Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 12

Richard handles the veg knife like a kid with his first wax crayon, not so much peeling the potatoes as hacking chunks from the outside.

Trying not to be obvious about it, I watch the performance for a few seconds…

He’s going to slice his thumb if he keeps that up…

…. then taking a peeler from the cutlery drawer, I pluck the knife from his hand and replace it with the peeler. “Try that instead.”

He fumbles at the potato, drawing off a sliver of peel. “Ah, yes. That’s much easier.”

Still, I keep half an eye on what he’s doing. “Not that one,” I say, pointing to the potato in his hand. “It’s green.”

“Oh…” Richard stares at the tuber. “There were a few green ones at the top of the sack. Is something wrong with them?”

“You can poison yourself with green potatoes. That’s why you store them in the dark. So they don’t go green.”

“Seriously?” Richard stares at the spud in his hand as though he’s never seen one before. “Poisonous? Potatoes? But I eat them every day.”

“Yes, seriously. They’re from the same family of plants as Belladonna, the Solanaceae. The green parts contain a toxin called solanine.”

Richard regards the tuber in his hand with a sceptical eye.

“Belladonna? Pretty lady?”

“Medieval women used it cosmetically to enlarge their pupils. The alkaloids that achieve the effect are some of the more effective toxins out there.”

Still, he looks dubious.

a look at a potato plant when it’s in flower,” I say. “You’ll see the resemblance then. In any case, don’t add green

“How dangerous are they?”

me, not very. You’d have to eat a lot of green potatoes to do yourself any real damage. But…” I raise

the kitchen, he toes

*****

 

Michael

Bear sit in one corner,

at the bottom, large bubbles glopping and redissolving into the surface. Chunks of

wine? Set it to warm… I’ll serve the meal in the dining room, but we can sit in here while the food’s cooking.”

a celebration

is. Back in a mo.” And

fixedly at me, then transfers his gaze to the hob. Bear isn’t so subtle. He simply stares at the pan,

out of the door and then with the thirty seconds I reckon I have before James’ return, I fork a sausage, bright orange, scented of chilli, out of

each of the dogs. The

Why just them?

fish out another sausage. Just as I’m blowing on it, the door swings, James strolls

Fuck!

air over my

cutlery onto a tray, “Perhaps when you’ve finished donating our dinner to Scruffy and Dogzilla there,

a corkscrew from the drawer, I wrestle the cork out of the Rioja bottle... “Nice

would appreciate a Spanish

But what I meant was, your email

a bit of kitchen roll. “What email? Damn!” and he makes a dash for the oven where smoke

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