Chapter Three

‘What the hell were you playing at Connor?’ Jasmine hissed angrily, once they were outside.

‘What?’ Bemused, Connor furrowed his brow. ‘When?’

‘Back there!’ Jasmine splayed her arm across the car park in the direction of the hotel. ‘Coming over all possessive boyfriend, embarrassing me in front of everyone!’

‘I wasn’t.’ The furrow in Connor’s brow deepened. ‘I didn’t mean to. I was just wondering—’

‘If you’re going to play macho man, Connor,’ Jasmine baited him, purposefully, ‘why don’t you try bloody well living up to the image for a change?’

Connor was now very perplexed, the gormless look on his face evidence of that.

‘Shout at me,’ Jasmine challenged him.

‘Do what?’ Connor did a double take.

‘I said shout at me.’ Jasmine stepped towards him, jabbing him in the chest with two sharp-tipped fingers. ‘Argue back, why don’t you? Stand up to me.’

‘But … why?’ Connor stared at her, his look now a mixture of incredulity and bewilderment.

Jasmine sighed exasperatedly, wondering what she could do to get him to retaliate. Whatever she dished out, the idiot just took it. ‘Because you want to.’

Connor just stared at her, as if she’d lost it. She would, too, in a minute. She hadn’t got time for this. ‘No, I don’t,’ he refuted, that wounded puppy-dog look in his eyes that he wore whenever she hurt his oh-so-delicate feelings, which she did often. A smile and a flutter of the eyelashes, though, and he was soon back in the palm of her hand, where she wanted him. Six foot tall, stacked, and dim-witted, Connor was going to come in very useful. As Ashley had observed, he was totally besotted with her, meaning he was pliable. At least he would be until he’d got what he wanted. And if he was going to get into her knickers, he’d better give her what she wanted.

‘Oh, stop being such a wimp and man up, can’t you, Connor?’ she snapped. ‘I need an alpha male, someone who knows what he wants and doesn’t take any crap, not someone who follows me around like a little lapdog.’

Clearly crestfallen, Connor glanced down. ‘I don’t,’ he said, looking back at her, a flash of humiliation in his eyes.

Not enough, though. Jasmine needed him to be good and angry. Furious enough to fight back. She would have to sleep with him if she was going to offer him incitement in future to do as he was told, when he was told, but right now she had no choice but to goad him into it – and, if she was going to grab the opportunity to set her plan in motion, she had to do it fast, before Matthew Adams and his rusty-topped brainless wife appeared. Still loved her, did he? Rock solid, were they? Jasmine would soon see about that.

‘Yes, you do,’ she scoffed, deciding a full frontal attack on his manhood might be her only way forwards. ‘Everyone knows it. Your so-called friends at college are staggered you’d take so much shit from a girl. Fight back, why don’t you? Don’t just stand there and take it.’

Connor’s answer to which was to do exactly that, stand there mutely, looking at her as if she’d just ripped the ear off his favourite teddy bear.

Jasmine folded her arms, eyeing him despairingly while she debated her next move. ‘You can’t, can you?’ she said eventually. ‘You have absolutely no idea how to assert yourself, do you?’

Connor’s humiliated gaze flicked down again and then back to hers.

‘Oh, forget it, Connor,’ she said tartly. ‘I want a man, not a wimpy little limpdick.’

At which Connor’s gaze darkened. Finally, Jasmine thought, quashing her irritation.

‘I bet you can’t even get it up, can you?’ She trailed a derogatory gaze the length and breadth of him, pausing momentarily at the appendage in question. ‘Hannah was right about you, wasn’t she? You don’t have a clue what to do with it, do you?’ Referring to his former girlfriend, who Jasmine had actually barely spoken to, she rolled her eyes demonstratively. ‘What a loser. The girls are just going to love this.’

Jasmine felt his hand on her shoulder, as she turned away, his grip firm, that of a man whose delicate ego had been severely undermined. At last, she thought. What did it take to rattle him, a freaking express train?

‘Well, that was all a bit weird,’ Rebecca commented as Ashley and she headed toward the foyer ahead of Matthew, who’d been waylaid by someone determined to impart their unimpressed thoughts on local policing.

‘Too weird,’ Ashley agreed moodily.

‘I think Matthew thought he was under interrogation.’ Rebecca kept her tone light. She didn’t want Ashley to think she was annoyed by Jasmine bombarding Matthew with questions, but, actually, she was. The girl had been like a dog with a bone, determined almost to rattle Matthew in some way. ‘Is she normally like that?’ she asked, wondering again how long Ashley had known her.

