Hot Revenge Box Set 2

This Book Is Dedicated To ‘Him’

“James’ Poem” Was, In Real Life, Written By ‘Him’

For His Own Grandson

Hostage

Richard

I watch them drive away, taillights receding into the dark.

Depressed beyond measure, I let the curtains fall back, turning to deal with the two women now in my care.

Mitch, calmer than I've seen her for days, returns from the kitchen, tray in hand. She pours peppermint tea for herself, then two more cups. She slides one across the table to Elizabeth, then brings one to me.

“Thank you, Mitch, but I don't really care for it.”

She holds still, hand and cup outstretched. “It will calm you down.”

“I'm perfectly calm, thank you.”

“Is that why you're wearing a hole in the carpet?”

Elizabeth turns her face away, but not before I see the smile she's hiding behind her own cup. Then her smile fades.

“My apologies, Mitch. This goes against the grain for me. It really, really goes against the grain. Charlotte in trouble. James and Michael… Even Lawrence Klempner… of all people… riding to the rescue, while I...” I hold up palms, sick with helplessness and self-disgust.

Mitch’s voice is calm. “James and Michael are both husbands to Charlotte. Larry is her father. Your first responsibility is to Beth. Your pregnant wife.”

“Believe me, Mitch, I know it. Nothing else would have kept me here at a time like this.”

Elizabeth sips at the tea. She's pale. Too pale. I take her by the shoulders, kiss her hair. “My Love, you're tired. Why don't you go to bed for a while? Get some sleep.”

She swallows, blinking hard. “I wouldn't feel right.”

Mitch sits on the chair arm by her. “Nothing's going to happen for the next hour at least. Go upstairs. Snatch a catnap at least. When anything starts to happen, I'll come wake you.”

Elizabeth shakes her head, then stifles a yawn behind her hand.

And I’ve had enough.

You’ll make yourself ill…

Let me help you up to bed. We’ll not let you sleep through. But you do need to rest. Your first responsibility is here.” I pat her stomach. Under my palm, something

outvoted. Even

offer my

She leans heavily on me, rubbing

are you

fine. I'm just

“And upset.”

like that…”

her back, can

“No, Master.”

undress and put her to bed. Sitting by

*****

James

steering around iced puddles and the switchback corners of the road

loaded their gear, a lot of it, into the trunk, but I have very little

from my seat in the front, jerking my chin at Michael’s bulging rucksack. Despite being packed tight, when he hefted it,

“Anything I could think of that Charlotte might need. Warm blankets, towels and a wrap. A ground roll. A flask of soup. Chain cutters. Baby wipes.

“Scissors?”

cut the cord

watching Michael in the rear-view, tightens his grip on the

uncomfortable with hospitals and doctors. I’ve thought for months we might have a home delivery. I

*****

the car

down his window. “You

the rear seat. “It’s

notes, otherwise you’d never be able to carry it.” He hefts

your way here. I have a couple of other things for you.” He offers

“A phone?”

phone. I’ve set up the tracker app and I’ll be watching you on a live feed from the car.” He

take it off me

nods, looking unhappy. “Yes, but in that case, we’ll at least know where you were last seen. I’ll be relaying it back of course, to Mr Haswell...” His eyes rise to

too. It’s the smallest, most discreet one I could find in the time. Keep talking as you’re moving. Keep us up to date with where you’re headed.

I fiddle with the earpiece, fitting it into place, Michael claps me on the shoulder.

too. But get

“We will.”