Ethan
We head for my car and I put her bag in the boot. I stare at the dog. Normally when I take my dogs out, I take the Jeep. How I’m going to get Sadie in the back, I’m not sure. I stare at the coupe and then back at the dog, and Isla touches my arm.
It’s a huge gesture on her part, because she may not realise it, but it shows a certain degree of trust. And I want her to trust me. God knows why, but I do. I want to make sure she’s okay, of course, and find out what the fuck is going on. But it goes deeper, and I step away from the thought, not ready to examine it.
“Sadie can sit on my knee,” she says.
“The dog’s big. You’re kind of small. She’ll squash you.”
She laughs. “No, she won’t. It will be fine. Honest.”
I frown. “It’s not safe. If I have to brake suddenly, she could hurt herself. Or you. How about we put her on the floor by your feet. The seat moves back, and she’ll be okay for one journey.”
She nods, and then narrows her eyes at me. “How do you ferry your dogs about?”
“Got a jeep back at home.”
I wait for her to climb in, then help Sadie in and get her settled at Isla’s running shoe covered feet. She’s wearing jeans with a t-shirt, and it’s a casual outfit. The jeans aren’t particularly smart, and look sort of old-fashioned, but then what do I know? They’re probably the latest style. I’m not into clothes.
“Thank you.”
I nod at her and close the door, jogging round to the driver’s side. I pull onto the road and glance in the rear-view mirror as I drive off, making sure no one follows us.
“Do you run?” I ask after a while.
“Yes. A few times a week. I try to eat well and keep fit.”
“Me too. I run, I mean. Although, I do the other stuff. Eat well, work out.”
“It shows,” she says.
I glance at her and we pass under a streetlamp in time to see her clamp her lips shut and turn pink. I bite back a smile. So, she noticed the effort I put into staying in shape. I’m not stupid. I see how women look at me. Men too, sometimes. Hell, it’s one of the reasons I can earn money doing my job. I’m not big headed about it, though. My friend, Luka, who was in the forces with me, is so handsome no one notices me when we’re together. Women fucking swoon over the guy. You have a friend like him, and you can’t be too puffed up about how you look.
As we drive in silence for a while, I wonder if my sister is already at the house. She’s a pain in my arse a lot of the time. Always on at me to get a “proper job” and “settle down”. Thankfully since having Katie, she only has the attention span of a gnat. I get a few minutes of nagging and then she goes back to thinking about, or worrying about, Katie. I worry about them both.
It’s a struggle for her being a single mum, and one of the reasons I do this job. I can help her out more if I’m not working regular nine to five hours. Not that I could do an office job anyway. The though makes me want to pull my t-shirt away from my throat, it’s that fucking claustrophobic. The screwing for cash thing also means I can help Ann out with money. Sex pays well and I already had a fair bit stashed away. Not that she’s too hard up because Jacob, her husband, put in place a great life insurance policy. I’m glad he did, cold as it sounds, because otherwise things would be a lot worse.
“I bet this is pretty out here in the day.” Isla looks out of the window across dark fields.
It is, and it’s one of the reasons I live out here. I need to be in nature, away from too many people and buildings. I don’t like feeling cooped up.
“It’s nice.”
“How far is your place?”
“Two minutes now.” I glance at her, briefly. “You don’t have a Yorkshire accent. Where are you from?”
She bites her lip, and then looks out of the window again. “I lived in Sussex until I was ten, and then we moved up here.”
“Oh, did your dad move for work?” I’m making idle conversation, but her reply stuns me.
“No. I was in a car accident with my mum. It killed my mum and injured me badly. I needed lots of surgery. When I got out of the hospital, Dad had already sold the house. He couldn’t bear to stay down there, and he needed help with me. So, we moved here, back to where he grew up, to be near my gran.”
I swallow hard. Fuck. Not a good start in life for her. To lose her mum so young, and then be dragged away from everything she knew. “I’m sorry.” They are the two most inadequate words I’ve ever uttered.
She shrugs. “It happened a long time ago now.”
