Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller (25 page)

I let Nathan guide me into the
building, my thoughts so full I moved on autopilot.

"Can I help you?" a bored-looking
receptionist asked when we stopped by her desk.

It's time.
Realisation rocked me
and I had to place both hands on her desk to stay standing. She
looked at my hands with disgust, as if they marred the marble with
the slightest touch. She had no idea just how deep the taint ran.
To the depths of my very soul, if I even have one.

"I'm Caitlin Lockyer," I said calmly. I
waited for her eyes to widen as she realised I wasn't simply a
child with dirty hands but a dark denizen of realms she could only
imagine in her worst nightmares. She didn't disappoint.

"Ffffollow me, please," she stuttered,
tottering forward on her impossibly high heels into the studio.
"You'll need to go to makeup before your interview and wardrobe,
too…" Her jerky movements betrayed her fear.

Nathan, I need your help today, more
than ever. Don't let me out of your sight.

I took his proffered arm and hoped I
wouldn't have to let go. Hope lasted less than a minute.

The round woman was only a tiny bit
taller than me, but she looked twice my weight. She directed Nathan
to a makeup artist, leaving me standing without support in the
middle of the room.

A gleeful girl started working on
him.

Wondering who would work on me, I was
surprised to find that I had not one, but three. "Get her
undressed," the woman in charge ordered.

Get her undressed and you know what to
do next…

NO! A sob threatened to escape from my
throat as I tried to focus on anything but the abyss of memory
before me.

An unfamiliar hand with long nails
touched my arm. "We're going to make you look absolutely beautiful
for your interview, hon. New clothes, makeup and everything. But
first, we have to get these clothes off you," she murmured.

We have to get these clothes off you.
Then I have to…

Darkness and dreams. Stronger than me.
Hands beneath my shirt that I was powerless to push away. Trust
turned to panic but it was too late. No, please…please…don't…

Nathan.

His hands were warm around mine. His
lips were warmer still as he kissed me softly. I swallowed my
scream. Safe.

I froze as his fingers moved to
unbutton my shirt, baring me to everyone. "You don't have to do
this," he murmured.

You don't have to do this…

I do.

Yes, I fucking well do. Let them see my
scars. They barely scratch the surface, for the damage runs
deep.

I held still as Nathan took my shirt
off. I stood rigid in the middle of the room and no one said a
word. Nathan dropped his hands lower.

"No, I can do this," I warned him,
stripping down to my underwear.

The horror on his face spun around the
room, from one gasping girl to another.
Don't push me. You have
no idea what I've been through.

A dress was passed from hand to hand
until Nathan slipped it over my head. No one else wanted to touch
me. I understood. Nathan would, because he had no choice.

The wrap dress was beyond him, but I
didn't move to assist him. It hung half open when he threw his
hands up in despair.

"May I?" one of the girls asked.

I nodded once and her deft hands
quickly repaired the damage, tying the dress in a tight bow at my
hip.

"Are you sure?" Nathan asked.

Shit, Nathan. It's hard enough
telling myself I can do it, without you doubting me.
I took a
deep breath and let it out before I lost it. I told him I was. I
told him I knew what I was doing. I told him to get ready for the
interview. And then my courage failed.
I can't do this
alone.
"I need you," I admitted.

I wasn't sure if he heard. Nathan
turned away from me to return to his makeup artist.

My knees shook, as my legs started to
ache from standing so long.

"Sit down, hon," one of the girls
whispered, escorting me to the makeup chair beside Nathan.

He turned to me, excitement making his
eyes shine beneath his light coat of eyeliner. I felt his fingers
close over mine.

"Close your eyes, sweet. It's my turn
to make you look even more beautiful than you do already." My grip
tightened on Nathan's fingers as I obeyed her.

Nathan's hand slipped from mine and I
heard the swish of fabric before he enveloped my hand in both of
his. He kissed my fingers and started to apologise.

