Hearts of Fire

His protective instincts were not entirely unexpected; however, they did surprise me. I was just a girl he knew. Yes, one he had the urge to go down on, but still just a girl. Would he really be that bothered if something were to happen to me? His words from the other night rang in my head.

  You’re all I see.

  Maybe he would be bothered. Maybe he would be very bothered. The thought made me shiver.

  I didn’t know what to do. His mood had changed so swiftly. In the end, I just stood there, breathing him in, until the tram stopped and the door started to open. Jack laced his fingers in mine and led me off. We turned a corner, and there was the circus, the foundations of the Spiegeltent being laid out already. I had an idea for a three-part painting of the tent in its various stages of being built, the final complete one full of colour and light, people coming to see the show.

  Sometimes it felt like I had so many ideas but never enough time to make them happen.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jack asked, and I realised he’d been watching me.

  “Oh, you know, the usual. How our lives are finite and we’ll only ever get to fit so much into them. How it doesn’t feel like enough.”

  Jack gave me a thoughtful look and was silent a moment before he spoke. “Would it make you feel better to know that we all get the same number of hours in a day, days in a year? Some people might be rich and some might be poor, but none of them can buy time. It is one of the fairest systems in the world.”

  “Yeah, but most rich people live longer lives than the poor.”

  Jack shrugged. “I’m not talking about lifespans. I’m talking about time. And what makes you a good judge of what is enough? Maybe stop thinking of enough and just live in the moment. Then you won’t worry — you’ll just be experiencing.”

  “It’s hard to change the way you think when you were raised to measure everything in comparison to everything else.”

  “Well, that sounds like a depressing way to live your life.”

  “It is.”

  “Change, then.”

  There was a forcefulness to his words, like he really cared. I stopped walking, my hand slipping from his. He paused two steps ahead of me and turned, arching a questioning brow. He was so beautiful. I loved looking at him in the dark and then in the light, noting the contrasts, realising that he was exquisite in every setting.

  “Jack,” I breathed.

  He looked wary. “Lille?”

  “You’re kind of beautiful, you know that?”

  Staring at me, he seemed caught off guard. He definitely hadn’t expected me to say that. His face appeared to be battling a war within itself over whether or not to smile or frown. In the end, I got something that was neither one nor the other.

  “Only kind of?”

  I let out a loud bark of a laugh and teased, “Well, you’re no Gandy.”

  Jack shot me a confused glance. “And thank fuck for that. Who wants to look like a little old bald man with John Lennon glasses?”

  My laughter spilled out and was impossible to control. When I finally regained the ability to speak, I said, “David Gandy the male model, not Gandhi the father of Independence in India. And technically, John Lennon stole the spectacles from him, since Gandhi came before Lennon.”

  His face was what I could only describe as amused affection. “So, let me get this straight: I don’t look like a male model. Okay, I think I can live with that.” He said this with such a deadpan tone that I began laughing all over again, and it had just started to die down. What was even funnier was the fact that my comment was intended to tease and rile him up, but it hadn’t riled him up at all. And the truth of the matter was that he could’ve wiped the floor with a whole room full of male models. Jack’s beauty was far beyond anything quite so flat and one-dimensional.

  I took two steps towards him and placed my hands on his chest. He watched my every move intently, like I was a strange animal and he didn’t know what I was going to do next.

  “No, you don’t. You’re still beautiful, though,” I whispered before rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his. I was being uncharacteristically forward. There was something about being out in the dark that made me feel less inhibited than usual. Jack stood still, an immovable living statue, letting me kiss him. I got a vibe of curiosity, like he was waiting to see where I was going with this.

  Good luck with that.

  I didn’t even know where I was going.

  I was trying to live in the moment, like he said. Experience rather than measure. My hands explored his hard, warm chest before moving up to his neck and sliding around to sink into his hair. All the while he did nothing, and there was some sort of triumph in that. I felt like he was surrendering, letting me take what I wanted. It was a gift, I knew, because Jack McCabe wasn’t a man to surrender often.

  Pressing my body along the length of his and feeling just how much he wasn’t indifferent towards me by the thick hardness at his crotch, I slid my tongue into his mouth and felt him shudder. Wow. I tugged on his hair a little and was rewarded with a deep, masculine groan that originated in the back of his throat and made every tiny hair on my body stand on end.

  I broke away from his mouth long enough to whisper, “Touch me back.”

  He didn’t give in immediately, but after a moment or two, his arms went around my waist, tightening and pulling me closer. His mouth began to move, his tongue tangling with mine in a soft, sensual dance. I felt like I was trying to drink him in but would never quite get enough. My hands were everywhere, feeling every place I could reach, while his remained in place, never venturing anywhere other than my waist. His hands were balled at my hips, fisting my shirt tightly. I adored how solid he was, how immovable.

  Just as I was falling into him, getting lost out here in the dark, a sharp, violent scream rang out, and I pulled away, startled.

