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.

against the table, arms folded. “So, Hickman,

his head. “No. I’m here to say that there’s no news at all. You’ve not

It’s what, three weeks

“That’s right.”

three weeks?” It’s Charlotte, framed by the doorway, her tone

to you, Charlotte, that if we gather in a different room, then perhaps we would like a

to me that there’s something you’re trying to hide, and right now, I can only think of one thing

behind, Charlotte stepping aside to let her through. “What

on?” Elizabeth appears, Adam wrapped in her arms. “Hickman? Have you learned

riding boots. “Ready, Dad?” Her head swings around the room and her smile

much for

“Dad?”

just wanted a word.

Nothing of him. Nothing from him. If he were free to do so, he would have found a way to contact me by now. I’m sure of it. I think we have a problem. Or at least…” He

very pale. “You think that woman who kidnapped me,

Fuck…

her gaze, eye-pointing Mitch, but she doesn’t

no more tact than her

eyes roll, but it’s

A sob…

Mitch…

glossing, her throat rippling, “You’ve heard

sorry, Miss Kimberley.

I’m sorry. Georgie’s right. Something’s

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

survivor. But… He’d have gotten word to us…” She looks from one face 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

pipes up. “Maybe he’s

“I thought of that, Mrs Summerford. I’ve checked emails, phone apps, messaging systems… Anything I could think of where he might try to get in touch, but there

Georgie’s head swings between the two women, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry,

Oh, Crap…

fucking

roll up as he realises his