I’ve lost both my parents. Dad died in combat, and it’s a big part of the reason I signed up. Mum drank herself to death over many years. She checked out mentally way before she left us physically. She never got over dad dying. It was probably a selfish dick move for me to enlist the way I did, but I couldn’t stand to stay at home and watch her rot away in front of my eyes. There were few jobs at the time for a kid like me. I didn’t do great at school, and liked to use my body more than my brains. The forces gave me the discipline I needed and let me put all my pent-up energy to good use.
I did well. Really fucking well. Got selected for the Royal Marines, and from there the Special Boat Service. I miss it to this day. But I’d burned out. If I carried on it was only a matter of time before I fucked up. I got offered work when I left doing military stuff for private contractors but it didn’t appeal as it would have meant leaving Ann and Katie for long periods, so here I am. Fucking for cash. Marvellous.
I pull the car into the drive and kill the engine. Ann’s car is already parked up. I smile at the thought of seeing Katie in the morning, and go around to help Sadie and Isla out of the car. Isla blinks up at me in surprise when I offer her my hand. But she takes it and steps out onto the gravel. She looks at the house and back to me. “Nice. Sex for cash pays well.”
Her words piss me the fuck off. I grab her wrist but not hard. “Hey.”
She turns back to me.
“Don’t fucking talk about it in front of my sister.”
“She doesn’t know?”
I rein in my temper, because I’ve only just got her to trust me, but she’s winding me the fuck up. “Yes, she fucking knows. But she doesn’t like it, and I don’t want a lecture tonight. We’ll tell her you’re in some trouble and leave it at that. She doesn’t know the exact details of what I do.”
“You mean, she doesn’t know you pretend to be a rapist. You know, it’s a risky line of work. You could get framed doing that sort of thing.” She shoots me a sharp look, and I swear I don’t know if she is teasing or being a bitch. I can’t tell. This girl is hard to read at times.
Not many people can throw me off balance. Unsure how to take her remarks, I ignore them and head to the door. I push it open and see Ann sat at my kitchen table, a plate in front of her with olives, cheese, and crackers on it. A glass of wine sits to one side, and two drooling dogs watch her every move. The dogs spy Isla and Sadie and jump up. They run over and go crazy over me for a nano-second before heading over to Sadie and sizing up the new canine interloper.
Isla wanders into the kitchen and looks around. I wonder if she likes what she sees and then piss myself off for caring.
“Nice kitchen.” Her eyes are big and blue under the spotlights. A pale, cornflower blue, and it goes well with her light hair and the few freckles on her cheeks and nose. She’s pretty. Very pretty. Perfectly put together and neat, and all innocent looking.
I want to dirty her up.
Mess up her hair, make those eyes darken.
I push the thoughts away and shrug. “Thanks.”
“I’ve always wanted a house like this. A farmhouse out in the country, with a beautiful, big kitchen.”
“Figures.” I haul the bags in and put them by the door. “You probably want the white picket fence and brood of kids to go with it, right?”
She flinches. As if I slapped her or something. “You don’t know anything about me, or what I want.”
I don’t answer because she’s right. I don’t. I know she lives with Daddy. In a big, modern house full of blingy stuff. I know she dresses like something from a bygone era, and doesn’t wear much make-up, or sexy clothes, unlike most women of her age. And I know she’s a virgin. Which makes me think about getting her all dirty again, so I shut my mind off and stalk over to the coffee pot.
“I’m Ann.” My sister saves the day by getting up and going over to Isla. “You look like you need a drink. Something stronger than coffee.” She holds the wine up, but Isla shakes her head.
“I don’t drink, thanks.”
“You deeply religious?” I ask. Genuinely curious. It explains the no sex, no booze stuff.
She flushes and shakes her head. “No,” she snaps.
“Only asking.” I hold my hands up.
“Do you have decaf coffee?” she asks.
“Yeah. You into eating clean or something?”
“Or something.” She doesn’t elaborate.
“Come sit, Isla. That’s a pretty name.” Ann heads back to the table and pats the chair next to her.
She smiles and heads to sit next to my sister.
“You’re gorgeous, if you don’t mind me saying,” Ann says. “You ever thought about modelling?”