‘What, a complete tart, you mean?’ Ashley muttered. ‘Or stupid?’

‘Ashley?’ Rebecca gave her an admonishing glance. ‘I thought she was your friend.’

‘She is. Or I thought she was. Why would she do that, though? Act like a complete airhead, fluttering her eyelashes and simpering all over Matthew? And you’d think she’d have told me she was going to barrage him with questions, wouldn’t … ouch …’

Trailing off with a wince, Ashley stopped walking and glanced down at her feet. ‘These flipping shoes are killing me,’ she moaned, and then, huffing, she paused to unbuckle stiletto cuff sandals Rebecca would get vertigo standing up in, let alone dancing in.

Mission accomplished, Ashley straightened up and padded on, a shoe in each hand and looking definitely po-faced. Rebecca hid a smile. She looked more herself like that, truculent, feisty, defensive of Matthew. Ashley had bonded with Matthew immediately, amazingly. Matthew hadn’t even known of Ashley’s existence until, having finally re-established contact with his sister, she’d announced she’d had a child and been unable to care for her. She’d been trying to reach out, Rebecca had suspected, but belligerently, of course. Blaming everything and everyone for her situation bar her addiction to alcohol.

They’d still been grieving then, each in their own private hell, raw with the pain of losing their own daughter. In going to see Ashley at the care home they’d known they would be making a commitment and had worried in light of their own grief whether they could truly provide the sort of parenting a troubled teenager might need. Once they’d met her though, there’d been no going back. Rebecca recalled how her heart had swollen with pride for her husband as she’d watched him quietly gaining the trust of a frightened young girl, who’d looked so utterly lost. He’d used all his wiles, mind. His sense of humour, self-deprecating nature and winning smile could charm the birds from the trees. Rebecca was all too aware of Matthew’s obvious attractions, which more than the odd female over the years hadn’t been impervious to either. No, it hadn’t been the obvious flattery and fluttery eyes that had bothered Rebecca. The questioning though?

Had Ashley confided in Jasmine, she wondered, though Rebecca doubted it. She might only be Matthew’s foster daughter, his niece by birth, but the two were like peas in a pod when it came to opening up. Plus, Ashley had looked surprised when Jasmine mentioned she and Matthew had met before, so they obviously hadn’t had any in-depth conversation about him. Still, though, it was almost is if Jasmine had a pre-prepared list of questions aimed at prising open wounds not yet healed. They’d survived their ordeal, but the scars were still there. Not visible in Matthew’s case. Despite his promises not to, he’d buried his pain, closed himself off, just as he’d done after the car accident that took Lily away. An ‘accident’ that was engineered, Rebecca had learned from the foul mouth of their persecutor, words that she’d thought would kill her as surely as the noose he’d looped around her throat would.

Matthew needed to be in control of his emotions in order to function in his job, Rebecca knew that. A job she’d secretly wished he hadn’t gone back to. But even after all they’d been through, the deep remorse Matthew suffered because he’d kept information from her, misguidedly trying to protect her, still he would treat her as if she were made of porcelain sometimes. Rebecca wasn’t. If anything she’d been made stronger, determined her family would stay intact. She was scared for Matthew, angry with him, too, for not seeking the help it was obvious he needed, obvious to her anyway. She so wished he would see that in bottling things up, he was erecting walls between them again. She knew he was riddled with guilt, plagued by nightmares. Rebecca understood. How could she not? Even now, three years later, her skin would crawl as she recalled Sullivan’s clammy soft palms sliding the length of her thighs. Sometimes, perhaps reminded by a waft of overpowering cologne, she could still smell him, a pungent mixture of stale whisky, cannabis smoke, and sickly sweet aftershave, see his goading eyes, cold, unyielding, unfeeling, as black as molasses and swimming with pure evil. He’d used her as bait, she and Ashley both. He’d known Matthew would come. It had been Matthew he’d wanted. He wouldn’t have killed him until he’d beaten him sufficiently though, tortured him mercilessly. Rebecca had nightmares too, dreams so real she’d wake from them terrified, and each and every time she did, Matthew would hold her, comfort her. He would never seek comfort though, almost as if he needed to punish himself. Waking drenched in sweat, as he had last night, he would generally disappear to the bathroom, shower, and come quietly back to bed. He wouldn’t sleep. Being reminded of their horrendous experience all over again this evening wouldn’t help him to sleep tonight, that was for certain.

‘Is she an airhead?’ Rebecca asked, though she hated the connotation that beautiful and blonde equalled stupid. She was well aware that Ashley had struggled to make friends in care, bullied because she was ‘different’, but Jasmine seemed an odd choice, given Ashley’s no-nonsense attitude.

