Page 8 of Guarding Salvation

Irish rubbed her hands together in a nervous gesture, but her shoulders were back in a confident manner, and he was intrigued by the fact she was a bunch of contradictions.

“No, it wasn’t cool but we all have off days. So, apology accepted.” Irish smiled wide and walked away head high even though he could see her glancing around as she did.

“I think I like her.”

Lotus grinned and he knew standing up to Lotus was a good thing and would make her respect her more. Not that he cared. He couldn’t get involved with her, he had too many plates to juggle already, even if she was fucking beautiful.

Chapter 3

Bob shooed her out of the bar as she wiped down the last of the tables. “Get yourself home, lassie. I can close up from here.”

It had been a busy night for midweek, especially for a bar in a small village but like most small pubs it had its regulars, and she was slowly getting to know them. “Thanks, Bob.”

Aoife gathered her bag and the jacket she needed to upgrade to a winter one very shortly and headed into the darkness. She could feel a migraine coming on from the familiar tightness around her eyes and the stabbing pain in her head and knew she needed to get home before it completely took her out.

The night and darkness had never bothered her. It had been the days when her life had been a nightmare. Now, though, as she walked along the narrow lanes from the pub to the small flat she’d rented from Mrs Jones above the bakery, the pitch-black was unnerving. Every shadow held the possibility of her being snatched back into the life she’d almost died to get away from.

Nausea rolled in her belly and her vision became spotty as the pain began to pulse harder and harder. Her steps became more uncoordinated as her body started to shut down in a way to protect her from the pain. She needed her pills and her bed, fast, or she’d be out for days, and she couldn’t afford that. Aoife needed to save every penny she could so she had money to run and start again at the drop of a hat.

Thankful that the night held no bright lights, she quickened her step. In the city, there was always light from a house or streetlights but out here in the countryside, it was only the moon and the stars to guide her. Thank God for her torch which she used to navigate her way, even if the light from it was making her feel sicker.

The sounds of owls calling and hooting, foxes shouting, which sounded like women screaming and made chills run up her spine, sounded louder to her pain-filled brain. Yet, she could still admire the beauty of this place against the backdrop of the beautiful hills where sheep roamed free, and nature was allowed to flourish. Exhaustion was making her emotional, fear and the pounding in her head making her extra jumpy.

The three strangers from the bar had set off every radar she had, her brain screaming danger, the fight or flight response so strong it took everything she had not to run out of the bar.

Only seeing Bob talking to them with so much friendly familiarity had eased her worry and allowed her to continue her shift. As the night wore on, she’d felt his eyes on her, the man with the scar on his eyebrow and the tattoos covering his hands and neck, but his blue eyes didn’t hold the dead evil she’d come to recognise. She had no doubt in her mind that those three were more than they seemed, maybe even killers but they weren’t a threat to her. At least she hoped not, or she was already dead.

Rounding the last bend, she heard a branch snap behind her and stilled, her whole body freezing as she looked back. Seeing nothing but the still night she began to jog, as much as her body would allow, wanting to get into the semi-safe confines of her tiny flat. Knowing she would never be safe again was a weight that grew heavier with each day that passed, yet she wouldn’t give it up and go back to the prison she’d been in before.

When the key slid into the lock and she was safely inside, she leaned against the door and took a deep breath. Leaving the lights off, she stumbled into her small bedroom and sank onto the bed. Grabbing the pain killers from the bedside drawer she swallowed them back dry and hoped she’d taken them quickly enough.

Her belly rumbled but she knew food was the last thing she needed, even though she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Shrugging off her coat Aoife lay back on her bed and closed her eyes for just a second. She knew it was time to check her messages, the time and date were always the same so Peyton, her only friend in the world who knew where she was, could get information to her.

Thinking of her friend, who was a PTSD therapist who specialised in military personnel, always made her smile. They’d gone to a Catholic boarding school together and stayed friends afterwards, and it was the only true friendship she had. She was the only person on the planet Aoife trusted. Peyton was the opposite of her in looks, she was blonde with a sexy girl next door vibe, a body to die for, pale blue almost grey eyes, and a nature that drew people to her. She had been the one who’d helped Aoife escape the hell she’d been living through.

Sitting up slowly, she swung her legs off the bed and took out her phone from under her mattress. Sliding in the battery and sim card, she gave it a second to power on and saw two messages from her friend.

Her gut dropped as it was unusual for her and she braced herself to read them. It had only been six months of running and she was already exhausted from it. At twenty-five, she felt like she was a hundred years old. The physical injuries she carried from her father, including the migraines that plagued her, the result of a head injury when she was fifteen, were nothing compared to the emotional and psychological scars.

Peyton had tried for years to counsel her through making a choice to leave her home, but she’d stayed for her mother, not wanting her to shoulder the burden alone. When she’d died five years ago, Aoife had wanted desperately to leave but her father wasn’t an idiot and had tightened her security so that she was never alone, a guard with her at all times.

Knowing she couldn’t avoid the messages all night, she clicked the first.

P: I had a visit from your father today. He was asking if I’d seen you or heard from you. I told him I hadn’t but I’m not sure he believed me. Stay where you are, he doesn’t know you’re close.

Aiofe gasped, a sob trying to break free, as cold and pure fear knotted hard in her belly. If her father was in Hereford that meant he’d tracked her somehow. Tears stung her eyes as she tried to hold herself together. Breaking down would get her nowhere, no matter how much she wanted to. She looked at the next message that had come in twenty minutes later.

P: I had a friend track your father and he’s headed towards Bristol, so I had them leave a trail for him. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him who it was for, but you can trust him. Call me when you can. I miss you.

Aiofe blinked back more tears, knowing her friend was trying to help, but in doing so she was taking such a risk. If her father ever found out, he wouldn’t think twice about killing Peyton, and none of her friends who she thought could protect her would be able to, not from Jimmy Doyle, her father and leader of the Irish Mafia.

The thought of her dad hurting Peyton made her sick, but she didn’t know where to turn or who to trust. The long fingers of the Irish mafia had seeped through into organisations here. She could go to the Italians or the Russians and ask them for help. It would be a coup to have the only daughter of Jimmy Doyle on their side, but it could just as easily go the other way and she could find herself out of the frying pan into the fire.

Taking out the sim and battery, she stowed her phone away and lay back down on her bed. She should get undressed, but her energy was flagging, and the pain relief had only taken the edge off, so she still felt wretched.

Dragging her ass to the bathroom, she stripped her clothes and folded them into a bag so she could wash them the next day. Pulling on her pink penguin pyjamas, she looked in the mirror and wondered where the girl who was never seen without make-up and a full set of nail extensions had gone. Seeing the pale skin and dark shadows under her eyes, she barely recognised herself. Even the jade of her eyes, her best feature, seemed dull. She was tired, and it wasn’t the kind of tiredness that could be fixed with a good night’s sleep, although that would be heaven. No, this was an exhaustion that was bone-deep and she knew depression was creeping in and would take her down and, with it, her ability to run. She needed a proper plan to fix this or she was as good as dead.

Plodding back to bed, she knew the thing she needed most right now was sleep and to get rid of her migraine. Snuggling under the quilt, she listened to the sounds of the countryside as she closed her eyes. In here, the animal sounds seemed less scary; this had become her sanctuary over the last few weeks.