Out of Sight Out of Mind (Choc Lit) Read online

  She couldn’t let him go. She had to get him somewhere safe, where she could assess him properly. Which meant she was going to help him, whether he wanted it or not.

  When she went, he was going with her.

  Without pausing for thought, she grabbed his good arm and yanked.

  Taken unawares, and still unsteady, he came up with a rush.

  Before he could protest, or evade, she shoved her shoulder under his and began to pilot him up the street.

  He hauled in air as if she’d sucker-punched him. Her hand on his wrist stopped him slipping out of her hold.

  ‘I said I wasn’t going with you, lady. What part of no don’t you understand?’

  ‘All of it.’ She gritted her teeth and kept going. ‘Just walk, will you.’

  The way he was leaning on her told her he’d be flat out again if she let go. She was pretty sure he knew it too, which was why he stopped trying to shake her off.

  Until they reached the front of her block.

  ‘No! No way!’ He swore violently and dug in his heels when he saw where she was heading. ‘You can’t take me in there!’

  ‘I can and I will.’ She tightened her grip and ploughed on. ‘This is where I live.’

  ‘Lady, you’re crazy.’ He flapped his hand. ‘You got a porter, concierge or something?’

  ‘Of course. Mind the step.’ He stumbled, then got his feet co-ordinated. They were both breathing heavily. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘What do you think? One look and the guy will be calling the cops.’

  ‘Not when you’re with me.’

  ‘Not even if I was with the Queen! I’ll be back here in the road before you can turn around. S’no point.’

  ‘We’ll see – but as you didn’t want to come with me in the first place, why are you arguing?’ she asked sweetly. When he didn’t answer she put her hand behind his back to shove, getting a muffled curse of pain in response. It tweaked her conscience, but not much. Her shoulders were aching and they were almost at the door. ‘Stop making a fuss and get a move on, before we both die of hypothermia.’

  The lights in the foyer skewered his eyeballs like lasers. With one thing on his mind – getting off his feet before he fell down – he changed tack, towing his captor towards the nearest sofa and flopping out of her grasp into the soft depths. Absently he stroked the red leather. Expensive. Nice place his angel lived in. Angel. Pity he had to pick a bossy one. But with his luck – except – what did he know?

  ‘How do you feel? Better?’

  He hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes. He opened one. Better didn’t describe the river of pain coursing across his left shoulder, nor the aching nausea of the too-empty belly, not to mention his head, which he was trying to ignore, but in her terms he probably was better.

  And she’d sounded so full of hope.

  Now there was a word that hadn’t been in his mind for a while.

  He grunted, which seemed to satisfy her. Maybe he didn’t feel so bad. He was getting warm, for the first time in a week, and the sofa was doing good things to his weary bones. Left alone, he might stretch out for a while. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  The little guy from the reception desk had trailed them to the seating area, open-mouthed. Now he was shifting from one foot to the other, looking unhappy. No surprise there, seeing that he had a vagrant in his hallway, messing up his designer décor. Plus he was going to offend one of his tenants. Probably a good tipper, too. She looked like a good tipper.

  He transferred his open eye to the angel. Actually she looked plain good, except she wasn’t plain. Losing the thread here. Tall, slim, brunette. Long hair. Straight. Shiny. The gold dress clung in some interesting places. Pity about the oil stain. He sat up a fraction straighter, so he could see the rest. Excellent legs. Fuck-me shoes. Now there was a thought. A very old, lost-in-the-past thought.

  His mind hazed. Something about her—

  There was a reason he was here, but he couldn’t recall it.

  She needed someone to take care of her. Maybe that was it. Alone on the street at night, wearing all that gold round her neck.

  He focused on the heavy gold chain. It glittered in the strong light and he looked away. Maybe he should stick around. She wanted him for something. Stick around, he’d find out what.

  Fat chance.

  The little guy had started his pitch. Wouldn’t be long now and he’d be out on his ass. May as well make the most of the sofa while it’s available. Catch a few Zs.