  “What was that?” I asked, breathless, right before a second scream sounded. Jack grabbed my hand and tugged me forward, my body propelling faster than I’d be capable of on my own. The screaming continued and it made my heart pound, my skin growing tight. We followed the noise right to Violet’s camper. The light was dim, but it was bright enough for us to make out a figure leaving through the door in a hurry. It was definitely male.

  “Hey!” Jack shouted, letting go of my hand to chase after him. I hurried inside to find Lola crouched over, tears streaming down her face. The covers had been yanked off the bed, and it looked like someone had kicked a hole in the wall. Blood was running down her chin from her lip, and there was a look of terror in her eyes that I knew I’d never forget.

  “Lola, what happened?” I asked, breathless and frantic as I went to sit by her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. The moment I touched her, she instantly jumped away, her hands shaking and tears filling her eyes.

  “Don’t,” was all she said.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, moving away and picking the blanket up off the floor. Carefully, I draped it around her shoulders, and she gripped it tight. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she continued to shake. I wanted to ask her what had happened again, but I didn’t feel like I’d get an answer. Leaving her for a moment, I went outside to find Jack walking back towards the camper, breathing hurriedly.

  “Fucking lost him,” he said between breaths, and nodded to the van. “Who’s inside?”

  “Lola. She won’t answer when I ask her what happened, but it looks like someone assaulted her. She won’t stop shaking, Jack.”

  He swore and slammed his hand into the side of the camper in frustration. Over his shoulder, I saw a shadow move in the darkness a moment before King stumbled forward, his trademark bottle of liquor in his hand.

  “Keep the noise down, would ya?” he grumbled, and brought the bottle to his mouth for a drink. Jack swiped it away from him and held it out of reach.

  “You been hanging around here all night?” Jack asked.

  “Hey! Give that back,” King complained, trying to grab for it.

 
“Answer me and then I’ll give it back,” said Jack, voice stern.

  “Been around, yeah.”

  “Did you see anyone go inside this camper?”

  King frowned, his brows drawn together as he thought about it. “Nah, don’t think so.”

  “Yes or no, King.”

  “Fuck’s sake. No, I didn’t see anyone,” he shouted then, words slicing from his lips like razor blades. His arctic-blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and for a moment I was frightened. What if King was the one who attacked Lola? He had been hanging around all night. But then, we did see someone running away, someone fast enough to outrun Jack, and I didn’t think King was capable of that in his current state.

  Jack scowled and finally handed him back his bottle. “Marina’s gonna chop your balls off when she finds out you’ve been drinking.”

  “Bitch can have them. I’ve no use for them anymore,” King spat as he hungrily grabbed the bottle and stumbled away.

  I glanced at Jack. “Can you come and try talk to Lola? She won’t tell me anything.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “And you think she’ll talk to me? She’s just been attacked by a man, and I’m not exactly the gentle type. She’ll freak if I go near her.”

  He sounded like he had experience with this type of thing, which only made my stomach twist further. What kind of things had this man seen in his life? I already felt uneasy and upset thinking of my friend sitting in her room, traumatised.

  Turning, I went back inside to find Lola had calmed down a little and was no longer shaking so much. I sat at the end of her bed and laced my fingers together. There was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t seem to swallow, and my eyes filled with tears.

  “We need to call the police, Lola.”

  Her eyes flared and she reached out, grabbing my wrist painfully. “No! No police.”

  I didn’t understand her. “Why not?”

  Fingers digging into my skin, she pleaded, “Just don’t call them. Please. I’m begging you.”

  “Okay, I won’t. I promise, but you need to tell me what happened.”

  She let out a long, shuddering breath and then locked eyes with me. Hers were still so bloodshot that it was almost difficult to look at them. She was still sick. “I was sleeping and all the lights were out. I didn’t hear him come in. All I know is that I woke because I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He was leaning over me, pressing all his weight into my chest. It was too dark to see his face, but I thought he might be wearing a balaclava, because I felt something woollen brush my skin. I started to scream, and he punched me hard in the mouth.” She stopped, weeping now, and brought her hand to her bloodied lips.

  I wanted to go to her so badly, but I didn’t. I knew she didn’t want to be touched by anyone. Not yet. All of a sudden, I became aware of a presence behind me and turned to see Jack standing just outside the door, listening. Thankfully, the door was mostly closed, so Lola couldn’t see him. He’d been right. His presence was far too foreboding sometimes. He was so big and male, and Lola was very likely to freak if she saw him right now.

  I took her hand in mine and urged her to continue with my eyes. Her words tumbled out again. “He yanked the blanket away from me and I tried to struggle free, but this time h-he…he punched me in the stomach. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t move for a minute, and he pried my knees apart and put his hands on me.” She paused and almost whispered, “Between my legs. I got just enough energy up to start screaming again, and I must have been loud, because he ran.”

  A painful kind of fear clutched my chest. “Did he say anything? Did you hear his voice?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  A silence elapsed, but I could still sense Jack standing outside the door. I made my voice as soft as possible when I asked, “Lola, why can’t we call the police? This guy is still out there. He could do it to someone else.”

  She groaned like she was in pain, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “Lola’s not my real name, Lille.”

  “I know. Violet told me.”

