Authors: Ainslie Paton
If she asked him right now to run away with her, he would. She had no doubt if he had to right now, he’d honour her, defend her, die for her. It was glorious and gut-wrenching. She could not let herself be worth that much to him.
He rubbed his cheek on hers, holding her with such devotion. “You’re planning on bolting, aren’t you?”
She stopped breathing. “I’m planning on trying to get a job tomorrow.”
He wrapped his hands around her arms and held tight, pushed away from her so he could see her face. “I want you to talk to Stud. Tell him what you won’t tell me. He’ll help you. You’re going to do it because he has the rest of the money and you won’t get far without it.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere, Sean. I’ll get a job, I’ll be here.”
“You’re fucking awful liar, Cait. I know you’re going to run.”
“My problem is not your problem.”
“Fuck, yeah it is. If you run Stud will find you. There is nothing you can do to hide from him. He will find you. He will keep you safe for me.”
She pressed her hands against his chest to stop them shaking, to feel his warmth, to help him believe. “Don’t worry about all that now.”
He crushed her to him. “I wanted time to fix things for you. Time to know where we stood. Twelve weeks, Cait. Sixteen at the most. Let Stud help you, or wait for me. Don’t fucking run.”
He was so intense he was starting to scare her. She wasn’t smart enough to hide from Stud and Justin. But she didn’t want Sean to see her split open with confusion and fear. “Let me look at your arm.” His wound was healing well, but the longer the staples stayed in the more it would hurt getting them out.
“I’ll do it later.”
She braced on his chest and pushed away. “I want to know that it’s all right.”
He frowned, the muscles in his arms flexed against her back. He was going to pull her back to those soul stroking kisses and if he did, she was without the will to stop him.
“Please let me take care of you, Sean.”
“It’s a crappy thing for someone to have to do.”
“You’d do it yourself if it wasn’t awkward.” The tension in his face fell away as he recognised the echo of their conversation about staples. “The pain will keep you focused.”
He grinned, his first smile since he’d come in. “Pain. You want to give me pain?”
She wanted to give him an entire philosophy of feeling. Everything but pain. But the pain of lying to him was a central tenet of their relationship. If they stayed together, she couldn’t not give him pain from the truth. She shrugged. “It might get bloody. I might have to shower with you.”
“My kind of pain.” He nodded, caressing her hair. “Okay. Have you got a plan?”
She didn’t. She’d only thought to give him what he needed so she could watch him walk away and know it was the right thing.
“The nail scissors from the first-aid kit. With the blade under the staple head you should be able to lever it out. It’s a good idea. If I go in with a bandage on it’ll remind Wacker I got hurt.”
Now that he’d said it, her stomach heaved. He cupped her face in his hands. “Will I get you a stick to bite down on?”
She tried to remember the next line. “This isn’t the Wild West.”
“No, but it is wild. I’m wild about you. If I remember, I said I didn’t want any other part of me cut out. So, what’s up with that?”
She shook her head. She’d lost her place in the conversation, in the memory, in the knowledge of what came next. Not just in this hour, but for the rest of her life.
He moved her hand from his arm and put it in the centre of his chest, holding it down on his smooth skin. “When I wasn’t looking you carved out my heart.” She gasped. In front of her eyes he’d became a poet. “This will all be over and I will be back for you.”
It would all be over. She’d convince Stud there was nothing to be concerned about but she’d be long gone before Sean was free. Melbourne or Canberra. Somewhere he couldn’t track her, so she’d never have to disappoint him. If she had the final payment, if she didn’t bank it, Justin couldn’t take it. It would be enough to start over with.
Before Sean could kiss her again. Before she forgot her resolve to be strong and not throw herself on his goodness, spill all her secrets in his hands, she moved. She went to the car and got the first-aid kit. Back inside the motel room, he’d grabbed a hand towel and was sitting on a chair turned backwards. He gave her a grin.
“Come on. I need that shower.”
She could do this. The wound was clean and sealed. She wanted that shower too. It would be the last great memory of their time.
“This is not going to hurt me, Cait.”
He was right. For a man like Sean, this was the most minor of flesh wounds. It was putting his own heart back that would hurt more. She held the handles of the tiny pair of scissors and worked the closed blades under the first staple.
