The husband trap, p.1
The Husband Trap, page 1
The Husband Trap
NJ Moss
Copyright © 2022 NJ Moss
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The right of NJ Moss to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2022 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN 978-1-5040-7652-4
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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For Sally HB,
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Chapter One
“Emily, can you come in here for a second?”
Liam looked around the living room, making sure everything was just right. He’d spent a long time scattering the rose petals all over the place. He’d wanted every inch of the flat to be covered. But he hadn’t bought enough; it looked more like a rose petal sprinkling instead of the romantic scene he’d imagined.
Still, he wasn’t going to mess around anymore. Emily was due to give birth any day and he should’ve done this a long time ago.
“You know it takes me about ten years to get out of bed, right…”
She trailed off when she noticed the rose petals, the flickering candles, and Liam guessed she was more than a little shocked at seeing him in a suit. He felt like a bit of an arse in the shirt and jacket, but tonight was big.
Emily was wearing her nightie, baggy down to her knees. Her belly was round and beautiful. She always laughed when he said that, but it was true. It reminded him of the future they were going to share. She’d never looked more stunning, especially with her hair all messy around her shoulders.
“What is this?” She took a few steps, faltered, tilted her head like she was expecting a joke. “Liam? You’re in a suit.” She laughed as tears glimmered in her eyes.
He grinned as he took her hands in his. “We both know there’s something I should’ve asked you a long time ago. If I wasn’t such an idiot, I would’ve done it, say, roughly eight months and three weeks ago…”
Her grip tightened on his. “You don’t have to do anything just because I’m, you know, a big walking snowball.”
“No, it’s not that. Not just that. It’s you, Emily. It’s everything about you. It’s the way you cry at adverts and how angry you get when people are rude to waiters. It’s the way you can’t stop yourself singing along to Christmas songs. It’s your kind heart and… It’s you. It’s us. I love you more than I can ever explain.”
Liam got down on one knee, and of course that was when Rocky decided to join them. The Jack Russell padded into the room and whined softly, clambering onto Liam’s legs with his forepaws like he wanted to get involved. Smiling, Liam stroked the old boy behind the ears, then nodded. “Sit and wait. Hopefully, in a few seconds, we’ll have some celebrating to do.”
Rocky didn’t understand the rest of it, but wait and sit were known to him. He obediently lowered his butt and watched his human turn back to his other human.
Liam looked up at the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “Emily Ruth Taylor, will you marry me?”
Her eyes were shiny with happy tears; he could read her easily, one of the many reasons they worked so well. His heart gave a flutter. She was going to say yes. He knew it.
“Um, Liam.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you please show me the bloody ring so I can say yes?”
Liam leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around her, gently because of the baby. He leaned close and inhaled her scent. It was sweat and shampoo and, underneath it all, Emily, his Emily. “Only if you say yes again.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She looped her arms over his shoulders. “It was always going to be yes. I love you so much.”
They kissed passionately, and then Liam quickly took a step back before he got carried away. “Let me do this properly.”
He returned to his knee and reached into his pocket, taking out the ring box. In his fantasies, he’d thought about presenting her with a big rock, like on those reality shows she sometimes watched. But he was a dog trainer and didn’t make a bunch of money.
Opening the box, he gauged her reaction. It was an elegant piece, he hoped. He’d gone to the shop with one of his mates and his girlfriend, and together they’d picked it out. His mate’s girlfriend had assured him Emily would love it.
“Oh, Liam, it’s beautiful.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger. Standing, he hugged her again. “This is it. The first day of the rest of our lives.”
Her hands trailed over his face, into his hair. “You’re the best. I mean that. The best, most loving, most loyal man I’ve ever met.”
“Are you done talking so I can kiss you again?”
“Dick.” She pushed her lips against his before he could say anything else. They were sinking into it, Emily moaning in that way he knew well, when Rocky gave a whine from beneath them.
“Don’t worry, boy.” Liam laughed as he reached down to pick the little guy up. “Nobody’s forgotten about you.”
“How could we, huh?” Emily gave his nose a tickle, looking over his head at Liam. “How did you arrange this? And when did you change? And how did you know the ring would fit?”