  ‘Miss Albi. Um … I really don’t think I can allow this.’ Madison looked up from studying her captive. He seemed to have passed out again. Straightening her shoulders, she fixed Scott with her coolest stare. The concierge swallowed bravely. ‘My job is to keep people like him out. And he’s dripping blood!’ Scott’s voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

  ‘Only on to his coat. It’s not going on the furniture.’ Madison frowned, wondering what had become of her handkerchief, then brushed it aside to focus on the concierge. Do not give in. Smile nicely, act gracious. Lie. And slip him a tenner. Good thought. She conjured the smile.

  ‘I know this is difficult, Scott, but we only need a minute. As soon as I get him back on his feet and into the lift, we’ll be out of here.’

  Behind them the street doors opened, with a blast of cold air. Madison nodded towards the pizza delivery man who’d come in with the air. The scent of garlic and tomatoes wafted round the lobby.

  ‘Why don’t you go and see to that, and when you come back, we’ll be ready to go.’

  Scott looked unconvinced, but went.

  ‘Told you so.’

  The captive was awake and watching her. Smug.

  ‘Shut up, you, I’m thinking.’

  She saw him take a breath to respond, then decide against it and let it out again, collapsing further into the leather sofa.

  While she was thinking she went back to her inspection. The dark cap was pulled down over matted hair. Stubble – no, make that beard – obscured most of his face. The heavy overcoat, buttoned at the throat, had been good once. When it was new. Some time back in the last century. Way back. The fabric was shiny with wear in some places, stained in others, but there were signs that someone, presumably its inhabitant, had tried to clean and brush them away.

  The hair under the cap was dishevelled but not lank. It was midnight dark, except for a splatter of silver at the sideburns. What she could see of the beard was black and silver, too. His head was down, sunk into his chest, so she couldn’t check out his features.

  The fresh cut over the eye was oozing now, not dripping. In a proper light she could see that it had been half healed but had re-opened when he fell. With his head down, the bruises were less obvious. He’d been heavy enough when she’d manhandled him in here, but the ancient overcoat hung loose on him. She suspected he was gaunt for a man of his build. The ragged edges of a pair of grey trousers showed under the coat. The trainers were the most disgusting pair she’d seen in a while.

  They would be going straight in the bin.

  One of his hands, grazed at the knuckle and ingrained with dirt, was splayed out, limp, on the seat beside him. He was scrubbing awkwardly at the cut with the other.

  ‘Here.’ She found a lipstick-stained tissue in the bottom of her battered evening bag, tore off the stained part and handed it over.

  ‘Thanks.’ It was no more than a mumble, but it did get his head up.

  The eyes were dark, possibly blue. Clouded and unfocused.

  His head drooped again, but he still held the tissue, so he hadn’t drifted off.

  Almost absently she scanned him; a fast, non-invasive once over. What was coming out of him now was the standard soupy muddle of thoughts she could pick up from any passer-by, on any street corner in London. The sort
of stuff she’d learned to tune out, aeons ago … Nothing special.

  Shit! Had she made a mistake, dragging him in here?

  She hesitated. She didn’t normally do this. It was against all her principles. But this wasn’t exactly normal. She gathered her thoughts and probed into him.

  ‘Fuck! Don’t do that!’ He jumped, wincing away from her. As if she had slapped him.

  ‘You can feel it?’ Shock spiked through her.

  ‘How can I fail to,’ he flapped his hand as if he was warding off a troublesome insect, ‘when you’re coming at me like a boot to the head?’

  She pulled out of him sharply, heart rate accelerating and decision made.

  ‘Right, here’s the deal.’ She leaned over him, talking fast and close to his ear. Scott was walking back towards them. ‘You go along with everything I’m about to say and you get food, a bed for the night and fifty quid. In exchange you help me with a couple of experiments.’

  ‘Mind experiments?’

  She caught her breath. Exhausted and in pain, he was still as sharp as a razor. ‘Yes. Mind experiments. Nothing painful, I promise.’

  ‘Huh!’ He hunched away from her, chin down. She was getting used to the look of the top of his head. ‘Hundred.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hundred pounds.’

