BRUTE Read online

  © 2018 by S.C. Daiko

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. The locations are a mixture of real and imagined. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or any events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The language used in this book is the written and spoken English of the United Kingdom.

  Cover design RBA Designs

  Content editing Trenda Lundin

  All enquiries to [email protected]

  Created with Vellum

  “The present changes the past. Looking back, you do not find what you left behind.” Kiran Desai

  In memory of Jon

  Chapter One

  Catrin

  “Your neighbour’s name is Daniel Collins.” Eleri shoots me a quick glance. “The ladies in the village have given him the nickname, Brute. He’s not very nice, I’m afraid.”

  I lean back in my white plastic garden chair. Eleri has been filling me in on local gossip. I only moved here yesterday, and I’m curious about who lives next door.

  “Oops…” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Talk of the devil…”

  I stare at the ‘devil’… a tall, dark-haired bearded man, who has just stepped into his garden. Only a laurel hedge separates his place from mine. A little boy, curly brown hair framing his oval face, follows behind him and gives us a wave. The kid looks about five years old… the same age as my daughter Becca, and Eleri’s little girl Olivia.

  Without warning, the boy starts squirming his way through a gap in the laurel. “I’m Ben,” he grins through two missing front teeth.

  His hulk of a father towers over the hedge and scowls. “Come home, son. Don’t be a pest.” His voice is deep, and his accent upper-class… a bit like how the royal family speak.

  I get to my feet and stride up to the man, holding out my hand for him to shake. “Hi, I’m Catrin… everyone calls me Cat. Your boy isn’t being a pest. Let him spend some time with our kids… I expect they’ll be starting school together next week… it will be great for them to get to know each other.”

  He ignores my hand, doesn’t even meet my gaze. “Send Ben home in an hour.” Abruptly, he spins on his heel and paces like a panther back into his house.

  I’m left staring at him incredulously.

  Prick…

  My face burning up, I return to my chair.

  Eleri simply shrugs as if to say, I told you so.

  Becca, my little ray of sunshine, runs up to the boy and tugs at his hand. “Come and play with my dog, Toby. We’re pretending he’s a pony and giving our teddies rides on him.”

  Toby is big and hairy, more like a yeti than a horse, but he’s brilliant with kids and lets Ben take hold of his lead. Becca and Olivia position themselves on each side, hanging onto Paddington, my daughter’s favourite toy, with two-year-old Zoe and seven-year-old Jack bringing up the rear. The comical cavalcade makes its way across the garden, and I can’t help smiling.

  Once they’re out of earshot, I whisper to Eleri, “That Daniel is a brute, alright.”

  “Don’t worry about him.” She pushes her dark brown curls back from her face. “He keeps to himself.”

  “Oh?”

  She nods. “The only times he seems to leave the house are when he goes running, or when he takes Ben to the local playgroup. He isn’t an axe murderer,” she snickers, “he’s just a reclusive artist.”

  I press my lips together. “Well, that’s okay then.”

  She peers at me from under her eyelashes. “I’m so happy I’ll be getting to see more of you.”

  Eleri is my bestie, has been ever since we were at high school together in Wales. “A new beginning.” My tone is bright.

  Her hazel eyes smile into my greens. “I think this change of scene will do you good. Just like your new hair.”

  A day before moving, I had my long platinum locks cut short in a choppy bob. I run my fingers through my mop and gaze at the thorny wild shrubs covering most of the garden. The children have stopped playing with the dog and have started thrashing a pathway through the weeds. “Well, I’m looking forward to taming this jungle, at least,” I smirk.

  “All in good time, sweetie.” She pulls me into a hug. “Settle in first. Josh would want you to make a new start.”

  I stare into the distance. I hope I’ve done the right thing, I feel like telling her.

  Before I can say a word, Becca scoops something off the long grass and runs toward us. She holds out a brown-shelled snail. “Mum, can I keep him as a pet?”

  I catch the pleading look in her bright blue eyes. A snail as a pet? I’m about to explain it would probably be happier staying in the garden. Except Toby snatches the snail from her hand and bounds off.

  Becca lets out a wail and chases him across the part of the lawn that isn’t covered in prickly wild plants. She grabs hold of him, and he flops on his back, great big paws paddling the air, long red tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. No sign of the snail; he must have swallowed it.

  Eleri clutches at her sides, letting out belly laughs. “That dog cracks me up.”

  I raise a brow. “When we got him from the rescue centre, they forgot to mention that he devours anything remotely edible, shits like a racehorse and breaks wind like a mule.”

  “But, Cat, he’s so funny. Becca clearly adores him.”

