Unbound (The Braille Club #2) (25 page)

Chapter 48

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The theme is a celebration of all things American. The food, the music, and the table decorations will be a reflection of the fifty states. The table names range from The Big Apple to California Dreams.

London 2014

Ford

Ford waited, trying to speak with Esme but she ignored him and left with Niven and Siena. Disappointed but not surprised, he realised he would be better off at home than wasting the day here. He arranged for a cab at reception and was relieved when he finally got home. Stripping off his crumpled suit, shirt, and underwear, he stepped under the shower for the second time that day. He changed into shorts and cotton t-shirt, feeling slightly better.

After an hour of half-heartedly looking through his emails, he admitted defeat and crawled into bed. He was asleep in minutes, his dreams filled with an Esme that was just out of his reach. The more he tried to get to her, the further away she appeared. He awakened agitated several hours later from a particularly vivid dream where on finally reaching Esme, he’d let her slip through his fingers.

***

Esme

Esme wondered what she would do for the rest of the day and decided to indulge herself in the spa. She called, not expecting to get an appointment but was told that they could squeeze her in. Delighted, she spent the next few hours desperately trying to relax without any success. All she could think about was Ford and the way he made her feel. However, he obviously had doubts; why did nothing ever work out for her? She didn’t like to think about her past relationships but the common denominator was they had ended in failure. Christ, she had failed with Ford before they even got together, a new low even for her.

With a heavy heart she left Harrison’s and reluctantly headed home. As she opened the door, memories of staggering through them last night with Ford assailed her and she felt a twitch of a smile. She’d been so angry with him but could see the funny side now. They must have looked hilarious. The flat was in chaos, remnants of his presence everywhere. She looked at her rumpled bed, then at the shower room where Ford had slung the towel over the radiator. God, how could one man create so much mess? She was tired, having barely slept a wink last night. The massage had made her feel even sleepier. Not bothering to strip the bed, she slipped under the covers. She could smell his aftershave on her pillows as sleep crept over her.

The loud and repeated buzzing of her intercom woke her. Disorientated for a second, she couldn’t think where the noise was coming from, and then she heard it again. She stumbled along the hallway and gazed at the image of Ford in her intercom monitor. Her heart thudded as his eyes stared directly at her—she buzzed him in. She waited nervously at the front door, opening it when she heard his soft rap. They stared at each other.

Then she was in his arms and he was raining kisses on her head and her face.

“I’m sorry, Esme, so sorry,” he whispered in between kisses. “I’m such an idiot. I can’t really remember much but I obviously offended you. Can you forgive me?”

“You were totally smashed,” Esme replied.

“My knight in shining armour. How did you get me up here?” said Ford, smiling.

“With difficulty…and help from the driver. To be honest, I think he was more afraid of me than you. I was in a bastard of a mood.”

Ford winced. “Glad I was unconscious then,” he quipped. “You’re such a darling when you’re angry.”

She punched him playfully in the arm. “How did you know my address?

“I got it from Guy,” said Ford sheepishly.

“Do you want a drink?”

Ford winced again. “Just a coffee,” he replied.

“Lightweight,” she retorted, pouring herself a glass of wine and clicking on the kettle.

“Okay, I’ll have some wine,” said Ford uncertainly.

“That’s more like it,” said Esme, fetching another glass and filling it to the brim.

They settled in the lounge and Ford looked around. Every available piece of wall was covered in drawings. He stood up and studied them with interest.

“Esme, these are incredible. You have been busy,” he said admiringly, moving from one drawing to the next.

Esme didn’t comment but looked pleased.

“You’ll need to show these to Guy and Benedict,” he said excitedly. “I like the idea of the chairs moving into the zone.”

Esme got up and brought through the bottle of wine. Ford sat down and she topped up both their glasses then padded back to the kitchen. When she returned, Ford was staring at her intently and she moved to stand in front of him. A shiver went through her as he reached out and pulled her down. In one movement she straddled him, her eyes never leaving his face. She felt his hand on her breast and moaned despite herself. His light caress sent further shivers down her spine and then they kissed. It was slow, sensuous, and powerful. Esme suddenly felt weak as she slowly succumbed to Ford with her body and her mind. It felt so right, she wanted him desperately. His mouth travelled down her neck with the lightest of kisses and she sighed with pleasure. This was how it was supposed to feel, not like before with the others. She shivered again, the memory not a pleasant one.

“Esme, do you want me?” Ford asked.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “I think it’s always been you…” she said quietly.

Ford’s eyes shone. “Finally.” He smiled.

“Aye, you’re an acquired taste,” she retorted, her voice feisty with emotion.

