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…

you sleep through. But you do need to rest. Your 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

dimples. “Looks like I’m outvoted. Even Adam agrees

he does.” I offer my hand, helping

on me, rubbing at the base of

are you feeling

fine. I'm just tired,

“And upset.”

I’m upset. Seeing Charlotte like

back, can

“No, Master.”

help her undress and put her to bed. Sitting by

*****

James

of our journey, does so carefully, steering around iced puddles

into the trunk, but I have very little

my chin at Michael’s bulging rucksack. Despite being packed tight, when

think of that Charlotte might need. Warm blankets, towels and a wrap. A ground roll. A flask of soup. Chain cutters.

“Scissors?”

cut the cord if

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

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

*****

the City, he’s there, waiting as promised: Ross leans back against the car

winds down his window.

the rear seat. “It’s in

exit 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

were on your way here. I have a couple of other things

“A phone?”

live feed from the car.” He nods back to where, I now see, is

it off me as soon as

seen. I’ll be relaying it back of course, to Mr Haswell...” His eyes rise to mine. “He’s not

smallest, most discreet one I could find in the time. Keep

it into place, Michael claps

too. But get her

“We will.”