  ‘In your dreams. Seventy.’

  ‘Hundred.’ He was looking sideways, over her shoulder. ‘Make your mind up quickly, lady. Your little pal is almost here. Got a pretty determined expression on his face. I reckon I’m gonna be out on my ass in about ten seconds.’

  ‘All right!’ She capitulated, exasperated. ‘A hundred. You’d better be worth it!’

  ‘Always do my best to satisfy a lady.’ He leaned back on the leather cushion. There was a distinct gleam in the dark eyes.

  ‘You’ve certainly recovered.’ She put all the ice she had into her stare before turning away. What have I done?

  She squared her shoulders. He was big and undoubtedly smart, but so was she, so that was no problem. He was hurt, which gave her the edge. She pushed down a qualm. He was better off with her than out there on the street, in pain. She could handle him. She had to. He had something she wanted. Really wanted.

  ‘Scott.’ She moved forward, smiling. ‘Please don’t give me grief on this.’ The folded note in her hand disappeared smoothly into Scott’s top pocket. ‘It’s just—’ she shrugged, looking guilty. It wasn’t that hard. She didn’t like lies, and there were far too many in her life already. But she had to get Scott onside. If he made a fuss – hell, she was not going to lose this guy. She had the speech planned. It wouldn’t be a lie. Not exactly. She revved up the smile. ‘Like you said, he’s bleeding. He was on the ground behind my car. I could have clipped him when I backed in.’ Maybe – if he’d been anywhere near at the time. ‘I don’t want any trouble. If I can get him upstairs and cleaned up, he’ll be out of here by morning. We’ll use the service entrance.’ She put all the reassurance she could into her voice, then held her breath.

  Scott was wavering visibly. ‘Well – I suppose he’s your guest, like, isn’t he?’ He made up his mind. ‘All right.’ He rolled up the sleeves of his uniform and leaned over to grab one of the captive’s arms. ‘Come on, sunshine, on your feet. And mind you behave yourself with the lady.’

  ‘Yes, guv. Obliged to you, guv.’ Over Scott’s head Madison met eyes with the wickedest gleam she’d ever seen. Then he winked. She swallowed a breath. The next few days were going to be … eventful.

  Scott had got him up, but he was floundering, favouring the left side of his body. The one she’d thumped in the alley. She swallowed down a twinge of guilt, and moved to take his arm gently, letting him settle his weight against her in his own time.

  ‘Thanks.’ The word was a whisper against her ear. She looked sideways. As he stooped they were on the same level, and she met his eyes again. Navy blue. Softer now, but still knowing.

  She was about to take this stranger into her home. A place she didn’t even take her friends. She shivered, hoping he didn’t feel it.

  Scott was getting impatient.

  An unlikely threesome, they shambled towards the elevator.

  Scott was back on the ground floor, soaping his hands in the cloakroom, when the door banged open behind him. His sister, Sandra, stood in the doorway, holding a mop and bucket.

  ‘Wondered where you’d got to.’

  ‘Had to wash my hands, didn’t I?’ Scott shook water off his fingers. ‘Been up to the penthouse. Helped Miss Albi take a man up there.’ He smirked when his sister’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Some old vagrant she nearly ran over. Filthy, he was.’ Scott fastidiously adjusted the cuffs of his uniform. ‘Too soft-hearted, she is. Wanted to make sure he was all right. I’d have left the bugger there.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you would.’ Sandra advanced towards the sink. ‘You know Miss Albi, she’s dead kind to everyone, treats everyone proper. She’s a really nice lady. For a spook.’

  Scott’s head jerked. ‘You don’t want to go saying that. That’s just stupid gossip.’

  ‘Might not be gossip.’ Sandra flounced as she put her mop in the sink. ‘That place Miss Albi works. Research laboratory – mind research. Got to be top secret, innit? Spooks and stuff.’

  ‘You want to keep your mouth shut,’ Scott warned. ‘If Miss Albi hears you talking like that she won’t want you cleaning her place.’

