Skimming the Surface: Love $ Hate#4

By Joanna Mazurkiewicz

Skimming the surface (Love & Hate #4) 

The eagerly anticipated conclusion to Tahlia and Micah's epic love story! 


Tahlia’s life has crumbled. The man she believed to have always loved has betrayed her and her enemy is back from the dead–hell must be too full to keep them. 

After unrevealing in court and being sent to prison she is attacked in her cell and then transferred to a psychiatric unit. She knows that her chances of survival are slim. 
  
When she finally looses all the hope, Micah shows up ready to help her escape. Tahlia is suddenly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Her hatred for him and his betrayal is fuelled by her love for him causing confusion and mixed emotions. He lied, cheated and mislead her in order to get what he wanted, and now he thinks he can fix everything. She has no other choice but to go with him.  

Escaping prison she is branded a mentally unstable fugitive on the run, finding herself living a life of isolation, trying to pick up the pieces and finally understanding her past, but still hiding her deepest secret away. Her enemy is slowly closing in on her and she doesn’t know how much time she has, before everything comes to a head, before the rat bastard gets his hands on her, before her world comes to an end. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanna Mazurkiewicz
• Release date: Mar 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781519967091

Book preview

Chapter One

Endless pain

Micah

I pace around the room, trying really hard not to rip my hair out of my skull, while Clarke, Lee, Rogers and some other guy in an expensive suit are staring at me dismissively. It’s been two days, the longest two days in my entire life. Tahlia is in custody, soon to be charged with a murder she hasn’t committed. And it’s all my fault.

I failed to see that she was set up. How could I be stupid enough not to take more time to run over the evidence, her motive, the timing? Now I’m trying to convince my boss that I’ve made a mistake, after being the one that gave them all the evidence in the first place. On top of that, the DNA results are back from the lab. It’s hers and the victim’s blood on that T-shirt.

He’s alive, sir. I don’t have any proof yet, but my source has never let me down. I made a mistake bringing Tahlia into custody, rushed things. She was set up from the very beginning, I insist, repeating the same story over and over. The guy in the suit is shaking his head, pissing me off even more. I clench my fists, trying to keep it together.

Rogers, my partner on this case, is an honest guy; he doesn’t believe in any bullshit. We had a very intense conversation a couple of days ago about everything that’s happened. At first he thought I was messing with him, with the case, but then he started listening, getting what I was trying to explain to him. His wife heard us arguing. My anger got the better of me and I lost the plot. After it all passed, I wept like a little child, screaming and shouting that I was the biggest scumbag in the entire world.

Lisa tried to talk to me, tell me that anyone could have made the same mistake, based on the evidence that I had gathered. Eventually she managed to calm me down, but the pain in my chest was spreading through me like a cancer reaching into all the cells in my body and poisoning them. Rogers was right. No one was going to free Tahlia out of this shit storm, especially since she refused to see a solicitor. The first court appearance was set in motion and we had a case, thanks to the strong evidence that I brought to light.

Detective Thomson, only a couple of days ago you were convinced that Tahlia Sanderson murdered her roommate in cold blood. James Clarke, my boss, states, looking sharp and pissed off. The lab results are conclusive, and on top of that, the girl had a motive. Her roommate somehow found out about that assault and she was ready to expose her, even though her case had been dealt with and swept under the carpet. The note might not make sense, but we have made an arrest. The press will make a mockery out of us if we release her. We need to think about our reputation. Your source, Detective—whatever he or she is—won’t change anything. The hearing is set for tomorrow, and so far our girl hasn’t said anything that can back up your story. You haven’t been much help either. So far, Detective Rogers has been doing all the talking.

Clarke looks down at some of his notes. I hate the fact that he cares more about his own arse than someone else’s life.

My shirt sticks to my skin and I feel a bead of sweat run down my temple. Ever since I arrested her, I haven’t been sleeping at all, trying to figure out how to make this right, how to verify what T said. The problem is that he vanished; his mother hasn’t seen him. This is a bad sign, and without him Tahlia is lost, buried deep in the ground. Burning guilt is ripping me apart and I can’t even think straight. If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. He came to me, risked everything to tell me that I fucked up. I have no evidence that Knox has been murdered and there is someone new in charge.

Superintendent is right. Rudolf is dead. I identified his body myself, his fingerprints and DNA, Detective, Lee adds, looking at me like I lost my fucking mind.

He faked his own death. And I know for a fact that the bastard has people inside the force. Tahlia is his ex-girlfriend, and he’ll know when she gets locked up. She was supposed to die that night, not the Wallace girl. Are any of you even listening to what I’m fucking saying?

