Tangled Up Page 11

  Hayley was at home. We’d open a bottle of wine and watch the latest episode of Girls.

  Scrunched-up newspaper brushed against my ankles and I picked my way through the mess, wondering why people had to be so gross in their habits. A cat crossed my path, eyes glinting in the darkness, and I was trying to remember if that was lucky or unlucky when I heard footsteps behind me.

  They came at me without warning. Surrounded me.

  And I knew, cat or no cat, my luck had run out.

  2

  I TURNED, THINKING it was a good job my hobbies didn’t include baking or book group, because these guys didn’t look as if they wanted a cupcake or my tip for a good bedtime read.

  There were four of them, the men from the bar, and only now did I realize that walking down this alley had been a mistake. I’d been intent on getting away from Hunter. I hadn’t thought about anything else. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I hadn’t thought about my personal safety.

  ‘Hey, pretty girl, looks like you walked out on your date.’ The one who had smiled at me took the lead. ‘Good decision. Want to go someplace and have some fun?’

  ‘No.’ I said it clearly so there could be no mistake. ‘I’m going home. Alone.’ I checked out my options swiftly. I was halfway down the street, so there was no obvious escape and there was no other person in sight.

  I was on my own apart from the cat, but he’d walked away with a disdainful flick of his black tail. You can always rely on a cat to do his own thing in a crisis.

  I taught people to be aware, to walk away from a fight, and here I was slap bang in the middle of a risky situation. In my haste to put distance between Hunter and me, I’d broken all my own rules.

  The second man stepped in front of me. He was bigger, heavier than the first guy, probably a little out of condition but his bulk gave him advantage and I could see from the glitter in his eyes he’d been drinking.

  I stepped back, still hoping to walk and talk my way out of the situation.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘What’s the rush? Don’t you think that’s a little unfriendly?’

  ‘What I think,’ I said clearly, ‘is that you should go wherever you’re going and leave me to go where I’m going. And those two places are not the same.’

  ‘Maybe they are, kitten.’ The smile held just a hint of nasty. He moved toward me, pressing me back against the wall, crowding me, caging me. I didn’t hesitate. I lifted my knee, power driving through my hips as I kicked him. The transformation from kitten to tiger caught him by surprise. He doubled over and I spun and caught him with my elbow. Shock gave me the window I’d been hoping for to escape but sprinting was impossible in my heels and I’d barely made it a few steps when two of them yanked me back. My head smacked against the wall and pain exploded.

  Holy crap.

  I’d lost the element of surprise and I was about to scream when Hunter emerged out of the darkness. His face was barely visible, his bulk menacing in the shadows.

  ‘Let her go.’ He didn’t raise his voice, but I felt the man’s hold on me slacken.

  The guy I’d kicked was rubbing his leg. ‘Walk away. This is nothing to do with you.’

  Hunter didn’t move. That might have surprised them but it didn’t surprise me. He never had been any good at following orders. He’d grown up in a part of London that most people avoided, so a dark street filled with litter and city types who couldn’t hold their drink was unlikely to elevate his excitement levels.

  ‘I told you to let her go.’ He stood dangerously still, powerful legs braced apart. He was so damn sure of himself and my stomach curled and my limbs felt like overcooked spaghetti.

  That confidence and assurance had been irresistible to an underconfident eighteen-year-old. To me he’d seemed like a cross between a god and a guardian angel. I’d wrapped my shaky, uncertain self around him like a plant desperate for support, using his strength instead of developing my own. When he’d walked away, I’d crumpled.

  It embarrassed me to remember how pathetic I’d been. The memory was so humiliating I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about him. Deep down I knew he’d done the right thing to break it off—although I didn’t think he needed to have been quite so brutal in the execution. I’d been so clingy, so dependent, so good at leaning on him I’d forgotten how to stand upright by myself. Never had a girl been so crazily in love with a man as I’d been with Hunter.

  And I should have known better. My sister and I had camped out on the battlefield of our parents’ divorce, and believe me, it was a bloody experience. We’d both graduated from childhood totally screwed up about relationships.

  When you witness a savage divorce, it can do one of two things to you. Either you decide marriage is something to be avoided at all costs, which is what my sister, Hayley, did, or you decide you’re going to do it differently. That was what I did. I was never going to make the mistakes my parents made, because I was going to pick the right guy.

  And then I’d met Hunter and I’d thought I’d fallen into the fairy tale. Compared to him Prince Charming would have looked like a loser.

  The man holding me let go of my wrist and stepped forward. ‘There are four of us and one of you.’

  Still Hunter didn’t move. ‘It’s an uneven fight, which is why I’m telling you to walk away.’

  I was the only one who understood his meaning. The four men thought the odds were in their favour.

  I knew differently.

  Mention Hunter’s name in the world of martial arts, and everyone will know who you’re talking about. His skill had been noticed at an early age and it was that skill that had won him championships and sent him across the globe to Japan and Thailand to study with the very best.

  He had choreographed fight scenes for movies and appeared in a few. Not that I’d ever seen him on the big screen. I’d been trying to get him out of my head, so the last thing I needed was to be looking at a magnified version.

