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.

the exit.

screams down the aisle, up the ramp, adding to the black-burned stripes on the pitted concrete. Slamming his fist onto the horn, it shrieks defiance

off the tarmac, cursing, he runs after them, squinting into the sunshine but already the

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

man drops, grunting and clutching his gut. Klempner lashes out with a foot, planting his boot in Bech’s ribs. “Use a gun near her again and it will be the last thing you do. Understand me? Hurt her and

through his teeth, winded; no words,

Next time it’ll be more than my boot in your guts. Now get up and

*****

Charlotte

trying

to reply, but I interrupt her.

Mr Maurio Vincenzo. He says he’s from Vincenzo

cocks a

lawyers who handled

on earth could they

what it’s

needs to speak with you. Should I

“Yes, of course.”

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

I could. And if there was anything, I’m sure

cheeks. “Would you like me to

want to sit in with

would like to, yes,

and a professional manner steps out. He

“That’s right.”

steps forward, hand outstretched. “Maurio Vincenzo. You dealt with my father

a bit baffled though. Surely everything to do with my

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

“Richard has no appointments just now, Charlotte. The conference room is free

follows us in, to the sidelong glance of the

“It’s fine,” I say.

not met before and I must establish your identity. I understand you are currently known as ‘Charlotte Summerford’, but my father dealt with one ‘Jennifer Conners’. I have only

“That’s right.”

can prove

I need to. But why should I

give me your signature as Jennifer

the paper. “Your original petition for divorce,” he comments. “And that’s fine, Mrs Summerford. Now…” He takes out another document. “As to why I am here. As I mentioned, my firm was contacted recently by your ex-husband, Charles Bennett, to inform us that he had relocated you after he, and we, lost track

“Right… So?”

I hold here

and my Master stirs in his

Kalkowski…” Vincenzo looks over the rim of his spectacles at me…” Your old school-teacher I understand…” He

“Yes, I