I cut him off, not wanting to cry with
so much makeup on. I waited impatiently for the woman to finish
painting me so I could get this over with. Finally, she told me she
was done.

My eyes flew straight to Nathan. My
reflection wasn't important – would he support me?

His smile said yes.

I managed to force out a smile of my
own as I thanked him. I stood up unsteadily and one of the girls
sprang to my assistance. I endured her touch but still I reached
desperately for Nathan.

It wasn't until he took my arm, giving
me the support I needed, that I followed a man in black into the
studio.

Part 76

I eyed off the armchairs, wanting to
sag into one and knowing that I couldn't. I had to sit with perfect
posture and poise, as if this was a job interview. In a way,
perhaps it was.

"Grab a seat," our escort directed,
listening to something over his headset. He waved at the chairs and
walked away.

I carefully sat down in the middle
chair, where I'd be facing front. The same girl who'd fixed my
dress helped me smooth my skirt. "Good luck," she whispered. I
managed to smile in response.

I glanced at Nathan to my right. His
smile seemed as rigid as mine and his hand tightened over my
fingers.
Wonderful. My support is as scared as I am. We're
screwed.
They won’t believe a word of our story and a few
well-placed questions would pick it apart like frayed hessian.

The interviewer gave a little cough to
draw my attention from Nathan. I took a deep breath and turned my
head toward her.

From start to finish, it was a
carefully scripted exchange, though it followed my script more than
the interviewer's one. I wondered if a soap opera like
Home and
Away
was more realistic.

"What were you thinking most, in the
pain and the dark?" she asked. Her fake sympathy set my teeth on
edge.

I summoned a sad little smile. "I
wanted to kill them all," I began. I felt considerable satisfaction
at her shock. "But I knew I couldn’t." I sighed deeply, as if it
was my deepest regret.

She gaped for a few seconds, before
moving on to the next question. I behaved myself this time,
responding with the carefully crafted responses that turned me into
a tragic heroine, rescued by Nathan, the big alpha-male hero, like
they wanted. It was entertainment – not real.

Nathan stumbled a little over his
responses to the first couple of questions, before he fell into his
stride. I listened to every word, alert for the tiniest slip that
I'd have to step in and correct. Even when he started describing
the beach where he'd found me, his description sounded real. Real
to everyone but me, for I remembered a clearer picture than he
outlined. So did he, I was certain.

Nathan's eyes landed on me and I heard
his paean of praise for his plucky little princess: "She’s amazing.
No matter how much pain she was in, she never stopped fighting to
live, to get better. Anything else would mean they’d won."

Once glance at the interviewer told me
his words didn't help build my image as a fragile little fainting
blossom.

Before he could say anything else he
shouldn't or the interviewer could open her mouth to ask another
question, I chose to be cruel.

In the same voice I'd used when I'd
uttered those fateful words on the beach, I whispered, "End
it."

Nathan froze, silent and wide-eyed. I
felt sorry for him, but it did the trick. He announced that the
interview was over and helped me to my feet.

The black-clad man with the headset
pursed his lips up in a kiss, his wide eyes fixed on me as he
pointed at us.

I nodded and guided Nathan into a
classic pose, seen in a million movies where the hero kisses the
girl. And kiss me he did, until the cameraman told us he'd had
enough.

Keeping with the fainting flower
persona, I leaned heavily on Nathan as we were escorted back to
make-up to dress in our own clothes again. I felt like I couldn't
breathe freely until we left the TV studio and stood in the sun
outside.

"You did it," he said in wonder.

"We did," I replied.

"Miss Lockyer! Miss Lockyer!" The
receptionist ran out of the building. "You forgot this!" She handed
me an envelope, smiling at me. "You were really brave in there. I
hope you're happy together." She scurried back inside.

I ripped open the envelope, knowing
what was inside, but needing to check. The first tear revealed the
word "million" on the cheque. I didn't need to read the rest to
know it was enough.

"What is it?" Nathan asked,
curious.

"Our cheque from the TV station for the
interview. Would you like to know how much heroism like yours is
worth? Half of this is yours, Nathan."

