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…

here.” I pat her stomach. Under my palm, something pats back and, startled, I

I’m outvoted. Even Adam agrees

offer my hand, helping her to

climb the stairs slowly. She leans heavily on me, rubbing at the base

you

fine. I'm just

“And upset.”

like that…”

get her back, can

“No, Master.”

and put her to bed. Sitting by her, I

*****

James

carefully, steering around

lot of it, into the trunk, but I have very little beyond what I’m wearing. My baggage is

chin at Michael’s bulging rucksack. Despite being packed tight, when he hefted it, it seemed oddly light.

need. Warm blankets, towels and a wrap. A ground roll. A flask of soup. Chain cutters. Baby

“Scissors?”

cord if I

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

*****

as promised: Ross leans back against the car he chauffeurs for Richard, arms folded, staring at the ground. He

down his window. “You have

his head to the rear seat. “It’s

large denomination notes, otherwise you’d never be able to carry it.” He hefts a very ordinary-looking sports-bag across to me. “Even so, it’s no lightweight. It’s got to

fishes in his pockets. “James, I’ve been speaking with Mr Haswell while you were on your way here. I

“A phone?”

app and I’ll be watching you on a live feed from the car.” He

likely take it off me as soon as I meet

know where you were last seen. I’ll be relaying

me something else. “There’s this too. It’s the smallest, most discreet one I could find in the time. Keep talking

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

But get

“We will.”