Driven Wild (17 page)

“Go on,” said Leah.

“He told me about you. Your upbringing, your schooling. He didn’t mention your mother, other to say he was divorced. He sighed, a sad kind of sound. He hated the fact you were no longer his little girl, that you were finding your independence and moving on in life. He regretted the lack of time he had spent with you as a child. He believed it was too late for him and that you would continue to see him as distant.”

Rick felt something warm and wet on his chest—a tear, trickling down her face, had landed on him.

“He asked me, Leah, to keep you safe and protect you. I have always been your bodyguard. He didn’t want you to know. You probably guessed and it is true—I’m not just your driver. He wanted me to protect you, not just from others, but from yourself too. He understood how tough growing up can be and how tempting the world about can be. I gave him that promise. I swore to look after you until you were ready to look after yourself. I’m still bound by that promise. It is why I came back. I couldn’t go on not knowing if you were alright.”

Leah could not hide her tears; they flowed uninhibited and silently. “I will go to Italy. I won’t dishonour my father’s wish or let you break your promise.”

Rick released his hand and began to caress her bottom instead, slow gentle strokes of his hand until her tears ceased.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head up and rose so her legs straddled his body. She cocked her head to one side. “This isn’t easy for me,” she said. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

“Then we shan’t,” said Rick. “Let’s just say you’re going on a trip and nothing else.”

“Tomorrow. You have the tickets?”

“I bought them today. I know you have a valid passport—you were going skiing with your mother, remember?”

“You’ve thought this through?”

“I’ve been busy today. You have to pack. Just essentials.”

“My job—”

“Deal with that later. You can ring from Italy. Leave a message for the housekeeper, explaining you’ve taken a holiday, nothing else for now.”

Leah’s face crumpled as she considered all the things she had to do in the coming days and weeks. Her life was about to be turned upside down yet again.

“I’m sorry,” said Rick. “So sorry.”

Leah pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t ever regret coming back here. I don’t.” She removed her finger. “Do something for me.”

“What?”

“Spank me.”

“Why?” Rick said, surprised.

“Not a naughty spanking. I’m coiled tight. Anxious. When you spank me, it all flies away. I can’t describe it.”

She lay across his lap, just as he had envisaged earlier. However, there was no force involved, no lecturing her, and certainly no hard smacks. Instead, Rick slapped her cheeks methodically and slowly, and between smacks he rubbed and caressed, watching her face carefully. Occasionally there was a grimace, but mostly she lay blissful, eyes shut and lips slightly parted. Nothing was said. What could he say to her to make it better? Her body flopped down, her muscles unclenched, and her hands let go of their grip on the sofa cushion.

“There,” he said finally, giving her behind a gentle pat.

* * *

Very little was said between the couple throughout the evening. He watched her pack, choose her clothes and personal possessions, a few items of jewellery, and a photograph of her father. Following a long hot bath after having picked at her evening meal and having drunk a few glasses of wine, she was soon tucked up in bed, and he sat by the bedroom window, peering behind the curtains and watching. He had no idea if his adversaries knew where they lived; he couldn’t take any chances.

Owls hooted and a fox barked—the only sounds heard as midnight passed by and the night crept on. Rick’s eyelids drooped; he couldn’t resist sleep much longer. With a yawn, his battle to stay awake was lost.

Chapter Twelve

“Blast,” cursed Rick. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

“What’s wrong?” Leah leaned forward from the rear seat.

“Feels like a flat tyre. Car’s steering all over the place. I’ll have to pull over somewhere.”

Rick turned the car off the busy highway, down a side street into the dock area. Leah had begged him to drive to Speke Airport via the city centre, so she could have one last look at her home city.

Slowing down, he pulled the car onto a small area of wasteland, the remains of a demolished building and its foundations clearly visible—piles of bricks and rubble formed a wall around the space.

Rick went to investigate the front wheel. “Stay in the car,” he told Leah.

She slumped back in her seat in frustration.

“There is a nail causing a slow puncture. It’s pretty flat now. I’ll have to change it,” he said through the window.

