Taking Him (Lies We Tell) (9 page)

What had she been expecting him to do?

She blinked at her iPad as if that contained all the answers, but of course it remained blank. The screen dark. Opaque. Like Hunter Chase.

She only saw the surface of him, she realised. The mask he showed to the world. But the past couple of times she’d crossed the line, where she’d changed the relationship they had with one another, she’d caught a glimpse of someone else. Someone she didn’t know.

“I thought I knew him,” she said softly, barely even aware she was speaking. “Maybe I don’t.”

“You don’t, trust me. You can’t ever know someone completely.”

But Ellie wanted to. Suddenly she wanted to know everything.

Hunter was conscious of Ellie the moment she stepped into his workshop. But he didn’t look up, kept his attention on the seat he was trying to fit on the Norton. She didn’t say anything right away, only stood there, shifting on her feet as if she was nervous.

“What do you want, sweetness?” he asked when she didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been to visit him in the workshop before. Not that he minded. The workshop was his escape, his way out of the endless thinking traps he tended to fall into if he wasn’t careful.

“Um, I thought I’d let you know I’m home.”

He stared at the bike’s black seat, tightening a few screws. “Did you get my message?” When he’d got home from work and she hadn’t been there, he’d picked up his phone and called her to see where she was. But she hadn’t answered.

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you call me to let me know where you were?”

Another scraping sound of her platform boots on the concrete. “Haven’t we had the conversation about me not being a kid, Hunter?”

“You’re a guest in my home, Ellie. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine. Whatever. I was with Kara, and then I went to a movie and I forgot to check my phone. No big deal.”

Not to her. But to him it had been. He’d always been helpless against the instinctive worry for her, the need to know where she was. Partly because of the trust Vin had placed in him and partly because she was precious. Vulnerable and unprotected. And those who were vulnerable needed protection.

“Flick me a text next time, okay?”

“Sure. And I’ll be sure to do that when I’m in Tokyo too.”

Her sarcasm cut like a knife, but he ignored it. Clearly she was in a confrontational mood again. Jesus, he wished she’d get over whatever it was that was bothering her so much.

The sound of her footsteps came from behind him, the scent of her soft and close, and all his good intentions, the ones where he kept thinking of her in terms of the child she’d once been, went straight out the window.

She felt hot. Wet. And she was trembling. All over. Her pulse racing against the press of his thumb…

No. This shouldn’t be happening. He’d spent all day killing himself on site. Exhausting himself. Working out this need, the thoughts in his head. And he thought he was good. He thought he was fine. Until she came near him and then it all came crashing down. Christ, why couldn’t she stay in the box he’d put her in? Why did she insist on turning herself into someone else?

Her footsteps came around the other side of the bike. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He made some more adjustments to the seat, concentrating on that small task and not on her.

She stayed quiet a moment, and he could feel her watching him. “You’re always making stuff. Building things. Why do you like it so much?”

So he didn’t have to think about anything else. So he had something to concentrate on. Because it put more distance between him and his family. Because it helped him feel like he was moving forward, never back.

“Because I like creating things.” A rote response.

Ellie didn’t seem to pick up on it. She came a little closer, ran a tentative finger over the metal of the handlebars. “I create things too. I create worlds.” A small sigh. “But I suppose they’re more of an escape than anything else. Escapist fantasies.”

Hunter still didn’t look at her, but he was conscious of her all the same. Extremely conscious. He wanted to tell her go away because her presence was distracting. The whole fucking conversation was distracting. Yet he didn’t.

“I mean, take the Dark Shadow game for example,” she went on when he didn’t say anything. “That’s one huge ass-kicking fantasy of mine.” Another pause. “Did you know Dark Shadow was inspired by you?”

A small bolt of surprise went through him. He’d never played it since gaming wasn’t his thing, but he’d watched Vin play it. Had felt proud of Ellie that she’d created something so successful. But he’d never really paid much attention to the game. His pride in her had been an abstract thing, not in any way personal.

Slowly, he looked at her. “Me?”

Her attention had moved to the gas tank, her finger tracing the golden Norton lettering along the side of it. The long fall of her copper-red hair hung over one shoulder in a loose ponytail. She had on her black stove-pipe jeans, a ripped black tank top with another one, a blue one, underneath it. A heavy black leather belt hung around her narrow hips. There were chains on it.

“Yeah, you.” Her lashes flickered, red at the roots where the mascara didn’t reach. “I know Dark Shadow is a chick, but she’s kind of who I imagined myself being if I had your strength. If I was you. A female you, if that makes any sense.”

A strange feeling twisted in his chest. A feeling he couldn’t identify and one that made him intensely uncomfortable. Like the whole of this damn conversation. “I didn’t know that,” he said, not sure what else to say.

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I told you.” Her eyes met his. “In fact, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.” She offered the words like a challenge. A dare.

Did he know her? He thought he did. An odd sense of dislocation slipped through him, as if the room had subtly changed around him and he wasn’t where he thought he was. It was unsettling. “Where are you going with this, Ellie?” he asked, not bothering to keep the impatience out of his tone.

“Nowhere.” She hooked her thumbs into her belt, the chains jangling. “Just saying there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”

You didn’t know she’d beg. You didn’t know she’d tremble. You didn’t know how hot she’d feel. How wet. How hard you’d be for her.