Clarke rounds on me. Thomson that’s enough! Obviously you are taking this case way too personally. The girl is going on trial and that’s the end of the story. You, on the other hand, need to see a shrink.

Sir, I’m not fucking crazy, I shout, wondering why they are all so bloody stupid. My limbs feel heavy and my heart feels like it’s stopped beating. I’ve lost my humanity, my sanity. T has never been wrong, and I know that if Tahlia is that girl that I saved, she never would have harmed her roommate.

Enough! Clarke yells, slamming his fists on the table. It’s not a request, but an order. Don’t make me put you on a leave of absence, Thomson.

I drag my hands over my face, thinking fast, wondering what other options I have. They all leave me alone, and soon I realise that I might never make this right. I have caused so much pain, so much sorrow and now I will just lead him to her. She hates me and she will never forgive me for what I have done to her.

Tahlia

I wake up breathing hard, disoriented in the complete darkness, as the smell of sweat permeates the air. Several seconds drag and then I know that I’m in a prison cell, not in my own cozy bed. My chest keeps rising and falling in rapid movements. Images from the unknown dream fade away. I touch my forehead, trying to calm down until my eyes adjust to the darkness that slowly begins to swallow me.

Micah Thompson threw me in here and then left without a word. It’s because of him my life is worthless.

The bastard had been lying to me for god knows how long, probably from the moment he showed up to question me about Suranne’s murder. I know that there is not much time left for me. The man that I thought was dead is living and breathing and he wants revenge. Time is against me. I’m simply waiting for someone to finish the job.

It’s been forty-eight hours and tomorrow I’ll be in court, expected to make a plea. There is no way I’m going to let them lock me up. The rat has people gathered around everywhere and I won’t survive a day in prison. I was so stupid to believe that he was wiped out of this world, that I was finally free of all the pain and sorrow that he caused.

Everything between Micah and me was fine, until he left me. I knew that it was just a matter of time before he found out about the past, about my real identity. That day I felt unwell, anxious and nervous. When he came back, he wasn’t the same person that I’d fallen for. He was a stranger.

Love? I was stupid enough to believe that I’d finally fallen for someone, for a man from my dreams, but in the end my heart was shattered. Micah Thomson wasn’t capable of showing any signs of humanity. He’d proven it to me countless times, but I was determined to give him a chance, to find something good in him. The good emotions turned into hatred—and utter disgust—the moment he called me a killer. No one ever understood me, no one empathised with my pain. Not until Tequila took me in and taught me how to function again.

Several hours later the interrogation began, but I refused to say anything. I couldn’t even look at him, knowing that they would twist my words, and they would make me look guilty. Micah sat in front of me the entire time. He didn’t ask any questions but stared blankly at the wall behind me. I felt sick being in the same room with him, breathing in the same air. I wanted to sweat him out of my body; I wanted to be sick until all my thoughts were gone, until I didn’t have to feel the pain that was flooding my system.

We have all the evidence that we need, Miss Sanderson. You have been charged with murder and in two days you will be in front of the judge. Are you going to plead guilty? the other detective kept asking. I think his name was Rogers.

I didn’t dare to look at Micah, but I knew that something was wrong with him. He didn’t even try to make eye contact, didn’t say a word when only a couple hours ago he was convinced that I was a murderer. When I didn’t answer, Rogers turned his head and looked at Micah, like he was expecting him to ask questions. The bastard didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge him.

My stomach dropped. The shock and disappointment kept moving through me like a tornado, but I didn’t want to react. I didn’t want to say anything. Only a couple of days ago we were making love and my heart started beating again for the first time since the rat had touched me.

The cops on the other side of the room were probably scratching their heads, wondering if these two detectives were going to get anything out of me.

Did Suranne Wallace discover that you assaulted Julie Powell?

Silence.

Did you kill her because you were afraid that she would expose you?

Silence.

I didn’t answer any of his questions. My future looked bleak and I still didn’t have that phone call that they promised. I told Micah that I had no friends, no family, so they didn’t expect me to call anyone. Tequila was the only person that could get me out. She had money and resources. It was just a matter of time before the rat would send someone to finish what he started. I had no intention of dying in prison.

You killed an innocent student. Justice will be served, Miss Sanderson, either way. If you confess you might even get a deal. Who knows, you still might have a chance for a decent life once you serve your sentence, Rogers continued then.

Confusion mixed with anger was boiling my insides. I was waiting for the perfect Micah to ask me a question, to have the decency to fucking look at me after what he did, but I guess I didn’t even deserve that. I know now that he lied, that he acted the whole time he was with me just to solve the damn case. We were never a real couple.

In the end, after about an hour, the old-school detective gave up and told me that he was trying to give me a chance, but I chose not to help him. My breath caught and I felt like my heart was being ripped apart when Micah finally spoke. For the first time since we entered that room his voice rang out clear, emotionless and void of the love I thought we shared.

