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Juno gave a deep sigh. ‘Okay, fine, have it your way, Daisy. But I still think you’re wrong.’ She sat back on the bed. ‘And if he finds out, there could be hell to pay.’
‘He’s not going to find out. He looked horrified after I told him I loved him. I don’t think he’s going to go to any great lengths to seek me out. Plus he’s moving soon. All I have to do is be careful and keep a low profile.’
Juno slanted her a rueful look. ‘Yes, and we all know how good you are at that,’ she muttered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘I’LL kill ye little bastards.’
Connor flinched at the slurred shout, scrambled back at the angry thud on the door. The sharp crack as the thin plywood splintered had flop sweat trickling down beneath his T-shirt, stinging the welts from two nights back.
‘He means it, Con. He really means it this time,’ came Mac’s panicked whisper.
Connor flung an arm round his brother’s shoulder. ‘Soon as he gets in, you go on. Get the girls to Mrs Flaherty’s. I’ll hold him off.’
They jumped together as another loud crack ripped the air. Connor’s gaze was riveted to the tiny latch, hanging by the last two screws. Queasy fear gripped his stomach, the memory of the pain so vivid his muscles tensed, his back throbbed. The thundering in his ears cut out the crash as the door fell forward in slow, silent motion. Connor raised his arms, the thin whimper of Mac’s crying piercing the mute terror as the dark shape stumbled towards them. Vicious pain sliced across his shoulder as the belt tore into tender flesh.
Connor bolted forward into darkness, his hands reaching for something that wasn’t there.
His chest screamed as he struggled to breathe, his ears ringing with the sound of leather cutting flesh, his shoulders livid with the phantom pain.
He choked down a gulp of air.
Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Get a grip, Brody.
Gradually his eyes adjusted to the dim light, saw the plush drapes, the shadows cast by moonlight in the garden beyond. He braced his hands on the bed, let his chin drop to his chest, waited for his mind to adjust, to yank him out of the horror.
But as he waited an eternity to draw that first steady breath the silence echoed around him. The emptiness, the loneliness taunted him.
Why wasn’t she here? He needed her.
As his breathing evened out at last he covered his face with his hands, pushed shaking fingers through his hair. Two whole days. Two long, miserable days. And the yearning, the desperation hadn’t faded; they had only got worse.
He blew out a breath and finally accepted the truth. He’d mucked everything up.
How could he have been so stupid? What the hell had he thrown away? All this time he’d been running away from the one thing he should have been running towards.
He lifted the sheet, damp with his sweat, settled back into the bed. The residue of the nightmare rippled through him, making his muscles quake.
He shut his eyes and swore that tomorrow he’d make it right. He’d do whatever he had to do, to get Daisy back where she belonged.
‘We need to talk.’
Daisy stared in shock as the very last man she’d expected to see, or wanted to see, stood in her doorway.
‘Go away.’ She went to slam the door.
He slapped his hand against it. ‘I will not.’ He shoved the door open and strode past her into the tiny bedsit.
‘You can’t come in here.’ Outrage was closely followed by panic. She’d been sick twice already since waking up an hour ago and could feel the stirrings of a new bout of nausea in the pit of her stomach.
‘Too bad. I’m in already.’ He stood in the middle of the room, his broad shoulders and determined scowl making the small space look a great deal smaller.
‘Please leave, Connor. Our fling’s over.’ She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice. She had to get him out of here, before he saw her vomit. What if he put two and two together? She’d wrestled with what she had to do for two whole days. She hadn’t seen hide or hair of him and, while her heart had yearned for even a quick glimpse, she knew she’d made the right decision not to tell him about the baby.
Trust Connor to turn up unexpectedly, though, and ruin her best intentions.
‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you,’ she said. ‘And this is just embarrassing us both.’
