Caged (14 page)

“D
ID YOU INFORM THE POLICE
of Dave’s death?” Anderson asked as soon as I opened the door to him and he walked in with his cocky swagger, that invasive stare directed on my eyes so he could see the truth. Anderson relied on his instincts more than most. Watching people’s body language, their expressions and their reactions had been what had kept him alive. All his life he had learned to trust his senses; they had been his only protection in a world where he had nothing but his emotions to rely on. And even now, four years on, he used his talent like it was second nature to him.

“Yes.”

“And?” he asked from inside the utility room, his voice carrying to me as I flicked on the kettle and he started to patch up the broken window.

Red watched me from where she sat on sentry duty, her ears and eyes twitching purposefully. I smiled at her, suddenly thankful for her presence as I sneaked her a digestive biscuit. I swear she winked at me, our little secret just between us.

“And,” I answered, spooning coffee into mugs, “they took him for evidence. But I don’t hold out much hope.”

My gaze moved to the kitchen window and I sighed, remembering how they’d roughly handled my poor Dave, virtually throwing his body into a damn black bin bag.

I could feel Anderson watching me from the utility doorway, my senses as strong as his.

“He’ll be so cold,” I whispered, a shiver travelling through me in sympathy. “He hated the cold. He was a sun god. I used to have to put sunscreen on his bare belly and he’d lay out in the sun for hours on his back, his pink tummy paying homage to the clear skies.”

“He won’t be cold.” Anderson’s voice was soft and close.

I turned around when I felt him behind me. He was tall, his large frame towering over me but I didn’t feel threatened by him - I never had. Even though he exuded danger and violence, somehow I knew he wouldn’t ever hurt me - well, not in an adverse way.

He was so close I could feel each of his breaths rush across my face and see the blue specks sparkle in his hypnotic green eyes.

“Did you stay at Seven Oaks?” I asked quietly, the hope in my heart making the words feel weighted.

For the first time since he had come back into my life, I saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. I didn’t flinch when he lifted his hand and his fingers embraced my throat, his thumb delicately pressing against my pulse. I prayed that he could feel the yearning in the quick pace of my heartbeat.

“You didn’t,” he replied without answering my question as he tightened his grasp on me.

Bracing myself when I saw the importance of my answer deep within his eyes, I exhaled slowly. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

It was almost strange how calm I was. My life was in his hands, in the hands of the deadliest man I had ever met, yet it was as if the very essence of me wanted him to decide whether I lived or died. I didn’t want that responsibility, didn’t want the heavy burden of choices put on me. My mind was tired, my body even more so, and I wanted someone to lift me up and carry me, to take the weight that held me down and free me from it, free me from every painful beat in my heart.

“Why didn’t I stay at Seven Oaks?”

He nodded slowly.

“Because I had to leave.”

His eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze scrutinising me.

“Please tell me you stayed,” I pleaded. “Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

“And what exactly was ‘
it’
?”

The counter top pressed into my back. Anderson’s fingers pressed into my jugular. My heart pressed against my ribcage, and the darkness that forever lived in me pressed against my mind. I knew that once I spoke the truth life would change drastically, that Anderson would seek revenge.

My mouth dried and I shivered at the power I knew I held in my hands right then.

“‘
It’
was… James Miller, my boss.”

Excitement licked at my veins when I saw the mayhem flash in Anderson’s eyes. The low growl that broke from him always provoked the immorality that resided in me and it reared its head, thrilled at the sound of it once again.

Anderson, seeing my reaction to the effect my revelation had had on him, tilted his head to the side. His customary small cruel smirk curled one edge of his sinful lips. “Well, well.” He tickled my pulse with the tip of his thumb. “The darkness dances in your heartbeat, Kloe. I can feel it. The promise of carnage makes your blood sing,” he breathed as he brought his mouth over mine. “Doesn’t it?”

I couldn’t speak so I nodded, nudging my chin forward so my lips brushed over his.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, my touch catching his breath. “Mmm,” he murmured. “I can almost taste the sin that devours you with every one of your breaths. I can smell the longing pouring from you, the desire.” His lips barely touched mine but my heartbeat stormed into dangerous territory. “You want blood, Kloe Grant?”

I nodded, for some reason finding myself incapable of lying to him. “Yes, I want blood. I want to watch his soul drain from him, see life leave him after what he did.”

His cruel smirk nurtured into a lethal grin, the evil that consumed me daily reflected back through the eyes of the only man who could ever understand me. However, he laughed and abruptly moved back, leaving me reeling and trying to catch up with the frantic thud of my heart.

“Pack a bag.” Once again, he was cold and detached and I had to shake my head to distinguish my thoughts and keep up with him.

“Why?”

He kept his back to me as he made sure he’d secured the broken window well enough. “You’re staying at mine while this nutter is… proving difficult.”

