Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [54]
We didn’t speak again until we were in the Reventon and speeding down Queenslea Drive towards the highway. Nick’s expression was so forbidding I thought I should probably remain silent for the rest of my life.
But as we cruised past Christchurch Grammar, I had a terrible thought.
‘I had to do it,’ I said.
‘What? Trespass on the property of the one guy in this city who’d happily ghost you?’
‘No. Feed the dog olive oil.’
He half-turned his face towards me, though he kept his eyes on the road. ‘Are you speaking some strange dialect?’
‘I had to do something to stop the dog barking. It liked the olive oil, so I dripped it down onto its nose, only . . .’
‘Only what?’
I noticed his hands tighten on the wheel, but I’d gone too far with my confession to stop now.
‘Most of it spilled onto my butt and now I’m sitting on your leather seat.’
He hit the brakes so hard my seatbelt nearly choked me. Then he swerved into the car park of the church on the corner and switched on the interior light.
‘Get out,’ he ordered.
I did as I was told. The tone of his voice made me want to rush inside the church and hide under a pew.
He stormed around to my side of the car to examine the damage. Peering through the gap under his arm, I saw two dark stains on the leather in the perfect shape of my butt.
He straightened and turned on me.
My mouth started to run in place of my frozen legs. ‘I’m so sorry, Nick. I’ll buy you new seats, I promise. You see, the car was following me again today. I had to check it out. It parked behind me down in front of Cott beach –’
‘Slow down, Tara. I can’t understand you.’
I took a breath and tried to settle my heartbeat. ‘I took Wal over to Bolo’s at 3 am – he needs a bodyguard because of the death threat he got. I drove past Viaspa’s and saw the car that’s been following me. At least, I think it’s the same one. I had to get closer to read the plate. So I walked through the next-door neighbour’s cactus garden and climbed the wall, and then the dog came out and I fell onto the gate.’
‘Was it the same car?’
I nodded, suddenly out of words.
Tozzi grabbed me with one giant paw and pulled me into his arms. There was nothing sexy about it. He was hugging me out of fear . . . and concern. I felt my aching muscles melt into his body warmth.
‘Nick,’ I said, ‘you shouldn’t do that. Besides, I’m all oily, and I’m bleeding too. From the cactus.’
He hugged me closer. ‘I know,’ he said into the top of my head. ‘You and I need to have a long talk.’
We did, over hot chocolate and raisin toast at the all-night café in Subiaco. The only other people there was a couple cuddling in the window seat. We sipped our drinks and looked the other way.
Eventually, I put my mug down and sighed. ‘Thanks for coming to get me. Especially after I . . . left . . . you the other night.’
He nodded and leaned closer so he could speak quietly. His caramel aura swamped mine like a hot lava flow.
‘Until today I didn’t really know if I was being followed or I was just imagining it. Now I have proof,’ I said.
‘I think you should talk to the police.’
‘I will.’ Maybe Tozzi was right. Maybe I should say something to Constable Bligh. I had a licence plate number now. But what if I had to tell Bligh more than I wanted to? Like how I’d blackmailed Viaspa into leaving Nick and me alone after finding out he was behind a big mineral-leasing scam? Might be I was the one who ended up in gaol. ‘I . . . I . . . How’s Antonia?’ I asked, pointedly changing the subject.
His face tightened. ‘She’s doing well. She’s decided to stay until the end of this week.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘I think she’s beaten it this time.’
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. Either way, the glimmer of hope in his eyes depressed me a little. He still had strong feelings for his wife.
As if sensing my thoughts, he said, ‘Look, about the other night . . . I’m sorry . . . That damn dress you were wearing just . . . I’m not trying to come on to you. What I mean is . . . it’s not my intention to . . . it just keeps happening.’ He stuffed his hands