  “She does,” I agree. We rescued him a year before Josh passed, and he adored Toby too. When Josh was sick, the dog seemed to sense something was wrong. He’d sit by his side, never letting him out of his sight. I thought he wouldn’t get over Josh’s death, but he immediately transferred his loyalty to Becca and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Maybe because she’s the image of her dad, ginger-haired with a dusting of freckles across her button nose, and has his gentle easy-going personality? God only knows…

  I shake my head to clear my mind of thoughts of my late husband… my knight in shining armour, the love of my life. As Eleri said, I’m here to make a new start, far from Manchester where every corner of the loving home we created together reminded me of him, reminded me of the future we wouldn’t have, reminded me of my loss. Maybe here I’ll be able to put the past behind me? I sure hope so…

  Our terraced house took a while to sell due to a downturn in the market; it was a relief when the sale finally completed not to have to pay the hefty mortgage on my own. My working from home as a website developer pays well, but not that well. Have I bailed out on Josh in some way by leaving our love nest behind? No. He told me shortly before he passed that he wanted me to move on one day. I couldn’t do that, not at first, I was so freaking angry at fate for dealing me such a blow.

  I force a smile and change the subject. “Have Gabe and Luke recovered from the music festival last week?” Eleri is in what’s known as a poly relationship with the two hunks she fell for when she worked as their nanny.

  “Yeah, it was exhausting. We’ll never be as big as Glastonbury, and we don’t want to be. It’s a side-line to opening Aldridge House to the public, that’s all. I hope you won’t find it too quiet living here.”

  “All I want is what’s best for Becca,” and it’s true. When we visited a month ago to view the cottage, she fell in love with it and the fact that she would be living closer to Olivia. They’d hit it off when they’d first met as toddlers and have spent a couple of weeks together every summer since. It was Becca who urged me to agree to the
move. I didn’t take much persuading, though; I’d fallen for the old-world charm of the cottage as well.

  Blowing out a breath, I push myself to my feet. “I’ll go fetch some lemonade for the kids. And maybe a glass of white wine for us?”

  Eleri stretches out her legs. “Sounds like a plan.”

  I cross the paved area behind the house and step into my new kitchen. Gabe had it completely refurbished for me. The stripped pine units have been painted white, but the beautifully tiled floor is covered in boxes which I still need to unpack.

  Sighing, I open the fridge. There’s a large pitcher of lemonade I made earlier, and an open bottle of Chardonnay. I quickly pour myself a glass and glug it down, then refill it and pour one for Eleri.

  “Can I help?” she asks from behind my shoulder.

  I almost jump out of my skin.

  Christ, I hope she didn’t notice me swigging the wine.

  I hand her the pitcher and five plastic cups. If she noticed, she doesn’t say anything.

  I’m not an alcoholic.

  I only have a couple of glasses a day, a habit I got into after Josh passed.

  I just don’t need Eleri breathing down my neck and telling me to watch my consumption.

  We return to the garden, keeping an eye on the kids while we sip our drinks slowly. I ask her for more information about Daniel Collins, but she knows next to nothing about him.

  After Eleri and her girls leave, I walk Ben to his front door. Daniel opens almost as soon as I knock. A brief nod but not one word of thanks as Ben squeezes past him; he practically slams the door in my face.

  I hug my arms and shudder. Poor Ben, having a dad like him.

  Back home, I find Becca watching The Lion King on her tablet. It’s her favourite movie and she’s watched it at least a thousand times. Leaving her humming the songs, I run upstairs to my bedroom to unpack a few more boxes.

  I’m interrupted by the sound of a child’s laughter and go to stand by the window. Daniel and Ben are kicking a soccer ball back and forth on their well-kept lawn. The Brute is wearing shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, his long muscular arms covered in tats.

  Dangerous.

  The word rings in my head, and I shudder again.

  “Mum,” Becca’s voice reaches me from downstairs. “I’m hungry. What’s for tea?”

  Later, after Becca has fallen asleep, I creep into her room to check on her. It’s such a warm night, she’s thrown off her duvet. I bend and kiss her smooth forehead, inhaling her sweet scent. Sleeping, she looks even more like Josh; her mouth curls at the corners just like his used to. My poor heart goes into freefall, and my chest wrenches.

  I pull the duvet up to cover her shoulders; it will turn chilly later. I kiss her again, loving her so much it hurts.

  Toby has been sleeping on the mat at the foot of her bed, snoring like a warthog. He lifts his head as I start to tiptoe from the room, his tail thumping the floor. After scratching behind his ear with a back leg, he flops back down, and I catch a whiff of one of his evil farts. Urgh!

  I open the window and let in some fresh air. It’s not quite dark yet, and I can make out the shape of a man in next door’s garden. The Brute is sitting on his patio, a beer bottle in his hand. I step back quickly. The movement must have caught his attention; he turns and stares up at me.

  Prick…

  Down in the kitchen I finish loading the dishwasher. The familiar nagging need pulls at my resistance, and I open the fridge. There’s enough wine left for one glass before bedtime.

  It’s okay.

  I’ve got this.

  I won’t have any alcohol tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Daniel

  Three years ago

  Tears streaming down my face, I sit in a private room in the London Hospital. I’m covered in blood. Not my blood, but hers. Victoria, my wife’s. Every nerve in my body has been screaming no! since she crumpled into my arms. I feel cold… so very cold, and there’s a sickening sensation in my stomach.

  Why the fuck did she have to come home unexpectedly? It should be me in surgery, should be me who took a bullet in the abdomen. Too fast for her to duck, too fast for my bodyguard, Tom, to react, too fast for me to step in front of her. Tom killed the assassin within seconds, but it was too late for her.