Almost unconsciously he slid one hand into the pocket of his jeans, reaching for the drawing pin. Jabbing the end of it into his finger. He didn’t flinch. Perhaps it wasn’t a drawing pin he needed. Perhaps he needed more ink. To add more feathers to the wings on his back.

“Of course,” he said flatly. “We’re different people.”

She stared at him, unblinking. “Don’t you want to know more? About me, I mean?”

No, he kind of didn’t want to know more. She was Vin’s kid sister and that’s what he wanted her to remain. Knowing more would change things. Make him see her differently.

Hasn’t that already happened?

Hunter looked away from her, back down to the bike standing between them. “I don’t need to, Ellie. I know pretty much everything about you already.”

“Bullshit you do. Did you know I used to nick your cigarettes back when you smoked? That I once won an online gaming tournament at Kara’s café? That I learned karate so I knew the moves for my games? That I went to get my lip pierced when I was seventeen then chickened out?”

No, he didn’t know any of those things. And he didn’t want to either. “We all have stuff that other people don’t know. But that doesn’t mean we have to tell all and sundry about it.”

He’d known that would hurt her. And it did, he could sense it. But fuck, how else could he end this stupid conversation?

She remained silent for a long moment. Then she said softly, “Did you know that I used to wait up whenever you and Vin went out? And then sneak out of my room to watch you when you came back, eavesdrop on your conversations? It was one of those nights I first saw your tattoo. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.”

Where the hell was she going with this? Beautiful. Christ. That’s what people, mainly women, always told him about the wings he’d had inked on his back. But he hadn’t gotten them because he’d wanted beauty. He’d got them so he could be clean. Pure. So the pain would wash away the dirtiness—

Ah, but all that shit was over, wasn’t it? Over years ago.

Yeah, so over you’re using a drawing pin in your hand instead. Fuckwit.

Hunter turned abruptly and went over to his workbench. There were bike parts scattered all over it. Hell, he really needed to clean this place up.

“And did you know,” Ellie went on in the same tone, “that I spent years thinking about what it would feel like to have you touch me? God, I constructed so many fantasies about what would happen. How it would happen. When it would happen. And what you would do and say afterwards.” A brief pause. “The one thing I didn’t imagine was that you’d leave me in pieces and walk away.”

The silence in the workshop was absolute. Because he could think of nothing—nothing whatsoever—to say.

Eventually, he turned round. She was standing with her thumbs still hooked in her belt, her chin slightly tilted, eyes meeting his, such determined honesty in them he couldn’t look away.

In pieces, she’d said. He’d left her in pieces.

“What else did you want from me?” he asked, rougher than he should have.

Her posture stiffened, her jaw tightening. And in her eyes, a flash of pain and anger. “Respect, Hunter. I could have done with a little more respect.”

It felt like she’d slid something sharp beneath his skin. A barb that stuck there, digging in.

This wasn’t a child kicking him in the shins or throwing a tantrum. Not this time. This was a woman. Whom he’d hurt.

Something shifted inside his chest, disorienting him. A feeling that the ground beneath his feet had moved, a crack running through the earth, and he had no idea where to stand.

“Ellie,” he began, not knowing what he wanted to say, only that he had to say something.

But she was already turning away, walking toward the door. “Spare me, Chase.”

“Ellie,” he repeated, yet she didn’t stop, she only walked out of the workshop.

And he knew that somehow, whether he wanted it or not, during the course of the conversation Ellie Fox had taken herself out of the box he’d been keeping her in.

And that this time he didn’t think he could put her back into it.

Ellie went up the stairs, across the veranda and into the house, swearing under her breath. Well, so much for that conversation. Once again she’d been the one to turn herself inside out in an effort to get something from him. And once again, like a mirror, he’d just reflected it back.

What else did you want from me?

Jesus Christ but she hated the way he made it seem like it was her fault. That he’d done nothing but give her what she wanted and that the problem had been with her expectations. It didn’t help either that deep down she knew he was right. She did expect more because of who they were to each other.

And what’s that?

Ellie stormed down the wide, white hallway and went into the study Hunter kept scrupulously neat. Then she threw herself down onto the chrome office chair in front of his very minimalist style desk and stared at the computer screen.

Bugger it. He was the fantasy man she’d constructed and she was still the child he’d looked after. That’s what they were to each other. And she’d reached for the fantasy and got…someone else. Now she was trying to find out who that person was and what had he done? Dismissed her yet again. So what was the freaking point? She didn’t know. She didn’t even know why she was still here.

Her throat went tight as she looked blankly at the screen and the email to her new boss that she’d been working on before she’d left to see Kara that morning.

Perhaps she was crazy to keep thinking she could get what she wanted from him. Perhaps she should pack up her stuff and leave. Not that there was anywhere else for her to go, of course.

She shifted in the chair and tried to get back to her email, desperate for any kind of distraction. But ten minutes later, she still hadn’t typed another word.

Then a movement at the door made her look up. Hunter stood there, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of the faded black jeans he wore.

“What?” she demanded. “Thought of something else patronising to say?”

He didn’t respond to that, merely looked at her, his gaze unreadable. “What do you want, Ellie?”

“I told you what I wanted and you told me no. So actually, I should be the one asking you what you want considering what happened yesterday. Oh and by the way, if you say ‘nothing happened’, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

Again he gave her silence. Waiting motionless, watching her. And it struck her then that she’d never really noticed how quiet and still he so often was. As if observing everything, measuring everything. He seemed so calm on the surface, like a pool of black water. Yet underneath there were currents. Powerful currents.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said at last. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”