Free Quiver (a Suspenseful Romance Novel) by Emilia Beaumont Page A

this ain’t Chicago. They’re not the mafia!” Briefly forgetting my time spent hiding for my lift in a cupboard. “And anyway, if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be involved! This is allyour fault!” I shouted. “What I am supposed to do now?” I was close to tears.
    “I’ve told you, you need to go to the police and take these with you,” he said, trying to reason with me, handing me the gun and heavy-bound notebook.
    “Just tell them what you know.”
    “I know nothing,” I repeated, “You haven’t had the decency to tell me! Why don’t you go? You obviously know more than I do.”
    “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I can’t…” he trailed off.
    “Well, neither can I.” I let my arms go limp. The book and gun, held tight in either hand, fell to my sides. “I couldn’t do that to Max, anyway.”
    “Ha! Sod Max, you don’t owe him anything!” Eric raged.
    “The hell I don’t! It’s OK, I’ll talk to him,” I said, trying hard to calm down. “He’ll understand. I’ll give these back to him, and—”
    “You doom us both if you go to him.”
    His eyes blazed with hatred. The bruises on his face became darker as blood rushed to his fuming head. I couldn’t understand how he could hate a man I knew to be sweet and sensitive, a regular good guy. I’d known Max for over two years, and he’d never let me down before. I wanted to ask if we were talking about the same man, but I knew from Eric’s stern expression that I wouldn’t have any joy getting that information out of him.
    “Make your decision, Kate. If you choose to go to him, know that I won’t come to your rescue again.”
    “I didn’t need rescuing,” I muttered.
    How could he make me choose? Did he not care for me at all? I knew I should choose Max’s friendship over lust, but my body and soul longed to be near Eric, to touch him, to be a part of him. And yet, it was clear he would never let me in. He was a wall I could never climb; he’d never let me pass the barriers that he clung to. There were too many unanswered questions that he was reluctant to discuss.
    We hadn’t formed a relationship. I’d just been used; for what exact purpose, I still didn’t know. It infuriated me that he couldn’t just talk to me and tell me what this was all about. Would I always be doomed to play 20 questions with him, which ultimately, would lead to more questions and arguments?
    I studied the floor; a tacky residue stuck to my shoe.
    “I’m sorry, Eric. I have to give him a chance to explain.” I looked up at him, hoping to see a change of heart, but his stubborn face was set; rigid like chiselled stone.
    “You’re on your own then,” he said. My heart sank as he turned his back and walked towards the bar.
    Silent tears streamed down my cheeks, and I told myself to pull it together. Not to let him see me like this. Fine! Fuck him, I thought. I shoved the wrapped gun and the ledger back into my bag and looked for the exit. I had no idea where I was, and hoped I’d be able to recognise a landmark once I got outside.
    The snooker hall was like a dingy maze, and I struggled to find the exit. Turning on the spot, I wanted to crumple and give up. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric watching me, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him for help. But oh, how I wanted to go to him. I wanted to forget the gun, Max, and the trouble I’d gotten myself into and crawl back into Eric’s protective arms. We’d go to bed and let the covers shield us from the world as our tangled bodies made sweet love.
    “Kate?” I heard Eric calling me.
    Hopeful, I turned to look at him.
    “The exit is that way,” he pointed.
    I ran for the door. I was in danger of falling to the ground if I didn’t move my legs. My heart had been ripped out and served up in a cocktail glass – a bloody Mary with extra salt for the wound.

16
    D ialling Max’s number , I prayed he’d answer. He would reassure me. He’d fix it, make