I glance over at the mother and Broderick siblings, noting their partners tucked in beside them. Landon clearly couldn’t give a fuck about his father’s death. Or maybe he does and he just doesn’t show it. Smart suit. Sharp eyes. He’s like a wall of rock, unmoved, unaffected, as the hot one stands next to him. Nervous by the looks of her.
Ivy isn’t quite so still. She’s trying not to cry, but even I can see the reddened eyes from this distance. At least she’s got her guy with her, and this time she’s seemingly taking his comfort. But the young one is a mess. She’s not holding any tears back at all. Seems like the Foxton stood there is in the same boat as Landon. Indifferent. But he’s got her hand tight in his, one arm around her shoulder.
Either way, and whatever they’re feeling, I’m not here for them or the funeral. I’m here to see if Neve made her way to it because she sure as shit got on a flight. Couldn’t hide that, regardless of the roundabout route she took.
I’ve scouted all the stables again and then some of the tracks in and out of here. Even the house after they started making their way down to the graveyard. So far, nothing. Doesn’t mean she’s not hiding out in the woods, though. She’s small enough to blend in and clever enough not to be seen if she doesn’t want to be.
I walk slowly from the tree I’m leaning on and make my way closer to the outlying woodland, ready to get this hunt underway. What I’m going to do if I find her, I’m not sure yet. Should be taking her to Landon as instructed. Should also be filling him in on what’s going down. Don’t really want to do the first if I catch her and haven’t done the last.
A few days thinking over her words about innocence put pay to that.
It’s not long before I see something move where it shouldn’t be moving, and I shrink back behind another tree. She’s standing by a thicket of bushes, most of her frame covered by the foliage so only her head is on show. Black clothes. One hand near fucking crushing a branch she’s holding onto. Tears rolling down her cheeks.
She swipes the tears, tries rubbing them off, then just lets them come again. Guess she’s at her own private funeral. Must be a bitch to stand there on your own if you’re genuinely hurting. At least there were two of us at my Gramps’ funeral. Stefan might have been high as a kite, but he was there with me.
That shit hurt. Watching anyone you give a fuck about going underground is wounding. Does something to your insides, twists them up and grates them about. Never felt it before Gramps. Dad was a drug-fuelled bastard, and Mum was barely relevant in our lives. Think she’s still in Stepping with that dick she ran off with. Don’t know, though. Don’t care either.
Watching Neve as she cries brings thoughts back. Shouldn’t. I should be on the ball, dealing with my directive and getting her back to the house. Mine, that is. Instead, I’m finding myself looking her over and thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking. There’s something significant about her. Especially with this vulnerability on show instead of the normal superior look she has. But maybe that’s just because she outsmarted me a few times.
No one does that to me, but this one – this one with her expensive smelling skin and her cunning eyes and her secretive manner, maybe even her suggested innocence – she seems to manage it. It makes her worthy to me, interesting as an opponent – lover even.
My lips tip up as I carry on watching her, eyes straying to curves that shouldn’t be on my radar. She’s trying to wipe those tears from her face again, pulling herself together. I glance over at the funeral, watching as a few people start heading away from the burial ground. It’s over up there. Daddy’s in the hole. Fucking gone.
The snap of a stick makes me look back. She’s turning around, creeping out of her position so she can run again. Where this time? What’s she going to do, abandon her family forever? Let all this behind her become a distant memory she’s going to try to bury somehow? Doubt it’ll work like that, but I let her get a way ahead before I start following.
Can’t make my mind up if I’m going to grab her or not. Not even when I see her climbing over a stile and heading out towards the old back road. She’s quick. Keeps herself low as she hurries along the hedgerow and ducks into the next set of woods. She’s done this route a fair few times before, I’d guess. Probably as a child when they were all happy here.
If they ever were, knowing this family.
It isn’t until I eventually see her darting across another stile that I realise she must have come in through the main village, off one of the footpaths. No wonder I couldn’t find her car anywhere on the estate. Guess she’s got one waiting somewhere for her, as hidden as she’s trying for. More fucking clever shit. I like it. And her. Probably why I'm letting her get away from me.
I end up waiting as I see her slip out through an old gate onto the main road. She looks around and then darts straight across it towards a small lane. And then she’s gone.
And I’m not following her anymore.
I chuckle quietly, unsure why the fuck I am. Landon would have my arse for this if he knew. Not mine exactly, Stefan’s. He could have my brother out of that fucking place and back in a prison before I could blink. The insanity plea might have worked well enough, but it wouldn’t take a minute’s worth of thought before Landon had him locked up tight in some place like Wakefield instead. Fucker deserves it realistically, but I’d still rather he stays where he is.
Pushing a bush out of the way, frustrated, I turn and make my way back towards my car. Might as well get home now. It’s not like I’ve got any info I can give Landon, and that funeral wake isn’t something I’m invited to. Wouldn’t want to be there even if I was. They’re nothing but a bunch of elitist tossers. Nothing in common with me at all.
Well, maybe one of them has. But she's not there.
~
An hour into staring at the wall back at my place, and I throw another log on the fire to keep the heat going. It’s cold and wet now in the evenings, as if autumn is impatient for winter to get here. I stare some more at the flames and drink a beer, thinking about my little murderer and what I'm going to do with her. That’s what she seems like now – mine. Fucking stupid. She’s not someone for me. She’s a Broderick. Isn’t stopping me thinking about her body, though. Not stopping me thinking about her lips moving around words either.
I smile. Be nice to see those lips down between my thighs. They’d tremble, be concerned about what depths a man like me might make her get down to. She might even cry like she did today, let those tears trickle for me instead of her dead daddy.
The back door in the kitchen rattles in the wind, and I look over my shoulder at the sound, then back at the fire. Still makes me uneasy, regardless of being out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like I even need a lock out here. As far as anyone I know from my past is concerned, I’m long gone to Spain after Stefan went down. And the ones I work for now know nothing of where I live. Half of them don't even know my real name, let alone where I choose to sleep. I should get that squeaky shit fixed, though.
“Noah?”
What the fuck was that?
I stand and look back through the lounge, surveying the area. Nothing is there, and I’m beginning to wonder if I imagined it when my name sounds out again. Back door. I walk to the window and peer out into the shadows around the door. Sure enough, a woman is standing there under the porch - a Broderick woman.
The letter box flicks inwards, her fingers poking through.
“Noah, are you there?” She knocks lightly, then louder.
