Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

just did.’ Fred turned his back on Connor and entered the living room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Connor stood still for a moment, his mind reeling from the exchange. He couldn’t report it. He’d been guilty of passing so much information that there was no solution with work. If professional standards found out, they would bury him. But he wouldn’t do it anymore, he wouldn’t feed Fred any information. Family or not. But even as he thought it, he knew he was fooling himself. For one, what Fred wanted Fred got, and for two, everything they had as a family depended on Fred continuing to pay the bills.

For the hundredth time, Connor wondered how he had come to be on this path. How his dream job could’ve ended up turning into the nightmare from hell thanks to his actions, and how he had come to be this person he despised so much.

Life fucking sucks.

 

Chapter Eighteen

Ryhope, Sunderland – 11 November

H e was angry.

The kind of anger that simmered beneath the surface, ready to blow with the ferocity of a volcano. It seemed to him that the older he got, the harder it became to contain the fury. One shitty day and he wanted to lash out to anyone and everyone, kill them where they stood just for looking at him.

He tried to rein it back in. Going in to see the girl when he was this mad would probably be a bad idea. Too much, and he could do irreparable damage to her, and he knew that would blur the lines, make this whole thing about him and not about the lessons he had to teach. There was a fine line between teaching someone to cope with pain, and inflicting torture.

Pushing open the door, he took in a breath and flicked the light switch.

Her eyes widened, blinking as the bright light made her pupils dilate.

For a moment, he realised he couldn’t remember when he had last visited her, last brought her food. The last few days had blurred into one, no specific action clear to him. I’m too old for this shit. And maybe he was, but it wasn’t something he could stop doing. He was destined to do this. Karma had shown him the path he had to take and regardless of how angry he was, he had to follow it. Doing this would make everything right. It had to.

The girl’s face was apprehensive, but also accepting, and it threw him off balance. Normally it took weeks for them to get to that stage. How long had she even been here? It wasn’t weeks though, he knew that. It was more like days. The acceptance was strange though. Had her life been so shit before that this was actually better?

He stood for a long while, just staring at her.

She was attractive, he supposed, though not to him. With everything he’d dealt with in recent years, those kinds of stirrings were a thing of the past. And even when he’d had them back then his wife had always serviced them, before she’d gone anyway. And afterwards, well he’d just learnt to ignore them. Or head to the brothel if he needed to. He might’ve liked this girl though, with her long, dark hair and brooding brown eyes. Even curled up in the cage, in need of a bath and a hairbrush, she could still captivate.

Suddenly he wondered what she was called, where she’d come from.

Knowing that information would be a bad idea. It would make it personal, and he couldn’t afford to get emotionally attached. Not to her, not to anyone.

Emotion caused pain.

His anger dampened now, he unlocked the cage and held out his hand to her. He saw her wince and knew her muscles were tired of being in the same position and would be sore.

Despite the pain, she paused. Then softly slipped her hand into his.

Again, he found himself surprised. He’d never had a girl so accepting of her fate. Usually, they kicked and screamed until they realised that doing that meant more pain.

He put her in the chair, fastened the straps and stepped back.

Before he even realised what he was doing, he pointed to his chest.

‘Jim,’ it had been his father’s name, but she didn’t need to know that. Repeating the motion, he said it again and then looked at her expectantly.

Understanding gleamed in her eyes and she replied. ‘Nita.’

Nita. Pretty name, it suits her.

Then he realised what he’d done.

God damn idiot. What did you go and do that for? Now it’s all going to go to hell in a handbasket.

Stepping back, he waited for the lightning bolt to strike him down, but there was nothing. Just the girl, still strapped in the chair in front of him.

‘Sorry,’ he said, reaching for the Stanley knife from his pocket.

Maybe I shouldn’t do this; maybe she’s already had enough pain. He realised he felt sorry for her. He knew the girls Rocko brought in had no life, wouldn’t be missed by anyone. They already knew pain to a point. And he knew what went on in the houses, and had seen first-hand, how hard it was for them to come off the drugs. Maybe she had suffered enough.

Told you not to ask her name. Now it’s personal, and you’re soft.

Setting his mouth in a straight line, he tried to ignore the argument in his head. He slammed the Stanley knife back down on the bench, cursing loudly, making Nita jump fearfully.

He couldn’t do it.

Unstrapping her wrists and feet, he pulled her roughly from the chair and pushed her back towards the cage.

The first he knew of her resistance, was the feel of her fingernails scratching across the side of his neck, ripping his flesh. She screamed like a wildcat, clawing at him again and