“I’ve been sneaking around for about forty-five minutes. You were snoring like a right animal…” She laughed, and he grinned as he went on. “You didn’t notice me getting changed. As for the ring, I used one of those measurer thingies when you were sleeping.”
“Seems like you thought of everything, huh?”
Keeping one hand braced under Rocky’s belly, he reached over and tucked a wayward strand of hair from his girlfriend – no, his fiancée’s – face. “I’m so relieved right now. You’ve got no idea.”
“Silly. What did you think I would say?”
“I don’t know. I wanted it to be special. Sorry it’s not a chariot ride to a field full of sparkling puppies or whatever.”
“A chariot ride to a field of sparkling puppies?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just so happy! Hang on. I need to get something.”
He carried Rocky into the kitchen and grabbed the non-alcoholic champagne.
Emily had her hands clasped over her middle when he returned, her cheeks wet. “Please let me take a photo of you. I want to remember this forever.”
Liam normally didn’t like his photo being taken. It wasn’t that he had anything against it, particularly, but more that he didn’t like the fuss of it all. Emily said it was a man thing. But he didn’t care, not tonight; he would’ve let her take a thousand.
She walked into the bedroom and returned with her phone. She did her funny waddling walk, but the one time he’d shared that observation she’d threatened to hit him with a slipper.
After taking the photo, she threw her phone onto the sofa and took the glasses. Liam popped the cork and Emily clapped as champagne spilled out. Liam didn’t care that some of it went on the carpet. He’d grown up with a mother who was always ranting about the bills, about how his rowdiness was why they couldn’t have nice things, and
But not tonight. They clinked their glasses together and sipped.
Their eyes met. The corner of Emily’s lips twitched. Liam felt his mirroring their shape.
“It’s not the same, is it?” she said finally.
“Nope. But not long now.”
“Didn’t you get yourself some beers or something?”
“I thought about it. But then, like the loving gentleman I am, I thought to myself, Hey, you know what, Emily doesn’t want to sit there watching me drink my bodyweight in alcohol, not when she can’t have a single drop. Because I’m nice like that.”
“You are nice.” She grabbed his shirt, digging her nails against his chest. “Very nice, in fact. But I won’t mind if you want to run to the shop and get yourself some. Honestly. There’s no reason both of us should suffer.”
Liam shrugged. “I don’t need it. I know this’ll sound cheesy, but this moment’s special enough.”
Emily might’ve mimed being sick at a comment like that… if Liam hadn’t just proposed. Now, sarcasm was beyond even her. Liam could tell she felt as high on the moment as him, both floating with happiness. “I know you don’t need it. But it might be nice. And if you’re really lucky, I might even let you rub my feet later. As a special proposal present. I think you’ll want to be drunk for that.”
He embraced her, getting as close as he could, short of melting into her. He could feel her breath. He could feel her heartbeat drumming through her body. “I’ll be five minutes.”
Liam kissed Emily on the lips, gave the bump a peck, and scratched Rocky’s head. He only realised he was skipping when one of his neighbour’s came walking down the other end of the hallway, carrying two overstuffed carrier bags, a grim set to his lips. When was the last time Liam had skipped? He must’ve been a kid.
He hurried into the autumn cold and down the street, taking a right into the alleyway that would lead to the twenty-four-hour shop. It was the same alleyway he’d told Emily to never walk down on her own. They didn’t live in the roughest place, sure, but it wasn’t the nicest either.
There was a homeless man hunched next to a wheelie bin, his blankets laid out. Liam had seen him around a few times. They exchanged a nod, before the homeless man went back to sorting coins.
Nothing could dampen Liam’s mood. He knew he’d always remember this: the sharp air and the hammering of his heart and the smell of alley piss and the mewling of a cat a few streets away. Good and bad, it didn’t matter; it was all part of it. Of Emily. Of them. Of the future they were going to share.
It was dark here, everything hazy, shadowed outlines.
The man appeared as a silhouette. Liam stood a little straighter, put his shoulders back. The man was blocking his path.