  Sandra sniffed. ‘Know when to be discreet, don’t I?’ She turned off the tap. ‘Bit risky though, innit, taking in some bloke off the street? You reckon she’s all right up there?’ Sandra frowned, concerned. ‘She’s got some nice stuff, and she’s all on her own since that chap of hers went. Pity about that.’ Sandra gave a sentimental sigh. ‘Right before the wedding and all.’

  ‘Better before than after,’ Scott said sharply. ‘You don’t want to go talking about that, either.’ He adjusted his tie. ‘She’ll ring down, if she wants anything. You get on and do the lobby, while it’s quiet.’

  Madison shoved her key in the lock, one eye on the captive. Really must get a name. He was propped against the wall, head down. Scott had scarcely handed them out of the lift before he’d pressed the button to descend. The lift foyer to the penthouse was tiny, but it had still taken them an age to cross it. She looked him over, mouth twisting. Exhaustion was closing in on him. Him.

  ‘Do you have a name?’ She pushed the door open.

  ‘Mmm.’ He was swaying. She grabbed him before he fell. If he went down, she’d have to call Scott to get him up again.

  ‘Not far now.’ She hauled on the front of his overcoat, holding him upright with teeth gritted. She felt him pull in a deep breath. Some of the weight eased. ‘Okay?’ she checked, cautiously.

  ‘Yeah.’ For a moment they stood, looking at each other.

  His eyes were surprisingly alert, long lashed. Madison felt colour coming up into her face. His body leaned against hers. Close. Hard. Warm. Warm was good, except—

  She swallowed. Behind her was the open door of her home. Her refuge. What was she doing?

  ‘S’all right.’ His voice was husky. ‘We have a deal.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She tried to sound brisk.

  ‘You’re worried about taking me in there.’ He nodded behind them. ‘And if you’re not, then you ought to be.’ She couldn’t really tell, under the mat of beard, but there might have been a twisted grin in there somewhere. ‘I’m assuming there isn’t a husband/lover/boyfriend lurking?’

  He’s going to find out, so why hide? ‘No.’

  ‘No one to object if you bring your work home with you.’ There was definitely amusement in the voice now.

  Madison felt a familiar stir of resentment. Women had to be so careful about things a man wouldn’t think twice about. It got under her sk
in, but now wasn’t the time. Even so— ‘I wouldn’t be with a man who wanted to dictate what I do. And I’m not afraid of you,’ she added, for good measure.

  He was staring at her. ‘That so?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pursed her lips, trying to ignore the squirm in her belly. This was getting to be quite a night for half-truths.

  His eyes were still on her face. ‘You sure? Only you did such a good job, fibbing to Scotty-boy—’

  ‘If you were listening, you know I didn’t – fib.’ The childish word suddenly made her want to giggle. She resisted, sucking in her cheeks.

  ‘Sophistry.’

  Madison blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. Didn’t think someone homeless would know a big word like that?’ He was baiting her again. Temper stirred.

  ‘I make it a rule never to prejudge anyone I meet.’ But you may have underestimated this one. She ground her teeth. ‘I misled Scott. I admit it – so sue me. It got you up here.’ She met his stare. ‘I repeat, I am not afraid of you.’ Make something of that, mister.

  ‘Good, because you don’t have to be.’ Abruptly he gave up the contest. She saw a shadow of pain cross his face. Anger faded as her heart twisted in sympathy. ‘I can be civilised,’ he added. ‘Your person and your furniture are quite safe.’

  Bitterness, under the flat tone?

  ‘Good to know.’ It was disconcerting to hear the quiver of relief in her voice. She took his arm again.

  They made it into the hall. Madison took a second to breathe, wondering how the place appeared to a stranger. She’d chosen the coral paint to be warm, welcoming. Not that she ever welcomed anyone. Not since Neil. She stepped past that thought.

  ‘Right.’ She straightened up. ‘I’ll fix us some food, while you take a shower.’ She frowned. ‘Will you be able to manage that?’

  ‘I’ll manage – I’ll find something to hold on to – unless you’re offering to prop me up?’

  She wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. ‘There are clothes—’ She gestured to the hall cupboard. ‘They should fit.’