Demons on her Shoulder

Chapter 5

Chapter 5Jayden shook her umbrella beneath the porch of the main church building. Its cloth surface looked damp from her morning walk to work and she hoped it could get her home without blowing inside out again. Droplets scattered around her like light prisms of confetti as she hoisted it above her head. She picked her way across the crazy-paved walkway until it met the flying buttresses of the old church. St Jude’s dated back to the Norman Conquest, its colourful and varied history showing a rich tapestry of human involvement. The path meandered through the churchyard; the burial ground valued at two million pounds-worth of prime inner city real estate, but ruined for resale.

Leaving the grounds brought an immediate change of pace. Shops and chain stores along Lincoln High Street flogged their wares like beacons in the growing darkness. Jayden’s lateness meant she found the pavements crowded and she picked her way through the people, her internal navigation set for home.

Her boots sloshed in the gathering puddles and the umbrella groaned beneath the weight of the January downpour. Darkness hugged the city and seemed to make the twinkling shop lights appear brighter. Crossing Silver Street at the traffic lights, she measured the short distance ahead of her. Her apartment called to her, an oasis of warmth and security. The sound of her name drifted on the wind and she paused, looking around her in confusion. A swathe of unfamiliar faces stared back and she brushed the thought away as fancy. Her hand pushed deep into her handbag to retrieve her front door key, tensing when it didn’t come to hand.

A sudden grip on her forearm made her turn and her eyes flashed with danger. Fear settled on her head, obscuring rational thought and bringing a red veil over her vision. Jayden gasped and the hand released her wrist, the predatory face morphing into recognisable features.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man said, raising his hands and jumping back from the can of pepper spray in Jayden’s other hand. “Stupid of me in the dark, I’m sorry. Don’t mace me.” Strong arms pulled her into an embrace by way of apology.

“Raff! You’re soaked!” Jayden squeaked, fear leaking from her voice as she pushed him away. Anger hovered overhead and she shoved the mini aerosol back into her coat pocket, keeping her shaking hands busy with the continued search for her key.

“I said I’m sorry. I forget how jumpy you are.” Dark eyelashes flicked water droplets over a sculpted male cheek. He reached for her again and then let his hands fall by his sides.

Jayden found her key in the bottom of her bag. It had become detached from its security chain. She unlocked the front door and led the way inside, shutting and bolting it behind them. Inside, her pulse rate sought a normal rhythm and she worked on slowing her breathing. Raff bent to unlace his trainers. “I’ve been here hundreds of times, but I’m always amazed by how hidden it is,” he mused.

Jayden nodded. “Just as I like it.” Sheltering between the bay windows of two large shops on the High Street, her front door blended to invisibility. The same colour as the brick work when closed, it disappeared from view, leaving only four random steps up to the hidden entrance.

The street narrowed, crowded with buildings where Jayden’s bolt hole lay and it suited her need for solace. Nobody ever knocked on her door, not even by accident. Her apartment occupied the two top storeys of a listed building with a*****e below. Its space included a spectacular roof garden and Jayden loved to forget the world once her front door slammed. On the bottom levels of the building a clothing store operated, touting its expensive wares to the city. Designer tracksuits and surf gear adorned the window display; not Jayden’s usual fare.

“Don’t you have trouble with parcel deliveries?”

“I order nothing.” Jayden pulled her wet boots off and stood them on a newspaper at the bottom of a set of wooden stairs. Flicking the light switch with practiced fingers, she bathed Raff in a yellow glow and led him up steep steps to the apartment, two floors higher.

“But what about the postman?”

Jayden sighed. “I’ve had the same postman for years, Raff. Stop asking questions.”

Turning left at the top of the stairs took them into an open plan living room which occupied the whole upstairs floor. Neutral, muted decorations offered gentle relaxation and safety, high above the frantic paced city. Enormous sash windows faced the Victorian buildings opposite, the view obscured by red brick and the sightless eye sockets of office windows. Jayden dropped her handbag and keys onto a glass dining table, its perfect construction contrasting with the hand blown window panes next to it.

“Grab a drink if you want one.” Her voice sounded terse, a poor attempt at masking her lack of control after the scare. She walked towards the centre of the huge open space and disappeared up a spiral staircase to the floor above. After a moment’s hesitation, Raff’s footsteps followed.

“Turn round!” Jayden snapped, emerging from her bathroom and folding her long curls into a ponytail. “I need to change my clothes. Why don’t you go downstairs and make a pot of tea?”

“No.” Raff followed her into the bedroom and turned his back on her, staring out through glass doors into the large, darkening rooftop courtyard which took up a third of the floor space. Jayden shook her head and followed his gaze. Flowers bloomed in the roof garden despite the hard frosts and it looked tidy. The windows of the second bedroom on the other side of the oasis glinted back through the foliage, lifeless and empty and its designer fittings unused.

