Beautiful Tears (Enemies to Lovers - Dark Romance Book 1) Read online

  At least the weather was being nice to me. Although it was April it wasn't too cold, and it wasn't raining. It rains ninety-nine percent of the time here in England, so maybe someone was looking out for me after all. Yeah right. Sticking my thumb out into the oncoming traffic with a resigned air of defeat I prayed that all of London's axe murderers were taking the day off. It was a grim thought.

  Less than half an hour later I was in the heated cab of an articulated lorry that read Norbert Dentressangle on the side. The truck was a bold shade of red, and if I'd been Chinese it would have been a lucky omen. My fingers were still crossed on that score. The driver was friendly enough, and when he asked me where I was headed I just said 'Up north'.

  "Will Nottingham do?" I nodded and clambered into the passenger seat. Anywhere would do, and it was far enough away from London to give Brandt a run for his money. That was all that mattered.

  The driver pulled back on to the road and turned the radio on, and whatever they were playing was upbeat and cheerful. Another good omen, perhaps?

  "Did you want a sausage roll, love?" He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a greasy white paper bag. It had evidently held more than one in the past, but for some reason this little fellow had been left all alone, just like me. The warm, meaty smell the bag gave off made my stomach rumble warningly, reminding me that I hadn't had breakfast. I silently told it to be quiet and demanded that it go back to sleep. I was limiting myself to one meal a day until I managed to get back on my feet.

  "That's very kind of you, but I can't pay you I'm afraid. I'm absolutely broke." I smiled at his kindness. At least he seemed a world away from the axe murderer or psychopath I'd been expecting. This was good.

  "I kind of figured that out as you're hitchhiking, lady. I don't need any money, so have the sausage roll. You look half-starved." He winked at me.

  What could I do? It would be rude to refuse such a kind offer, and he was right, I was hungry. Reaching for the paper bag tentatively I gave him a timid smile, thinking this was more than I could have hoped for. Perhaps my luck was turning after all.

  "Thank you," I whispered. "That's very sweet of you."

  "Not at all. Sometimes it's just nice to have some company up here. It gets lonely on the road."

  I accepted his gift graciously and savoured every bite of my treat. It had been an age since I'd tasted meat, and the flavour nearly exploded on my taste buds. Soft, flaky pastry crumbled under my tongue, and juicy sausage meat made my mouth water. I could feel tears welling up at his simple act of kindness. I blinked them away. If I started I'd never stop. Repaying his generosity in the only way I could, I started talking.

  It didn't take me long to learn that his name was Leonard Shanks and he'd been a lorry driver for the past twenty years. He had a wife, two children, a couple of dogs and an unsociable cat. So unsociable in fact, that it lived mostly at his neighbours. This was down to the very posh cat food his elderly neighbour served up. Food was obviously where the heart was - unless you were me. Then you couldn't afford to think about food. On the plus side, I had a size six figure that most women would kill for. Scrap that. I bordered on anorexic. Still, as soon as I got a job I'd feed myself properly. Some fruit and vegetables would make a nice change.

  "Well, that's enough about me, love. Now it's your turn. I want to hear your story." He turned to me expectantly and gestured with his hand that I should begin my tale of woe.

  That was the last thing I was about to do because I couldn't risk Brandt finding any clues to my whereabouts. I felt terrible lying to Len, namely because he was such a nice guy, but there wasn't any other option if I didn't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.

  "Oh, I'm not very exciting," I said. "My name is Sandra Leeson, and I've been living in London for the past six months. Unfortunately I've just lost my job, and finding another hasn't been easy, so I'm going to stay with some relatives up north. I'll pop in on a few friends in Nottingham and then make my way up to Glasgow." Lying was a dangerous game. Once you uttered a lie you had to remember it, else be caught out at your own game. If you told lots of lies and heaped them all on top of one another, it became an almost impossible task of trying to keep up with them. The trick was to stay vague and base your lies on something you could remember. I'd just have to hope that Len didn't ask too many questions.

  When I'd been silent for a minute or two he said, "So what kind of job are you looking for?"

