Blood Sport (11 page)

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Authors: J.D. Nixon

BOOK: Blood Sport
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I plonked back down on the bed again. “I don’t want to be here anymore. And I don’t want to be on
this
thing anymore.” I shook the trolley. “I need a shower and clean clothes, Sarge.
Please!
I can’t stay in these pyjamas one second longer. They’re disgusting.”

He strode out of the room and I laid back on the bed, trusting him to sort things out for me. I thought again that I’d grown much too used to him being around. The Super was right. He was, not too possessive as she thought, but too protective. It was making me lazy and soft. I would soon be dependent on him, but one day he wouldn’t be there in Little Town for me. He had a city-loving fiancee and he had ambitions to rise in the ranks. And neither of those was compatible with life in a small country town. I’d been angry when he arrived because he was so stiff and unfriendly, and now I’d be angry with him when he left because I’d feel like he deserted me. The poor guy couldn’t win.

A few minutes after he left, a nurse came rushing into the room and disconnected me from the IV without any comment or eye contact.

“Am I all right without being hooked up?” I asked with concern, looking down at my arm.

“Who knows? I’m just trying to get rid of that cop at the desk. He’s a frigging pest.” She glanced at me anxiously. “Oh shit. Is he your husband?”

I laughed. “No. He’s my boss.”

She relaxed. “Thank God. Who cares about
them
, huh? Bunch of arseholes, mostly.”

I laughed again. “I only want to have a shower and change out of these bloodstained clothes, then I’m happy to be hooked up again.”

“You poor girl. Who left you in those horrible clothes anyway? Bloody night staff! Too lazy to do anything properly.”

She unhooked me and I took a slow, hot shower. All of Red Bycraft washed away from me and down the drain. I scrubbed myself and washed my hair a second time, just to be sure. Afterwards I brushed my teeth, flossed and gargled, twice. I knew it was a psychological response, but I needed to get rid of every possible trace of Red on my body. Dressed in a fresh tracksuit, lying back in bed, sparkly clean, I submitted to being hooked back up to the IV again.

“Is there any chance of food?” I asked the nurse, full of hope.

“Kitchen’s closed till lunchtime now and I’m not asking the manager for any special favours. She’s temperamental and she has a drawer full of sharp knives.”

“But I’m starving,” I complained.

“Sorry. You’ll have to wait for lunch,” she shrugged, before leaving. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, ready to go to the cafe to get myself some food. I hadn’t eaten much lately and had thrown up most of what I had eaten. I needed food and I needed it fast. But I didn’t even have any money on me, I realised with a groan. I’d been out jogging when this whole mess had started in the first place.

The Sarge burst back into the room. “What are you doing? Get back in bed. What do you need?”

“Food,” I said piteously. “Lots of food. And fast.

He sighed patiently. “What do you want to eat?”

“Tuna salad on wholemeal with an apple and an orange juice,” I said, trying reverse psychology on him. I really wanted a bacon and egg sandwich and a couple of hashbrowns.

He laughed. “I’ll see what I can rustle up,” he threatened and headed off.

I leaned over to grab my phone and spent the next five minutes assuring Dad yet again that Red hadn’t killed me and hopefully I would see him later in the day. He told me that the roof in the kitchen was leaking badly with all the rain we were having. I sighed heavily. I had no money to repair it. Our house was nothing but a money trap. It seemed that every cent I earned ended up being sucked into the black hole of property maintenance on a hundred-something-year-old timber home. I’d wanted to save for a rainy day, but that rainy day had arrived and I didn’t have five cents in my bank account to fix the leaky roof.

“I’ll see what I can do about it when I get home, Dad. Is it really that bad? Maybe you should stay with Adele?”

Dad’s long-time girlfriend, Adele, worked at the local supermarket and was a warm and loving woman. They’d been a couple for about ten years and Dad would have married her in a blink, I was sure. But after my mother was murdered by Bobby Bycraft when I was young, he’d made a promise to himself that he would never put another woman in that kind of danger again by making her his wife. I wasn’t the only Fuller woman who’d suffered from dangerously obsessive Bycraft attention.

We rang off and I laid back on the bed, moping about the roof. Maybe Jake could help me fix it – he was a competent handyman.

A sudden commotion in the hallway made me sit up in alarm.

“Tess?” asked one of the two very capable officers who’d replaced Sarah and Jack, poking his head around the door. “There’s a man here saying he’s Jake Bycraft. We’ve searched him and I’ve checked his driver’s licence, but can you come and verify?”

My heart pounded – surely Red wouldn’t try it on again? Not so blatantly? He was a risk-taking narcissist though and this would appeal to his warped sense of humour. Pushing my IV trolley to the door, I cautiously peered around. The two cops had their guns out covering Jake, who stood with a sullen, resentful expression on his face.

“It’s okay, guys. It really is Jake,” I assured them and held out my hand to him. He took it, kissed it gently, glared at the two cops as they reholstered their weapons and followed me back into the room.

He was fuming. I patted his arm and settled back onto the bed. He sat on the bed next to me and leaned over to kiss me properly.

“Don’t be angry, Jakey,” I soothed, caressing his cheek. “They were only doing their job. The last two cops received such a reaming from the Super that everyone’s going to be ultra-careful from now on.”

“That arsehole on the left
knows
me, Tessie. We’ve been to parties at his house.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said and leaned up to kiss him again, taking his mind off the indignation of having to prove his identity to people who already knew him.

“I came as soon as I could, baby doll,” he said, stroking my hair and calming down. “You look so pale.”

“I’ve lost some blood. That’s what this,” and I shook the IV, “is for, I guess.”

“Will you be okay?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t seen a doctor yet. I don’t feel like I’m going to die or anything. But I’m just so tired of it all, Jakey.”