‘Not if the grades she gets in her assignments are any indication,’ Ashley supplied, still looking miffed.

‘Oh, right. Her book should be worth reading then. Is that what she’s doing for her final assignment?’ Rebecca asked, thinking she was making too much out of this. Jasmine’s questions might all have been perfectly innocent, if a little near the knuckle. She was on a creative writing course, after all.

‘No. That’s what I don’t get.’ Ashley shook her head and scraped back her hair, which somehow always gravitated to her face. ‘She’s writing a stage play. She’s already submitted her outline and had her first one-to-one. I just don’t get it.’

‘Get what?’ Matthew asked, catching up with them, as they reached the hotel exit.

‘Jasmine.’ Ashley sighed. ‘Sorry about that, Matthew. If I’d known she was going to grill you I wouldn’t have brought her over.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Ash.’ Matthew wrapped an arm around her and gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. ‘She was only—’

‘Giving you the third degree,’ Becky supplied.

‘Yeah, she was a bit.’ Matthew furrowed his brow as he pondered again the girl’s line of questioning. He still couldn’t place where it was he’d met her. Must have done, though, he supposed. ‘It’s not a problem,’ he assured her. ‘It happens all the time, people wanting the gory details. No harm done.’

‘And lusting after you.’ Becky slid him an amused glance, as he leaned past her to push open the exit door.

‘Like I say,’ Matthew sighed stoically. ‘Happens all the time.’

‘Ooh, modest, as well as irresistible,’ Becky imparted facetiously as he nodded her on ahead of him.

Ashley laughed as he gave her a neat bow and nodded her on too. ‘And courteous with it.’

‘A fine specimen of manhood, obviously,’ Matthew couldn’t resist.

Becky eyed the skies. ‘Obviously.’

‘Ye-es. Perfection personified, I’d say,’ Ashley added to his list of growing attributes, rolling her eyes as she walked past him. ‘Careful you don’t get your head stuck in the door on the way out.’

‘You two do my ego the world of good, you know that?’ Matthew’s mouth twitched into a smile as he came down the steps after them.

‘So, would our white knight like to fetch the car, since we have a damsel in a state of undress?’ Becky asked him, turning back. ‘Assuming you have only had two drinks that is.’

‘Sorry?’ Matthew glanced at her, and then, concerned, past her, to where a couple appeared to be arguing.

Becky indicated Ashley’s naked feet. ‘Ashley’s new shoes have crippled her and mine are on their way to doing the same.’

‘Oh, right, yes. Will do,’ Matthew answered distractedly, his attention still on the young couple whose argument was becoming extremely animated. ‘What do you think’s going on there?’ he asked, nodding across the car park towards them.

Becky followed his gaze. ‘Lovers’ tiff?’ she suggested.

‘Must have been one hell of a tiff,’ Matthew observed, wincing as the girl screamed at the guy to piss off and leave her alone. ‘Isn’t that Ashley’s …? Hell!’ Instinct propelled him forward as the guy yelled back, calling her a complete effing bitch. It wasn’t the choice of words he was using that had Matthew intervening though. Couples argued. That was a fact. It was none of his business, particularly when he wasn’t on duty. A bloke laying into a woman, however, Matthew considered that was his business, on duty or not.

Bloody hell. He lunged forwards as the guy’s second blow hit hard. Seeing the girl crumple, Matthew saw red and was on the bastard in an instant.

‘Don’t,’ he warned him, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his neck, as he leaned over the girl, and yanking him upright.

‘Get off!’ The man struggled. ‘I hardly touched her!’

‘Oh, well, that’s all right then, isn’t it, you cowardly piece of shit!’ Definitely irked now, Matthew wrestled the guy into a neck hold, reached for his right arm and locked it high up his back.

‘She made me!’ the guy wailed.

That did it. His temper now dangerously close to the surface, Matthew forced his arm a fraction further. This species made him sick to the pit of his stomach, bullies who picked on people who were weaker than they were. And then tried to justify it? The worst was, they actually believed they were provoked in some way. Contemptible specimens, they were a breed on their own. Tugging in a terse breath, Matthew worked to dismiss an image which assailed him out of nowhere: Sullivan, a vicious bastard even in his youth, looming over him, mercilessly putting the boot in.

‘She did!’ The guy’s voice went up an octave, as Matthew groped for his other arm. ‘She hit me first. She …’

Matthew tuned it out. Tried hard to tune out Sullivan’s goading voice. She has nice breasts, your wife. Full and ripe. I like them like that, don’t you? Cat got your tongue? Or do you need a minute, Adams, is that it? Take your time, Matthew, just like you did when you were a shit-scared, snivelling little kid. And then I’m going to make you watch. Comprendre?