Ford laughed and kissed her hard. He kissed her like his life depended on it and she kissed him back just as hungrily. They toppled onto the sofa as their passion increased. Ford pulled away and Esme moaned in disappointment. He was panting, his eyes dazed but his voice clear and firm.

“I want to marry you, Esme MacDonald; I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Esme stared at Ford, completely lost for words, her heart beating wildly, cornered but euphoric, frightened but…in love.

“Can I think about it?” she stalled.

“Nope,” he replied, crossing his arms and scowling.

Esme thought he looked sexy as hell when angry. “You did make my bell ring, I know you’ve got potential.”

She smiled as she pulled her t-shirt off. Ford didn’t move, his gaze intense, the tension between them dense with emotion, desire, and the question that hung in the air. She stepped out of her pj bottoms and kicked them away. There were little beads of sweat on Ford’s face as she removed her underwear and moved closer. His handsome face was strained, a face she realised she loved, perhaps always had.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, knowing it was the only answer he would settle for. Everything felt surreal. She had never thought of herself as a wife, the idea completely alien to her. His arms were suddenly around her, his lips on hers and she was alive with sensation, swaying on her feet, and then he carried her to the bedroom. She tore at his clothes and they fell onto the bed, a tangle of arms and legs; his mouth on her skin, his hands on her body, driving her out of her mind.

“Are you sure, Esme?” asked Ford.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied.

Their answer to one another was simple as they became one, their passion furious and all consuming.

Esme, her body sated at last, was a little dazed. Their lovemaking had been a revelation for her. Ford had unlocked her heart, he’d held the key all along. How could she have been so stupid?

“I feel my life is about to change forever,” she told him, her voice uncertain.

“Me too.” He grinned impishly, making Esme laugh. “First thing, get those drawings to Guy. You can consult for the next couple of months. My fees are expensive but I know it’s talent they want. You can charge a reasonable rate, maybe not as much as me…” Ford lost his train of thought as Esme’s hand wandered down his body.

“For your information, I have already secured a contract with Benedict, given in my notice, and set up my own company, all by myself,” said Esme. Her hand gave a little squeeze.

Ford groaned but couldn’t keep the look of surprise off his face.

“You see, I hold the patent applications for my designs, which I’ve agreed to sell, the price offered mutually acceptable,” she murmured, kissing his body.

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” said Ford, frowning, thinking of the Braille Key.

“Well, it’s a good job one of us did.” Esme smirked.

“How? When?” said Ford, moving to sit up.

“Right from the beginning, Ford, I knew what we were developing was special. I agreed with Guy that everything we designed we would patent and sell to the Braille Club at a fair price, including all your work.”

Ford was quiet. “You clever, clever girl. This day just gets better and better.”

“Yes, you can thank me properly now,” said Esme, her hand reaching up and pulling him towards her.

Chapter 49

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: Every member invited has confirmed attendance. Guy looks bemused; it will be the biggest security operation his staff has encountered. Training and technology are everything. They must blend in effortlessly with the guests but at a Masked Ball that shouldn’t be difficult.

London 2014

Niven

Niven sat down. She had no plans for the rest of the day. Her mind was in turmoil as she ordered another coffee. Her birth mother letter had kept her awake last night. She wasn’t working today, thank God, because a sleepless night was never a good look for anyone, let alone a model. She felt safe when she was inside Harrison’s but remembered the incident outside; someone had taken her picture…someone was watching her, she was sure of it. She fingered her pendant and talisman as the old fear crept up and surrounded her like a dark cloak.

Her mobile buzzed and she saw it was a text from Siena asking when she and Esme were free for lunch. She sent a text saying she would check her diary and let her know as soon as possible. It was the third nice thing to happen to her. They said bad luck came in threes—did that apply to good luck as well?

She noticed the handsome guy sitting nearby. Their eyes met for a second and she smiled. He smiled back and she blushed as her stomach fluttered. That had never happened to her before. Ford had been charming and good-looking, she’d liked him instantly, but this seemed different. She stole another glance and found him looking straight at her. There was something open and friendly about his face that put her at ease. He looked like he worked out too. His suit emphasised his toned body. She looked away, embarrassed, as she realised she was staring at him. Turning her attention to her magazine, she forced herself to read. Her heart was thumping. If she hadn’t felt it do the same last night, she wouldn’t have known it was possible. Thoughts of her Braille session had her body and mind tingling. She could imagine how amazing it would be with someone you desired and cared for, like Siena and Benedict.

She had nothing against Guy; he was lovely, but it had felt awkward with the intimacy involved. Although more relaxed when she discovered it was only the sensory devices that would touch her, it had taken awhile. Wow! What a journey. She had never experienced anything like it. Closing her eyes, she remembered how the sensations had taken her mind and body on a voyage of discovery she wanted to repeat again and again.