  Now there was a question. I was looking for anything that paid, preferably cash in hand, although that would be unlikely. I wasn't qualified to do an awful lot, but you didn't need too many skills for waiting tables, bar work or cleaning.

  "I was in insurance," I lied again, "so I'll see if I can find anything along the same lines." It was the most boring job I could think of, and Len was hardly likely to remember a waif like me in a few days' time. He'd be back with his wife and kids in Grantham, having a whale of a time walking his dogs.

  "I think I know a guy in insurance," Len said thoughtfully. "Maybe I could pass your name along to him."

  And therein lay the problem with lying. There were too many sticky situations that you could land in. My heart did a couple of beats quick time, but thankfully this one was easily dealt with.

  "Ah, that's very kind of you, but I'm looking to catch up with my family first, and I'll take it from there. I could do with a few weeks holiday if I'm honest.

  "Couldn't we all?" said Len, laughing, and thankfully that was the end of that. Pretending to be asleep for the next hour and a half limited any further lies, and I only came to when the centre of Nottingham loomed into view.

  Len offered to drop me off wherever I wanted, but as I had no prior knowledge of the city I had no idea where I wanted to go. The train station? The town hall? In the end I opted for the Victoria Centre, having seen the sign as we drove past. I told him I wanted to do a little shopping before dropping in on my family.

  Pulling the truck to a halt a few hundred yards away he nodded at me, but his expression was sad. Len had seen through me. I wasn't even half as good at lying as I thought I was.

  "Take care of yourself, Sandra. Try to eat something, okay?" He nodded at me.

  I promised him I would and thanked him profusely for his generosity again. I hoped someone above saw fit to grant him everything he wanted in this life and then some. Nice people were a rarity in the modern world.

  When he pulled away I watched the bright red beacon zoom into the distance and sighed. Nottingham was cold, grey and wet. My brief stint of good luck seemed to have evaporated.

  Chapter 4 - Brandt

  I had it all planned out. Harper's abduction, her five years of penance, and what it might take to break the woman down into something she wouldn't even recognise. I'd learned a lot on the inside. Dark, nasty stuff that no one should ever need to use. There was so much darkness inside me now. I wondered if I'd ever be the same again. Harper had taken something from me the day she put me in jail; something I would never get back. There was now a little sliver of my soul that had been blackened and charred, and once gone it would never return. She was to blame, and she would become my obsession until I felt the debt had been repaid in full.

  Prison had given me the contacts to secure everything I would need in order to kidnap someone. There were faceless people amongst my midst who could get drugs, untraceable vehicles, weapons, and so much more. All they wanted was cash, and I still had lots of that at my disposal. It wasn't a question of 'if' I got my hands on Harper Wilkinson, it was a question of 'when'.

  There'd been so much time to think in prison that I'd planned every little detail of her abduction. How I would take her, where I would take her, what I would feed her, what I would do to her, and how I would ultimately break her. She'd taken something from me, and I intended to take something from her. It was going to hurt, and I would enjoy her pain. Each day I planned to reduce her to tears; beautiful, shimmering, messy tears. And when she thought she'd got the measure of me I'd change the game plan, and we'd begin again. She was going to be my little mouse, and I was going to be a goddam lion.

  Wiping beads of sweat from my forehead I finished my set of bench presses and slammed the weights back in their holder. This evening my mood was dark, but in a few days' time it wouldn't be. Hang in there, Brandt. She's waiting for you on the outside.

  Chapter 5 - Harper

  My first day in Nottingham found me soaked through to the bone, with two new blisters for friends. Scouring the streets for work I found the local jobcentre, but it had little to offer me. In a newsagents I skimmed through all the local papers, and made a note of anything that might be interesting. Getting dirty looks from the cashier as it became apparent I wasn't about to buy one, I quietly snuck out of the shop.

  Trailing around the city I looked at flyers, signs, and ads in windows. After a day's worth of toil I had two interviews on the spot and another two scheduled for later in the week. What I should have been doing was looking for somewhere to stay.

