With This Man (This Man 4)

But the moan doesn’t come from me.

I whirl around and find John on his back, a pool of dark red growing around his big body. His bloody hand is resting on his abdomen. Shock stills me. Panic finds me again. I’m a mass of useless muscles. My mind has quit thinking, my head an empty mess.

‘Help me, you stupid motherfucker.’ His words are all but a gargle of pain, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

His weak demand wakes me from my inertia, and I bolt across the barn, dropping to my knees by his side. His breathing is shallow. His black skin paling. My hands go to my hair and pull, panicked. ‘Fuck!’ I yell, finally finding the sense to get my phone. I dial 999, demand an ambulance, mindlessly reel off where we are. ‘John.’ I grab his face, squeezing tightly. ‘John, keep your eyes open, buddy. Just keep your eyes open.’

‘Fuck you,’ he breathes, trying to focus on me. ‘There’s ten of you, you bastard.’

‘There’ll be a thousand of me if you don’t keep your eyes open, big man, and every one of them will be kicking your big black arse.’ My voice is breaking, my hope dying with every second that passes, his eyes closing for longer each time. A lump the size of a small planet wedges itself in my throat. ‘John.’ I take his shoulders, shaking, and his eyes drag open with effort. The whites, usually stark and bright, are bloodshot. ‘What the fuck, John?’ I lose control of my emotions and spill tears all over his face. ‘What the fuck have you done?’

He smiles. It’s tired and his body goes limp in my hold. ‘I . . . I . . . ’ he gasps, sucking in oxygen. ‘I told . . . I told Carmichael . . . ’ Drawing air, he winces. ‘Motherfucker,’ he breathes, straining to keep his eyes open. ‘I told him I’d always look out for . . . you.’ His confession splits my heart clean in two.

‘John,’ I choke, struggling to see him through my flooding eyes.

‘It’s . . . it’s time for you to go it alone, boy.’ His eyes close, and I release a ragged sob, shaking him harder, desperate for him to stay with me.

‘John, you bastard, open your fucking eyes!’

But he doesn’t.

Because he’s already gone.

‘No!’ I drop his shoulders, falling to my arse and crying like I’ve never cried before, relentless pain ripping through my broken body. ‘John,’ I mumble, squeezing my eyes closed, unable to see him like this. Lifeless. Limp.

This man has sacrificed everything for me. Love, happiness, freedom. He’s been there at every turn, good and bad, and now he’s gone. Gone because of me. He’s given the ultimate sacrifice. His life for mine.

My sobs come, thicker and faster. My guardian angel. He’s been by my side through good and bad, has never faltered in his loyalty. He’s kicked my arse and picked me up when I’ve been down. And the space inside me, the special place in my soul where John belongs, is gaping wide open.

He’s my fucking hero.

And he’s gone.

Chapter 55

Sirens. Lights. Shouts. The chaos in the middle of the pretty countryside is ugly. Voices are speaking to me but I’m hearing no words. Regret and guilt leave no room for anything else.

‘How was she granted release?’ I ask the police officer who’s been trying to speak to me as a paramedic inspects the hole in my arm. ‘All this is because some clever prick was hoodwinked by a crazy woman.’ I shrug my arm, knocking the paramedic’s hands away.

‘Mr Ward, I know nothing of the circumstances surrounding your ex-wife’s release from hospital.’

‘Hospital?’ I stare at him in disbelief. ‘No, a hospital is where you go when you’re ill or injured. Not when you are a fucking psychopathic, merciless woman with a fucked-up vendetta.’ I feel hands on my arm again. ‘Get the fuck off me!’ I bellow, making her back away vigilantly.

‘Mr Ward, please, calm down.’

‘Calm down?’ I wouldn’t be able to find calm if it dropped at my feet. Anger is consuming me. I feel dangerous. ‘My wife and kids were threatened. I had a gun pointed at me for over an hour.’ I throw my arm out towards the barn. ‘My best fucking mate has just been murdered!’ I stagger back with the force of my roar, feeling all control escaping me. ‘You better leave me alone,’ I warn. ‘Just leave me the fuck alone until you can give me answers.’