She opened them again, disappointed to see the handsome guy was gone. Hearing a voice she recognised, she turned and smiled again. Benedict was deep in conversation with the mystery man and when he saw her, they both walked over and Niven stood up.

“Niven, thank you,” said Benedict cryptically, his eyes opaque and his smile fleeting.

Her cheeks grew hot as she blushed.

Benedict suddenly yelped, his face puzzled until understanding dawned.

“Niven, this is Matt.”

Matt looked at Niven, his smile even wider than before.

“Hi, pleased to meet you, Niven,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Please excuse Ben, he’s rubbish at introductions.”

Niven laughed as Matt gave Benedict a pointed look.

He looked completely unruffled but was smiling. Niven was normally a little intimated by Benedict, but his smile transformed him.

“Are you busy, Niven?” he asked.

“Not really,” she replied.

“That’s such an unusual name,” remarked Matt.

“Yes, my mother’s creation,” said Niven tersely.

“Ah, you don’t like it?” Matt concluded.

“Well, I had little choice but I suppose I’ve gotten used to it,” Niven replied.

Benedict looked at his watch and Matt saw his chance.

“Niven, do you fancy another coffee?” he asked hopefully.

She hesitated, she’d had two already, but found herself nodding.

“Great, why don’t we sit down?” said Matt, looking relieved. He turned to Benedict. “Go to your meeting, I’ll be here; if that’s all right with Niven?”

Caught off guard, she merely shrugged her acceptance.

“It’s my fault,” Matt explained. “I’m early, I forgot Ben said he had a meeting.”

Although Niven had heard Matt say it earlier, it took a moment to process that Ben was in fact Benedict.

“How long have you known each other?” she asked curiously.

“Since uni, but he’s a rubbish friend, he never keeps in touch, so it’s a good job our work keeps us together.” He laughed.

“It’s terrible what they’ve both been through,” said Niven quietly, thinking of Siena.

Matt’s easy smile disappeared, his face changed and twisted into a look of unbearable anguish. “They were so lucky. If Ben and Guy hadn’t found her…” his voice trailed off.

Niven instinctively put her hand over Matt’s as she watched his chest heave for several minutes as he composed himself.

“Sorry, still gets to me,” he apologised, squeezing her hand.

Niven found his touch comforting. Confused, she wondered what was happening to her. She stared at his hand on hers as panic spread through her. Now it was her chest heaving up and down as she sat gasping for breath.

“What’s wrong? Did something upset you?” he asked perceptively.

She stared at him unable to speak as thoughts of Toby consumed her, but it was the warmth of his hand that calmed her.

“No, it’s nothing,” she whispered.

He squeezed her fingers again. The coffee arrived, breaking the spell, and Matt released her hand. She felt bereft and took a sip of coffee as she tried to gather her thoughts. She had revealed more today than she dared to admit to herself. Sensing his stare, she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. Warmth flooded through her and she gave him a wobbly smile. He pulled his chair closer and she leant in. They sat like that for the next hour talking about everything and nothing. Such was their absorption in each other neither of them heard Matt’s phone ring or the passage of time. They ordered more drinks as the lounge filled up all around them.

“Matt!” said Guy. They both turned to find Guy standing beside them.

“Benedict has been calling you, is something wrong?” asked Guy worriedly.

“No…sorry, I didn’t hear my phone,” said Matt, flustered. He dug for his phone in his jacket pocket and dialled.

“Hi, sorry, no everything’s fine. Yes, I’ll come now.”

He turned to Niven. “Can you wait? I’ll only be twenty minutes and we could have lunch if you want?”

Niven dreamily agreed to wait, her mind a pleasant fuzz of warmth. She settled back down on the comfortable couch and stared off into space. She listened to the other models talking about their boyfriends with little interest but now their words came back to her: drop dead gorgeous, dreamboat, eye candy, and hunk.

All these terms described Matt perfectly and now she wished she’d paid more attention. She thought hard, trying to remember what they had said, what they had done. Still deep in thought when Matt returned, she glowed with pleasure as he sat next to her. Lunch passed in a blur of laughter and conversation. They were still there several hours later and ordered drinks from the bar.

***

Toby

Toby was back at his post at the start of a new day, better equipped this time. He could stay as long as necessary. When he saw Niven step out of the cab and enter the building, he’d almost dropped his binoculars. Caught by surprise, he couldn’t believe his luck. Fumbling for the camera, the pictures he’d shot were not his best. Had she received his letter? Had she read it? He wondered why she was back, jealous of anything she paid attention to. He’d not seen Harrison leave yet. In between monitoring the arrivals and departures at Harrison’s, he read about Josef Fritzl, and how he had kept his own daughter imprisoned for twenty-four years.

