Captivate Read online

  Captivate

  Vanessa Garden

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  MANY THANKS to my wonderful agent Helen Breitwieser, whose dedication and professionalism never ceases to amaze.

  To Haylee Nash for championing Captivate from the start and making my dreams come true.

  I’d like to thank my editor, Nicola Redhouse, for her passion and commitment. It was a pleasure working with you.

  I’d also like to thank the entire Harlequin Australia team for their hard work and also for making me feel so welcome. It is a privilege to be a member of the Harlequin family.

  A big salute to my online writing buddies, for the endless encouragement, support and laughs.

  Thanks also to my bosses and co-workers at Collins Booksellers, for the best job in the world and the solid friendships.

  I’d like to extend an especially huge thank you my family and close friends for always being there for me – I love each and every one of you.

  Dad and Mum, thanks so much for an amazing childhood where I learnt that life can be magical and full of possibilities. Thanks also to my siblings for being the best friends I could ever have.

  Last but not least, a huge thank you to my husband for being so wonderfully supportive and for putting up with the many characters who so rudely barge into my head and interrupt our conversations. And to my amazing children, for loving their wacky writer mum no matter what.

  For my sister

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE MUST HAVE watched me from a safe distance, like a crocodile observing its prey, his eyes hovering above the dark, silver-tinted water.

  I was the perfect victim, oblivious and distracted by my efforts to avoid enjoyment of any kind during the summer getaway my grandparents had planned for my sister and me.

  It was January, the first night of our proposed two-week stay at Bob’s Bay—a secluded location on the southwest coast of Australia where my grandparents owned an old, weatherboard holiday shack. A place I’d spent every summer since I was born.

  Five other shacks neighboured ours. Four were owned by elderly people who liked privacy and minded their own business, but the remaining one sat abandoned with peeling paint and smashed windows. I avoided looking at that one as much as I could because of the painful memories it dredged up inside of me.

  My older sister, Lauren, and I had snuck out of the shack for a midnight swim. Well, I’d slipped out and she’d followed, much to my annoyance.

  It was probably the most civil we’d been to each other in the past twelve months, since Mum and Dad’s accident.

  I can still remember the last words we shared.

  ‘So, you’re turning seventeen next week,’ said Lauren, wringing seawater out of her long, blonde hair with shaky fingers. ‘One more year and you’re legal like me. We can go clubbing and stuff.’ She flicked her hair over her shoulders and smiled warily, her eyes seeking mine.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I said looking away, stepping deeper into the sea, black and as shiny as an oil slick. Cool water inched its way up my torso. I sucked in my stomach and shivered.

  ‘We can throw our clothes into a pile on Saturday nights and get dressed up together before we go out,’ she said, the same smile pasted on her face.

  With brows raised, I slowly nodded my head. God, she was really going for it. Why, after speaking no more than a handful of words to each other all year, did she feel the need to communicate now?

  ‘Only, I don’t think I’d like my clothes coming back all stretched in the chest and butt,’ she added, splashing cool water at my face.

  Some of the water shot up my nose and, although it stung, I relished the fresh, briny smell of it. It reminded me of when we were kids and used to come down here with our parents. I wiped the droplets from my face with the back of my forearm but said nothing.

  ‘Hey, Randy…’ She waited until our eyes met. ‘I’m only mucking around.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I know.’

  She snorted a shrill laugh. Her sudden friendliness unnerved me. I wasn’t used to it, and didn’t know how to respond.

  ‘Sometimes I wish I was curvy like you,’ she said wistfully, as though she meant it, adding, ‘Boys love curves.’

  I shook my head. She was talking nonsense. And I had my zero boyfriends compared with her twenty to prove it.

  ‘Sure. Whatever.’

  I turned away, eager to create some distance between us, but my foot landed on something slimy, so instead, I yelped and lunged towards her.

  ‘What is it?’ She gripped my shoulders to steady me.

  When I realised what I’d stepped on, I quickly gathered myself and shook her off, splashing water into her face.

  ‘Nothing. Just one of those disgusting suction-pit things.’ I couldn’t say it without breaking out into a full body shiver. In Bob’s Bay, some parts of the ocean floor were covered in what felt like a hundred mushy mouths sucking on your feet.

  Lauren laughed—a real laugh this time, from the bottom of her perfectly toned belly. ‘Man, I hate those things. Remember when Dad used to make us stand on them? How you and I would scream our heads off?’

  Despite my desire to end this conversation and get as far away from my sister as possible, I smiled at the memory and made tiny ripples in the water with my fingers, a sudden unexpected tightness in my throat. I’d have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t wishing for things to be like they were before our parents died—for Lauren and me to be close again.

  She half-smiled at me, eyes downcast, staring out into the vast blackness of the sea.

  ‘I always think of Aiden when I’m here.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said, unable to hide the quiver in my voice.