“Proving difficult?” My mouth fell open with his choice of words. “He killed my friend and Dave…”

Anderson spun around, his dark, furious eyes homing in on me. “Your friend?”

Looking to the floor when shame overwhelmed me, I nodded. “Yes. Four weeks ago. She was found stabbed to death in my car boot. Luckily the police knew it had nothing to do with me, but…”

Rage flooded his face and he gritted his teeth so hard I thought he might fracture his jaw. “Then you’re definitely coming to stay with me.”

“But I can’t.” I sighed. “Can’t you see that? He’ll come after you too.”

He laughed, the sound making me flinch with the icy tone of it. “Good.”

He was so composed that for a fraction of a second I wondered if he was actually human. He appeared happy that I told him he would become a target, excitement dancing in the blue of his eyes.

“Do as you’re told. Go pack a bag.”

“Yes, boss.” I growled and turned to leave. I knew it was pointless arguing with him, yet if I was honest I was glad someone was finally looking out for me. The police didn’t seem bothered. They were concentrating on Trudy’s murder, but as far as my safety went I’d received no help from them whatsoever. Being alone in my house terrified me but there had been no other alternative. I couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel and the police hadn’t offered any accommodation.

“By the way.” I looked back and stiffened when he stood in the pantry doorway, his brow lifted in accusation as he stared at me. “You need any of this shit?”

Heat burned my cheeks. I wanted to answer yes, every part of me pleading with my mouth to say yes because I did need it, I needed it all. But instead I asked, “Do you have food?”

He simply nodded.

My mouth dried and my hands started to shake. “Then no.” Tears blurred my vision and I took a deep breath to steady the grief taking over my lungs before quickly walking away.

I just had to concentrate on the fact that my pantry was full of food. Anderson wasn’t going to lock me up and starve me. He had food. I would eat. I wouldn’t go hungry. If I needed food, then I could just go back home and eat.

Simple.

A
NDERSON’S HOUSE WAS NOTHING LIKE
I’d expected. I wasn’t really sure what I had expected really, but it proved to be rather cosy and clean. The layout of the house seemed a little haphazard and spread over three floors – including a basement that was out of bounds according to Anderson. Furniture was sparse and plain yet it appeared to be new and expensive. Each room was painted in the same muted and soft tone, the cream carpet identical throughout the whole house, but various paintings adorned the high walls and a variety of colourful rugs broke up the uniformity.

Anderson gave me a quick tour which ended in a snug but pleasant bedroom.

“This is you,” he stated, walking over to the curtains and pulling them closed. “Get some sleep. It’s still early and I have to go out. Red will stay with you but no one will hurt you here.”

He didn’t say any more and I nodded, apparently to myself when he walked out and closed the door quietly behind him. I stood soaking up the guest room. I was actually surprised he had a guest room. For some reason I hadn’t considered Anderson might have guests stay over, although I had no idea where that thought had come from.

Red curled up on the soft rug that lay beside the bed, a deep sigh resonating from her as she closed her eyes.

Feeling a little lost, I pulled some pyjamas from my bag and quickly changed, my eyes fixed on the door just in case Anderson decided to suddenly walk in. However, when I slid open a window to refresh the stale air in the room, Anderson tore out of the long driveway on a motorbike I hadn’t seen when I had pulled the car into his garage.

Nerves trickled in, anxiousness at being alone in a strange house not helping the uneasy feeling that was constantly on my mind due to the fact that some strange fuck wanted me dead.

Sighing when exhaustion started to set in, I sat on the bed and rubbed my tired eyes. So much had happened in the past few months and to be honest, now that Anderson had barged back into my life, I couldn’t see it getting any less turbulent. Although I was glad to have someone watching my back, I couldn’t help but feel things were about to become a whole lot worse.

It was dark when I woke from the nightmare that constantly haunted my nights. Disorientated and panicky, I shot upright, my hand pressed to my ribcage to calm the frenzy in my chest. The clock told me it was just after 2am although it felt like I had slept for hours.

Red sat upright, her head tilted to the side and her eyes fixed to me when I flicked on the bedside lamp. Sweat poured from my head and my hands shook as my belly rumbled in sympathy with my dream.

“Food,” I choked out as I grabbed some paper and a pen from my bag and quickly made my way downstairs, my feet stumbling in my rush to find Anderson’s stash.

His kitchen was small but modern, many brand new appliances sparkling from the thin strip of moonlight that streamed through the window. I spun around, hunting for a food cupboard, and after trying several and failing to find any food whatsoever, I started to panic. My lip was being gnawed under my teeth and my eyes darted everywhere as I rushed through a door into a tiny utility room. Another door at the back made my heart gallop and I pulled it open.

“Oh, thank God,” I wheezed, refuelling my lungs now I could take a breath. Yanking on the pull cord by the side of the door, the light bulb over my head provided a faint but sufficient light.