He said, “One,” and she pushed her knuckles against his arm to try to raise the staple. It was wedged tight. “You can’t hurt me, Cait.”
But she could and she would, and she could only hope the time apart while he was undercover would make it less a wrench. She pushed down again, easing her thumb under the joint of the blade for traction. The thin metal bar lifted. Pin pricks of blood beaded at the site of the two staple shafts and it eased free. She moved her hand to the next one and repeated the process. This time she knew how much pressure to apply and the staple came away more easily. She moved her hand again and he stopped her. His other hand pulling her down so he could kiss her. She pushed him off and refocused. She wanted this done. She wanted to lose herself in him one last time.
When the third staple came free, he was on her so fast she nearly stabbed him with the tiny blades still in her hand. In the small bathroom, he stripped them quickly, then everything slowed down as the world stopped revolving and got remade in the form of warm cascading water, slippery skin and exploding emotions.
They’d barely dressed before there was a thump on the door. Back braced against it, Sean gave her a look that told her nothing and everything, except how much she didn’t yet understand about feeling hollow.
The man in the jeans, t-shirt, cap and bluster was Stud. The same man she’d taken Fetch to meet in the park before things got crazy. She’d thought he was another criminal, but now she knew he was the boss and the man charged with keeping Sean safe.
There was a woman too. She was awesome in a jaw dropping way. She was the kind of woman who’d bail you up in the ladies and scratch your eyes out if she thought you even looked sideways at her man. Super confident, turbo slut, and Fetch’s new girlfriend. Caitlyn hated her; irrationally and completely, in a manner that made her back teeth snap together like they were magnetic.
She backed up against the bed and sat as Stud and the woman came into the room like an invading force from an outer war zone where Fetch’s next tour of duty was about to start.
Stud turned to her and thrust his hand out like a thrown punch. She stood and took it, looking right in his tight, dark eyes. “Michael Studdley. I’m your contact while your boy has to work.” She nodded. Stud was probably in his mid-fifties, lean and hard bodied. “I want to have a chat to you about Justin Cumberland when we get this op under control, okay.”
That ‘okay’ was only in the sentence to make her think he hadn’t issued an instruction. Now she hated Stud too. Another man who’d tell her what to do and get all pissed off when she didn’t comply. She couldn’t afford to get Stud offside. She needed him to convince Sean to let her go.
But she could hate the woman. She’d wrapped her arms around Sean and even though Caitlyn knew it was all acting, she wanted to scream at her to get her hands off him and make him wash where they’d been.
Stud handed Sean a mobile phone. “We need to go.”
“I’ll meet youse outside,” the woman said. She gave Sean’s arms a squeeze and left the room. Stud followed her. He said, “Five minutes, Fetch,” at the door and stepped out, leaving it open.
What could they do with five minutes? Five minutes was less that it would take to tell him her sins. Less than it would take to put him at risk of losing his concentration. Lots less than she needed to suck up that last memory of him.
She bit her bottom lip to get it working. “Be careful.”
He took two steps towards her and grabbed her chin in his hands. “Be where I can find you.”
Her lungs stopped working.
He knew, he knew, he knew
. He always knew. He hauled her against him, tucking her into his body like he wanted to attach her permanently.
One minute she was enveloped in the leather and cedar scent of him; the next she was sitting on the bed and there were a half a dozen people in the room.
Two men she’d not seen before carried the woman in. She was moaning, dishevelled, clutching her arm to her body. Stud was talking to her. “Tracy, Tracy, we’ve got you. Talk to me.”
Sean was saying. “What happened?”
Caitlyn shifted so they could lay the woman on the bed.
“Fucking P-plater in the driveway backed into her,” said Stud.
“It’s a broken collarbone,” said one of the other men. “We need to get her to hospital.”
“No, no. It’s not broken. I’ll be all right.” Tracy was white with shock, her real speaking voice shook with pain.
“Tracy, look at me,” said Stud. “It’s over.”
“But…” Her frantic eyes switched from Stud to Sean.
Sean answered. “I’ll go in alone.”
Stud was thumbing his phone. “No, we’ll get someone.”
“There’s no time, Stud.”
“Fuck, there’s no time. If you’d have obeyed orders and stayed with the op this wouldn’t have happened. Everyone else out,” he barked.
