Down London Road

up on to quivering legs. I swayed against the hillside, feeling light-headed. My body began to shake uncontrollably.
    I think I was going into shock.
    I shook my head, trying to clear it. I didn’t have time to go into shock. I had two days to get the money to Murray. A burst of pained energy propelled me forward.
    Malcolm would give me the money. Malcolm would take one look at me in this state and give me the money, no problem. He was that good a guy.
    I stumbled back down the path I’d run up, picking up my fallen purse, desperation and adrenaline making my progress hurried despite the pain I was in. I could phone Malcolm, get him to come and get me.
    His name whirled in my brain as I came out of the gardens and did a U-turn at Leopold Place at the top of London Road. I kept to the trees where I could and then in shadow as much as possible in case I met anyone on my way. I didn’t want the police involved. If I got the police involved they might start looking into my whole family life and … I just couldn’t risk it.
    If Malcolm paid, this would all go away.
    Before I knew it I was standing outside the familiar building.
    At the sight of it I began to cry harder, my breath hissing as my teeth caught my burst lip.
    Malcolm wouldn’t pay.
    Malcolm wouldn’t pay because I didn’t want Malcolm to help me. I didn’t want anybody but Cameron.
    I let myself into our building and pulled myself up the stairs, determined to get to him and to throw my arms around him. I cried harder. I needed to feel safe and only Cam could give me that.
    I lightly hammered on his door, and sucked in my breath as agony ripped through me. Lifting my arm was like ripping a stitch across my ribs. My body moved forward to lean on the frame and then the door was suddenly wrenched open. My heart was wrenched out of my body with it.
    Blinking, I tried to compute the image in front of me. I shook my head to clear it, but it didn’t go away.
    Blair gasped at the sight of me bloodied and crying. ‘Jo? What happened?’
    My eyes travelled down the length of her and back up again.
    Her short hair was wet and curling around her jaw and she was wearing Cam’s QOTSA T-shirt. She was so small it fell to just above her knees. Her bare knees. Her bare legs.
    Blair was at Cam’s with wet hair, wearing only his T-shirt at two thirty in the morning?
    ‘Oh, my God.’ She reached for me and I wobbled back. ‘Cam’s in the bathroom. I’ll just get hi– Jo!’
    I was already running, stumbling, falling, tripping my way back down the stairs. In that moment I couldn’t be anywhere near that building. I couldn’t go home to Cole like this, and Cam …
    I threw up beside the rubbish bins.
    Wiping my hand across my mouth, I glanced up the road.
    I needed a taxi.
    I needed my friend.
    If Cam … I stifled a sob, hurrying around the corner and up London Road … if Cam wasn’t … then I had to go someplace that was safe.
    The only good thing to happen to me that night came in the shape of a taxi with its light on. I threw out my hand and the cabbie pulled over. Still cradling my rib, I shakily got in.
    ‘Dublin Street,’ I told him, speaking awkwardly with my split lip.
    He eyed me warily. ‘You all right? Do you need a hospital?’
    ‘Dublin Street.’
    ‘You’re in a bit of a state –’
    ‘My people are on Dublin Street,’ I insisted, tears pricking my eyes. ‘They’ll take me.’
    The taxi driver’s moment of hesitation was long enough for Cam to come skidding around the corner in T-shirt and jeans, his frenzied eyes searching up and down the street before swinging to meet mine in the cab. Features pale and drawn, he moved towards me just as the cab pulled away, his muffled shout reaching my ears over the sound of the engine.
    My phone rang seconds later. I picked it up but didn’t say anything.
    ‘Jo?’ he yelled, the word coming out in a puff that told me he was out of breath, probably from running after me.‘Where are you going? What happened? Blair says you’ve been attacked? What’s going on?’
    Hearing the fear in his voice did nothing to soothe my heartbreak or quell the bitterness I felt for him in that moment. ‘I guess that’s no longer your concern,’ I answered numbly and hung up to the sound of his frantic shouting.



29
    ‘I’m going to kill him,’ Braden threatened with such quiet veracity that a shiver rippled down my spine. An unyielding blaze of retribution burned in his eyes. Another shiver followed in