ATONEMENT | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER FORTY

I drove the Bentley down the windy, tree-lined country road. Strewn gravel crepitating beneath the tyres, I eased onto the brake, rested my forearm across the steering wheel, and lowered my head to look through the windshield. I am lost. I saw the weeping willow tree fifteen minutes ago when I sped past and turned sharply into a dead end.

Mounting the small, leaf-covered knoll, I killed the engine, stuffed the keys inside my trouser pocket and stepped onto waterlogged grass.

Deciding to look around on foot, I trudged below incurvated trees, where the morning sunlight, finding its way through whistling leaves, bestrewed kaleidoscopic colours on the ground.

Damp, moss-encrusted tree bark effused petrichor, the clear, narrow stream, rippled over low-surfaced rocks. Holding the rough beam of an old, rickety fence, I stalled to admire the picturesque creek, to listen to the hypnotic water while my inner voice, loud and officious, evoked forgotten memories.

"Where ye been, lad?" Bill, his dark, sun-kissed skin, dusted in sweat, emerged from the twilit cave in double-knotted cargo shorts. "I have been lookin' everywhere for ye."

I waded through the lukewarm river, clambered onto the steep, rocky bank and chased Bill down the cragged slope towards the sinkhole, where he unravelled the frayed towel around his head to rinse blond bleach from his dreadlocks. "I found a new family."

"Did ye?" His bare feet positioned on either side of the hole, he cupped water and doused his head. "Go on, lad. Tell Bill all 'bout the family."

Wringing my soaked T-shirt, I sat on the floor, relaxed on my propped elbows, and kicked my feet out. "So, the dad works long hours. He sets off at sunrise in his beaten-up truck and comes home around nine at night. Oh, and he likes to meet with his friend, some brunette, for lunch at the pub." I tossed a pebble in the air and caught it. "They drink beer together."

"Is that right?" He sounded a bit sceptical. "How do ye know he meets a friend, huh?"

"I followed them on my bike." Sprawling onto my back, I tucked my arms behind my head and squinted at the blinding sun. "Kerry stays at home all day, baking cakes and cookies for the kids. Sometimes, she drinks tea with the neighbours, or she might cut the grass and sunbathe to kill time."

Squirting washing up liquid in his hands, Bill lathered his scalp in foamy suds. "Ye don't talk to 'em, do ye, lad?"

"No way." My nose scrunched. "I ain't stupid, Bill. I got my wits about me, remember?"

"Aye, lad." He plonked his backside on the ground, hiked his knees and wrapped his arms around his shins. "Although, ye said that last time, didn't ye? Ye lied. Ye did speak to the kids. How do I know ye ain't pullin' another fast one?"

Guilty as charged. "Okay, I spoke to the daughter—"

"Of course, he did." He huffed out a breath in disappointment. "Why don't ye listen, lad? If those parents find out about ye, Bill won't be able to protect ye when child services hunt ye down."