The Hearts Series

  Liam Cross was my boss’s little brother. Lee was always talking proudly of how he’d completed his training and started working as a PC. Great for him, but not so great for me, especially considering the suspicious looks he frequently threw my way.

  It didn’t help that he was singularly the prettiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. Closely cropped light brown hair, blue eyes brighter than the Mediterranean, and the kind of toned, muscular physique girls swooned for the world over.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled, not making eye contact.

  He was standing in the hallway that led to the kitchen, blocking my entry. His gaze flared ever so slightly when he turned and saw me, then he quickly plastered on a bland expression.

  “Sorry, go ahead,” he replied and moved to let me pass.

  “Thanks,” I managed and scurried by.

  A few moments later I was back by the sink, hosing down dishes and trying to calm my nerves. What was it about Liam Cross that made me so nervous? Sure, there was his profession, but Lee’s wife was a policewoman, and she didn’t make me feel antsy like Liam did. I got this sense that he was constantly watching me, evaluating, searching for flaws. Since I’ve always tried to fade into the background, it made me seriously tetchy.

  Had Lee told him of my unconventional employment status?

  No, I didn’t think he’d do that. He didn’t know I was homeless, probably just thought I was surfing friends’ couches until I could save up enough money to get on the renting ladder. Well, at least the last bit was true.

  “Iris.”

  I froze. It was him. Why was he talking to me? He never talked to me.

  I turned off the water and slowly turned. God, I was right about him being pretty. It was even worse up close. And as much as I tried to avoid the police, I couldn’t deny that the uniform was sexy. At least, it was on him.

  “Y-yes?” I stammered and dried my hands on my apron.

  My eyes locked with his and a moment passed between us. The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end and I hoped he didn’t notice. His gaze moved from my eyes to my nose, lingering then on my lips. The way his eyes darkened made me shiver a little. Crap, was I shaking?

  He cleared his throat. “There’s been a spill over by table nine. Lee asked if you could grab a mop and bucket to clear it.”

  How romantic.

  “Oh right, yes, of course.”

  I had my head in the clouds if I thought Liam Cross harboured any sort of attraction for me.

  I nodded and moved to walk by him, but in a flash he took hold of my wrist. I glanced up at him, questioning. His eyes moved cautiously between mine. I felt small. On display. Studied. Liam wasn’t a particularly tall man, but being that I was only five foot two, he practically dwarfed me.

  “Are you all right?”

  I did my best to appear casual. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You seem a little shaken.”

  I frowned at this. He was very direct. I effected a weak laugh. “Shaken? I’m fine. Seriously.”

  He didn’t let go of my wrist, and it only functioned to panic me further. His gaze narrowed the tiniest bit, an expression on his face like he was trying to read my thoughts. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  I grit my teeth, pissed with him now. “Let go of me.”

  After the tiniest moment of hesitation, he let go and I scarpered.

  One of the customers had spilled their Coke all over the floor, so I busied myself cleaning it up before somebody happened by and slipped. It was the lunchtime rush so the place was jam-packed. Five minutes later I was done and returned to my place by the sink, an endless routine of rinsing and stacking, rinsing and stacking. It was monotonous, sure, but I didn’t care so long as I got paid.

  When you’ve experienced true hunger, you’ll do just about anything to keep food in your belly. Back at the squat I had a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and a packet of biscuits stashed inconspicuously behind a few bits of broken furniture. My stomach grumbled just thinking of them. I really hoped Mr Hector didn’t discover my secret stash, because he was a notorious food thief. Although, the upside of working here was that meals were provided, which was obviously a godsend for me.

  I was humming along to Psycho Killer by Talking Heads when I sensed somebody’s attention. The lunch rush was over and Lee had gathered the crew to prep for dinner. I would’ve loved to be a part of the cooking staff, but I wasn’t qualified. I harboured a secret ambition to ask Lee if he’d train me, but I was still building up the courage. I was also a little obsessed with food, although I wasn’t sure if it stemmed from constantly being hungry or a natural affiliation.

  I glanced quickly to the side and sure enough Liam was standing by one of the countertops, a bowl in hand as he ate some spaghetti, eyes on me. I really wished he’d quit. I might’ve been humming about a psycho killer, but that didn’t mean I was dangerous. I was only trying to get by. You’d swear I was the prime suspect in a murder case by the way he continued to observe me.

  I endeavoured to ignore him and continued washing dishes, too self-conscious to continue humming.

  “Iris,” said Lee and I jumped. Damn Liam and his constant surveillance.

  “Yep?”

  “You can go on break now. There’s some cottage pie in the fridge if you want to heat it up.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I replied, grateful that today’s lunch consisted of something carb heavy. I hated the days when he made soups or salads. Most people didn’t understand the need to fill up as much as you could because you didn’t know when or where the next meal was coming from.

  I studiously ignored Liam’s attention as I pulled off my rubber gloves, but as soon as I sat down in the break room to eat the chair across from mine moved.

  I looked up and Liam was there, joining me at the table.

  What the hell?

  Since I was last to go on break today, there was no one else around. Yes, I was completely alone with Liam Cross, a man I both feared and fancied in equal measures.

