02 Heller's Revenge - Heller Read online

  I laughed. “We’ll have to keep our eye on him in the future. Last time I played with him, he did me for fifty bucks! He’s practicing on the internet, you know. He could turn out to be a card shark.”

  “Tell me about what you did tonight.”

  “No! Don’t be an old perv. It’s private.” He smiled at that.

  I rested my eyes on him while he drove. It was almost a sinful pleasure to view him, with his strong chiselled features, spiky blond hair, strikingly blue eyes and beautiful mouth. He was in his thirties, very tall with a sexy, muscular body and was quite easily the most beautiful human being I’d had the fortune of setting eyes on. All this deliciousness was topped off with a very charming German or Scandinavian accent (as I said before, I’m not good with accents and he refused to tell me where he was from). He was also the most enigmatic person I’d ever met and I couldn’t quite believe anything he said about himself. He called himself Heller, although he’d told me once that it wasn’t his real name. I lived with him and his assortment of ‘lost boys’ that he’d collected during his life – mountain-sized identical twins, Sid and Clive; vulnerable, scarred Daniel; teenaged Goth, Niq; and his mysterious, never-sighted valet, Victor – at the Warehouse, his fortress-like business premise and residence.

  My name’s Tilly Chalmers, but Heller always calls me by my full name, Matilda, for some reason he’s never bothered to explain, even though I hate it. I thought I wanted to be an actor before I landed my current job with Heller about five months ago. We’ve been through a lot together already, including a fairly bumpy road determining the exact nature of our own relationship, but had currently settled on a cease-fire. He let me see my boyfriend, Will, but insisted on picking me up at midnight and wouldn’t let me stay over under any circumstances.

  Yeah, yeah, I can hear you all asking why the hell would I put up with such chauvinistic nonsense, being the modern woman that I am? Well, the truth is that this is the compromise position. If Heller had his way, I wouldn’t be allowed to see or visit, or especially sleep with Will at all. He’s a little over-protective like that.

  But when I turned my back on acting (with no real loss to the acting world, I should confess), I made a commitment to Heller to be his loyal employee and to abide by the Rules of Heller. In return, he promised to allow me some freedom, which is how I get to be with Will. It sounds restrictive, but my job comes with many perks, including interesting, varied and sometimes dangerous work, free rent, an enormous salary, free food and entertainment, free styling and clothes, good friends, and best of all, Heller himself. He’s kind of a boss with benefits, if you know what I mean, and we fooled around from time to time. Not that we’d ever slept together, I just want to make that perfectly clear. I mean, he’s my boss, for God’s sake! How smart would that be? Although I’d be lying if I said I’d never been tempted, especially before I met Will and hadn’t had any action for a long, long time. I’d been very tempted by my beautiful boss.

  “So when do I get to meet this ‘boyfriend’ of yours?” He always made that word sound like some kind of disease I’d accidently picked up while on holiday.

  “Never! You did say you would like to hurt him when you met him or have you forgotten that? Because I haven’t.”

  He shrugged. “It was merely an expression.”

  “Sure it was. But I’m not willing to risk it.”

  We’d had a very tense moment a few months ago, after Will’s and my first proper date. Will had taken me to a movie and we’d eaten at a nice restaurant, sharing some delightfully romantic smooches sitting on a vantage point near the harbour while we watched the boats coming and going. Afterwards, he’d invited me back to his place for a nightcap and the second he’d closed the door, I’d jumped his bones, sex-starved and desperate. The poor guy hadn’t stood a chance and I’d used him mercilessly for hours, to the point of collapse. We never did get around to having that nightcap.

  There had been a dossier sitting on my kitchen bench when Heller had picked me up and I’d returned to my flat late that evening. I’d approached it slowly and warily. The name on the front had been written in Heller’s bold, elegant script – William Joseph Armstrong. I’d been immediately and exceptionally pissed off. I had explicitly asked Heller not to run a check on Will, because I didn’t want to know everything about him before we had even started to get to know each other.

