Читать книгу Indebted To Moreno - Kate Walker - Страница 9

PROLOGUE

THE ALMOST FULL moon was burning cold and high in the darkness of the sky as Rose slipped out of the door, shutting it cautiously behind her. She winced inwardly as the battered wood creaked on rusted hinges, the sound seeming appallingly loud in the stillness of the night, and froze in a panic, waiting for someone to stir upstairs, to come after her as her stepfather had done on that day almost three months ago. But the house remained silent and still, apparently empty, though she knew that there were half a dozen or so figures hidden behind the filthy, cracked windows on the upper floors.

She had to be grateful for the moonlight that illuminated her way down the weed-clogged path towards the street. It helped make sure that she didn’t stumble over the beer cans or plastic bags of rubbish that littered her way. But for the few minutes it took her to reach the road and scurry out of sight, panic screamed a need to run along her nerves fighting a vicious battle with the need to move carefully and avoid making a sound. At any moment she expected to hear movement behind her, the sound of a shout waking and alerting everyone in the squat.

And one dangerous person in particular.

Rose’s heart clenched as she tried to pull her thoughts away from the man she was leaving behind. A man she had once seen as her rescuer, coming to her aid when she needed help most. The man she now had to leave behind or lose herself once and for all.

It was a bitter irony that she had once seen this squat in the abandoned shell of a once elegant town house as a sanctuary as she’d fled the unwanted attentions of her hated stepfather, only to find that she had well and truly jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

‘Oh, Jett...’

The name slipped past her lips, and, despite everything she did to push them away, images slid into her mind. The picture of his long, powerful body lying on the dusty floor of the bedroom they had claimed as their own, his head with the overlong jet-black mess of hair pillowed on the olive-skinned arms in which he hid his face. He had always slept like that, even after they had made burning, passionate love, tumbling deep into sleep as if at the press of a button. But she knew that the appearance of deep slumber was a false impression. One awkward move, the faintest sound and he would jolt awake in a moment, coming upright and alert in the space of a heartbeat, every wary sense on high alert.

He’d stirred in his sleep as she’d left his side and only by murmuring something about needing to use the toilet had she persuaded him to let his head drop back onto his arms.

‘Don’t be long’ had been the curt, brief command and although she’d known he couldn’t see her she had shaken her head, letting the long fall of her bright red hair conceal her face.

‘I won’t be a minute,’ she’d managed, knowing that he wouldn’t take that the way she meant it. She was not going to be absent from his side for just a minute but for ever. This would be her one and only chance to get out of here before all hell broke out and she was going to snatch at that chance and run with it.

Yet even as she ran down the road there was a terrible tearing sensation inside her, in the region of her heart. A sense of loss and yearning for what she had thought she had, for what she’d dreamed of, that now, with a bitter realisation, she knew to have been a fake all the time.

If only... But there was no room, no time for ‘if only’. There was no future for her with this man, the man she had been foolish enough to fall head over heels for, to give herself body and soul to until she had realised the truth about the sort of person he was.

She should have known he was no knight on a white charger when he’d, literally, picked her up off the street. But then she’d been so lost and alone that she’d been grateful for any help, caught up in the dark spell he had woven around her from the start. Now she could no longer ignore the evidence that told her that Jett was involved in the abominable trade of dealing illegal drugs. A trade that had resulted in the horror of the death of one of the other squatters. She shuddered fearfully just thinking of it.

Which was why she had to get out of here right now. She had to go as far and as fast as she could and never once look back.

The sound of cars coming down the road caught her ears. She knew why they were there. The police had acted on her information, and their approach meant that time really had run out for her.

Speeding up, she dashed away from the house that had been the only thing she could call home for the last few months, breath catching in her lungs as, skidding slightly, she whirled around the corner. Behind her, the convoy of police cars came into the street and pulled up sharply outside the door to the squat.

It was over. But the real truth was that it had never truly begun and her naïve foolishness had blinded her to the reality until it was almost too late.