  Thankfully, with the help of my cell phone, it didn't prove too much of a problem. The cheapest place to stay in town was the Igloo backpackers hostel. It was roughly twelve pounds a night, which meant I could afford to stay for a few days, as long as I didn't eat. I smiled grimly. Still, I wasn't on the streets. The downside was that I probably wouldn't get any sleep, as I'd be sharing a room with five others. But it was a small price to pay for a roof over my head. I'd just have to hope and pray that I managed to get a job tomorrow.

  It took me a whole week to finally land a job, and by the end of it I was going crazy with worry. Thankfully I was now employed waiting tables at a pizza restaurant, but my paycheque wouldn't arrive for two weeks. If I took into account the meagre food my stomach had
insisted I buy, and the pair of shoes I'd had to purchase for the job, that meant I'd be on the streets for at least a couple of nights until I got paid. My hands shook at the thought. Perhaps I could scrape together enough money in tips to buy those extra nights? At least I wouldn't need to buy food now. The restaurant provided me with one meal per shift, and there were plenty of scraps to be had if I wasn't fussy where they came from. I wasn't. I was too hungry.

  The work was exhausting, but at least it kept my mind occupied. I didn't want to think about Brandt. He'd be out by now. When he didn't find me in London, I hoped he'd give up the search. He'd have people he wanted to catch up with, and things he needed to do.

  Scribbling down the order for a children's party of ten while dodging the breadsticks thrown at me, I marched back to the kitchen. I hated thinking about Brandt. Desire spiralled thick and strong, making my body tighten involuntarily. Once upon a time I'd had the biggest crush on him. My then-to-be future husband had known it. I'd go doe-eyed whenever he was in the vicinity and nearly lose the power of speech. Whenever he said something to me I'd blush and fiddle with my hair. I wonder if he'd known how I felt about him? Probably. Brandt wasn't stupid.

  Stop thinking about him.

  Passing my order form of pizzas and chicken nuggets across to the chef, I thought back to that scrawled note. I'm coming. What would I do to someone if they'd falsely imprisoned me for five years? Would I forget about it? Not bloody likely. Neither would Brandt.

  "Order for table number forty." One of the chef's voices rang out loud and clear across the kitchen, startling me into movement. Stop daydreaming. If I weren't careful I'd lose my job at this rate. Keeping my mind blank of anything but pizza proved to be a challenge for the rest of my shift, but one I was determined to overcome.

  The first three days of my new job earned me exactly six pounds and seventy-three pence in tips. It wasn't enough for an extra night in my hostel. As much as I loathed the thought, I was going to have to try and use my debit card because the alternative was damn right scary - sleeping rough.

  Don't think that I accepted this fate without a fight. I'd already asked if I could borrow fifty pounds to tide me through until payday, but the manageress of the pizza chain laughed in my face. She also added that if I wanted a loan I'd need to look a little further up the high street. Asking the other employees to lend me money was also met with deaf ears, and I was shut down almost instantly. I'd barely known them a couple of days, we weren't friends, and I could disappear at any time. Was I nuts? They clearly thought so.

  Desperation was getting me nowhere fast, and I guessed I'd just have to hope there was some money on my card or accept my fate. He might be able to trace the card, but what other options do I have? Stealing from someone didn't even enter my head. Believe it or not I'm a good person, and I believe in Karma. If I went around stealing from people, somewhere along the line there'd be payback. I was in enough trouble as it was on that score.

  It was with a trembling hand that I offered my debit card to the receptionist that evening, hoping upon hope there was enough cash for another four nights, or even another three. I might be able to afford another night if I hoarded my tips up for the next few days.

  When the receptionist looked in confusion at the receipt that spilled forward I knew I was in trouble.

  "Sorry, Miss. It says the transaction isn't authorised. Do you have another card I can use?" She looked at me helpfully and I wanted to smack the smile off her face, although technically I knew it wasn't her fault.

  "Could you try three days?" The receptionist nodded and popped the card in once again. My foot tapped anxiously upon the wooden floor. Someone, somewhere needed to give me a break. I was tired, exhausted, and nearing a nervous breakdown.