Toby found the story inspirational until Fritzl had been discovered. One of the children falling sick gave him away. It was food for thought for Toby. He would not make that mistake himself. Birth control was essential; Toby didn’t want to share Niven with anyone, least of all a screaming brat. The idea made him angry, nothing must get in the way, and she was his and his alone. He had condoms…and once she was on the contraception pill, things would be perfect. He would grind the pill down and put it in her water; she would drink it eventually if she wanted to live, and if she didn’t, then she would die slowly, her choice.

He was feeling happy. He might have found the ideal place for Niven; he was seeing it later today. It would mean leaving his surveillance duties but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to find somewhere remote but central and the place he was interested in was a tiny recording studio. It was the sound proofing that interested him the most. It was tucked away at the end of a farm road, a glorified garage but perfect for his purposes. The guy renting it had said he’d converted it for his son who was mad on drumming because the noise was driving him and his wife mad.

His plan was slowly coming together. He had thought about getting ether—his idol Fritzl used that too. If it was good enough for Fritzl it was good enough for him but he realised it was too unstable and opted for chloroform instead. Difficult to acquire but he used his contacts.

He purchased restraints, some masks, a whip, and several other interesting objects that he had read about and was dying to try out; they looked nasty but so much fun. The internet provided so much information. It was staggering how many options he had. He had read many abduction stories, told from both angles, but it was the more unusual that caught his interest. He particularly liked the case where the victim’s tongue had been cut out. No screaming, no talking, and no pleading. There were other cases where feet and hands had been removed. You couldn’t run without feet and you couldn’t fight without hands. Toby mulled it over…he must consider what would work best for him.

He was almost ready to send off the next letter. This would set up a meeting with Niven. Of course, she would never get to her destination. He would see to that, but he needed her away from her flat, and the camera above her door that recorded her comings and goings. He regretted his appearance on the tape. It had been stupid, but he wasn’t identifiable. It could easily be explained away as a prank. He wanted the police to review the film and see nothing amiss. He read all about forensics. The smallest of things could tie you to a crime scene; from the fibres of your clothes to the hairs on your head. He couldn’t risk his DNA being found in Niven’s flat, not with his record—best not to contaminate it in the first place. Toby smiled, feeling relaxed and calm. Distracted by his thoughts of Niven, he didn’t notice the car with Siena, the twins, and her parents leave the underground carpark.

After an hour passed, he looked at his watch and realised it was time to go. He’d invested in a Sat Nav, having gotten lost so many times. Punching in the postcode, he set off; glad of the directions…he’d never have found the place otherwise. Instructed to follow the road until he came to a dead end, he was relieved to see another car. He shook hands with the man who’d got out when he saw Toby approaching. After introductions, Mr. Tyler opened the door to the studio. There wasn’t much to see, a partition had been erected with a toilet and shower room in one corner and a tiny kitchen in the other. It consisted of a piece of worktop with a sink, a kettle, and a toaster. A fridge sat next to the worktop with a microwave on top.

Toby was wearing a beanie hat with fake tattoos and fake piercings through his nose, lip, and ears. He wore brown coloured contacts in his eyes and his normally blond hair had been dyed jet black. The black eyeliner and lipstick completed his transformation to Emo.

“Sorry it’s so dark,” Mr. Tyler apologised. “My boy covered all the windows, he didn’t want distractions.”

Toby nodded, trying to hide his excitement.

“Yeah, he called it singing, but with all that screaming, it sounded like he was being murdered,” he joked.

Toby just smiled, this was getting better and better.

“Are you a musician yourself?” asked Mr. Tyler.

“Yes,” said Toby, not elaborating.

“I’ll show you around,” said Mr. Tyler cheerfully.

“He’d crash here for a few days at a time. That’s why I put in the storage heater and a water supply,” said Mr. Tyler.

“Your son doesn’t use it now?” asked Toby.

“Nope, he lives in Manchester with his partner and baby. My wife wanted to move nearer to them so we’ve sold up. Got a good offer and I grabbed it. They are completely renovating the farmhouse but I held onto the studio; thought it might come in handy.”

“Where is the farmhouse?” said Toby, worried about its proximity.

“About two miles south of here, my boy had a trail bike, took a shortcut through the lanes. I know it seems isolated but you get used to it.”

Toby breathed out, relieved.

“I’d like to test the soundproofing,” he said. “Can you shout as loud as you can with the door open and again with it closed?”