I back away to the wall of the barn and slump against the wood, lowering my arse to the dusty gravel before it can fall there. I sit, fighting to rein myself in. If Lauren weren’t dead already, I would kill her with my bare hands. It wouldn’t be quick. It would be long and agonising. I should have acted earlier. I should have listened to my gut and intervened before John got there.

I look up when I hear someone shout for space, and see a body bag being stretchered out of the barn. The size, the way the two women at each end of the stretcher move it with ease, tells me it’s Lauren in that bag. Then another follows, this one negotiated by two men. My bottom lip quivers, my face falling into my palms. I can’t watch. It’s too final.

‘Jesse!’

I look up and find Ava scrambling out of a car, her face frantic. I choke on nothing, bringing my balled fists to my temples and pushing into my skull. I want to go to her, shorten the time it’ll take for her to make it to me, but my body refuses to function. So I remain on my arse, watching as she runs full pelt across the gravel towards me. I see her catch sight of the body bags. I see the falter in her stride. And when she finally makes it to me, she stops at my feet, looking down at my broken form. I’m struggling to keep my head up, but now she’s this close, now I can see her, every perfect detail on her face, my body finds some life and manages to push its way up until I’m standing. She’s biting her lip, her eyes brimming. I have nothing for her, only the agonising news. ‘She fucking killed John.’

Her inhale is sharp, the tears instant. ‘No,’ she whispers, looking back to the stretcher. ‘I tried to stop him.’ Her voice is breaking. ‘Oh my God, Jesse.’ She chokes over her words. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her palms come up to her face, like she’s hiding, ashamed of herself.

I snatch them away. ‘Don’t you fucking apologise,’ I warn, at risk of flying off the handle again. ‘Don’t you dare, Ava.’

‘The app. The trackers on the cars. I realised what you were trying to tell me, and then John showed up and I told him. He took my phone. I couldn’t stop him. I called the police from the house.’ The impact of her body hitting mine when she throws herself into my arms nearly takes me off my feet. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She sobs, and I shake my head into her, holding her as tight as my aching shoulder will allow. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. I thought it was the end of the road.’

I hold her tighter. Fuck the pain. It’s nothing compared to the agony in my heart. ‘Our road never ends, baby.’ I close my eyes and sink my face into her soft neck, searching for the comfort I know I can find. ‘Never.’

‘I remembered.’ Her sobs are loud between her words. She’s not bothering to try to restrain her emotions. I’m glad, because I’m fucked if I can. My tears are unstoppable, soaking my cheeks and her neck. ‘I remembered everything.’

‘I know.’ I’m soul-destroyed that her avalanche of memories was triggered by such a bleak, distressing moment in our history. Absolutely destroyed. There are a million wonderful and pinnacle moments in our lives together. Why did it have to be Lauren? ‘I’m just so sorry it happened like that.’

She pulls out of my hold, shaking her head mildly. ‘It wasn’t her that triggered it all.’ Reaching for my face, she tenderly feels down my wet cheek. ‘It was the pure terror in your eyes. I’d seen it before.’

I choke on my emotions, dropping my gaze until she forces my chin up. ‘John’s gone,’ I choke. I can barely see her through my blurry vision.

Lip wobbling, she collects me in her arms and hugs me with the force and love that I so need. ‘He would never have let anything hurt you,’ she says, her voice thick. ‘The man was a fucki

ng warrior, and a stubborn one, too.’ I can’t even bring myself to pull her up on her bad language. ‘He’s gone because he knows how much I need you. How much the kids need you.’ She takes my hand and lays it over her tummy. I’m not sure who’s leaking the most tears now, her or me. I furiously wipe at my face, sniffing back my sadness. ‘He’s my hero, too.’ She takes the top of my arm and rubs, frowning when I suck in air. ‘What’s this?’

‘A graze.’ I brush her off, not wanting to worry her. Not that she takes much notice. The short, bloody sleeve of my T-shirt is thrust up, revealing a tidy hole in my arm.

‘Oh my God!’

‘It’s fine.’ Once again I fight her off and once again she wins, slapping me away. ‘Ava, for fuck’s sake, it’s fine. Stop flapping.’