He shook his head, waving the paper
away. "No. All of it belongs to you. I did the interview to help
you. I don't need any payment for it. It doesn't matter how much it
is – it'll never be enough to pay for your pain." He looked like it
pained him to say it.

Damn right. No amount of money can pay
for pain. But it could help a tiny bit to take my mind off it…

Part 77

Ambulance – Shots – Road – Police –
Blood – Nathan – Numb

I pushed hard and sat up, sliding my
numb legs to the end of the tiny ambulance stretcher, until they
dangled out of the ambulance door.

"What are you doing? You need to rest!"
The paramedic raised his voice, laying his hands on my shoulders,
trying to make me lie down again.

I shook him off, shuddering at the
touch of a stranger. Without him, I'd be surrounded by strangers
again. Can’t...Won’t let them hurt me again.

I shoved the blankets away from me and
dropped from the end of the stretcher to the road. I wore nothing
but the huge, bloodstained shirt, but I didn’t feel the cold now.
My rage heated my blood to boiling in my chest. I couldn’t feel my
feet or my legs – it felt like they’d fallen asleep. I wobbled a
little, but I took a shuffling step, my toes curling and dragging
on the road. And another step...

I could see a police officer pushing
him into the back of a police car.

"NO!" I shouted. "Don’t take him away
from me!" I reached for him, even though he was on the other side
off the road from where I stood.

Both he and the police officer heard
and turned to look at me. There was a brief scuffle before Nathan
pelted toward me.

I managed two more shambling steps
before the prone police officer started shouting at Nathan, telling
him to stop or he’d shoot. Not to touch me, or he’d shoot.

"NO!" I screamed out as I took one more
step. This time I stumbled and fell to my knees.

Nathan was there. He dropped into a
crouch to help me back up to my feet. I wobbled a little again, as
the officer fired.

Part 78

"This has got to be a joke." I threw
the papers down on the table. "This isn’t what we agreed. There
aren’t any conditions on it. And my new name? What in hell do you
think you're doing?" I tried not to shout, but it came out louder
than I'd intended. Fury does that to a girl.

"I'm running an anti-terrorism unit is
what I'm fucking doing. And if you think this is how the
negotiation is going to go, you can fucking leave." Beneath his
dark hair, his dark eyes flashed, his face heating up.

I crossed my legs and sat up straighter
in the visitor chair on the client's side of the desk. He hadn't
even offered me a drink of water, the prick.

"Well you're
fucking
incompetent, then." I smiled sweetly. "You sent an operative who's
clearly suffering from insomnia and the worst case of
post-traumatic stress I've ever seen into a dangerous undercover
operation. And an innocent bystander gets beaten and raped almost
to her death as a result."

"You're not innocent. You killed two
people," he spat. "First the bloke on the beach and then his
wife."

I'd love to chalk up a third right
now
.

I shrugged. "In self-defence. They
wouldn't have died if YOU hadn't let them hurt me in the first
place."

"Don't you pin Miller's incompetence on
me…" he blustered.

"He reports to you. You signed off on
his fucking competence for the operation. How much training has he
had?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"
How
much?"

"He's a contractor. He only needed a
very basic orientation…" His voice was very quiet.

I knew it!

I shot to my feet. "You mean you sent
an untrained civilian against the bastards who hurt me? And after
he'd completely failed to stop my kidnapping, you assigned him to
protect me? Where do you get off with this kind of incompetence?
Seriously, if you're the best it has, ASIO is screwed. We should
put up a sign – 'Terrorists welcome. Come rape our women and
children and mess with the minds of our men.'"

His breathing was heavy and his eyes
were on the desk. "I can have you charged for terrorist activity
and you'll never go home again."

I snorted. "What will you charge me
with? Calling you an incompetent wanker? I bet your staff do that
on a daily basis."

"You killed two terror suspects who
were wanted for interrogation. They must have known something you
didn't want ASIO to hear," he replied weakly.