Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Richard

Mitch descends the stairs carefully, gripping the rail with one hand, a great wad of glossy something-or-others tucked under the other arm.

“Here, Mitch. Let me help you with those.” Although the swell on her stomach is only just visible, and Mitch is by no means ungainly, I think we’re all conscious of her age and the need to pay her extra attention…

A pregnancy she didn’t expect.

The father’s reaction uncertain…

Even if we knew where to find him….

“Thank you, Richard.” She passes me what turns out to be a stack of knitting patterns. Tucking them under my arm, I accompany her down. As we reach the last step, the doorbell rings.

“You get it, Richard. I can manage now.” Mitch takes the patterns, heading toward the kitchen where, from beyond the door, James’, Michael’s and Charlotte’s voices carry. Then Elizabeth’s too.

It’s a bright day, the sunshine warm, and the door standing open. Hickman’s on the step.

“You could have just knocked and walked in you know.”

“The door may have been open, Mr Haswell, but a home is still private space.” His expression tightens. He peers beyond me, over my shoulder and into the hall. Keeping his voice low. “Do you have a minute? Mr Alexanders and Mr Summerford too.”

“Of course, come in.” A glance over my shoulder, back to where Mitch is vanishing into the kitchen. Keeping my voice low. “Klempner?”

“Yes.” He looks over my shoulder again. “You might want to be private from the women.”

For a man who, on the face of it, is no more than paid muscle, Hickman surprises me with his sensitivity.

“I’ll see if I can get Mitch and Charlotte out of the way before you say anything. You go through to the dining room.”

“Hmmm, yes.” He nods; a short, terse gesture.

In the kitchen, Mitch, Charlotte and Elizabeth are sitting together at the table. Mitch has a stack of knitting patterns, all featuring some woolly item in pink or blue. Elizabeth holds up three or four, comparing designs. Charlotte’s eyes are glazing. Beyond the women, James, in jeans and riding boots, stands side-by-side with Michael, leaning back against the counter. The pair, coffee mugs in hand, are chatting, laughing over some joke.

Hovering in the doorway, I catch Michael’s eye and jerk my head back to the dining room. His smile fades and he nudges James. Both men, apparently casually, stroll towards me, following me back to where Hickman is waiting.

back against the table, arms folded. “So, Hickman, any news. Anything from Klempner? Anything

his head. “No. I’m here to say that there’s no news at all.

It’s what,

“That’s right.”

framed by

cheeks. “Does it occur to you, Charlotte, that if we gather in a

to hide, and right now, I can only think of one thing that might

about Larry?” Mitch appears from behind, Charlotte stepping aside to let her through. “What

Elizabeth appears, Adam wrapped in her

speak, but Georgie strolls in, wearing a rough jacket and riding boots. “Ready, Dad?” Her head swings around the room and her smile fades. “Is

palms. “So much for privacy.” Michael sucks in a

“Dad?”

here just wanted a word. But…

contact me by now. I’m sure of it. I think we have a problem. Or at least…” He pulls a

that woman who kidnapped me, might

Fuck…

to catch her gaze, eye-pointing

tact than

roll, but

A sob…

Mitch…

her throat rippling, “You’ve heard nothing at

“I’m sorry, Miss Kimberley. But

over her mouth, shuddering. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Georgie’s right. Something’s happened to him. I know it has. He went

lays a hand on her shoulder. “Mitch, don’t assume

to another, her eyes wide with distress… “Even if it wasn’t much. I know he’s not a talker, not demonstrative. It’s not his way.” She huffs a humourless laugh. “I’m not sure he knows how. But he’d have made sure we knew he was alright.” She holds one hand with

pipes up. “Maybe he’s emailed you

of that, Mrs Summerford. I’ve checked emails, phone apps, messaging systems… Anything

the two women, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry,

Oh, Crap…

fucking time to

as he realises