“Can I help?”

“No. Stay put.” He pointed his finger at her with emphasis.

After rummaging around in the boot looking for the jack and spanner, he disappeared from view, crouched down by the wheel.

Leah closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the seat and feeling useless.

The door opened on the opposite side, not the side Rick was working on. An arm reached into the car, grabbed hold of her elbow and yanked her hard.

Leah screeched. Now there were two hands, not Rick’s, dragging her across the smooth leather seat towards the door. The man had hairy hands with thick sausage fingers, his breath smelt of stale tobacco and onions. She twisted, trying to kick at him with her feet, but he was strong, far more powerful than Leah. Her long hair became his next target, and using it like a leash, he pulled her out of the car door. She slapped at his hands as they fisted about her hair, making her eyes water with the pain. It was to no avail; he continued to manhandle her.

She recognised him, one of the men who had followed her after her shopping trip. His face cast in shadows under a cap, she could see the little moustache above his lip.

“Rick!” she hollered. As she cried out, she caught sight of Rick, practically leaping over the bonnet of the car. He had something in his hand—a handgun, a six-shooter pistol. Now Leah understood why he wouldn’t let her touch the glove box.

Rick pointed the barrel of the gun at the man. “Let her go!” he shouted.

Her assailant gave a small shrug, released Leah and lifted his hands up, waving them at Rick. He said something in Italian and Rick hissed a reply at him in the same language. Glancing around, Leah spotted the dark car, parked on the street nearby. They had been followed. The nail had been deliberate, guessed Leah, a ploy to slow them down, distract and force Rick to stop the car. It was a trap.

Where were the other two men?

Leah backed away. Rick signalled for her to come and stand behind him. Rather than walk close by the other man, she opted to manoeuvre behind the back of the car. Eyes on Rick and the gun in his hand, she didn’t notice the obstacles at her feet. She tripped over the jack, crashing down onto the ground.

“Leah!” called out Rick, alarmed.

There were sounds of a scuffle coming from the other side of the vehicle. Leah scrambled to her feet, peeping her head over the roof of the car. The two other men had jumped Rick from behind; her fall had caused him to lose his concentration. The gun, thrown out of his hand, had vanished from sight. She watched, horrified, as Rick began to fight off his attackers. He wasn’t ineffectual or incapable; his natural strength augmented by adrenaline and fear had made him retaliate fiercely. He swung his fists, kicked and twisted his body about to avoid the counter blows.

He had been in the cadets, had been given training in unarmed combat, boxing too. However, he was fighting off three men and the odds were stacked against him even with his pugilistic skills.

Where was the gun?

Leah hunted around for a substitute weapon. Her handbag, slung about her body, an expensive fashion accessory, had a deep pocket. Grabbing a handful of rubble, she stuffed the stones into the handbag, weighing it down. Scurrying around the car, she ran up to one of assailants, swinging her handbag around and aimed for his head as if it were a tennis ball.

The blow landed spot on and he fell backwards, clutching his scalp. She continued to swing, trying to avoid hitting Rick, who was weakening rapidly. His face had gone pale, his frame collapsing in as if he had no energy.

She tried a different tactic. Swinging the handbag upwards, she caught another man between the legs. He howled, clutching at his groin, and fell to his knees. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man, the one she had struck about the head, crawling towards the car, hand outstretched as if reaching for the something.

The gun. Having fallen out of Rick’s hand, it had landed underneath the car. Leah stamped her stiletto heel on the back of the crawling man’s hand, gouging and twisting. His other hand grabbed her ankle, jerking it, and she began to stumble backwards.

Leah hit the ground with a hard thump, knocking the air out of her lungs. Fear had kept her going, but now her nervous state was becoming a hindrance. She sensed they were on the losing side. Rick couldn’t fight off three men and she had no might in her muscles to help him.

In the distance, there were sirens, the ‘nee-nah’ sounds growing steadily louder. Leah prayed the police were coming to them. About them were other buildings, perhaps occupied. Somebody had summoned help.

