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…

responsibility is here.” I pat her stomach. Under

like I’m outvoted. Even Adam

offer my hand,

slowly. She leans heavily on me, rubbing at the base of her

are you

fine. I'm just tired,

“And upset.”

I’m upset. Seeing Charlotte like that…”

get her back, can you

“No, Master.”

bed. Sitting by her, I lean in, kiss

*****

James

so carefully, steering around iced puddles and the switchback

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

in the front, jerking my chin at Michael’s bulging rucksack. Despite being packed tight, when he hefted it, it seemed oddly light. “What’s

a wrap. A ground roll. A flask of soup. Chain cutters. Baby wipes. Antiseptic. Surgical gloves, clamps and

“Scissors?”

cut the cord if I need

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

thought for months we might have a home

*****

car he chauffeurs for Richard, arms folded, staring at the ground.

winds down his

head to the rear seat. “It’s in the

had the cash drawn in large denomination notes, otherwise you’d never be able to carry it.” He hefts

on your way here.

“A phone?”

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

take it off me as soon

least know where you were last seen. I’ll be relaying it back of

rummages again then passes me something else. “There’s this 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. And anything that

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

But get her

“We will.”