From the Heart (A Valentine's Day Anthology) (25 page)

“Andy are you busy?”

Andy’s head snapped up and he smiled and lifted his hand to motion a clearly shaken Sonja into his office.

“Come on in honey and take a seat.”

Nearly two hours later Sonja had left and Andy had what he needed now to press charges on Sonja’s behalf against Simon. He was a goner pure and simple but what made Andy really nervous was being told of Simons continued obsession with Carly. He had been heard numerous times making lude comments about her.

Andy tried her mobile again and cursed when it wasn’t answered, he slammed the mobile onto the counter before he turned back to his paperwork. He had now to type up the report from his perspective but he would keep trying her mobile until the police arrived. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement on one of the cameras that fed the live footage from the CCTV placed around the gym. It clearly showed the image of the back of the gym, where the door was located that went into the basement. He watched as Simon’s form dived through the door, his arms burdened with bags.

“What the fuck are you up to?” Andy mumbled to himself as he stood, he called out to one of the trainers that were sat on the reception desk to send the police to the back when they arrived. He pocketed his phone and made his way quickly out of the front of the gym and round to the back. His gut feeling told him he needed to find out what Simon was up to and find out fast.

~

Carly’s hands were free. It had taken a few attempts but she had finally pulled off that trick that she had seen on Youtube of how to get out of having her hands tied by duct tape. She had quickly untied her ankles and removed the tape from her mouth. All that was left was to see if her handbag had been left nearby so she could find her phone and then get the hell out of here.

The sound of metal doors caused Carly to frantically search for a place to hide or at least something to use as a weapon. Her eyes landed on a loose 5kg weight that had been wedged under the camp bed. Carly was quiet as she slid it out and moved towards the back of the door, the weight held up in her hand ready to slam into that piece of shit’s head.

“Oh princess I hope you have been a good girl, have you…where the,” his voice was so slimy that it literally made her skin crawl so she had no qualms as she lifted up the weight and brought it down hard on his head as he passed through the doorway. As the weight connected it made a loud crack followed by his cry of pain as he hit the floor, his bags scattered. Carly immediately dropped the weight and bolted out of the door, her arms pumped hard as she ran at full pelt.  Her eyes scanned for a way out, so frantic she never saw Andy stepped into her path until she had barged into him.

“Carly, oh fuck baby are you alright?”

Andy had somehow managed to stand his ground as Carly had ploughed into him, as soon as he had wrapped his arms around her waist she had at first panicked until she had realised he held her. All she could do was sob into his shoulder as she crawled up his body, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Baby it’s ok, I’ve got you,” he cupped her face in his hands and looked into her tearful eyes. “Where is he?”

Carly looked up and nodded towards the corridor she had bolted out of, echoes of pain filled groans confirmed Carly’s answer

“Andy Jackson?” A voice called out from behind, Carly clutched at Andy’s shoulders harder.

“Yes that’s me, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for calling us, I’ve already spoken to Miss Sonja Clark, all we need now is Simon O’Connor’s location”

Carly watched Andy as he spoke to the police, both seeming to understand exactly what was going on and were in the process of dealing with it.

“Yes Simon is down that corridor, by the sounds of it he’s suffered a slight injury, nothing he didn’t deserve though I’m sure.”

Andy turned and started to walk towards the exit with Carly in his arms.

“Please don’t worry, we will take care of everything from here, if she is not injured we will need a statement so please wait for us inside”

Carly watched as Andy nodded then tucked her head into his shoulder as he walked out into the night air.

Sunday 13
th
February 10:30pm

Andy looked down at the sleeping form of Carly all tucked up in her bed, the events had been too much and she had passed out as soon as the police had left. His saving grace was that she had clung to him throughout the visit and hadn’t gone to sleep unless he was holding her hand.

He wanted Carly to wake up so he could tell her exactly how he felt. Simon kidnapping her had cemented for him how he felt about her and he hoped that she would forgive him for being a complete ass.

“Andy?”

“Hey baby girl, how you feeling?” His hand clutched at hers, he refused to let go and break that connection.

“Groggy and achy, but ok I guess.  You didn’t need to stay.”

“Carly baby I wanted to,” Andy watched as she refused to meet his eyes. “Baby you know there is nothing going on with me and Alexa right?” Her eyes flicked up to his, bingo he had her attention now.

“She came to me to tell me about Simon and she also pissed me off with her bullshit, I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want you there, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“So what is the truth then Andy, because that fucking hurt?”

Andy winced then tugged on her hand, he wanted her in his arms.

“Come here.”

Reluctantly she sat up and moved close enough so he could wrap her in his arms, he rested his chin on top of her head and let it out.

“The truth, ok Peach the truth is you are it for me.”

She stiffened in his arms but didn’t move away.

“AH fuck.”

“Andy what?” she tilted her head to look up at him.