Jayden sensed Raff surreptitiously watching her as she moved around the bedroom. She stuck her tongue out at him. “What?” he demanded. “I’m admiring your improved muscle definition.” He grinned. “I’m an artist critiquing my work.”

“An artist? Really?” Jayden smirked and her brow furrowed. Raff turned his attention to himself, running a hand over the dark hair cropped against his scalp. Jayden watched him admire his reflection in the glass. He dropped his fingers to tug at the faint lines surrounding his laughing eyes.

“Do I look thirty-four years old?” he demanded. Jayden shrugged. Age hadn’t marred his toned, athletic body. Italian genetics winked back at her through olive skin. His penetrating blue irises summed up her response, housed behind dark, expressive lashes.

“No, you look twenty-one,” Jayden lied. She stripped to her underwear and laid her work clothes across the wide double bed. Her wardrobe disgorged a pair of tracksuit pants and a comfortable tee shirt.

“No!” Raff demanded, turning to snatch them from her.

“I said turn around!” Jayden cried in horror, holding the tee shirt against her chest to cover herself.

“Don’t wear those,” Raff begged. “I need your help. Please wear something decent.”

“No.” Jayden pouted like a petulant three-year-old. Raff groaned and in a fluid motion, crossed the room and ripped open the doors of the pine wardrobe. He emerged carrying a glittering black cocktail dress.

“This! Wear this!”

Jayden stamped her foot as Raff bent to rummage in the bottom of the wardrobe for matching shoes. “I’m tired,” she complained, affronted by him dictating her style of dress while wearing gym branded tee shirt and shorts. Despite the cold weather, his work gear accentuated his tanned hairy legs and muscular calves. “Just looking at you makes me shiver,” she grumbled.

“These!” Raff popped backwards from the wardrobe and stood, an eyebrow raised at the strappy sandals in his hands.

“Weirdo.” Jayden laughed.

“Please?” Raff’s face crinkled as he tipped his handsome face sideways and beamed. His straight, white teeth gave him a guise of perfection, striking Roman heritage oozing from him amid waves of testosterone.

“I worry about you, Mr Abbadeli,” Jayden teased and Raff sniggered. He spun the straps in long, artistic fingers. Jayden shook her head. “I don’t want to go out, Raff; I’ve had a pig of a day.”

“Please! I need you to help me.” Raff threw himself on her plush double bed and buried his face in his arms.

“I hope you’re not sweaty.” Jayden pulled a grimace before recommencing her grunge dressing. Once the offending track pants and a tee shirt covered her, she sat on the bed and patted Raff’s back. “You behave like a four-year-old, not a man of thirty-four,” she mused.

He sighed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, forgetting he still clutched the heel straps of the sandals. “Ouch! That hurt,” he complained when the leather caught his skin and the buckle produced a small nick on his cheek.

“I’m not going out.” Jayden lay on her back next to him and Raff placed his dark head on her stomach. She stroked his hair and winced at the spikiness beneath her fingers.

“Please help me?” Raff whined.

“What does your surname mean?” Jayden moved her gaze over the white ceiling, noticing a new c***k beginning above the window. She sought a distraction, gratified when it worked. Raff popped his head up in surprise.

“Little priest in Italian,” he said, frowning as Jayden released a peal of laughter. His head bounced on her stomach as the muscles tensed. Irritation played across his handsome features. Jayden laughed harder at his flash of temper.

“It’s not funny!” he growled.

“Is funny!” she shrieked. “I can’t imagine anyone less priest-like than you.”

“Whatever!” Raff dug his fingers into her ribs and Jayden squealed. He tickled her until tears ran down her cheeks and into her hair. She begged him to stop and slapped at his hands. “No. This is your punishment,” he giggled. “I come from a long line of Catholics and they’re turning in their graves right now.” Raff resumed his playful t*****e, but when his fingers accidentally strayed to her left side, Jayden let out a groan of pain. “Sorry, sorry!” he exclaimed, yanking up her tee shirt and kissing the livid red scar. Its perfidious existence hung between them, causing his dark brows to knit into a line of concern. Jayden sensed the question on his lips and sought to shut down their playfulness. He knew of the scar, but not how it came spoil her lithe midriff.

“I’m okay,” Jayden pushed him away and hauled herself to a sitting position. She kept one hand over the radiating soreness.

“No, it’s not, Jay. Why won’t you tell me how it happened? I know it hurts you; there must be something the doctors can do.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Jayden snapped and Raff backed away. The atmosphere of fun and joviality dissipated, leaving awkwardness and other indecipherable emotions.

“Please help me?” He returned to whining, sighing with relief when Jayden smirked.

“As long as it doesn’t involve me wearing those shoes or going outside in the dark,” she replied, watching Raff’s pleasant features cloud over in disappointment.