RUN AWAY WITH ME
DANIEL HURST
www.danielhurstbooks.com
Copyright © 2021 by Daniel Hurst
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Run Away With Me
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
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EPILOGUE
A Letter from the Author
Also By Daniel Hurst
About The Author
“A criminal will always return to the scene of the crime.”
Proverb
PROLOGUE
‘It amazes me what people think they can get away with these days.’
It was a simple statement from one police officer to another as they remained crouched down amongst the trees, out of view from the property before them.
Everything seemed to be going to plan inside the small cottage right now, but they knew the suspect was in there and things could go wrong at any second. This was a dangerous criminal they were dealing with, and while they hoped to take them alive, they knew there might be a more gruesome ending to this investigation.
It had taken the police a while to find this hideaway in the Cumbrian countryside, but now that they had, they weren’t going to take their eyes off the property until they had the suspect in handcuffs.
The police officers remained in position as they waited for the suspect to emerge, despite the darkening clouds overhead that threatened to dump rain onto this exposed hillside. But it would take a lot more than bad weather to make them give up. After all, they had an adage to prove correct.
It was an adage that was as old as time.
You can run, but you can’t hide.
1
LAURA
I feel the kicking in my stomach and place my left hand on my swollen skin again. It’s not painful, but it’s not comfortable either. I love the feeling of life growing inside me, and know I should cherish moments like this because they will be over soon, but still, nobody likes being kicked if they can help it.
But it’s not for long. My baby is due any day now, and I can’t wait to meet my little boy. However, I’m also aware that kicking will be the least of my problems when he does finally enter this world. Then I’ll have to deal with dirty nappies, breastfeeding and even less sleep than I’m getting right now.
The joys of motherhood.
Those who have already gone through the experience tell me that it is worth it in the end and I believe them. I can’t wait to be a mum and hold Samuel in my arms. That’s going to be his name.
Samuel Peter Stevenson.
Samuel because both me and my husband, Adam, miraculously agreed on a name in the end, and Peter because that was my late father’s name and I want to honour him somehow even though he won’t be here to meet his grandson when the big day eventually comes.
I wish my dad was still here to experience this exciting time with me, but he was taken by cancer at sixty-seven. Mum passed away a couple of years before that, but I hadn’t seen too much of her in her last few years ever since she walked out on Dad for another man. But I’m still lucky enough to have a great extended family, and I have been leaning on Adam’s sister, Kat, for support during my pregnancy. She has been amazing throughout these last nine months as I’ve swelled up and become irritable, offering me advice as a mother to two of her own, and I know she is going to be just as helpful when Samuel is born, not least of which when it comes to babysitting him so Adam and I can have the occasional date.
But right now, the prospect of a date with my husband seems a long way away.
I use the remote control to check the time on the television and see that it has ticked past nine in the evening. Adam assured me he would be back by now, but I’m still waiting for him, not that I’m mad. He is at a leaving party for one of the guys in his office, so I don’t mind that he has been out having fun tonight while I’ve been stuck on the sofa with my massive bump and old episodes of Friends. Besides, he should enjoy himself while he can.
There won’t be much time for partying when Samuel is born, that’s for sure.
I place the remote control back down on the sofa beside me and let out a deep sigh as my unborn child continues to pummel me from within. The concept of partying seems a lifetime ago now as I lie here and count down the days until I become a mother for the first time, but I can’t complain. I had a good run. More than a good run, in fact.
I didn’t settle down and get married until I was thirty-five, and Samuel will be coming along just one month after my thirty-eighth birthday. I’m not exactly a spring chicken when it comes to parenthood, but this is exactly how I planned it. I always wanted to be an older mum. I knew that having a baby would be a wonderful thing but that it would change my life forever, so I ensured that I did all the things that I wanted to do before I even thought about trying to conceive. I went to university. I travelled the world. I spent my weekends in various nightclubs and bars singing loudly to cheesy music. I had several boyfriends and got all the good, bad, strange and downright dirty sex out of my system. And I even found the time to climb the career ladder at work,