‘Have you had it looked at?’

‘I’m in no mood to be poked and pulled about.’

She snorts, pointing to the paramedic hovering nearby. ‘Now, Ward, or so help me.’ Her expression is fierce as she scrubs at her wet face, and I shrink where I stand, thinking better of arguing back. I don’t speak, and I also don’t move, so Ava seizes my hand and all but manhandles me to the ambulance. ‘Don’t make me hurt you, Ward.’

Wide-eyed, I let her shove me onto the back of the ambulance and onto a waiting bed. She’s taking no prisoners. And through my crippling hurt, anger and guilt, I manage to locate some gratitude.

My wife is back. All of her is back, and it’s back with a fucking bang.

Chapter 56

Eight months later

Nothing can prepare you for the loss of someone you adore with every fibre of your being. Nor the grief or heartache that accompanies that loss. A big hole has been left in my very existence by the loss of John, yet my heart is bursting with joyful memories. He was never far away, always there to pick me up when I fell down. His life was dedicated to me. To watching over me, to keeping his promise to his best friend. John was a good man, the best, and no matter how I try to angle my thoughts, he didn’t deserve to go. It wasn’t his time.

Lauren, however, needed to die. That may sound sadistic. Maybe it is. But all I’ve wondered is how draining and damaging it must have been to live with so many demons. The reality is, I can’t. I’ve been in some pretty dark places. Have wanted to give up. But the victim in my journey through self-destruction was me and me alone. I never set out to hurt anyone. I never wanted revenge.

All I really wanted was inner peace.

As I sit on the steps in the garden, I watch Ava negotiate her pregnant belly to dip and pick up the hose. And I think for the first time in my existence, I really do have that peace. It’s a blanket around me, warm and secure. It defies reason, really. More trauma and stress have been stirred into our already overflowing pot of shit, yet now I feel almost tranquil. Initially, after we walked away from that barn, I wondered how we would ever get over what had happened. The elation of Ava finding her memories was saddened by the loss of John. I got myself in a state over the twins, what they saw, what they heard.

It was only when we sat down with a family therapist at the suggestion of the liaison officer that I really realised that my babies truly weren’t babies any more. Not with their level heads, their matter-of-fact approach. I’d underestimated them at every turn. Tried to keep them wrapped up in cotton wool and protected from the world. I failed. My past caught up with me again, but the twins looked at me that day, square in the eye, and told me that they were proud of me. Not ashamed like I feared they would be. They were proud of me.

I broke down, didn’t even try not to. I’m human. I’m a dad. A husband. My family is both my biggest weakness and my greatest strength. I live and breathe for them, and that will never change. Until the day I die, it will always be about them.

I look over my shoulder when I hear Maddie talking, seeing her wandering back into the house with her phone to her ear. She’s talking to some boy. My instinct is to go after her, to confiscate that fucking phone. But I wisely stay on my arse where I’m safe from my wife’s wrath. Maddie’s twelve. How serious can it be? I growl at her back and shake my head, returning my attention to the garden before I change my mind and go and trample her arse.

Jacob’s in the distance smacking tennis balls over the net, practising his serve.

Me? I have a beer in my hand just listening to the therapeutic sounds of my wife and babies mooching about our home. This is heaven. This is Ava’s cloud nine. This is where I am supposed to be, and once again, the Fates have brought me here. I want to argue with them this time, though. Ask them why I can’t have John here, too. But that would be wasted breath. And John would say something along the lines of ‘Get a fucking grip, you stupid motherfucker.’

I smile, breathing back my unrelenting sadness. Sadness I know he’d be furious at me for spending too much time on. John can go fuck himself. I actually laugh out loud at my bravery for even thinking it. I would never have said that to him if he were standing here before me. Yet I wish I could. I wish I could curse his arse off to his face, and I would welcome the thump to my jaw from his big hard fist.

‘What’s so funny?’ Ava swishes the spray from the hose over the flower beds, eyeing me with a curious smile.