  My brows crinkled as I bit my lip, my eyes automatically going to my iPod that was still charging under the table. Liam followed my gaze, his attention landing on the slim pink contraption before moving back to me.

  “Yours?”

  “Um, yes, my battery ran out,” I mumbled and reached down to pull out the plug.

  “You couldn’t charge it at home?”

  I shook my head. “I forgot.”

  He didn’t say anything, just studied me.

  “Do you need something?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from wavering.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then why are you sitting here? My food’s going cold,” I complained, growing irritable.

  “I just thought we could chat. I’m on pretty friendly terms with my brother’s staff, all except you.”

  I shifted in my seat, the scent of cottage pie wafting up and making my mouth water. Damn him. I wanted to devour it like a wild animal, but I obviously couldn’t do that with an audience. “I like to keep to myself.”

  “I noticed.”

  His stare was intense now and it made my stomach twist. He knows about you. He knows everything, my brain panicked.

  “You have?”

  At this his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away. Wait, what? Was he embarrassed?

  He cleared his throat and his gaze returned to me. “I watch you a lot.”

  I know.

  “You do?”

  He smiled a little. “Like you haven’t noticed.”

  “I haven’t.” I have. “I’m pretty much in my own little world most of the time.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute, then, “Yeah, I think that’s what intrigues me so much. You’re very . . . solitary.”

  “I am?” Jeez, why couldn’t I manage more than two words at a time today?

  Instead of answering my question, he nodded to my food and said, “Eat.”

  H
e didn’t have to tell me twice. I dug into the pie with gusto. Aside from the slice of bread with peanut butter I ate for breakfast, this was all I’d had all day. A minute or two went by and Liam didn’t speak. Instead he watched me eat. I probably would’ve felt awkward if the food wasn’t so good and I wasn’t so hungry.

  “Is that your natural hair colour?”

  I glanced up. “Huh?”

  “Your hair. It’s very dark. Is it natural?”

  I self-consciously ran a hand over my loose bun. “Oh, um, yeah. It’s natural.”

  “I thought it might be dyed because of all your tattoos. Thought you were going for the Goth look.”

  I laughed softly. “I’m more of a punk.”

  “Ah.”

  “So, how did you come by all that ink?”

  I swallowed a bite, deliberating over whether or not to answer. Surprisingly, my mouth wanted to talk to Liam even if my brain thought it a questionable idea. “I used to have this friend. She was an aspiring tattoo artist and I let her practice on me.” I held my arm out for him to see, my skin visible since I was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt. Liam’s gaze traced over the oriental fishes, five-point stars, and other random illustrations with interest. My pores tingled.

  “You were her guinea pig?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you regret that?”

  I shook my head fervently. “No, definitely not. My friend . . . she died. They’re all I have left of her.”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “What happened to her?”

  I let out a breath. This conversation had taken a turn for the morbid. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We lived in a rough neighbourhood and there was a shooting, a rift between two gangs. Becky got caught in the crossfire.”

  Liam sucked in a harsh breath. “Christ, were you there?”

  “No, but I wish I had been. I hate thinking of her dying alone.”

  My thoughts wandered back, pain clutching my heart. Becky and I had met in foster care when we were fifteen, and for two short years we’d been inseparable. Sisters. At least, she was the closest thing I had to family. She brought colour into my life, and when she was gone everything felt empty. Again.

  Liam went quiet and I returned my attention to eating. He was there when I finished, still not talking. I wondered what was going through his head. My stomach felt delightfully full, which worked to keep me from feeling too down remembering Becky.

  “Don’t you have to be getting back to work?” I asked, pointedly eyeing his uniform.

  He arched a brow. “Don’t you?”

  I glanced at the clock. “I have ten minutes left.”

  “What a coincidence. So do I.” He was smiling now. It made me feel funny.

  “What’s it like being in the police?” I asked, unable to hold in my curiosity.

  His smile warmed. “Why? You interested in joining?”

  I scrunched up my mouth. “No. God, no.”

  “Got a problem with the law, little punk?” He leaned closer over the table and a waft of his cologne invaded my senses. He smelled good. Citrusy.

  “No. And don’t call me that.”

  His mouth twitched. “But you said you were a punk.”

  I made a face. “I’m not into nicknames.”

  He nodded. “Okay, no nicknames. Your real name is too pretty not to use anyway.”

  I barked a laugh. “Is that a line?”

  “If it was?”

  “I’d advise you to try a different one.”

  “Noted. So, what do you do when you’re not scrubbing dishes for my brother, Iris?”

  The way he said my name made my pores tingle again. It felt luxurious somehow, like a caress. “I talk to my cat. I read. I wander.” Talk to Bowie.

  “You wander?”

  “Yeah, I like to choose a starting point and let my feet lead the way.”

  He looked displeased hearing this. “Only during the day, I hope.”

  Huh. Was he worried about me? Nah, he was just being a copper. Nosy. I shrugged.

  “Sometimes at night. I’m good at being invisible though, so I rarely run into trouble.”