  These four city types didn’t look further than the suit.

  They saw one man. They didn’t see the power.

  They came at him simultaneously and he unleashed that power in a series of controlled movements that had two guys bent over and groaning in pain within seconds and the other two retreating in shock. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Hunter was respected, revered in some circles, as a strong, aggressive fighter and an inspirational instructor. But still, watching him in action made my stomach swoop.

  I suddenly realized I was no longer being held.

  ‘Get in the car!’ His rough command penetrated my brain but I simply stared at him, frozen, because he was suggesting I go with him. For the first time in my life I understood the phrase ‘between the devil and the deep blue sea.’ And he wasn’t the sea.

  My teeth were chattering and I heard him curse softly. ‘Rosie, get in the damn car. Move.’

  I turned my head and saw the low black sports car parked at the side of the road with the door open. Was it really a step up to be trapped alone in a car with Hunter Black?

  Without giving me more time to make the decision, he grabbed my hand and hauled me the short distance, all but bundled me inside and closed the door.

  I breathed in the smell of expensive leather and elite super car.

  Apart from thinking that Hollywood obviously paid well, I wasn’t surprised.

  Hunter had always been obsessed with power and speed. On my eighteenth birthday he’d given me a ride on the back of his motorcycle. I’d sat there, pressed against the power of the bike and the power of the man as we’d roared over London Bridge at two in the morning, realizing I’d never truly felt excitement before that moment. It was that night, right there wound around Hunter’s hard, muscular frame, that I’d discovered the difference between living and being alive. That was the night our relationship had changed. Before that we’d had hidden places. Secrets. By the time we woke up in the morning there were no secrets left.

  After that everyt
hing had been a lot like that bike ride. Wild, exhilarating and dangerous.

  I’d loved the fact that he knew me. Really knew me.

  He slid into the car next to me and the doors locked with a reassuring clunk.

  I hadn’t seen him since the day he’d walked out and now here we were, trapped together in this confined space. I was so aware of him I could hardly breathe. The scent, the power, the man. The air was thick with tension. I could have reached out and touched that strong, muscular thigh but instead I kept my hands clasped in my lap and my eyes straight ahead.

  I’d assumed if I ever saw him again I wouldn’t feel a thing.

  I hated being wrong.

  I felt as if I’d been plugged into an electric socket. The air hummed and crackled with unbearable tension. He was insanely attractive, of course, but I knew that wasn’t what was happening here. It was something deeper. Something far more scary and uncontrollable.

  I wondered if it was just me but then he turned his head at the same time I did and our eyes met. That brief exchange of glances was so intense I half expected to hear a crash of thunder.

  His eyes were a dark velvet-black and the way he was looking at me told me he was feeling everything I was feeling. How could a single glance be so intimate?

  My heart was pounding. I wanted to get out of the car so I could work out what all of this meant.

  I wanted to get home.

  I waited for him to ask me where I was living so he could drop me home, but he didn’t. Instead he pulled away and joined the flow of traffic. He didn’t say a word. No ‘How have you been?’ Or ‘I’m sorry I left.’

  Just tense, pulsing silence so heavy and oppressive it was like being covered in a thick blanket. And awareness. That throbbing, skin-tingling awareness that only ever happened when I was with this man.

  The restaurant was close to Fit and Physical, where I worked, overlooking the river. Usually I loved London at night. I loved the lights, the reflection of buildings on the water, the trees, the crush of people and the general air of excitement that comes from living in the capital. Tonight I barely looked at the city that was my home.

  I heard a throaty growl and for a moment I thought it was the car and then realized it was him.

  ‘Why were you with him?’ His jaw was clenched, his tone savage and I glanced across at him, stunned by the depth of emotion in his voice because Hunter was the most controlled person I’d ever met. He was the original Mr. Cool. Not tonight. He was simmering with fury and right on the edge of control. I realized that the reason he hadn’t spoken was that he was angry.

  ‘Who I’m with is none of your business.’

  ‘Why would you choose to spend your evening with a guy who thinks you should be doing baking and book club?’

  He’d heard that?

  I’d thought embarrassment was a split dress at a wedding—ask my sister about that one—but I discovered this was far, far worse.

  Let’s be honest. When a girl finally meets up with the guy who broke her heart, she wants everything to be perfect. She wants perfect hair, a perfect body, a perfect life. Most of all she wants to be in the perfect relationship so that he can see what he gave up. She doesn’t just want him to feel a sting of regret; she wants him contorted with it. She wants to smile and admit that breaking up with him was the best thing that ever happened because it put her on this path to lifestyle nirvana. The one thing she absolutely doesn’t want, especially in my case, is for him to have to rescue her.

  I wanted to crawl onto the floor of his car and curl up there unnoticed.

  I wanted to rewind time and spend the evening in a deep bubble bath with the latest issue of Cosmo. Most of all I didn’t want to feel this way. The truth was I dated men like Brian because I didn’t want to feel as if I’d been singed by wildfire.

  ‘You can drop me here and get back to your date. I’ll take the underground.’

  ‘Because walking down a dark alleyway alone at night wasn’t enough of a bad decision?’