  The woman shook her head apologetically once more and handed the card back to me. "Did you want to call someone who can wire you some funds? You can use this telephone if you like?" She waved the phone at me like a lifeline, but I had no use for it because there was no one to call.

  "Could you try two days, and then one?" I looked at her pleadingly. Anything was better than nothing. The fewer days I had to sleep rough, the better.

  She nodded and hummed to fill the awkward silence as my card went through the machine again, emitting an angry squeak before she tried one last time. I wanted the floor to open up, suck me deep inside, and then kill me quietly.

  "Oh, it's gone through this time. You're good for one more night." She smiled at me and returned my card, pretending nothing awkward had happened. Yeah, right.

  "Thank you, I'll hand the key back in tomorrow," I whispered, as I slowly trudged up the stairs to my dorm.

  Fortunately there was no one there when I entered the room. If there had been they'd have had the lovely view of me clutching my stomach before covering my mouth with both hands as the few scraps of pizza I'd eaten for dinner decided they needed to escape my body with impressive velocity. Rushing off to the shared bathroom I slammed the latch on the door and leant over the toilet. My stomach still wasn't used to food and the rebellion it caused inside me wasn't pretty. As the last of the silent heaves left me I wiped several sweaty strands of hair from my forehead. It was the stress of the last few days catching up with me. You need to calm down. Tell me something I didn't already know. The trouble was: how did you calm down knowing you were about to be thrown out onto the streets? And if that wasn't bad enough, I had a potential madman on my tail. I'd be lucky if I didn't have a coronary before the week was through.

  Chapter 6 - Brandt

  Freedom was intoxicating. The smell of it gave me a high so intense it was almost better than morphine. Almost.

  Settling down into the Audi A8, I inhaled deeply. I wanted to savour my first taste of life on the outside. What hit me first was the clean fragrance of the pine air freshener, swiftly followed by the subtle scent of leather. The soft, contoured seat that greeted my backside was heaven, and I sank into it gratefully. Comfort was not something they dwelled on in prison.

  "Good to see you're still alive." Liam had his Raybans slung over his eyes, and he handed me a pair.

  "It was touch and go for a while. There were a few guys in there that didn't like me very much, but we eventually had a chat about that."

  "I bet you did. You're fucking huge, man. That the reason you bulked up?" Liam had already pulled away from the prison parking lot and was trying his best to slingshot me towards the motorway. Trying to relax, I settled back into my seat and breathed deeply. The trouble was, I was wired. Adrenaline-laced blood, thick and viscous, flowed through my veins.

  "It was one of them." The other reason was to scare the living daylights out of Harper Wilkinson. I wanted her to take one look at me and know she'd lost before the games had even begun.

  "So, what you wanna do now, Man? It's your first night out. This needs to be big." Liam turned to me expectantly.

  Holding up the dark aviator shades I'd been given, I put them on. I didn't particularly want to extinguish the sunlight; prison had been grey enough as it was, but I didn't want Liam to see my eyes or read my expression. He knew me too well.

  "Christ, Liam. I've been gone for five years. What is big these days? You tell me. I do know one thing, though. I need a burger. Then we can go wherever you like." Shoving alcohol down my neck was the last thing I wanted to do. It would dampen the rage burning a bright fire in my gut. I didn't want anything to dull my focus, but Liam had been a good friend and I owed him this. Besides, he'd be suspicious as hell if I didn't do it, and that was the last thing I needed. Tomorrow I would make my excuses and take some time out. I'd tell him I needed to see my family and get back on my own two feet. He'd expect that. Liam wasn't aware that my family had disowned me, nor was he aware that I was innocent of my crime. Infuriatingly, I now appeared to be Liam's hero because I'd done time. He had a lot to learn on that score, and it wasn't the kind of holiday he'd want to experience anytime soon, but hopefully he'd stay on the straight and narrow. As to my plans, I intended to veer so far off the yellow brick road that my path would have more kinks than the Swiss Alps. He didn't have to know that, though. Where are you, Harper? I'm coming.