  His displeasure increased. “How often is rarely?”

  I tilted my head. “Why do you care?”

  His expression turned serious. “A tiny little thing like you wandering around in the dark is a recipe for trouble. Do you realise how easy it’d be for someone to just pluck you up off the street and do whatever they wanted?”

  Ha! That was a laugh. The street was my home. I knew how to survive there, and I’d done fine so far. “Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I’m not tough. Let some fucker try to pluck me up. It wouldn’t end well for him.” I stabbed my forked into the empty plate with force to emphasise my point.

  For some reason the action made him smile again, but this time there was a spark of calculation behind his eyes. “So, if I were to grab you right now, push you up against that wall,” he paused and gestured to the wall by the door, “you’d be able to fend me off?”

  I swallowed. Not surprisingly, that visual wasn’t as scary to me as it should’ve been. Instead my gut twisted with anticipation. Do it.

  Do it.

  I nodded casually. “Sure.”

  “Let’s try it, then.” He moved to get up and suddenly my courage fled.

  I forced a laugh. “No, thanks.”

  He shot me a wry look. “No?”

  “No.”

  “So, you’re all talk then.” He folded his arms, pleased with himself, and it made me want to punch him. I’d never been good at backing away from a challenge.

  I grit my teeth. “Fine.”

  His gaze flicked to my mine, his pupils dilating. I didn’t care to ponder what that meant. Without another word, he advanced on me. My heart hammered and I was too fascinated to react when he lifted me up off my chair, carried me across the room, and slammed my back into the wall. I exhaled choppily when he used one hand to grip my neck and the other to hold me down. My chest rose and fell as I looked up at him, entirely too engrossed.

  What was he going to do next? I wriggled my hips, though not to break free. He made a curious noise in the back of his throat. I tilted my head. He looked pissed. Huh.

  “Iris,” he practically growled.

  “Y-yes?”

  “You aren’t doing anything.”

  “Should I be?”

  His hand on my neck loosened. “I just physically assaulted you and you haven’t lifted a finger to stop me.”

  “Sorry.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t fucking apologise. Fight back.”

  Fight back.

  Right. It was a little hard to do that when all I wanted was for him to tear off my clothes and do very, very bad things to me. But I had to prove a point. I had to show him I could protect myself. Summoning my resolve, I twisted in his hold and tried to get my leg up so I could knee him in the balls. Unfortunately, his entire body was pressed into mine, preventing all movement.

  I continued twisting, testing his strength, but I couldn’t find a single weak spot. In the end, I let out a frustrated sigh and relented.

  “Fine. You win. Maybe I won’t go wandering at night anymore.”

  “I’m not trying to be a dickhead. I’m just trying to make you more aware of the dangers,” he said, releasing me and taking a step back.

  No, don’t go.

  I’d been warm with him on me. Warmer than I’d been in a very long time.

  I cleared my throat. “Job well done.”

  He seemed conflicted, his eyes wandering over me and then to his watch. He swore under his breath. “I have to go.”

  “Okay.”

  He eyed me seriously. “Think about what I said, yeah? Don’t have me worrying.”

  I only nodded and then he left, a question hanging in the air.

  He hardly even knew me, so why would he worry?

  Two

&nbsp
; The Man Who Fell to Earth

  The next day at work I’d barely taken my seat in the break room when someone pulled out the chair across from mine. Liam. He wasn’t wearing his police uniform today. Instead he wore jeans, a grey woollen jumper, and a curious expression.

  Interesting.

  Thankfully, we weren’t alone like yesterday. One of the cooks and two of the waitresses were eating at a nearby table, chatting about the latest episode of the Kardashians. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched TV.

  “You again,” I said, peering at him over my food.

  He smiled. “Me again.”

  I twined some spaghetti around my fork and shoved it in my mouth. Liam watched me the entire time.

  “Not working today?” I asked as my eyes traced his outfit. He looked good. Maybe even better than he did in his uniform. Something about how the wool hung on his solid frame.

  He shook his head. “Today’s my day off.”

  “Ah. And you decided to come pay me a visit. I’m honoured.”

  His smiled deepened. It was very, ah, interesting. That seemed to be the recurring adjective of the day. “I had to drop something off for Lee.”

  I effected a pout. “You wound me.”

  He cocked his head to the nearby table. “Why don’t you ever sit with the others?”

  I glanced down, my mouth settling in an uncomfortable line. “I haven’t been here long. Besides, they all have their groups.”

  “I’m sure you could become a part of a group if you tried.”

  Yes, but that would mean making friends, and friends wanted to know things about you, your family, where you come from, where you live. The shame I felt at the very idea of anyone at The Grub Hut discovering my circumstances was immense. My gut literally turned over at the thought. Sometimes I had nightmares where I was laying on the floor in my dirty old sleeping bag and all my fellow workers came into the squat, disgust in their eyes as they discovered the reality of my life.

  I lifted a shoulder, feigning disinterest.

  “No? You too cool for the staff here? Are they too mainstream for your dark and aloof self?”

  I laughed at this. “Has Lee enlisted you to try and get me to be more sociable or something?”