Leave it, Matthew warned himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t. Looking towards Becky, who was now crouching down by the crying girl, he attempted to concentrate on what was happening in front of him, rather than what was going on in his head.

‘Come on, Jasmine,’ Becky said, folding her into her arms and helping her to standing. ‘I’ve got you. You’re all right.’

At which, Jasmine only cried harder. Leaning into Becky, she got shakily to her feet, choking back the sobs and tugging her dress down, trying to protect her modesty.

Bastard. Matthew clamped hard on his jaw. ‘You’re nicked,’ he grated, close to the man’s ear. He was way too close to losing it, he realised, and giving this cretin, who was a head taller than the girl and wouldn’t look out of place on the rugby field, a taste of his own medicine.

‘No! Don’t,’ Jasmine intervened tearfully. ‘I don’t want to press charges. It was my fault.’

What? Incredulous, Matthew snapped his gaze back to her.

Ashley’s expression was also disbelieving, as she stepped towards her. ‘Jasmine, I don’t know what was going down here,’ she said, looking bewilderedly between her and the guy, ‘but you can’t just let him … Ouch!’ Her face screwed up in pain, Ashley ground to a halt and gingerly lifted one foot.

‘Oh no … Ashley?’ Seeing a thin trickle of blood, Becky moved towards her.

‘I’m fine,’ Ashley assured her, dragging her hair from her face and bending to examine the damage. ‘Broken glass,’ she supplied, with a sigh. ‘It’s not deep. Look after Jasmine.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Ash.’ Jasmine looked, stricken, from Ashley to Matthew. ‘Please don’t arrest him,’ she begged, wiping a hand shakily under her nose. ‘I don’t want to press charges. I just want to go. I want him to go!’ She glared at the guy, who Matthew had still got a hold of, and who he was very reluctant to let go of.

‘But Jasmine?’ Ashley shook her head, uncomprehending. ‘You have to press charges. He hit you.’

‘I don’t want to!’ Jasmine shouted, a fresh bout of tears brimming. ‘I just …’ Trailing off, she wrapped her arms defensively about herself and dropped her gaze.

And Matthew’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to give a statement. If he had a pound for every woman who was too scared to give evidence against a man who talked with his fists. Sighing inwardly, he debated. He could do him for causing an affray?

‘Please.’ Jasmine looked desperately towards him. ‘I just want to call a taxi and go home.’

Loath though he was, Matthew drew in a breath and relaxed his grip. ‘Go,’ he spat angrily, dropping the guy and pushing him forwards.

Stumbling, Connor righted himself and turned to glance nervously back at Matthew, and then at Jasmine.

Her gaze hit the floor again fast, Matthew noticed. She was probably too petrified to even look at the bastard in case it was the wrong kind of look. ‘Move!’ he yelled, causing the guy to jump out of his skin. ‘And, trust me, if I see you so much as bad-mouthing a woman ever again, I’ll do you on any and every conceivable charge I can find. Understand?’

The guy nodded, swallowed as Matthew eyeballed him furiously, took a step backwards, and then turned and ran. Coward. Matthew wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and went immediately over to check on Ashley.

‘I’m all right. It’s just a bit of glass,’ she assured him as he examined the wound.

‘You’ll need to go to the hospital,’ Matthew told her, noting it was a small cut, but deep. ‘It might still have glass in it. Better to be safe.’

‘Nah, I’m fine,’ Ashley attempted to brush it off. ‘I’ll bathe it when I get in and stick a plaster on it.’

‘You’re going, Ashley,’ Matthew insisted, his tone brooking no argument. Despite appearances, at seventeen, she wasn’t an adult and sometimes heavy parenting was called for.

‘I’ve called a taxi,’ Becky said, waving her mobile. ‘It’s on its way from a nearby drop-off. I’ll ring the babysitter and take Ashley to the hospital. You make sure Jasmine gets home. Okay?’

Giving him a meaningful glance as she steered a still sniffling Jasmine in his direction, Becky nodded over her shoulder, to where the guy had disappeared like greased lightning.

Matthew got the drift. Make sure she’s okay, she meant, and try to change her mind about pressing charges. No chance. Despairingly, Matthew took the car keys Becky offered him. It was clear from the way she’d reacted when this Connor bloke had approached her at the table that the girl was terrified of him. Matthew wasn’t surprised. Sick to his stomach, but not surprised.

‘Come on, Jasmine.’ He forced a smile, despite his despondency. ‘Let’s get you home safely.’