Chapter 41

 

Dylan led the way upstairs in his house carrying her bag, and she followed behind. It was nice to have someone taking care of her for a change. It gave her a warm feeling inside which she wasn’t used to. As far back as she could remember it had always been her taking care of Chloe. Nobody looked out for April.

He stopped at one of the spare bedrooms and opened the door.

“I thought you’d be comfortable in here,” he placed her bag on a chair and nodded towards the ensuite door. “Have a soak in the bath if you want to and come down when you’re ready. I’ll rustle up something for us to eat.”

She widened her eyes, “You cook as well as rescuing damsels in distress?”

He pulled a playful face, “I’d use the word cook, loosely. Let’s just say there’ll be food on the table.” His eyes twinkled, “See you shortly, there’s no rush.”

He closed the door behind him and she sat on the bed. He was full of surprises. She thought he’d be after a night of sex, yet he’d not presumed that. Whoever got him would be one lucky lady. Wealthy, great in bed, and caring.

She chastised herself.

Dylan Rider breaks the law. Your job is upholding it.

You’d do well to remember that.

 

She did as he’d advised and enjoyed the luxury of a warm bath. Her crappy flat only had a shower. The bath reminded her of home. It had been an age since she’d set foot in her own flat. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long now until she was back there.

She took two aspirin to help with her throbbing head and looked at her face in the mirror. The black eye looked unsightly, and there was a long deep-red graze down her cheek where she’d been dragged along the ground. No wonder they were all concerned. She wasn’t though, she’d had worse than that during her time with the police. As it turned out, the attack had actually been fortuitous as it got her access to his house for the weekend and the housekeeper wouldn’t be around.

She rubbed some moisturiser into her squeaky-clean face, avoiding her eye, and brushed her teeth. Her hair was low-maintenance, so she rubbed a bit of gel into it and fluffed it up. What to wear wasn’t a choice. She’d only stuck a tracksuit and a pair of jeans in her bag, but she wasn’t there to be dressed up and girly, and they’d already had sex, so she didn’t need to work on that. If it happened, it happened. She hoped it would. He was good at that and she did find him hot.

 

He’d made an omelette and salad. She hadn’t realised quite how hungry she was and devoured it. They’d chatted about mundane things as they ate, but once they’d finished eating and were drinking the last of the wine, he looked directly at her with purpose. “Tell me what really happened?”

No surprise he hadn’t believed her account.

She placed her wine glass down. “I was attacked.”

His eyes darkened, “Define attacked?”

She knew the way his mind was working.

“Not raped, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m relieved to hear it. What stopped him?”

“I screamed and someone came running towards us.”

“Did you inform the police?”

“No.” She screwed her face up, “I doubt they’d be interested in me. Ex-prisoners aren’t top of their priority list. Anyway, even though I’d spoken to him earlier, I don’t think I’d recognise him again.”

“What, you mean you’d met him?”

“Sort of. I’d been out with Joey and Rachel and he came onto me in the pub. I knocked him back. He must have waited until I left to catch the bus home and followed me.”

“Should you be walking around on your own at night?” he scowled. “You left yourself wide open for something like this to happen.”

“Well, I’m afraid when you have to get around on public transport, you have very little choice.”

“Surely Joey could have walked you to the bus stop?”

“Joey’s not my minder, he can’t be escorting me round and about London. It was a night out; he was probably looking to pick up a woman for all I know.”

“What, when you were out with him?” he shook his head, “I don’t think so. I’m sure if he was after getting laid, he’d be interested in you.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, “we’re friends. He doesn’t see me like that.”

“Yeah right. Any bloke with blood in his veins would be seeing you like that.”

She took a sip of her wine, but kept her eyes on his. She liked his company, he was easy to be with.

“You’re wrong you know. You might see me like that because we’re having sex, but not all blokes do, I can assure you.”

“So you’re telling me Joey’s never tried it on with you?”

“Never.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“It’s true. Maybe he’s more interested in Rachel, I don’t know. But he and I are definitely no more than friends.”

“Maybe on your part, but trust me, I’m a man. He’ll be interested.”