  He’d always been protective. He’d always tried to keep me from being hurt. The irony was that in the end he’d been the one who had hurt me.

  ‘I travel on the underground all the time.’

  ‘Not when you’re with me.’

  Heat flooded through me. ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘Right now you are.’ His tone was savage. ‘And unlike your useless date, I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘Why? Have you suddenly developed a conscience?’ I watched as two streaks of colour highlighted his cheekbones and knew I’d scored a point. ‘Look, I’ve never been one for reunions, so just stop the damn car and—’

  ‘What the hell were you doing going out with a guy like him in the first place? He’s not the right man for you.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

  ‘I know everything about you.’ His husky tone was deeply personal and I felt everything tighten inside me.

  The chemistry between us had always been explosive.

  I’d assumed it was because he was my first, but I was fast realizing his ranking had nothing to do with it.

  I stole a glance at his profile, wondering what it was about him that made me feel this way. He had the same features as anyone else: eyes, mouth, nose—his nose had been broken a couple of times. But something about the way those features had been assembled on him just worked. He looked tough, like someone who could handle himself—probably because he could—and the combination of rugged good looks and a hard body was pretty irresistible.

  I felt a pang of regret that I’d wasted the time I’d had with him. Instead of just enjoying myself and having fun, which was what I should have done at eighteen, I’d been clingy and needy. Part of me wished I’d met him a few years later. Then we would have set the world alight.

  But it was too late for all of that.

  ‘Just drop me off and go back to the blonde.’

  ‘You don’t need to be jealous. She’s a colleague.’

  ‘I’m not jealous.’ But I was, and I hated that. I hated the fact that he made me feel that way after all this time. ‘Fuck you, Hunter.’

  And I had, of course. If there was one thing we’d been good at, it was sex.

  His knuckles were white on the wheel.

  His head turned briefly and his gaze met mine again.

  It was like the collision of two tectonic plates. I felt the tremor right through me from the top of my scalp to the soles of my feet and for a moment I was back there in the madness of it, my mind twisted by the ferocious sexual chemistry that only happened when we were together.

  With a soft curse, he dragged his gaze from mine and shifted gears in a savage movement that made me flinch. ‘You saw those guys looking at you and yet you just walked out and let them follow you.’

  ‘I’m not responsible for their bad behaviour. A woman should be free to walk where she likes without fear of being accosted by losers.’

  ‘You put yourself in a position where those losers could have hurt you.’

  ‘So you’re saying it’s my fault they behaved badly?’

  He clenched his jaw. ‘No, I’m not saying that.’

  I kept my hands clasped in my lap because the craving to touch him was scarily strong. ‘I didn’t know they were behind me. I wasn’t paying attention. I was upset.’

  ‘Because that guy told you to learn to bake cakes?’

  No, because I’d seen him. All I’d wanted to do was run.

  I was a coward. I prided myself on being gutsy and strong and I’d fled like a rabbit being chased by a fox.

  ‘I didn’t see any point in prolonging the evening. I’ve had a long week.’

  ‘Did you run because of me?’

  ‘Oh, please….’ Now I was doing a Brian, leaving my sentences unfinished, but in my case it was because I didn’t want to tell the truth and I was a hopeless liar.

  Hunter didn’t bother inserting the words I hadn’t spoken. He didn’t have to. He already knew the answer to
that one. He’d always been able to read me. We probably could have had an entire conversation without opening our mouths.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, he drove past the Houses of Parliament up to Buckingham Palace and then drove through Hyde Park, headlights bouncing off trees and sending a shimmer of light across the Serpentine pond. I didn’t own a car. For a start, I didn’t have the money to run one, but in London there was no point. Why spend the whole day sitting in traffic?

  Hunter reached into a pocket in the car and handed me a dressing pad. ‘Your head is bleeding.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ A bit of blood was the least of my worries. I had bigger concerns, like the fact my heart was hammering. It didn’t feel normal to me. ‘I had the situation under control. You didn’t need to help out.’ I took the pad, ripped it open and pushed it against my forehead, wondering what else he carried in this car. I hoped he had a defibrillator, because I was pretty sure I was going to need one.

  ‘If I hadn’t arrived when I did, you’d be a crime statistic.’

  ‘I was doing just fine.’

  ‘Your balance was wrong. You need to watch the way you drive your leg. You’re straightening too soon and losing power. You need a ninety-degree angle. You need to bend more. And turn your hips.’

  I was trying not to think about my hips. I was trying not to think about any part of my body, especially not the parts that were near my pelvis. I was worried I was about to catch fire.

  For a moment I wondered if I was the only one feeling this way and then I saw his knuckles, white on the wheel, and realized he was struggling, too.

  ‘Why did you follow me?’

  ‘Because I knew you were upset. I wasn’t going to leave you alone in that situation.’

  ‘Why? You left me without a backward glance five years ago, so it’s a little late to develop a protective streak.’ I thought it was hypocritical of him to pretend he cared about my well-being when he’d once left me in a million pieces bleeding. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but that’s how it felt.

  His shoulders tensed and I realised that, far from seeming indifferent, I’d just revealed a wound the size of a continent.