  It was hard to forget Aiden, the sixteen-year-old boy from the now-derelict shack whose favourite saying was: ‘Just smile, dude.’ The boy whom I’d secretly crushed on since I was nine; the boy who, after a huge fight with me, had gotten drunk and gone swimming, during one of the worst summer storms to have hit the West Australian coast in over a century.

  Just the mention of his name brought fresh guilt rushing back.

  ‘It’s kind of creepy knowing he’s out there somewhere…’ Lauren’s teeth chattered while she spoke. ‘Of course, by now, the sharks…’ She broke off and shook her head. ‘God, it’s been, what, three years?’

  I nodded and swallowed the thick lump that had formed in my throat. Three years, two months and twenty-seven days.

  ‘I miss the hell out of him, Randy. You must too.’ Her blue eyes glistened with sympathy. ‘You guys were best buddies.’

  Somewhere in the distance a seagull shrieked, like somebody dying.

  Goosebumps prickled my skin.

  The slick Indian Ocean didn’t seem as inviting as it had only moments earlier. It looked more like
an enormous, dark mouth, ready to swallow us whole.

  ‘I’m heading back,’ I said, suddenly longing for the comfort of the squeaky bottom bunk at the shack and my faded old bed-sheets, the ones Mum had sewn herself. Maybe if I cocooned myself tight enough within those sheets, I might forget all the people I’d touched and ruined these past few years.

  ‘Wait, Miranda—’ Lauren sucked in a deep breath and wiped a trembling hand across her brow. ‘Can we please talk, about Mum and Dad?’ She swallowed thickly, her eyes seeking mine, but I stared into the water instead. Even if I’d had something to say, the tightness in my throat would have prevented me from doing so.

  ‘I want this stupid thing between us to end, Randy. I’ve missed you—’ Lauren’s voice broke off and she sniffed. ‘If I hadn’t been such a bitch to you that night, and if I’d just stayed with you.’ She paused to dip her wrists into the water and shivered. ‘It was your birthday for God’s sake. I should have—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I answered in a strangled voice before turning away. My hand sliced through the water, sending a cool spray against my stomach.

  The truth was I wanted my sister back. Badly. But that was never going to happen.

  It was hard enough staring at my own face in the mirror, let alone Lauren’s, and not seeing my parents’ stiff, bluish-grey faces. It was easier to go our separate ways, easier to forget.

  I blinked away the fresh tears that blurred my view of the shoreline, the dots of light from the holiday shacks forming orange squiggles and arches. ‘Just forget it, alright?’

  The whoosh of a lone pelican’s wings to my left made me jump and I followed the magnificent bird’s smooth descent until it landed several metres away, closer to shore, where it bobbed over the softly lapping water.

  Lauren sighed. ‘Okay.’ Her voice was tiny, as if it belonged to a mouse instead of my loud, proud, big sister and, despite the anger I felt every time I looked at her, it made my chest ache to hear her like this.

  The shore glistened beneath the half-moon and I spent the next minute or so staring at it, breathing in and out, willing myself to calm down so that I didn’t lose it and start bawling.

  ‘Race you back to the shack, Randy. Freestyle.’ Lauren said, startling me out of my thoughts, her voice regaining some of its cockiness. Now that she sounded more like her old self, a small sigh of relief whistled through my lips.

  The lump in my throat shrank. I could handle competitive, self-centred Lauren, even if it was all a façade; even if I knew the murky darkness that lurked beneath her skin—darkness that mirrored my own insides.

  ‘Okay. No cheating,’ I said, surprising myself, and swam over to her side. ‘Ready, set—’

  Just like old times, Lauren dived in before I said, ‘Go!’

  I followed, my body spearing through the cold, dark water like a fish. It felt amazing—all tingling skin and thundering heart.

  When my head broke the surface I spotted Lauren, well in the lead, and found myself laughing before I dived under again to catch up.

  Maybe, just this once, I was going to forget the past year. Blot it out like it never happened. Maybe just this once, Lauren and I were sisters again.

  Several strokes later, my head popped up for air. Lauren was now only a metre in front and if I swam hard I could easily close that gap. But, after kicking my legs to propel myself forward, something wrapped around my ankle.

  I shrieked and tried to kick it away, but in one swift motion I was yanked under.

  A muffled, underwater scream escaped my mouth— inside my head it sounded like an animal roar—and with it precious oxygen flew overhead in a flurry of bubbles.

  Black water clouded my eyes.

  My arms sought the surface, my body thrashed, desperate, until my leg was released and I kicked my way upwards. As my head broke the surface, I sucked in a lungful of air, a thousand butterflies of hope exploding inside my chest.

  But then, what felt like two hands gripped my arms and dragged me down again.

  Everything closed in on me. The need for air was agonising, the pressure inside my head and lungs at bursting point.

  I opened my mouth to cry out, ‘Lauren!’, even though I expected more seawater to rush in, but to my surprise a mouth closed over mine. I screamed, then pressed my lips shut. Prickly stubble grazed my lips and chin. My body bucked, my legs and arms jerked out in all directions, but it was futile—like a herring flapping against the belly of a shark.