Now there were only the four of them. Outside the window Caitlyn could hear the other two men; they were calling an ambulance and dealing with the P-plater, getting rid of the motel’s manager.
Inside the room, Sean was facing off against Stud. “I’ll go in alone.
From the bed Tracy said, “No, I’ll be okay. I just need a sling.”
Stud silenced Tracy with a glance being knocked over by a car hadn’t been able to. He turned to Sean. “You can’t go in alone. Wacker expects to see Fetch’s woman.”
Sean pointed to his watch. I can’t go in late either. He won’t wait. It’ll be fine.”
“No.”
“Stud, what other option do we have?”
“We can set a new meeting.”
“What excuse do we give for that?
“How about the truth?” said Tracy.
Both men grunted their dislike at that. There was a strained silence and Caitlyn knew it was going to be the last moment of calm she’d experience for a while. This was how she’d win Stud over.
“I’ll do it.”
“No fucking way! There is no fucking way she’s going in with me.”
All Sean saw in Cait’s eyes was grim determination as she stood with Stud. And what was this? They were sudden allies against him. How the fuck did that happen? She’d disliked Stud on sight and now she was siding with him.
“She’s a civilian. I’m not taking her in with me.”
“Wacker only needs to see Fetch has a woman. We change the plan. We keep her out of range. They don’t speak. He only has to see she exists.”
“That won’t work. He won’t accept that. He’ll want to eyeball her up close. He’ll fucking want to feel her up.”
Stud stabbed a finger at him. “You make it work. I just eyeballed her and she didn’t flinch.”
“I can do this.”
Cait’s voice was strong and clear but she had no idea what she was saying. He pushed Stud aside and took her arms, held them too tight, shook her. Wanting to frighten her so she knew this was over with. “No. You can’t do this. You won’t do this.”
Her chin shot up and she wrenched away.
Fuck
. Tactical error. He’d made the decision for her. But this was his business, his expertise. “No, Cait. It’s too dangerous. Wacker is a lunatic. Tracy is trained for this. You’ll be a liability.”
“If she stays with the bike. If she looks the part. It can work, Sean.”
“We’re not doing it. I’m going in alone.”
Stud dismissed him with a sneer and turned to Cait. “Do you understand what you’ve volunteered for? Wacker is a hardened criminal with the morals of a shark, the cunning of a rat and the bite of a snake.”
He looked for her eyes, but she’d turned them to Stud. “No, Cait.”
“I understand. I’m familiar with the species.”
She spoke as though this idea of going undercover was perfectly in line with her expectations for the evening. Like it was pizza and a movie. There was no way he was letting this happen. He watched something pass between the Cait and Stud; a measuring, an assessment and it felt bad. Heavy like the blackest, hail-filled thundercloud was targeting him for a personal storm.
“No. Cait.” If he left now, got on the bike, the team would have to follow him. That would resolve this. He went for the door. Heard Tracy say, “Take my shirt,” and Stud’s hand came down on his shoulder.
“We do this my way, Sean. She goes in with you. You keep her apart. We set up a perimeter around her to keep her safe. A dog walker, a fucking birdwatcher, whatever we need. She’s exposed for fifteen; maybe thirty minutes, and you’re back in and we finish this.”
“I can’t do it. I won’t be able to keep it together if she’s there.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you came back here. Before you put her in danger the first time.”
Stud was slamming the authority hammer like the superior officer he was, and grinding the guilt line like a habit-wearing Mother Superior. He needed to back off or nothing would happen tonight except thinking about how to explain this fuck up to the higher ups in the morning.
He got in Stud’s face. “This is not procedure.”
Stud shaped up, more mongrel than mother. “When was procedure something you gave two shits about?”
“When it threatens someone I love.”
“She’s threatened already, mate. How do we know you weren’t tailed? The minute Wacker knew you were in town he’d have had eyes looking for you and your big shiny bike.”
This was more guilt, more doubt being poured on. If he’d been tailed this whole thing was over and they could look forward to a fire fight in the car park that’d make the accident Tracy suffered look like a knock on the funny bone. And he hadn’t bloody well been tailed. While he and Stud were going toe to toe he was aware of Tracy and Cait moving around the room.