I’ll take her back to her cell, he muttered, still not looking at me but at his pathetic partner. Rogers seemed baffled for a good few seconds. I didn’t want to go anywhere near him. The thought of him touching me made me want to crawl out of my own rotten skin. I felt a tiny wave of regret, noting my attraction to him was still there, but I quickly dismissed it. I was foolish enough to let myself believe that the past mattered.

Micah, I don’t—

I said I’m taking her back, he repeated more forcefully. Suddenly I knew that this was my chance to slap him.

Rogers shook his head and then left the room. The coward.

Come on, Tahlia, let’s go, Micah said and then grabbed my elbow gently, like he was afraid to make a forceful contact, to make me move.

The moment his skin touched mine, the fire blazed over my spine. My knees felt like paper. I wanted to faint, knowing that this man that I hated with every bit of my soul had made love to me countless times. I willingly gave him my heart. This was sick and twisted.

Don’t you dare touch me, you son of a bitch, I hissed through gritted teeth, then pushed him away. Our eyes met for the first time since he came into the room. My emotions started to swell and for a second it was too much, my vision swam and the floor underneath me moved. I took a deep breath, resigned to my fate, as my broken heart melted in my chest.

Just walk then, and I won’t have to touch you again, he said with an odd, sad voice. Regret, resentment and anger, that’s what I kept seeing in his eyes. It didn’t matter. He was sorry, but it was too late.

I forced my feet to keep going, to keep walking. There were people on the corridor staring, other policemen and Lee. The bastard didn’t say a word. It would have been so much better to just end this all, better than living in this body, but I was determined to fight this nightmare through.

We walked through the long, empty corridor and I felt his eyes on me, digging into my skin. I wish that we never met, that we didn’t have any history. This would have been so much easier.

Rudolf is alive. I know that you are innocent. I made a terrible, terrible mistake. Maybe my apology is empty and doesn’t mean anything to you, but I’ll fix this, Tahlia. One way or another, I’ll fix this, he said.

His words rang through me, but I didn’t stop.

I kept walking, ignoring him. He wasn’t using my old name, the name that I loved so much when I was a kid.

I was so fucking blind, so stupid. Rudolf is still after you and he is most probably the one that set you up, that planted the evidence in your room. Micah continued talking to me until we reached my cell.

I didn’t want to turn around and tell him to go fuck himself. I couldn’t speak to him because the pain was unbearable, but I did anyway.

You can’t fix anything. You’re lost to me and nothing you say or do will change that.

Tahlia, my God. Why? Why didn’t you tell me you were the girl that I saved?

I wanted to spit in his face again, tell him to go to hell, that he didn’t deserve any explanation. Questions started mounting in my head.

How did he even know?

How dare he even ask me something like that?

His eyes were filled with pain and for the first time I saw what was really going on inside his mind. He was tormented, wounded and shot by his own ambition. I was going to prison to die, and it was all because of him.

I trusted you and you violated that trust. I never want to see you again. I never want to look at you. Death is better than this, than you. At least when I’m alone I don’t have to feel disgusted anymore that I let you touch me.

Chapter Two

This shit is now real

A storm of anger passes through me when I think about my short conversation with Micah outside my cell. He walked me back to the cage two days ago and I haven’t seen him since. Maybe he gathered that he is dead to me and I never want to lay my eyes on him ever again.

I’m alone, abandoned by the one person I trusted the most. I should be glad that this cell is not dark, like that suffocating hole in the wall where I was kept for months. I thought that horror would never end, that I was going to die in there. Somehow Micah found out that I’m the girl he saved, the girl that believed in his promises. Presumably it was Lee that told him, so now I know why he didn’t ask me any questions during the interrogation, why he didn’t even want to look at me.

I start scratching my arms until my skin is raw, trying to dismiss the familiarity of his touch and the storm of emotions surging through me. Everything about his presence was overwhelming and violent at the same time. First the bastard started sleeping with me just to get information about Suranne’s case, and then he locked me up in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. It may be a nicer prison, but it is still a prison. The similarities of the two men I laid my trust in punch a painfully treasonous hole in my gut. Now after two days he believes that I’m innocent. I can’t get my head around it. Micah won’t be able to fix his mistake. The rat will get to me sooner rather than later and the only option for me is to run.