  The confession that came next was completed unexpected. “There’s a reason for that. I can’t be found. And if I tell the police my real name, he’ll find me.”

  “Who?”

  “My husband.”

  My jaw dropped. Lola had a husband? It was hard to believe, because she was only a year older than me. At least, she’d told me she was twenty-two.

  “You know why I liked you right from the get-go?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingertips lightly down the side of my face. “Your eyes. They haven’t grown hard yet, and there’s no malice. When I got away from him, I promised myself I’d try my hardest to surround myself with people like you. Gentle people. People who don’t hurt others. Then I’d never go back to what my life used to be.”

  She hadn’t said anything explicitly, but she didn’t need to. Her husband had hurt her, and that’s why she needed to get away.

  “Derek is the filth,” she said, using London slang for police. “He has connections. If my name shows up, he’ll find me. That’s why we can’t call them.”

  “But we’re in France,” I began, and she interrupted,

  “It doesn’t matter. He’ll find me. I can’t let that happen.”

  Behind me, I could hear Jack swearing and pacing around the living area.

  Lola’s brows drew together. “McCabe’s out there?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, he was walking me home. We heard you screaming and saw your attacker leaving. Jack chased him, but he couldn’t catch him.”

  “Oh.”

  Some kind of relief showed on her features, and my stomach twisted again. I knew what she’d been thinking. For a moment she’d wondered if her attacker had been Jack. I felt like defending him, but she hadn’t said anything outright, so I couldn’t. I barely knew him, really, and already I wanted to tell everyone that he wasn’t a bad person, that he might actually be a great person. One of the best.

  Yeah, I had it bad.

  I heard the camper door opening and Violet’s recognisable voice questioning Jack as to what he was doing there. Seconds later she practically exploded into the room, taking in Lola’s appearance and hurrying to her, asking her if she was all right. On a normal day, these two were at each other’s throats, but now that something bad had happened, Violet looked just about ready to murder someone. It was an awful situation, but for a second my heart warmed to see that Violet actually genuinely cared for Lola.

  I knew that Violet was aware of Lola’s past when she didn’t ask if we’d called the police yet. She knew that we hadn’t. Couldn’t. I glanced at Jack and could tell that he was seriously pissed off about this, but he didn’t try to force his hand. The camper was small. He’d obviously heard Lola and derived the same conclusions I had. I left Violet to comfort Lola and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly and coming face to face with Jack. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

  “This whole situation is fucked,” he said. “Whoever did this is dangerous, and he’s out there free to do as he pleases.”

  For some reason, his anger surprised me. I’d expect anyone to be pissed about not calling the police, but Jack was outraged. I felt like he had some kind of personal investment in this that I couldn’t understand.

  “You heard Lola. She doesn’t want her husband to find her. I didn’t even know she had a husband.”

  Jack growled and sat down on the couch. “Everybody here has a past they’re trying to run from. That’s why we feel the need to travel, keep moving so we’ll never be found. This circus is particularly appealing because we only advertise when we reach a destination. We don’t have a website or a tour schedule that’s accessible by the public. Marina likes it that way, mainly because she says she hates computers, but I personally think she might be afraid of them. She has a tonne of books about conspiracy theories in her camper.”

  For the first time since we discovered Lola had been attacked, his face showed something other than sev
ere anger. He was clearly very fond of Marina. I gave him a small smile. I’d actually seen those books when I’d been holed up in her place doing her accounts.

  What Jack said gave me another realisation, something that had been niggling at me. In the back of my mind, I’d very much expected for my mum to have shown up by now. I put it down to her not being able to take the time off work, but now I knew differently. She couldn’t find me because the Circus Spektakulär wasn’t listed. The thought made me feel so much better, a tension leaving me I hadn’t even known was there.

  “I’m not looking forward to spending the night on this couch,” said Jack, perusing the living area, his words breaking through my thoughts.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m staying here tonight. I can’t take the risk of the attacker coming back.”

  I scratched at my neck awkwardly. “Um, I was actually going to sleep there, since Lola’s sick. I don’t want to catch her flu.”

  The moment the words left my mouth, Jack’s gaze grew hot, his eyes smouldering. I never thought smouldering was actually a real thing until I met him.

  “You can lie on top of me if you like. Better yet, just sit on my face.”

  I stared at him in silence, mouth hanging open. He was so…lewd sometimes. It unsettled me to think that if anyone else had said that to me, I’d be disgusted. But Jack managed to make the stark obscenity sound appealing. I flushed, and a tingle radiated down my spine.

  “That’s…that’s…that’s a really inappropriate thing to say to someone.”

  I could feel his gaze right then like it was a physical touch. “True, but you’re not just anyone to me.”

  “Who am I to you?” I asked, unable to help myself.

  He looked at me for a long, endless moment. “Someone.”

  I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it still made me feel hot all over. My heart beat hard just for him. It felt euphoric to be someone to Jack, and I knew from deep within me that I wanted to be his only someone. I wasn’t his only someone, though. There was still Julie with her bitchy looks and cruel words that hid behind her pretty face and fake beaming smiles.