Isla shakes her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Oh, why?” Ann pushes the plate of nibbles toward Isla, but she puts a hand up in a no sign.
“I’ve some scars. I doubt they’d want me to model with those. And I’m not tall enough by a long shot.”
“They can cover things like scars up with make-up these days, and you could do beauty work anyway. Head shots and the like. Your hair is amazing too. Are you naturally blonde?”
Isla flushes and nods.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to give you the third degree. I worked as a make-up artist before I had my little terror, and I notice these things.”
“Do you still do make-up?” Isla asks.
Nibbling on a cracker, Ann considers her. “Only for friends as a favour. Weddings, and things like that. But I’m considering getting back into it at some point soon, part-time only. You got an event coming up or something, you want help with?”
“No.” Isla accepts the coffee I hand her. I’m about to ask if she wants sugar, but she sips as is and makes a happy sigh, so I shut my mouth and let her carry on with what she was saying. “My mum died when I was younger though, and I’ve never worn make-up as I didn’t have anyone to learn from. My friends don’t wear it, so it’s not something I’ve tried. But Mum used to wear it, and I’ve always wanted to give it a go. My regime is a coat of mascara and some lip balm.”
I don’t think she needs make-up. She’s gorgeous as she is but Ann pipes up.
“Oooh, a virgin!” Isla flushes and I bite my lip to stop from smiling. “I’d love to help you pop your make-up cherry. I love playing about with it all still, and you’re pretty, you’ll be fun to do some different looks for. How long are you staying?”
“We’re not sure.” I intercede, not wanting Isla to say too much. “I need to check some things out, and we’ll know more then.”
Ann nods and doesn’t ask any further questions.
I sit down across from Isla and watch her sip at her coffee. I’m a good judge of character, but this girl has me stumped. She’s gentle, shy almost, but then she has a real bite to her when she wants to. I sense underneath her soft exterior there’s a woman made of real steel. She survived the death of her mother, and a nasty accident. And she’s sipping coffee in a stranger’s house, not long after said stranger attacked her…or at least so she thought. And she’s not going to pieces. I’m impressed.
“You looked for any jobs recently?” Ann’s words drag my focus off Isla and I turn to scowl at my sister.
“Nope.”
“You need to.”
“Why?” I shoot back.
Ann holds her hands up and starts counting off on her fingers. “One, it’s dangerous, you could get beaten up by a jealous husband. Or catch a disease. Two, it’s not a long-term plan, and the longer you have a gap on your CV that you can’t fill, the harder it will be to get a real job. Three, it stops you having a relationship because who wants to be in one with a…sex worker. Four, at some point Katie is going to start asking what Uncle Ethan does for a living, and I don’t want to have to lie to her. Or for you to have to lie to her.”
I sigh. I’d been about to rebut all her points, but the last one is a killer. I don’t want to have to lie to Katie, either.
She turns to Isla and narrows her eyes. “Sorry for being blunt, but you don’t look like someone who’d hire…my brother.”
“Whoa.” I hold my hands up. “Enough of the judgemental shit. There’s no such thing as a typical client.”
“Yes, there is,” she shoots back. “Don’t forget I know a few of them, the mortification. They are generally aged forty to fifty-something. Well off, attractive, well groomed, and ignored by their husbands. You don’t look old enough to be married.” She turns her attention back to Isla.
“I’m not, there’s been a mix up.” She nibbles her lip, and I get hard watching her. Fuck my life, this woman is going to give me a nervous breakdown.
I wait for her to carry on, wondering if she’s about to let my sister know exactly what some of my jobs entail, but she goes on. “I didn’t book your brother, and we want to find out who did, as it seems they might be setting him or me up.”
“Wow. That’s fucked up.” Ann turns her worried face to me. “This is the sort of thing I’ve always dreaded happening. But maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe some friends thought it would be a nice surprise and did it for you?” Ann asks Isla, and I need to change the fucking subject.
“Do you want me to take Katie to school tomorrow? You can have a bit of a lie in and make Isla breakfast.”
Ann beams. “That’d be great, bro.”
I smile, until I realise I’ve given them an hour without me in the morning to put their heads together. Fuck my life.