He squeezed my hand, but didn’t know what to say. And what could anyone say to me in these circumstances? What could a Bycraft say? It was my fate in life to be tormented by the Bycraft family and there was nothing anyone could do to help me, particularly Jake. He hugged me tightly and we stayed like that until the Sarge came back in the room, carrying a tray.

“Jake,” he acknowledged in an unfriendly voice.

“Finn,” Jake matched him for frostiness.

The Sarge set up the table for me again and deposited the tray, whipping the lid off the plate. He had brought me back a poached egg on toast with grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, as well as an orange juice and a coffee. He’d brought himself back a coffee as well.

“Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum!” I enthused and tucked in. As I ate I told the men what had happened to me the previous night, including Red’s alarming plan for ridding himself of his obsession with me. I didn’t spare them the details of what I’d done and said, but it didn’t go down well with either of them.

Jake jumped off the bed and prowled around the room angrily. “
Goddamit!
” He punched out at the wall in fury.

I stopped chewing and watched him silently.

The Sarge swore under his breath and his lips compressed until they were colourless, his fists clenching in anger.

I put down my fork and switched my eyes to him.

Jake stopped prowling and stood over me, his nostrils flaring in fury. “How far would you have gone with Red?”

I blinked up at him, hugely upset, pushing the food away, my appetite now dead. I turned my head away from him and looked out of the window.

“How far, Tess?” he persisted fiercely, shaking my shoulder with an ungentle squeeze. I refused to look at him or to answer him. “Would you have gone all the way with him?”

“Back off, Bycraft!” snapped the Sarge, jumping to his feet. “For God’s sake, she’s just been through two very traumatic experiences and that’s all you care about? Sort out your priorities, mate.”

Jake turned on him. “Why don’t you just fuck off for once and give me some private time with Tessie? Go ring your pretend fiancee, you sad bastard, and let me talk to my very real girlfriend without you hanging around all the time.”

The Sarge’s icy glance in response would have frozen a waterfall. Jake had gone way too far with that nasty crack.

“Tess?” the Sarge barked at me.

I looked over to him, apologetic for Jake’s behaviour. “Do you mind giving Jake and me a chance to talk please, Sarge?”

He flicked his eyes between the both of us and my half-eaten meal, before spinning around and striding out, slamming the door again.

“Tessie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t mean to say that,” Jake said immediately, sitting on the bed next to me, stroking my hair with his hand. “I’m not angry at you, please believe me, baby doll. I know you’ve been to hell and back. I’m angry with Red, but . . . he’s my
brother
. I love you, Tessie, but I love my family too.” He stood up and paced around the room. “I just can’t handle all this shit! Do you know what it’s like being interrogated by Fiona? I almost confessed to attacking you myself just to get her to leave me alone.” He sat next to me again and started twisting the bed cover into knots. “She made me feel that it was wrong for us to be together, because I couldn’t be trusted for a second. Because I’m a Bycraft.”

I felt sorry for him, all thoughts of reproving him for his rudeness evaporating. He was a beautiful human being, but he wasn’t good at dealing with negative things. It was becoming increasingly difficult for us to be together with everything that kept happening to me, and I was sure we both realised it. But like him, I couldn’t deal with any of that right now. It would have to remain an uncomfortable discussion for another day. Yet again.

“Jakey, I don’t want to talk anymore. Please stay with me for a while. I’m so tired, but I’m scared too.”

“Of course I will, babe.” He laid next to me on the bed and pulled me up close against him, wrapping his arms around me and throwing one of his legs over mine protectively. Safe in his loving embrace with him telling me that he loved me over and over again and kissing me gently, I fell asleep.

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

 

 

When I woke up, Jake was gone but the Sarge was sitting patiently on the visitor’s chair, flicking through the local paper, the
Wattling Bay Messenger
.

“Where’s Jakey?”

He glanced up at my voice. “He had to leave. He’s on duty this afternoon. He asked me to sit with you till you woke.” The tone of his voice made me think that the two men had come to some kind of rapprochement. Deep down, Jake realised that the Sarge cared just as much for my safety as he did.

“What time is it?”

“Three.”

“Morning? Afternoon?”

He smiled. “Three in the afternoon. Saturday.”

“Oh.” I gathered my thoughts. “I’m going to the Super’s party tonight.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do. I want to party like a twenty-year-old,” I laughed to myself, feeling silly and lightheaded.

“You’re a bit late for that, Tessie,” he smiled.

“I don’t care. I feel really good now. The Super throws great parties. I don’t want to miss one.”

“Tessie –”

“Sarge! Don’t be a killjoy. There’s plenty of time for me to recuperate tomorrow,” I persuaded.

He took out his phone. “I’m going to ring her.”

“She’ll flay you alive. Especially after your last exchange,” I warned.

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Meh.”

He rang, explained and listened to a two minute rant that made his cheeks turn red with either embarrassment or anger. It was hard to tell from his resolutely composed features and compressed lips.

“Yes ma’am, you’re an uncanny judge of character I will admit, but my question remains. Can Tessie come to your party or not? She’s still on the IV.”

He listened again to another rant.

“Okay, but I’m not going to put it exactly as you suggest. Perhaps a little more diplomacy might do the job equally as well?”

Another rant, but there was a distinct laugh at the end. He smiled in response, but didn’t let any emotion into his voice.

“Of course. As you command, ma’am.” He disengaged.

“Well?” I asked, on tenterhooks.

“You can come if, and I stress the
if
, a doctor says you can. But I have to accompany you and watch over you. And I have to see you home safely at a reasonable hour.”

I glared at him, annoyed. “Why don’t we just get married?”

“Why don’t we?”

That made me laugh. “You’re already engaged, remember?”

“Am I? I forget sometimes.”

“Have you heard from Melissa lately?”

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