I lie back down on the bed, wiping away the hot tears that keep rolling down my cheeks. Crying won’t help. I have to pull myself together and fight. I’ll plead not guilty tomorrow and wait to see what happens. The cops won’t send me to real prison, not until the trial is over. Tequila might be the only person that can get me out of here, but I can’t call her. She protects her privacy like a lion and I can’t let anyone know that we’re connected. For some reason the tears just keep streaming down my cheeks. I’m falling apart, going back to that phase straight after Micah rescued me, when I was drowning in black waters, when every day was a struggle. I barely existed then, like I barely exist now. The rat hasn’t laid his hand on me for three years; Micah was the man that I was never afraid of, the one that I allowed into my twisted world.

He thinks that he can fix my ruined life, career and dreams. It’s too little too late. From now on it’s just a ride straight to hell. The man that I love and hate at the same time has no chance of redemption. Tomorrow morning I’ll be in front of a judge; then things will move quickly. Micah is an arrogant, self-absorbed man that will do anything to get what he wants. No one will believe the rat is alive and no one will believe that he is after me. I’m on my own like I’ve been since Micah left me in that hospital room when I realised that he never intended to keep his promise.

***

Rise and shine, Sanderson. I hear the voice of that pig officer that was supposed to keep an eye on me. He bangs on the metal door just to wind me up. Several moments later he opens the door and walks inside my cell, invading my personal space. I bet my eyes are puffy and red. That won’t give me any good points. In about an hour I’ll be in court, telling the world that I’m not guilty.

I’m up, I hiss at the pig when he approaches. I suck in my bottom lip, sadly realising that my piercing is gone. When I arrived at the police station and the booking process started, I had to take all my piercings off. Micah wasn’t even there, but I was waiting around anxiously, knowing that he would show up just to make me uncomfortable. His apology, his regret meant nothing. He couldn’t get me out of prison, out of what was just about to happen. The moment he entered my perfectly balanced world I was screwed.

My guard barks at me to turn around and then puts his handcuffs back around my wrists. After being stuck in the cage for two days, I’m getting out. It doesn’t matter where I’m going or who I’m going to see, I’m glad to see the sunlight again, inhale the fresh air and feel the cold wind brushing over on my skin.

The guard pushes me out of the cell, and we start walking through the long corridors, passing other cages, some filled with people, some empty. I have a feeling that the rat might not try anything until I’m in the real prison, filled with inmates that he can bribe. He can’t afford to be exposed so soon, to draw attention to himself, but when he comes for me I’ll be ready.

A few other officers join us when we are just about to step outside, entering through heavy metal doors. The pig stops and another policeman says something to him. Then we turn and he walks me away heading towards the back door. I’m surprised that they haven’t locked me up in a proper prison after booking. To them I’m just a cold-blooded killer, a woman without a soul.

The sunlight blinds me instantly when we step outside. My anxiety rises. Months and months of therapy helped, but now I’m back to square one, feeling like my chest is cracking wide open. After entering the protection program I was forced to start over, to pull myself together just to live. It didn’t matter that I was safe, ripped away from the rat. I was still petrified of people, men especially.

One of the cops interrupts my grim introspection.

The paps are outside, someone must have talked.

I despise journalists. They have more than likely already lynched me and I know that the rat is getting off on my suffering.

I inhale the fresh winter air and shiver with cold. The pig pushes me towards the van, telling me to hurry up. A moment later I spot Micah standing by the fence watching me from a distance. He is alone, his arms folded over his chest. My heart shudders in my chest, then it bleeds. I want to picture him dead, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, because then the pain might ease a little, it might finally stop ripping me apart. I hate that he is hurting me like this, after what I told him. That man doesn’t give up.

The pig barks at me to move. I want to look away and forget about Micah’s existence, but I can’t. The sudden pull of energies shuts down the stream of hatred, releasing feelings that I buried when Micah betrayed me. Everything starts moving in slow motion and then time seems to stop. We are both staring at each other, and even from a distance I can tell that he is raging inside. Fury overshadows his features as his chest rises sharply. The frustration, regret and anger. He’s pushing himself to stay away, to act like he doesn’t care. I want to laugh in his face and slap him until he can’t lift himself up. The emptiness that fills me is like a virus that keeps spreading, getting into all the nooks and crannies in my body.

Then before I know it, I’m shoved inside the van and Micah is gone. Another officer tells me to take a seat. I swallow my tears, hearing the faint whisper of reason. Maybe he has a plan and maybe I have a chance to fix everything.

You’re going down, missy, the cop that is with me says. I look back at him and wonder how long it will be before I have a breakdown, like I had with Tequila. My thoughts are racing, and I sense an oncoming anxiety attack. I can feel it in my bones, pushing its way up to the surface. I’m trying to skim, to rise above the surface, but I can’t.

The drive to the court is short, and by the time I’m dragged out of the van, the paps are already surrounding the entrance. The word must have gone out that my hearing was set for today. There is only one court in Braxton, so there is no