“Carly baby, I fucking love you ok, I always have. It drove me crazy when I couldn’t get hold of you and the thought of that bastard’s hands on you makes me want to rip him a new one,” Andy looked down as Carly’s eyes filled with tears.

“Talk to me baby, please,” Andy’s heart thumped against his chest wall, he was certain she could hear it

“You love me?”

“Yes baby, so much it hurts.”

“That’s good.” All Andy could do was nod, Yes it was good, so fucking good he was about to panic because she hadn’t said what he was so desperate to hear.

“That’s good, because I love you too Andy.”

Her answer had barely left her mouth before he meshed his lips onto hers, branding them and her as his own and erasing the memory of Simon’s foul touch.

“Carly?” He asked between kisses.

“Yeah Andy?”

“Tomorrows the 14
th
February, will you be my valentine for now and always?”

Her answering smile caused his heart to expand with joy.

“I thought I already was.”

Their lips met again, this time at a slower pace, each touch laced with love and emotion, each breath from the heart.

A True Exercise in Love

The End

Acknowledgments

A huge thank you to these fabulous authors for letting me be a part of this anthology MB Feeney, LJ Harris
,
Beverley Hollowed
,
Sarah Elizabeth, Laura Morgan, Kyra Lennon and to the wonder JA Heron who organised it and made it happen.

Thank you to my street team for always supporting me and to my readers for having my back. You all rock.

Loves and hugs

RJ

xx

Jersey Girl

By

J A Heron

Jersey Girl

© Copyright 2016 J A Heron

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.  All rights reserved.

The Scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorised electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organisations, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locale is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

“Jesus Christ! Who keeps moving the world?” I’m so drunk. I’m yelling at anyone who will listen, but all the people surrounding me just ignore me. The bar is not really that busy tonight, but the music is loud. I can’t help singing at the top of my voice to the 90’s track currently playing. So I’m pretty sure that my drunken, out of tune melody falls on deaf ears. I’ve had one too many rum and cokes and I’m feeling the effects of all the alcohol swimming through my veins. I’m sure I look a complete mess, but at this moment in time, I think I look like a sexy goddess. Everyone thinks like that when they’re drunk, don’t they? I’m pretty certain that when I look in the mirror in the morning, I will be horrified by the sight before me. It’s normally what happens - I speak from experience. I can see my normally shiny black hair looking dull, and probably matted from all the drool that’s escaped due to my pissed up coma. I can also see my normally bright green eyes looking like sludge pools.

I feel a tug on my arm. I’m pulled so hard I nearly end up on my arse. “Move your ass Kat,” Benny shouts, she’s my best friend. I’m tugged in the direction of the dance floor, and with the genre of music that’s being played in here tonight; I don’t want to disappoint her. It’s time for a drunken strut on the dance floor, my inhibitions decided not to make an appearance tonight, I am extremely thankful for that fact. 

I shake my hips sexily, but I’m positive I look like I’m wrestling with a kangaroo. “You’re my bestie, I love you,” Benny slurs in my ear after throwing her arms around my neck. She’s just as pissed up drunk as I am. “I don’t care that you’re single, no hope of a good job and living hand to mouth every day.” She has this uncanny knack does my friend Benny. She has this ability to make you feel like shit, without even realising she’s doing it. Most people would slap her across the face, but me, I’m used to my friend with her foul and unforgiving mouth. She doesn’t mean the things she says, it just happens to be verbalised wrong. “Oh shit! I’ve done it again - haven’t I?” She says with a sorrowful look. She knows that her mouth is one day going to get her into some serious trouble, I’ve told her enough times. I nod my head. “I’m sorry Kat. You know I don’t mean it, not the way that stuff comes out my mouth anyway.” I nod again. Over the years, I have come to realise that my friend suffers from verbal diarrhoea - often. 

We dance for a couple more songs, then decide it’s time for another drink. Mr Grumpy has other ideas, “you two, go home.” He says as we reach the bar. “I’m not serving any more booze to either of you, you’ve both had enough.” Mr Grumpy is my boss. When I’m not working, I’m in here spending the money I’ve earned. It’s a catch twenty two situation. I like working here, I like drinking in here, so this is the round-a-bout I find myself twirling on, most days.

“Okay, Mr Grumpy, keep your hair on.” I scowl at him; he’s not my father, although he likes to acts like it.

Benny pulls out her phone. I make a feeble attempt at trying to grab it out her hand. “What are you doing?” She manages to pull her arm away before I can make contact.

“Shh,” she whispers. I notice the sly look on her face. That look tells me that she’s up to no good. “Watch,” she says, pointing discretely towards Mr Grumpy. I watch as he walks away towards the phone that hangs on the wall near the kitchen door. She hands me her phone and when I look at the display, I notice she’s called the bar. “Take it, talk to him, but you have to be someone else. Distract him.” I do as she says and watch as she darts behind the bar. She pours two shots of tequila and runs back in my direction - totally un-noticed. She can be a sneaky minx. All the while I’m putting on my best Irish accent, asking Mr Grumpy for directions to his bar. He can hear me, but not well enough over the music. He keeps asking me to repeat myself. I can’t help the little giggles that escape, when he says ‘what?’ for the hundredth time.

