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Sully tells me that after Scott returned to the hotel there was no sign of the pissed owner of the car that blocked him in, no surprise at all, and no sign of the car either. As he wasn’t a guest at the hotel, finding him is going to be difficult, but it goes some way to confirm our suspicions that he is linked to Jamie’s attack. Sully is waiting for CCTV footage from the hotel and the car park, but I won’t hold my breath. If this is Sean’s work, like we suspect, then he’s not stupid enough to leave even a crumb of evidence. Hence the reason this fucker has managed to avoid arrest for so long.
Sully managed to get a rush on the blood at the house and forensics confirmed that it was Jamie and Russ’, no unknown DNA found. They are still working on the clothes they were both wearing and any fingerprints they managed to pull.
Jamie gave her statement to the police late yesterday, and it matches what she told me and Cam at the hospital. It’s pretty vague right now, which is to be expected after a head injury, but hopefully, in time, she’ll remember more.
Russ says he was driving back from a bar a few streets away, when Scott called him, that’s why he was so close by. No doubt getting his dick wet. When he arrived, he felt something was off and headed round the back to find the back door open and glass on the floor. When he entered the house, he found Jamie in the kitchen, covered in blood and unconscious. Rushing to get to her and slipping on the blood, he cut his hand as he landed, which is why there was so much of his blood on and around Jamie.
“Are you all set for tonight?” Sully asks, as he makes another cup of tea for us both.
“Yeah,” I say, just as Sully turns, placing a cup on the counter in front of me.
“You don’t sound so sure. What’s the problem?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, rubbing a hand over the scruff on my chin. “It’s nothing. I hope it’s nothing. Fuck!” I slam my hand on the counter, as that feeling in my gut returns. “Something isn’t sitting right. I don’t know if it’s tonight or—”
“Or what, man?” Sully glares at me, searching my face, which I try to keep impassive, but this man knows me. Probably better than I do myself. “Shit, Ryder! You fucked her, didn’t you?” I drop my head on a sigh. “I knew it. I knew it that first day at my house.” He stands from his stool, swiping his hand out in frustration and pacing the kitchen. “I can’t believe you’d be so fucking stupid. There are a million other women you could have had suck your dick, instead you pick a client. And not just any client, but an emotionally broken woman with more baggage than a fucking cruise liner. She’s damaged, man, —”
I fly from my stool, rounding the counter and grabbing the front of Sully’s shirt in my clenched fist, shoving him back against the cupboards behind him, my face an inch from his. “Shut your fucking mouth! Don’t you dare fucking talk about her like that, you don’t know a fucking thing about her.” His eyes widen in shock at my outburst, hands up in surrender. “Cam’s not broken, Sully, she’s a fucking warrior. You’ve seen her file, don’t be so fucking judgemental. Anyone that can survive what she has and still be standing, fighting, has bigger balls than you and me together.” I let go of Sully, dropping my hands at my side. The rage at his words burns away turning to ash on my tongue. “I’ve seen her scars, Sully. The ones she wears on her skin are bad, but I can tell you they are nothing compared to the ones she carries inside. I’ve seen that haunted look behind her eyes before, seen the taint such a loss leaves on the soul. It might dim over time, but it never leaves, Sully,” I tell him, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry, Ry. I guess I just assumed she was another screw, but I couldn’t have been more wrong, could I?” I hear the unspoken question. I know he’s asking me the question I keep trying not to think about.
“You have no idea, Sully.” I slump back onto my stool, running my finger over the rim of my cup. “This woman has crawled under my skin, wriggled into a heart I thought was iron clad, impenetrable. And now I have no fucking clue what I’m meant to do.” I look up at him, “How do I tell her, Sully? She’s going to fucking hate me, man.”
“I wish I had the answers for you, I really do.” He joins me back at the counter, hands braced on the top. “I think that you should hold off on telling her,” I pin my eyes on him, frowning, he holds his hands up, “just hear me out. If you tell her now, she could freak out and run, we can’t afford that when we’ve worked so hard on this job.”
“Fuck the job, Sully!”
“No, Ryder. Right now, that’s where your focus has to be, it’s also what’s going to keep her safe. If she runs, how long do you think it will be before he finds her, huh? You need to keep your head in the game, not think with you heart, or your dick,” he mutters that last part, clearly not wanting to rile me up again.
I give a reluctant nod, knowing that what he’s saying is true, but it doesn’t stop that niggling guilt deep in my heart that this is all going to blow up when she finds out the truth. This conversation has done fuck all to relieve the unease rippling through me about this shipment either.
“Okay, so let’s talk about tonight. Do you want me to call in Dean? He can be here in a couple of hours.” He pulls his phone from his pocket ready to dial on my say so.
“Nah, leave him be. We need him where he is more than I need the help. Cam will be fine, she has Scott and Russ with her, and I told them to call Seb if there’s any problems,” I tell him, not sure who I’m trying to convince more.
We spend the next couple of hours going over the details of the meet and mapping out the best vantage point. Sully makes lunch, and we leave the work chat behind in favour of more personal matters. Sully tells me that Max is doing better at school now since he started seeing the counsellor.
When Max first started school, he began having nightmares and wetting the bed. According to the counsellor it can be related to anxiety and trauma, and in Max’s case starting school brought forth questions about his mum. Sully has always made sure to talk about Sam to Max, ensuring that he knew who his mum was, but another boy in his class, whose mum knew Sam, was overheard by the boy talking about how Sam died after giving birth, and had asked Max about it. Max became withdrawn and that’s when the nightmares and bed wetting started. The school spoke to the boy and his mother, and it was clear there wasn’t anything malicious in it, just an inquisitive child.
Sully heads off to call Max around 4pm, and I make use of the time to check in with Scott. Scott tells me that he and Russ are at the hospital while Cam visits Jamie. Happy that everything is in hand, I drop a message to Seb giving him a heads-up that he may get a call. Needing to keep my mind busy and wanting to be as prepared as possible, I decide to go and do a drive-by of the container yard.
After driving past a couple of times, not wanting to risk looking too suspicious, I drive back to Sully’s. When I arrive, the house is dark, and Sully’s car is missing from the drive, so I let myself in. I’m only in the house for ten minutes when headlights flash through the front window, casting shadows on the dimly lit room.
“Blue, where you at man? I’ve got dinner,” Sully calls, as he steps through the front door.
I head out and meet him as he’s crossing the hall towards the kitchen. I don’t need to ask what he bought, the smell permeates the air as he passes me, and I begin to salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
“Is that what I think it is?” I drool, as I follow behind him. He nods, placing the bag on the counter before grabbing a couple of plates. I waste no time in pulling out the cartons sporting the logo of my favourite Thai restaurant.
We eat in silence, and after we are done, I head off up to my room hoping that a full belly will help me get a couple of hours shut eye before I need to leave later. I plug my phone into the charger beside my bed and, rather optimistically, set my alarm for midnight before laying down.
After finally falling asleep, for what feels like only minutes, a persistent ringing pulls me from my dream, drawing me back into consciousness. Throwing a hand out and blindly searching for the culprit of the incessant noise. I latch onto my phone, and cracking one eye open, I turn the alarm off and am surprised to find I slept for so long.
Rolling over and dropping the phone beside me on the bed, I fold my arm across my eyes for a few seconds giving my brain time to catch up. Images of Cam riding me flick through my mind and explain the hard-on I’m sporting.
Rising from the bed, I head to the bathroom for a shower. A fucking ice cold one or I’ll be jerking off like a hormonal teenager.
Twenty-Three