“You good, mate?”
“Hm-mm,” the man grunted. He sounded drunk.
“Mind getting out of my way?”
Swiftly there was an arm around Liam’s neck.
He hadn’t heard anybody sneaking up on him. He’d been too focused on the man… and the man: yes, Liam was sure. He was wearing a mask, a balaclava, like bank robbers wore.
Liam thrashed, his hands darting up to the arm. He squeezed and pulled with all his strength. The arm came loose and its owner grunted. Liam threw his weight back, felt his head connect with teeth, biting sharply into his skull. The shadowy man cursed, advancing with his hands raised. Liam was ready. Mugging him now, of all nights.
“Come on then, let’s have it.” He backed against the wall, trying to keep them both in front of him.
But there was a third. Liam only knew he was there when he felt the needle go into his neck.
He slurred as he failed to shout. His eyelids were getting heavy. His legs folded and he collapsed against the concrete.
Emily, he tried to say.
And then it all went black.
Chapter Two
He shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night. His mouth was dry and his head was pounding. But she’d said yes; all that worrying, all that wondering, and she’d said yes! Emily was going to be his wife and they were going to raise their child well and–
His thoughts cut off as he fully emerged from sleep. He remembered the men in the alleyway, the sting of the needle in his neck. Opening his eyes, he peered up at an ornately carved pattern. Swirls and shapes had been cut into the wood. When Liam looked to his side, the sunlight was purple, like he was peering through stained glass.
Sitting up, he looked down the length of his body. He was lying on top of silk sheets, in a four-poster bed. The light was coming through the curtains… was that what they were called, in a fancy bed like this, curtains? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t dreaming, was he? It felt real enough.
“Hello?” His voice was raspy with dehydration. “Is anybody there?”
Pushing the curtains aside, he climbed from the bed with an effort. He was in what looked like an upscale hotel room. There was the bed, a big wooden dresser with wrought metal handles, rugs draped over the floor; the lights were fitted into sconces on the walls, and there was a door to the en suite off to the side. He stumbled over to the window, struggling to find his footing.
There was a padlock on the window. He grabbed it. Shook it. Nothing. It was solid. He saw a gravel road and a fountain and a long field and a garden and, past it all, a small wooded area, the leaves brown with autumn. The terrain rose in a hill, which, coupled with the trees, blocked much of his view of the wider property. Where the hell was he?
Looking down, he guessed he was at least three floors up. He couldn’t judge the drop without opening the window, but even if it was a bush down there – and not stones like the surrounding area – it’d still hurt. He might twist his ankle, or worse, making escape impossible.
He massaged his temples, closing his eyes and focusing hard to remember. He’d proposed to Emily, left to get some beers, and then… the men, this, waking up here.
He was still wearing his suit from last night – if it had been last night; he had no idea how much time had passed – but it was crumpled and reeked of sweat. Hanging from the wardrobe was another suit, this one clean. Was it for him? Why would somebody drug him and then give him a suit?
He marched over to the door, threw it open. So at least that wasn’t locked.
To the right there was a staircase, the bannisters wooden with more patterns carved in them. All along the hallway there were landscape paintings, everything looking old-fashioned. It was like the time he and Emily had gone to stay at a five-star hotel in Wales; he had the feeling of being somewhere he didn’t belong. Which was true. He didn’t belong here. But it was more than that. This was the sort of place which always made him feel poor.
He returned to the room and looked for a weapon. All the drawers had been emptied. He could’ve smashed the window and used a shard of glass, or maybe the glass in the en suite bathroom’s mirror. Otherwise, there was nothing. Maybe he could’ve pulled off one of the handles on the drawers. But he didn’t want to waste any vital time messing around. He needed to get out of here; he needed to get to Emily.
Liam walked down the hallway, trying all the doors: nine in total. Each of them was locked. At the very end, there was a mounted deer’s head, antlers slicing into the air, dead eyes watching as he walked back the way he’d come. He stood at the top of the stairs and peered down. He thought about calling out again. But with the haziness of sleep gone, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t want them to know he was awake, not that he knew who they were.