We both throw back our shots and burst out laughing as we slam the shot glasses down on the bar. Mr Grumpy spins around, “you two will pay for those drinks. I mean it, no more!” He shouts, replacing the receiver. We both watch as he starts to serve customers, those who are willing to pay for their approved drinks, all the while, he’s scowling in our direction. Boss man seems to be even grumpier now. Benny and I giggle once more, knowing that we’ll be in even more trouble with him.

“Wow. You two must be the ‘Booze Bandits’,” I hear a voice say. It’s a deep voice, masculine and sexy. I turn round so fast that my long black hair whips Benny across the face. That will serve her right for the comments she made earlier, I giggle at my own thoughts. I am struck dumb by the sight before me. He’s tall, bald, has blue eyes and I can see tattoos covering his arms. There is a faint darkening of stubble lining his jawline, making his face look sharp and defined.
I wonder what that would feel like against my tongue, or other places.
He looks like a cross between Bruce Willis and Vin Diesel. His voice is deep like Mr Diesel’s, but his accent is sharper. If melted chocolate could talk, that’s what it would sound like. I stare open mouthed at all the ink on his arms; my eyes follow the path up to his neck. I’m pretty sure that the ink goes further, but it’s covered up by his black cotton shirt. My eyes run down his arms again. For some reason they need to feast on the sight of that artwork once more. I notice his long shirt sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbow. Long, strong, rippling forearms greet me once more and I find myself staring at them again.

“Mind your own business baldy,” Benny says, her tone has an icy edge. I’m wrenched out of my trance like state.

“No need to be rude, shorty,” he says with a chuckle, he’s mocking her.

“Shorty! Umph, I’m five-seven. Not really short, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, I’m six three, so to me, you are short.” I listen to the hot stranger and my BFF exchange good natured banter. All the while, I’m still eyeing up the giant, tattooed guy in front of me. I venture a look at his face. I see stubble, blue eyes that look like ocean pools and a defined bone structure. He really is gorgeous. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable because I’ve not said a word yet, I’m willing to bet he feels it too. He’s still bickering with my friend, yet he’s looking at me too. I can feel his eyes, they’re searching my face. It feels like he’s weighing me up, it feels like he’s searching my soul.
Nah
, I think to myself. It’s that last shot that’s done it… It’s screwed with my head. I’m so wasted. I think it’s time to go home.

A week has passed since that drunken night in the bar. I’ve worked, I’ve slept and I’ve certainly had a few more nights in Mr Grumpy’s bar. It’s the same monotonous routine of work, alcohol and nothingness in my life. I work to live, I sleep because it’s the only thing that keeps me sane - also the excessive alcohol intake causes me to pass out into unconsciousness, and the drink drowns out the noise in my head. The life I’m living is shallow, pointless and completely despondent. I have my friends, mainly Benny. I don’t see the others much these days, they’ve all ran off, got married, had babies or all of the above. I see Benny everyday, but that’s because we live together. 

Mr Grumpy is not Benny’s biggest fan; he says that she’s a bad influence on me. I understand that he’s just looking out for me. I’m big enough and old enough to make my own decisions. I decide to work, I decide to drink and I certainly decide my own path in life.

I really should do something about my shit life, but most days I really can’t be bothered to get out of bed on a morning. Yet, like clockwork, at 8 am, every morning our neighbour heads out to work. She makes the decision to play music so loud in her car that it wakes up the entire fucking apartment block. Every fucking morning. I’ve asked her to keep it down, but she says that she’s not breaking any law, as technically the noise isn’t in the vicinity for very long, because she soon zooms off for work. It’s the five to ten minutes she uses to warm up her car that I’m soon awake with the blaring racket of Westlife, or some other God awful boy band shit she likes to listen to. In the winter when there’s ice and snow on her windscreen, it’s probably more like twenty minutes that I have to listen to her bad taste in music while the ice thaws.

When I’ve had a drink, I say to myself, ‘tomorrow is the day I do something with my life’, but then the morning comes, the hangover hits me like a bitch and the same old story repeats itself. That catch twenty two situation I’m in is a paradoxical statement - only I can make the change. I’m well aware of the depression, the darkness in my head and the lethargic feelings that swarm me every day. I’m certainly aware that I am the ‘master of my own destiny’, but I struggle to find the energy and inclination to take that giant step. Benny, the good friend that she is, has asked me a million times what I’d like to do. She says that there must be something in my life worth pursuing. When this conversation rears its ugly head, I just shrug and say that there isn’t. I think she’s given up trying to drag me into the world, so instead she leaves me to wallow in my own numbness. It’s become my usual routine.