  Unfortunately though, I am a naturally nosy creature and instead of having the integrity to refuse to look, I had found myself opening the file and flicking through the pages. There were school and university records, notes about his family and friends, details of his career as a high school science teacher. A couple of speeding fines. A court appearance for being drunk and disorderly after a buck’s night ten years ago when he was twenty-five. Handwritten notes, obviously recorded after covert interviews with ex-girlfriends and ex-bosses. A few photos, including a cute one of him in his graduation robes taken with his parents, grandparents and sister. Nothing dramatic. No current or ex-wives, no children, no prison records, no arrests for child molestation or domestic violence, no psychopathic family members. A blameless, innocent life. Which is the only reason Heller lets me see him, I suppose.

  I had grabbed that dossier, marched straight up to Heller’s flat on the floor above and pounded loudly on his door until he opened it. He hadn’t been surprised to see me. He knows that I have a temper and would have been expecting some fireworks from me once I returned home and saw his handiwork. He stood there, leaning on the doorway, a sexy but arrogant smile on his face, one hand on his lithe hips, one eyebrow raised quizzically. I had glared at him and thrown the dossier on the floor at his feet, where it skidded on the polished timber, papers and photos spilling out everywhere.

  “Stay away from Will,” I had angrily demanded.

  “You read it though, didn’t you?” he had smiled, with a confidence that pushed my buttons.

  “Piss off, Heller.”

  The second it was out of my mouth, I’d wished I hadn’t said it. He hates it when I swear at him. Despite his amorality about almost everything that I considered important in life – like murder and arson – he never swore, didn’t smoke and was virtually a complete teetotaller.

  Before I could even turn to stomp away, his hand had shot out and grabbed me cruelly by my upper arm. He had pulled me up close to him and stared me down with his glacial eyes, face stony, until I’d had to blink and look away. I had shaken off his arm furiously and pushed past him into his flat to pick up the papers strewn across his floor. I had shoved them carelessly back in the folder and dumped it ungraciously on his side table, before pushing past him again, glaring at him all the while. I had walked away without saying another word to him.

