cry out in shock. The next second she was thrown hard against the wall and a broad shoulder crushed the side of her face into the rough wooden boards. She couldn’t even move her head, but she didn’t need to turn to know exactly who it was. That familiar scent washed over her and she felt her heart race as her nervous system instinctively responded.
It was him! He was alive! He was here! She winced as his grip tightened, digging into her flesh. And boy was he pissed! She’d glossed over that little detail when she’d fantasised about their reunion.
“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Cross said, his tone making it plain that the question mark appended to the sentence was merely a formality. “We don’t want any of your new friends to grow concerned and feel the need to check on you.”
Realising that the only way she was going to be allowed to take her next breath, would be to open the door, Verity fumbled with the handle and half stumbled, half fell through the gap into the darkened interior.
Regaining her balance she backed away from the fury she could feel pouring from him. “How did you find me?” she asked. The defensive note in her voice, sharpened by her earlier internal admission that this was what she’d been hoping for all along.
He gave a low chuckle as he moved towards her. “Oh, you made that far too easy.”
Out of space to retreat, Verity pressed up against the wall and her mouth dried as he loomed over her. The moonlight from the windows caught the sharp line of his cheekbone, painting deep shadows beneath.
“At first I thought it must be a false trail, but no, when I sent someone to check… there you were.” He ran a finger down her face. “Perhaps you wanted me to find you?”
Verity shook her head. “I don’t understand, I was careful.”
“Not careful enough.” He took a step back, his eyes never leaving her face. “Did it never occur to you to wonder how I knew you’d stolen that watch in the first place, and how I knew to be waiting for you outside the club, hours later?”
He lifted her wrist and Verity stared at the offending item; an incongruous and flashy accessory to the simple sundress she was wearing
“We wanted to know who his contacts were,” Cross continued, tilting her hand until the watch face caught the faint light, “but he’d been very careful to cover his tracks. So we presented him with a gift. A very expensive gift containing a state of the art GPS tracker. We needed to know where he was going and who he was meeting.” He gave a rueful smile and shook his head. “Imagine my surprise when I watched him leave for the night, while the device I’d so thoughtfully provided, remained stubbornly within the main bar.”
Verity swallowed hard. “So you were waiting to see who left with it?”
“Precisely.”
She nodded silently. She always assumed that any gift from Cross would come with strings attached. At least a dozen times she’d argued with herself, knowing that the safest thing to do would be to stuff it into a bin, or fling it into the ocean. But she’d kept it anyway, despite her better judgement.
Maybe she wanted that thread of connection as much as he did.
Stepping away, he swiftly drew the curtains before switching on the lights and Verity eyes widened. This was a version of Cross she’d not encountered before. Once black jeans, worn into comfortable creases, were topped by a dark grey t-shirt and a battered, brown leather jacket. The stubble on his jaw showed at least a couple of days' growth and his hair had grown out of its usual immaculate styling, curling over his collar.
He moved differently too, she realised. That rigid control now flexing into a predator's grace as he stalked the perimeter of the room, checking each window carefully. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed again, trying to ignore the flood of heat rapidly heading south.
Not taking her eyes off him she felt for a chair and carefully lowered herself onto the seat. Not really sure what she wanted, she gestured to the door. “You should leave. The people here look out for me, if they think I’m in danger they might–”
“Might what?” he asked, suddenly spinning around to face her. “But don’t worry, I won’t be staying long enough for anyone to notice.” He paused in his security sweep to give her a wolfish grin. “And willingly or not, you’re coming with me.”
Something in his arrogant, assumptive tone ignited her natural obstinacy and she raised her chin. “I don’t have to do what you say, you're not my boss anymore.”
Cross rolled his eyes. “Let’s not pretend you ever did what I said even then. But now… now I think you might be more amenable.”
Mouth flattening into a hard line Verity folded her arms. “And what makes you think that?”
“Sentiment.”
“Sentiment? Towards you?” She laughed out loud at that suggestion. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“Not for me, but for the bonds of family that you insist on tying to yourself.”
Verity shook her head sharply as the laughter faded. “You might have missed the latest news flash, but what’s left of ‘my family’ will be spending the rest of his life at His Majesty's pleasure.”
Cross snorted. “I’m not talking about the blood you were born into. I don’t think you’ve considered Mickey kin for decades. I mean your found family. The bond you wove for yourself.”
An icy chill trickled down her spine. “What are you talking about?”
The smile that curved his lips was vicious. “Before I left, I had the chance to do a little digging. Imagine my surprise to see another familiar name pop up when I checked which of my staff had grown up in foster care.” The smile turned a little wry. “I’d assumed you and Chris were lovers, it never occurred to me that the connection might go decades deeper than that. My mistake.”
She leapt to her feet. “If you’ve hurt Chris, I’ll–”
Cross waved away the empty threat.
“Your brother is fine,” he paused before adding, “for now. It took me a while to find him. He did a much better job than you of disappearing. But thankfully, I still had a few favours I could call in when necessary. It cost me more than I’d like, but I finally tracked him down.”
Verity edged towards the small kitchen area, wondering if he was so caught up recounting tales of his own cleverness that she’d be able to reach a knife before he–
Cross whipped around, faster than she could react, grabbed her searching fingers and twisted her arm up behind her back. Shoving her hard into the counter he leaned closer and tutted softly.