The three Italian men froze, two on the ground, one grappling with the exhausted Rick. They listened and the sirens came closer, then the blue flashing lights could be seen at the bottom of the road. Two police cars.

Shouting incomprehensible words at the others in his own tongue, the man accosting Rick let him go, and Leah watched her lover slump to the ground. The two injured men picked themselves off the ground, clutching their wounds, and scrambled towards their car.

Leah paid no attention to the flight of the men as her eyes were on Rick. She could see no obvious injuries nor blood, yet he was incapacitated. Crawling towards him, she could hear the problem before she touched him. His breath rasped and wheezed, the familiar pant of an asthma attack, except this one far more serious than previous ones.

His lips had gone a bluish colour, his eyes half open and mouth gaping, sucking air into his inflamed windpipe.

“It’s alright, Rick,” said Leah, putting his head on her lap. “I’m safe. The police are here.”

Looking across, she saw the police cars had barricaded the black car in and it had no way to escape. One man had legged it with a constable in hot pursuit; the other two had been caught, wrestled to the ground with batons.

“Help!” she called out. “Please help. He needs an ambulance!”

She didn’t think they had heard her at first, but one policeman jogged over, having handcuffed his prisoner to a railing. Leah rambled, trying to explain the situation while holding Rick’s hand in hers. She pointed under the vehicle to the gun.

“He’s my bodyguard. You have to help him,” she pleaded.

“We’ve radioed in for an ambulance, miss,” said the policeman. “Keep him calm.”

Leah tried her best. She spoke soothing words to Rick, stroked his hair, talked about mountains, the crisp cool air and how his lungs would fill up with fresh oxygen. The wheezing remained audible, but his panting grew slower. She couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad sign. Rick’s eyes had been staring at her face as she spoke, unmoving and watery. Then they began to flicker, gradually closing as he fought to stay conscious.

“Please, Rick, don’t go,” said Leah, tearful, panicking at his deteriorating condition. “Stay with me. I love you. You know I do. I have since the first time I saw your shiny black shoes. I will go wherever you go. I don’t care about my money, my job, Liverpool. Just stay with me!” she pleaded, tears cascading down her cheeks.

His body felt heavy in her arms, his motionless legs and arms appeared floppy. His lip was slightly cut and his cheek bruised. He had fought hard and his knuckles had turned red from punching. He had been more than her driver that day, he had been her guardian and protector. The secret role her father had given to him—her bodyguard.

Her long hair flopped over his face and she cried hot desperate tears.

“Leah,” rasped a faint, barely perceivable voice. Flicking her hair away, she looked at his face. Hazel eyes stared back at her, wide open and alive.

“I love you, my beauty,” he said hoarsely. It took all his energy to speak to her and then his eyelids drooped and the hazel was gone.

Epilogue

Leah stared out of the small window of the aeroplane. She could see the lights flashing at the end of the wing, a beacon in the dim morning light. She was leaving behind one life and flying into another. A new start—everything left behind and all she had on the flight was a suitcase of clothes. The ones she had designed and made had been forfeited.

The estate solicitors would sell her house and its contents too, along with her MG. She had resigned from her job, seeing no purpose in keeping it or pretending she would be back. The hardest part had been saying good-bye to her friends, especially Jane.

“Visit me,” Leah had pleaded. “I’ll pay for the ticket.”

“You won’t be able to stop me. Get settled and give me the word and I’ll be over in a shot.” The friends hugged, holding each other tight, mixing tears with laughter.

Leah gripped the armrests, heart thumping hard in her chest. It was a familiar sensation, ever since her attempted kidnap, as she came to terms with the changes in her life. The police had questioned the three Italians. The men had said nothing, not a peep according to the inspector. The police concluded she had been the victim, a wealthy heiress and an easy target for her abductors. They praised her driver, her bodyguard and his actions, a valiant man to take on three thugs.

Leah had said nothing to dissuade them from their conclusion. She had kept quiet about Rick and his connections to the Sicilian underworld and why the men were just as much after him as they were her. She did it to protect Rick, his honour and dignity. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to hide Rick’s past from the authorities.