Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Mitch

She descends the stairs as if the devil is behind her…

He is…

She risks a look up; the briefest of glances. She can’t see him, but the clang of pursuit echoes above her.

And she runs…

Down two stories, three. Almost to ground level… and there… As she hits tarmac… a door close by… An emergency exit swings open, a body erupting out of it…

Frank.

He canons into her, grabbing her by the waist, swinging her around.

“Mitch…”

“Don’t stop.” She jerks a head up to where Klempner rattles down the steps after her. “Where’s your car?”

“Basement, but the keys…”

“Got them. Move.”

The pair swerve, u-turning back into the stairwell, barrelling downwards. From above, the sound of a slamming door; echoing boots on concrete

They burst into the parking lot.

“Where?” She peers into the low dark space.

“There.” He points, still running, snatching at her wrist, towing her along. From behind another crash from a swinging door. From off-side, Bech appears with Malory, both with guns in their hands.

The pair dash from one grey concrete pillar to another; stooping, running at a crouch, dodging between corridors of vehicles; vans, station wagons, saloons… Then, a sports car; shiny, bright red and low…

A crack behind her. A whistle…

Mitch shrieks and drops as the bullet skids over the door of the two-seater, taking paintwork with it…

Klempner’s voice, reverberating through the low space. “Put the fucking gun down. Hurt her and I’ll gut you.”

… but she keeps moving…

Frank is ahead of her. For a moment he skids, foot sliding over a patch of oil. Slipping, he falls but catches himself on the handle of the nearest door, then, “There… Keys!”

She tosses them across and twisting, he catches them one-handedly, pointing ahead to his own 4x4. Lights flash orange, beeping and the crunch of disengaging locks resound through the low-ceilinged space.

She tumbles into the passenger seat.

“Stay down.” Frank engages and with the screech of tortured rubber, the car careens down the ranks of vehicles.

across, sprinting for the exit. Silhouetted against the daylight

the horn, it shrieks defiance as the

up off the tarmac, cursing, he runs after them, squinting into the

catches up with him, Malory wheezing behind. “We can’t let

planting his boot in Bech’s ribs. “Use a gun near her

himself, Bech hisses through his teeth, winded; no words, but he

Next time it’ll be more than my boot in your

*****

Charlotte

Kirstie. I’m trying to

to reply, but I interrupt her. “Yes, I’m here,

down here for you. A Mr Maurio Vincenzo. He says he’s from

cocks a

lawyers who

earth could

he say what it’s about,

that he needs to speak with

“Yes, of course.”

Master, frowning, “You don’t have anything outstanding from your

if there was anything, I’m sure Chad

sucks in his cheeks. “Would you like me

want to sit in with

like to,

a dark grey suit and

“That’s right.”

Vincenzo. You dealt with

hand, shake it. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a

a hand. “This isn’t to do with your divorce, but another matter entirely. Although it was your estranged husband who informed us

room is

follows us in, to

“It’s fine,” I say.

your identity. I understand you are currently known as ‘Charlotte Summerford’, but my father dealt with one ‘Jennifer Conners’.

“That’s right.”

can prove

to. But why

give me your signature

my old and long-abandoned name. The lawyer compares it with some paper from his case, then looks up again, smiling, holding up the paper. “Your original petition for divorce,” he comments. “And that’s fine, Mrs Summerford.

“Right… So?”

document, punctuating his words with it. “So, I hold here the will deposited with my firm

my Master stirs in his

me…” Your old school-teacher I understand…” He hesitates. “As you probably know, he died some years

tightens. “Yes,