  All through the ambulance ride here, I held her hand and begged her not to leave me. She was conscious… but sweating, breathing hard and groaning in pain. I saw the look in the paramedics’ eyes; it would be touch and go. It was all I could do not to break down in front of them.

  I place my head in my hands, guilt ripping through me. I’ve been fucking complacent, fucking arrogant to think I could get away with what I did. Those bastards had it coming to them, and I thought I’d set up enough protection around myself, my wife and my son. Turns out I was mistaken. What a shit awful way to find that out…

  My son! Thank God his nanny took him to Victoria’s mother for the afternoon. The police went there straight away to set up a round-the-clock guard. But I won’t rest easy until I have him with me.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. First things first, though. Victoria needs to pull through. Then we’ll go somewhere safe, somewhere they’ll never think of looking.

  What about Victoria? How will she cope if she can’t shop at Harrods or lunch with her girlfriends?

  She’s not that shallow; I’ll help her adapt. She’ll do it for me and she’ll do it for our son.

  The door to the hospital room swings open, and I jump to my feet. There’s a policeman guarding the corridor outside with Tom. Who the fuck have they let through?

  “Oh, Alexei…”

  Alexei, my given name.

  I open my arms to Diana, Victoria’s mother. “I’m so sorry.” What else can I say? She doesn’t know the half of it…

  We sit on uncomfortable plastic chairs, surrounded by sterile white walls. Diana shoots me an accusing look. “I should never have let her marry you.”

  I don’t grace her remark with a reply. No point in reminding her about how she gushed with enthusiasm when Victoria and I announced our engagement. Diana was a widow; her husband had died of a heart attack and had left her with a pile of debts. Victoria’s marrying into a Russian oligarch family meant Diana would never have to worry about money again. My father was more than generous settling her bills and setting up a trust fund.

  “Is Leo alright?” I ask, referring to my son.

  “He’s fine,” she sighs. “He’s too young to understand, fortunately.”

  My heart thudding, I stare at the clock, watching the minutes ticking by. Diana starts to sob, and I put my arm around her. Guilt and worry are tearing my heart into pieces, the lump in my throat blocking my tears.

  After what seems like hours, the door swings open again, and a white-coated doctor comes into the room. “Mr Sokolov, your wife is out of surgery. She’s in intensive care.”

  Diana jumps to her feet. “Can we see her?”

  “Only her next-of-kin.” The doctor indicates toward me.

  Diana puffs herself up. “I’m her mother.”

  “You may see her after Mr Sokolov. One person at a time.”

  I follow the doctor to the trauma ward. Victoria is hooked up to more machines than I would have thought possible. There’s a tube down her throat. IVs run through her arms, and there’s another tube coming out of her stomach. Her face is pale, and she’s lying incredibly still.

  “Jesus,” I mutter. “Will she pull through?” I hear the pain in my words, but I choke the emotion back down… I’ve got to be strong.

  “The next twenty-four hours will be critical. She’s lost a lot of blood, and the internal damage is extensive. We removed the bullet. Fortunately, it just missed her liver. Did you know your wife was pregnant?”

  Was pregnant. God, has she lost the baby? Agony like I’ve never felt before rips through me.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “She’s lost the baby,” the doctor confirms.


  “Christ…” I stare at the doctor. “Is it okay if I touch her?”

  He nods.

  I stand by her bed and take her hand in mine. “Hey, Victoria. I’m so sorry.” I suck in a sharp breath. “Please, darling, I want you to fight for me. And for Leo. We both need you so much.” I bend and kiss her forehead, tears spilling from my eyes and running onto her cold cheeks.

  “Mr Sokolov,” the doctor places his hand on my arm. “Might I suggest you go home, have a shower and change. You are welcome to return here whenever you want.”

  I glance down at my blood-splattered clothes. “Will Victoria be alright? I mean while I’m gone…”

  “Mrs Sokolov is stable, for now. Of course, there is a risk she could relapse at any minute. She’s still under the effects of the anaesthetic and we’ve given her morphine for the pain. Her mother can sit with her until you return. We’ll call you if there’s any change.”

  I’m torn between my wife and my son. Victoria doesn’t even know that I’m here, though, but Leo might be scared. I need to see him and reassure him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I make a quick stop at our townhouse in Chelsea, Tom guarding my every movement. After the fastest shower of my life, I change into a clean pair of slacks and a white cotton shirt. I stare at my face in the mirror and decide there isn’t time for a shave. Dark stubble covers my upper lip, my cheeks and my chin, and my eyes are filled with angst. Fuck, I look like shit. I’m an ugly bastard at the best of times, and this isn’t the best of times.

  “Daddy,” Leo glances up from his wooden train set, the tracks spread across the wall-to-wall carpeting in Diana’s Knightsbridge living room. His smile melts me, and I scoop him into my arms. God, he smells good. Talcum powder and baby wipes; he hasn’t been potty-trained yet on account being only two-years-old. I swing him over my head, loving his innocent laughter.