  He hates it even more when I’m angry with him.

  ~~~~~~

  Everyone was still awake when Heller and I arrived back at the Warehouse. We climbed the stairs up six flights to the rooftop, the building’s antique lift still not repaired after months of being out of action. When I’d first started working for Heller, a trek upstairs like that would have left me red-faced and breathless, but I was a lot fitter these days and climbed with little effort. Of course Heller himself was exceptionally buff and probably could have carried me up the stairs without even breaking a sweat.

  The rooftop offered an unspectacular view of the surrounding semi-industrial buildings and grungy neighbourhood, but was a pleasant place to laze away a couple of hours. Heller had generously fitted it out as a leisure centre for those of us who lived with him, complete with a barbeque and hot tub.

  There was a general cheer of greeting for me at my entrance. I waved vaguely at everyone in return as I kicked off my boots and pulled off my socks.

  Daniel immediately went to the small bar fridge located in the barbeque area and poured me a glass of pinot grigio. I was delighted to notice that he was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, attire appropriate for the late autumn heat we were currently experiencing. It was something he’d
refused to do when I first met him, being incredibly self-conscious of the ugly, self-inflicted scars slashed across both his wrists. He had many other scars as well, physical and emotional, the legacy of an horrendous childhood. Not the least was a conspicuous, jagged scar that traversed in a semi-circle from the edge of his left eye down to the corner of his mouth, marring his otherwise attractive face. We all celebrated each small step he took towards building his self-confidence.

  “You always seem to know when I need some wine, my lovely Danny-boy,” I smiled, taking the glass from him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. I hadn’t seen him all day and I’d missed him. We were the same age and had grown very close over the last five months.

  “That’s because you always need some wine,” Heller commented dryly, before joining Niq and the twins, Sid and Clive, who were huddled around an open laptop. I poked my tongue out at him in rebuke once he had safely turned his back and wandered over to the others, curious about what they were doing.

  “Hey, cutie-pie,” I said, ruffling Niq’s jet black Goth hair, which he hates me doing, spending ages styling it each day. He complained loudly, immediately rearranging it back into its ordered perfection.

  “What are you guys up to?” I asked casually.

  “We’re watching something,” grinned Daniel. Sid smothered a laugh, Niq started giggling and even Clive appeared slightly less dour than normal. I glanced over at Heller and saw that the corners of his lips were twitching with barely suppressed amusement as well.

  Instantly suspicious, I demanded, “What is it? And why are you all laughing?”

  “Well,” Daniel explained, flashing me his appealing crooked smile, the scar tissue on his face preventing him from smiling in full. “Niq and I were browsing YouTube to see if we could find any footage of the lingerie show. You know, footage that people took with their phones.”

  “Why?”

  “For research purposes,” he replied, straight-faced.

  I laughed and blew a raspberry. “Research on what? Boobs?”

  “It would have been a very educational experience,” piped up Niq with a scholarly pretension that had me laughing and reaching for his hair again. He ducked, batting my hand away.

  “You’re too young to be educated about things like that.”

  “God, Tilly!” He rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m not a kid, I’m fourteen.”

  “Yeah, like I said – you’re too young.” I turned to Daniel. “And when did you suddenly become interested in boobs?” Long-term abuse by a number of men as a child and selling himself to men as a teenager had left Daniel sexually ambivalent, not really sure if he was gay or not, and not confident enough to find out one way or the other.

  He pulled a face. “Yuck! Never! That was for Niq’s benefit. I wanted to see if we could spot you in the crowd. See if you were goofing off or picking your nose or scratching your butt.”

  My heart sank, but I kept my smile fixed in place. “And did you catch me up to anything interesting?”

  He started laughing. “Oh baby, we struck gold! Solid gold!”

  “Show me.” I reluctantly pushed my way between Niq and Sid so I could see the computer screen.

  They had called up YouTube and the footage they’d been watching obviously had come from one of the guest’s phones. Sid courteously started the clip at the beginning for me and when I saw what it showed, I groaned so loudly and with such heartfelt dismay, that the five males with me all openly laughed, even Clive.

  “No! I don’t believe this,” I moaned, even though I was standing there watching it.

  The clip was titled ‘The City’s Foxiest Fighter?’ and featured footage of me in the Chain Gang set, running from the stage over to the door to deal with Frankie. And because the music from the show was very loud, there was no way to hear what Frankie and I were saying to each other. And that, combined with the poor quality of the footage, did make it seem as if I subdued a crazed man after a violent struggle. All by myself. And while the mask did an adequate job at hiding my identity, it did nothing to hide the skimpiness of that damn lingerie.

  I decided to brazen it out. “That’s not me, you turkeys. Can’t you see that’s one of the models? And besides, she doesn’t look anything like me. You’re just confused because of the mask.”

  “Matilda, my sweet,” Heller reproved gently, shaking his head at my pathetic attempt at subterfuge. “I would recognise your lips out of ten million other women’s, masked or not.” And the sizzling look he shot me made my stomach flip over. “That is you in the clip.”

