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…

first responsibility is here.” I pat her stomach. Under my palm, something pats back and, startled, I snatch my hand away before, laughing, I rest my hand back on

like I’m outvoted.

offer my

stairs slowly. She leans heavily on me, rubbing at

are you feeling

I'm just

“And upset.”

like that…” Her face drops, eyes squeezing

can you think of three

“No, Master.”

to bed. Sitting by her,

*****

James

despite the urgency of our journey, does so carefully, steering around iced puddles and

into the trunk, but I have very little beyond what I’m wearing. My baggage is waiting for

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

and a wrap. A ground roll. A flask of soup.

“Scissors?”

cord if I need

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

and doctors. I’ve thought for months we might have a home delivery. I made sure I was

*****

edge of the City, he’s there, waiting as promised: Ross leans back against the car he chauffeurs for Richard, arms folded, staring at the ground. He straightens up as he sees

winds down his window. “You have

the rear seat. “It’s

our own vehicle, Ross opens up his. “Mr Haswell had the cash drawn in 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

in his pockets. “James, I’ve been speaking with Mr Haswell while you were on your way here. I have a couple of other things for you.” He offers something in

“A phone?”

a live feed from the car.” He

it off me as soon as I meet

you were last seen. I’ll be relaying it back of course, to Mr Haswell...” His eyes rise

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

the earpiece, fitting it into place, Michael claps me

too. But get her

“We will.”