“It’s rude not to listen when someone is talking to you,” he murmured softly.
He jerked her arm a little harder and Verity gritted her teeth against the whimper she could feel rising in her throat. His scent filled her head. That same scent she’d been dreaming about for months only less crisp, the sharp spice and floral notes layered beneath the accumulation of his recent travels, the lingering hints of dust, salt spray and exhaust fumes. Lost in the intoxicating mix she was surprised to realise he’d stopped talking, clearly waiting for her response.
“What have you done to him?”
He gave a low chuckle. “Don’t worry, he’s quite safe. I felt it wise to get him out of the country.”
“Why?”
“Because if I could find him then so could other elements of the Eighth Circle.”
“The club? Why would they be interested in Chris?”
“They’re not, but they do remain very interested in you. Or at least, one of them does. Valentina.” Finally he released the pressure on her arm and stepped back.
Verity turned slowly, rubbing her wrenched shoulder and watching him with wary eyes. “Valentina? She’s still alive?” she whispered, “and… and she knows?”
“Oh she’s very much alive and unlike me, she has retained her position within the Eighth Circle. Although, last I heard, she was no longer satisfied with the role of club owner and has her sights firmly set on a seat on the board. With the access to information she now has, I think it’s safe to assume she managed to put the pieces together.” He shook his head. “You really shouldn’t under-estimate her, she’s been playing the game since before you were born.”
Something he’d said struck a discordant note to Verity and her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “But if you’ve lost your role and your access, how do you know all this?”
Cross gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh I still have a few sources. People who are loyal to me. Although I have felt it wise to keep my distance. The board is extremely unhappy with my actions and apparently there is a fairly sizable bounty on my head.” His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. “Which is why I’m here.”
The cold look in his eyes dried her mouth and Verity had to swallow hard before she managed to ask, “What do you want? The money?”
“Oh I think we’re a long way past you being able to buy your absolution with money or apologies.”
“What then?”
Crossed leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of her and caging her back against the wall.
“I want your help,” he said, his voice little more than a rough rasp.
“Help with what?”
He broke away without answering, one finger raised as he listened. But the world around them was silent.
“We don’t have much time, there’s a good chance I was followed. Pack your stuff, grab only what you can carry. We can replace–” He broke off as Verity reached under the bed and pulled out her duffle, already packed and laced closed.
He stared at her in silence for a moment.
Verity glanced down at the bag and then returned his gaze with a light shrug. “Well, I knew as soon as I found this little slice of paradise that it would only be a matter of time before you arrived to fuck things up for me. So I thought it best to be prepared.”
Enjoying having him on the back foot for once, she crossed the small space, went up on her toes and pressed a kiss into the stubble of his jawline. “You can let Chris go. You don’t need him and he has nothing to do with this. Like I said before, if it’s about Valentina, then I’m in. If she’s still a player, then I’m still in the game.”
His hands wrapped around her shoulders and he pushed her away, a sneer spoiling the perfect line of his lip. “Whilst I don’t doubt your motivation, I don’t trust you, so I think I’ll keep my collateral, thank you.”
Verity shrugged awkwardly in his grip. “I don’t trust you either, but that’s never stopped us before.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then a slight grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. “Admit it. You hate it here, don’t you? Little slice of paradise, my arse! This is your idea of hell!”
Verity fumbled for a lie but nothing came to her. In the end she raised her hands in defeat. “It’s just so dull here, you wouldn’t believe it. There is literally nothing to do, apart from watch time pass. Last week I was so bored I was tempted to stab someone - anyone - myself even - just for the adrenaline hit.”
His hands softened on her arms, fingers stroking the bare skin as he pulled her a little closer. “You miss it. All the lies and the games, the cheating and the back-stabbing.”
Verity reached up and wound an arm around his neck. “Maybe that was part of the attraction?” she admitted, leaving the rest unsaid.
Cross seemed to be fighting some violent, internal battle and she watched the muscle twitch in his cheek as his higher reasoning warred with his baser instincts.
Victory suddenly declared, he grabbed her arse, pulling her hips against his and walking her firmly backwards towards the bed. Verity felt a dizzying wave of lust crash over her and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“How long have we got?” she asked as he tumbled her backwards onto the mattress.
“Long enough.” His familiar weight settling into the soft vee between her thighs, “I was assuming you’d need more time to pack.”
Verity groaned and arched back against the sheet as she felt the hard length of his obvious arousal pressing against her core. Desperately clinging to the last shreds of rational thought she heard herself ask, “And then what? What’s the plan?”
Hearing the question, she almost laughed out loud. Like it mattered. She’d already cast her lot and it was too late to start haggling over what was left of her immortal soul. She knew with sinking certainty that she would go anywhere, do anything – be anyone – with this infuriating man.
The rough stubble of his jaw scratched up her throat as he inhaled against her skin. The words he growled directly into her ear weren’t a demand, an order, or a threat. They were a promise.
“And then we’re going to burn them down.”
Verity tightened her legs around his hips and a warm shiver of liquid excitement flooded her system. Now that sounded like a lot more fun!