  The man gripped the back of my head, prised open my mouth with lips like ice, and breathed air into my oxygen-starved lungs.

  I resisted at first and tried to fuse my mouth shut, my teeth scraping against his, but then my will to survive kicked in and I drew on this stranger’s air with all the desperation and dependency of a newborn child sucking in its first breath.

  A myriad alarming thoughts swamped my brain.

  I’m going to die.

  I’m going to drown like Aiden.

  I’m going to die in a stranger’s arms.

  But one stood out clearly from the rest.

  I’m going to die before I tell Lauren the truth about Mum and Dad’s accident.

  Something bitter, tasting like chemicals, invaded my mouth.

  Then the blackness came.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MY EYELIDS FELT heavy, as though cemented shut, and when I finally managed to crack them open I saw a strange hazy vision. Little shiny things, like stars, twinkled above me. After I blinked and looked again they all began to spin around my head.

  It made me nauseous so I closed my eyes, but not before catching sight of several faces looking down at me. The faces were carved in wood, but they seemed real somehow, fluid, swirling around me just like the stars.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE SECOND TIME I came to, it was like being woken up with a twenty tonne punch to the head, slamming home recollections of Lauren, the water, and the man.

  My eyes popped open and my body jolted, my head jerking about while I grasped my surroundings.

  High stone walls and a stone ceiling formed a large rectangular room around me. I was in a king-sized, four-poster bed and the wooden faces that had swirled about my head earlier were carvings of fishes, mermaids and mermen all twisting and spiralling around the bed posts as if being pulled upwards by a current. My eyes followed them right up to the roof of the bed, where gleaming pearls encrusted in smooth wooden panels winked at me through strips of white silk.

  Although my body was damp with sweat, I shivered convulsively. Nothing made sense—this room, this fairytale bed. I needed to find Lauren. I needed to get back to the shack. Slowly, I inched myself into sitting position, the act making my head thump.

  Somebody across the room cleared their throat.

  It was a guy, seated in a wooden chair a few metres away, his features shadowed by the dim lighting. He yawned and rubbed at his face, his hands making a scratchy sound against his jaw. Then he raised his head to glance in my direction and sprung from the chair, as if somebody had tipped a bucket of cold water down his back.

  ‘Who are you? Where’s Lauren?’ I asked, hot blood pounding in my ears. My hands instinctively formed fists, which I kept at my chest, ready.

  ‘You’re okay,’ he said breathlessly, and with relief, as he rushed to my side.

  The stranger was tall, had wavy, light-brown hair and the sort of face that made me want to trust him. But something about his overall appearance wasn’t right. Although he seemed healthy enough—his chest was broad and I could see the outline of huge biceps below his shirt sleeves—his skin was abnormally chalk-white, as though he hadn’t seen the sun in a long time. Like, never.

  Goosebumps prickled my skin.

  When he leaned over me, I caught the stinging scent of sea salt.

  ‘I’m just going to have a look at you.’ His voice, although deep, had a gentle undertone. But it did little to put me at ease.

  ‘Who are you? Where am I?’

  �
�This will only take a minute,’ he said, ignoring my questions, before peeling back the covers to expose my bather-clad body.

  I gasped and shrank back into the pillow, my hands fumbling to shield as much as they could.

  His dark-brown eyes, the pupils dilated in the dimness of the room, swept from the tips of my toes up to my face in an almost doctor-like manner, not even bothering to linger on the parts most boys would spend an extra second or two on. But when he met my eyes, he held his breath and stared into them for what seemed an eternity before he exhaled softly and drew back.

  I clawed at the bedcovers until they were up to my neck again.

  ‘Where’s my sister? Who are you?’

  ‘Just one more thing left to do, then I’ll leave you to rest.’ He grimaced apologetically, rubbing his hands together. Sorry, my hands are cold.’

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ I scurried backwards, bedcovers clutched to my chest, until my spine hit the wooden headboard. ‘I don’t need rest. I need to get back to my sister and my grandparents. Right now!’

  The mattress groaned beneath his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed and slowly inched forward. ‘This will be quick, I promise.’

  By now my back had almost fused with the headboard. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, but gasped when warm fingers pressed firmly against the pulse in my neck. My eyes snapped open.

  His lips were moving. He was counting.

  ‘Your pulse is fine,’ he said after a pause, sighing as though genuinely relieved. ‘You’re perfectly healthy.’

  I slapped his hand away. The stranger’s eyes widened but he said nothing. He seemed nervous and unsure of what he was doing, or what he planned to do next. After an agonisingly long half a minute or so of silence, he brushed his palms against his thighs and leapt to his feet.

  ‘Would you like some water to drink?’

  Though the inside of my mouth felt like carpet, I didn’t respond—I was too busy leafing through what little self-defence I knew. Just because he hadn’t harmed me yet didn’t mean he wasn’t going to.