‘Just thinking.’ I push myself to my feet and wander across the lawn to her, my gaze taking constant up-and-down trips over her beautiful form. God love her, she looks fit to burst. We’re nearly two weeks overdue now, with no signs of baby making an appearance. I reach her and push my chest into her back, circling her tummy with my arms. My hands meet on the front of her pregnant belly with ease, though I still tease her. ‘Only just.’ I smile into her neck when she thrusts her bottom into my groin. ‘Don’t do silly things like that.’ Closeness to this woman always stirs my cock, but contact renders it concrete. That’ll never change.

‘Why, Mr Ward, there’s something poking into my back.’ She chuckles as she continues to drench the flower beds.

‘Maybe I could fuck this baby out of you,’ I muse, thoughtful. ‘You’ve made it too comfortable in there.’

‘We’ve had sex twice a day every day for the past two weeks. Not even your penis coming at it head-on is making it want to come out of hiding.’ Dropping the hose as I laugh, she turns in my arms, her belly now wedged between us. I look down fondly. Yes, she’s certainly carrying big, but nothing in comparison to when she was expecting the twins. Laying my palms on the top, I stroke and feel, my heart swelling with happiness when the baby kicks against my right hand.

‘He’s having a party in there. Clearly he’s got his dad’s talented dance moves.’

Ava’s hands land over mine, and we feel together. ‘You keep saying he. We don’t know what the sex of Peanut Junior is yet.’

‘It’s a boy,’ I assure her. It has to be. I’ve managed to hold on to my hair for this long. A girl might change that. ‘Jacob and I can’t be outnumbered.’

‘But Maddie and I can?’

‘You two have enough spunk between you for us to have ten more boys and still be out-spunked.’ I shift my hands and take hers, bringing them to my mouth and kissing each knuckle in turn, each and every one. She’s beaming at me, her smile so strong with happiness I feel it warm my face. ‘It’s a boy,’ I affirm.

‘Whatever you say, my Lord.’ She turns away from me and brings my hands back around her tummy, holding them there as she starts waddling across the grass. I follow her steps, my chin resting atop her head. ‘Let’s mooch.’

‘Mooch away,’ I reply, letting her lead the way to the bottom of the lawn where we pick up the gravel path through the flower beds that leads to the bench swing hidden at the bottom of the garden. The air is cool, but not quite cold, yet the sun could be blazing down from the sky. I’m toasty warm, contented, calm and serene. And all of that is being absorbed by my wife.

A beautiful air of peace has surrounded her throughout this pregnancy. I’ve admired it da

ily as I’ve watched her, whether at home or at the club. She’s been back to work and I’ve made sure I’ve let her get on with it, though I’ve never been truly far. Just far enough for her not to feel crowded, but close enough to sate my need for constant contact, even if that contact is just my eyes looking at her.

This pregnancy has been an entirely different experience for me. I’ve not stressed, not faffed, not driven her up the wall with my neurotic worry. And she hasn’t played me or used that worry as a tool to wind me up. There has been no faking labour to send me into meltdown. Probably because she knows that this time there will be no meltdown. After all, I’m a pro now. I’ve got this.

As we walk, I notice her leaning back on me more and more, her body getting tired. ‘Rest?’

Her sigh is heavy. She’s truly fed up now, but as I’ve told her time and again, these things can’t be rushed. He’ll come when he’s ready. Helping her down onto the cushion on the bench, I take a seat beside her and push my feet into the ground, swinging us back and releasing. We rock smoothly, Ava’s head resting on my shoulder. ‘Kate’s bringing a vindaloo around later.’

‘Another?’ I relax back. ‘That baby will come out expecting a curry instead of your boob.’

She chuckles, and quickly flinches as she does, her hand going to her tummy and rubbing.

‘Okay?’ I ask softly, placing my hand over hers.

‘Just a twinge.’ Pulling her head from my shoulder, she gazes up at me. Her lips twitch, her eyes glimmer.

I know what’s running through that wonderful mind of hers. Though I humour her. ‘What’s tickled you?’

‘Fourteen years ago, you would have crapped your boxers at a twinge.’

I shrug, nonchalant. ‘We’re experts now. After the twins, this is a breeze, right?’

A sharp puff of laughter fans my face. ‘A breeze? Speak for yourself, Jesse. You’re not the one pushing what feels like—’