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 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

outvoted.

I offer my hand,

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

are you feeling

fine. I'm just

“And upset.”

I’m upset. Seeing Charlotte like that…” Her face drops, eyes

can get her back, can you think of

“No, Master.”

by her,

*****

James

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

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

Michael’s bulging rucksack. Despite being packed tight, when he hefted

that Charlotte might need. Warm blankets, towels and a wrap. A ground roll. A flask of soup. Chain cutters. Baby wipes. Antiseptic. Surgical gloves,

“Scissors?”

cord if

in the rear-view, tightens his

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

*****

of the City, he’s there, waiting as promised: Ross leans back against the car he chauffeurs for Richard, arms

his window. “You

jerks his head to the rear seat. “It’s in

notes, otherwise you’d never be able to carry it.” He hefts a very ordinary-looking sports-bag

were on your way here. I have a

“A phone?”

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

me as

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

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

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

But get

“We will.”