She laughed, “The way you talk, you’d think blokes were queuing up to take me out.”

“Aren’t they?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes, “I wish.”

“Have you had many relationships?”

“Not really, have you?”

“Too many. Although I wouldn’t call them relationships,” he pulled a face, “more friendships with benefits.”

“Why’s that, then? Surely over the years you’ve met some you wanted a long-term relationship with?”

“Honestly?” He shook his head, “I haven’t. I think my marriage put me off.”

“So you don’t want to settle down, and maybe have more kids?”

“Definitely not. I do think sometimes it would be nice to have someone to come home to, but then the urge quickly passes. I think I’m too set in my ways. What about you, is that what you want, marriage and kids?”

“I don’t know what I want if I’m totally honest. My priority is getting myself sorted and back on a career pathway of some sort. I’d like to travel though, that’d be nice.”

“What about children, do you want them eventually?”

“I’m not sure. I guess that comes into play when you meet the right one. It’s certainly not high on my agenda at the moment.”

“You’re only young, there’s plenty of time for that. I personally think kids should come much later in your life. In your twenties you aren’t really equipped to deal with them, not men anyway. We’re far too immature.”

“Yes, but it’s nice to be your age now and have a grown-up son?”

“Mmmm,” he rolled his eyes, “the jury’s still out on that one.”

“How is Henry anyway, any further forward with an apprenticeship?”

“You tell me. I hardly see him.”

“He did show you his artworks though?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I haven’t seen any of his art. He’s shown you, has he?”

“Yes, one morning when I was cleaning his room. He’s very talented.”

“You’re honoured. He likes Vic, but I don’t think he’s even shown him.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m nearer his age?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “What are you suggesting . . . that I’m old?”

“Well you are . . . what . . . pushing forty?” She giggled, the wine relaxing her.

“And you’re a cheeky mare, I’m thirty-seven. It’s a good job you’re incapacitated, or you’d pay for that remark.”

“And here’s me thinking I’ve only got a black eye, I didn’t realise that rendered me incapacitated. What would you have done to me if I wasn’t incapacitated?”

“Tied you to the bed and tortured you.”

Her pussy fluttered at his words.

“Really,” she widened her eyes, “shame I’m going to miss that then. I think that might have been just the pick-me-up I needed.”

His eyes darkened, as if he was weighing up whether it would be okay to fuck her.

She licked the surplus wine off her lips, staring back invitingly.

He downed the last dregs of his wine, “Your room or mine?”

“Whichever one has the handcuffs.”

 

He’d lived up to his promise. He’d tied her to the bed and blindfolded her and she’d relished his mouth licking, nipping and kissing every surface and orifice of her body. He’d made her come and come again. He’d been relentless.

And she’d played her part. She’d kept him in the bed with her, rather than let him retreat to his own room, for no other reason than it was the only way to get access to his phone.

That was the only reason, wasn’t it?

 

Each time she initiated sex, he complied. He was an unselfish lover, and it crossed her mind she wouldn’t have been quite so eager had he not been. Every time he went to use the bathroom to dispose of a condom, she checked his WhatsApp messages. The directive she’d been given was to get as many of them as possible as the force couldn’t access them remotely. She couldn’t afford the time to be selective, so she randomly opened some and took photos with her own phone. It was painstakingly slow, but she did manage to take pictures of a couple she thought were pertinent.

 

It was the early hours of the morning when he left her room. She’d made a pretence of dozing which allowed him the chance to slip away. Much as she enjoyed the sex, she didn’t want the intimacy of sleeping with him. It would have been awkward in the morning.

Once he’d left her, she checked the photos she’d taken on her phone. One of the WhatsApp messages she’d got between Dylan and Victor mentioned this‘J’, but even though they appeared innocuous and were easily interpreted as two brothers discussing a friend, her gut feeling told her that J was relevant to the Portillo.

She eagerly scanned the photo of his recent calls. Even though she knew the police could easily access his call log so getting that wasn’t her remit, she’d photographed it anyway. The female inside her wanted to know if he communicated with Ingrid outside of work.

There was no evidence he had.

Why on earth did that make her feel relieved?