  Well, there was no point trying to deny it any further. They weren’t buying what I was trying to sell. I sank onto a spare chair and drank a huge gulp of my wine, watching a particularly unflattering view of me struggling with Frankie fill the screen.

  “Oh man! Did they have to zoom in so closely?” I grumbled.

  “Jesus! Look at the size of your arse in those undies! It’s bloody huge!” teased Daniel.

  I turned to give him a well-deserved thumping, but he jumped to his feet, backing away from me, laughing. I carefully placed my wine on the table and rose, advancing on him.

  “Take that back, Daniel.”

  He laughed once more. “Can’t take back the truth, Tilly.”

  I suddenly lunged at him, but he was nimble on his feet and dodged me. So I chased him around the rooftop three times, then down four flights of stairs, then back up the stairs again to the rooftop, both of us puffing and giggling. I managed to corner him and after a bout of intense tickling, he unwillingly capitulated.

  “Say you’re sorry,” I insisted.

  “I’m sorry you have such a big arse.”

  “Daniel!”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Really. I mean it. Honestly,” he lied.

  “No, that’s not enough,” I ruled. “You have to do it publicly.”

  He groaned. “Don’t make me do that.”

  “I’ll tell you what to say.”

  I pushed him into the middle of the rooftop and whispered in his ear. He rolled his eyes, but reluctantly complied.

  “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he shouted, garnering the immediate attention of Heller, Niq and the twins. Giggling, I whispered in his ear again.

  “I am guilty of the heinous sin of slandering the . . .” He sighed.

  “Say it,” I warned.

  “I am guilty of the heinous sin of slandering the peachy perfection of Tilly Chalmers’ butt.”

  I whispered again.

  “In fact, her butt was quite spectacular in that lingerie and completely –” He shot me a look. “I’m not saying that.”

  “Say it.”

  Another extravagant sigh. “Her butt was completely bootylicious. Thank you for listening.”

  I applauded, laughing and hugged him tightly, messing up his hair for good measure.

  He pushed me away, complaining. “God, you’re such a pain, Tilly.”

  I laughed again and went to retrieve my wine, shutting down the laptop, insisting that nobody ever look at that clip again and that we all just forget about it.

  Niq was playing pool against Clive and I ambled over to watch. I put him off his shot by ruffling his hair again, such a terrible habit of mine. He protested loudly, claiming clear interference when Clive wouldn’t let him replay the shot. Clive shook his head unemotionally, arms folded across his massive chest. There was no budging him. He was a hard man in every way. He and his twin, Sid, were the spitting image of the Kray brothers, channelling the whole 1950s London gangster-look, right down to the black quiffs and spiffy suits. Niq glared at me for making him lose the shot and I smiled at him sheepishly, fleeing to the hot tub.

  I rolled up my cargo pants and sat on the edge of the hot tub, dangling my feet in the warm water, sipping wine and exchanging pleasantries with Sid, who was sitting in the tub. He was the friendlier and chattier of the twins by far. Heller surprised me by sliding his arms around me and kissing me on the top of my head. Unsure of wha
t I’d done to deserve that little treat, I twisted around to look up at him, quizzical. He leaned down to kiss me again, lightly on my lips this time.

  “Definitely the city’s foxiest fighter,” he whispered in my ear, and I somehow managed to swallow the big lump that suddenly clogged my throat.

  He pulled away from me, but with his sharp blue eyes fixed on mine, he stripped off his t-shirt and jeans, revealing a pair of body-hugging boxers that I was fairly sure were actually his underwear, not swimwear. I goggled. Oh my, those boxers! At my behest he now reluctantly wore clothes in the hot tub despite his preference for nudity, but I have to say in any case, those boxers were tight enough to leave little to the imagination. Not that I needed my imagination, having seen Heller in all his impressive glory before, and believe me, it wasn’t a sight a woman would ever forget. As he stepped into the tub, I was further mesmerised by the rippling muscles on his smooth, tanned chest and back, and knew that it wasn’t going to be Will that I dreamt about tonight.

  Sid, who was Heller’s surveillance manager, entertained us both with a story about a surveillance job he’d had that morning involving a husband and wife. Each suspected the other of infidelity, and each had simultaneously hired competing surveillance firms to spy on the other. The commotion when the Heller’s team and the one from Select Security, Heller’s bitter rival, turned up at the same time to claim the same covert watching spot had alerted the husband and wife to each other’s activities and resulted in an all-out brawl between all parties.

  “So what did our team do?” I asked, laughing as I swooshed my legs in the lovely water.

  “Cut their losses and legged it. Turns out neither were cheating on the other anyway. Luckily we received our fee in advance.”

  “Kind of turns you off marriage, doesn’t it?” I observed, screwing up my nose – not that there was much prospect of me getting married in the near future anyway. I sipped some more wine. The combination of alcohol and all the sex I’d had that evening made me agreeably relaxed and the warm water felt nice on my legs. I decided that it would be lovely to be in the hot tub but was too lazy to go and get changed, so I just dropped down in the water next to Heller, still wearing my uniform. He looked at me with amused despair and I smiled at him contentedly.