Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
Harry
Poppy paces the room nervously. She’s muttering under her breath, kicking at a loose floorboard that hides a stash of cash and ammo. If we had to have this meeting, it was going to be by my rules. I just needed a couple days and a few added measures in place first.
I sit at the edge of the sofa, spine rigid, hands clasped tight, eyes on the front door.
“What if they don’t show?” she asks.
“Mia said they’ll be here.” I clear my throat. “They’ll come.”
Poppy doesn’t respond, the realisation settling in that we’re relying on this anonymous source far more than words can admit.
Then there’s a knock against the front door.
Poppy stops her pacing. I take the gun between my hands, drawing it in front of me as I approach the door. I turn to her – a last-ditch attempt to back out – but she nods, encouraging me forwards.
“Harold?” Mia’s voice comes through the door. “I know you’re in there.”
I groan, wrenching it open. She leans casually against the doorframe, grinning widely. Her head drops to the gun in my hand, and she pats my shoulder mockingly.
“Always one to bring the drama, girly pop.”
I’m already regretting this.
I lift my hand to fist my temple, but I stop mid-air as Andy appears from behind her, head down, clearly dragged here against his will. His face is a mess, bruises blooming purple and yellow, one eye half-swollen shut. My stomach drops, my silence forcing him to lift his chin.
He shakes his head no, backtracking a few steps.
“You’re not leaving.” Mia reaches out, gripping his shirt. “Not on my watch.”
She pulls him inside, guiding him towards the sofa, and sets him down cautiously, as if he’s an injured animal.
What the fuck?
Mia shrugs like she doesn’t know what’s up with him. “He doesn’t like this Richard guy either.”
Andy actually flinches at the name, fisting the end of the sofa so tightly his knuckles turn white.
The sight of him is so terrifying I can’t help but stare. He ducks his head, cowering into himself as if it hurts to be in my vicinity.
I barely notice the person approaching the door, walking straight past me.
I whirl round, watching as Whizz Tech Dan steps in as if I’m nothing but a stranger to him.
He sits down without a word, setting his laptop up on the kitchen counter, pulling out drives, cords, and black-market devices as though he’s just walked back into an old routine.
I’m brought to silence, trying to wrap my head round what’s happening. Dan peers over the glasses perched on his nose.
“She offered me money,” he says. “I like money.”
I don’t move. “You’re the contact.”
Mia’s head turns between us. “You guys know each other?”
Dan’s eyes drop to his laptop. “We used to work together.”
“You and I still work together! I can’t believe this,” Poppy says, the last part muttered under her breath. “You never mentioned anything.”
“I work with a lot of people.”
I feel my jaw clench. “You could’ve said something.”
He shrugs.
I growl, “If I knew money would’ve given me the upper hand against Richard, this could have ended a long time ago.”
A fucking bribe – that’s all it took it for Dan to find me and rat me out. Yet somehow Richard has heaps of cash, and I’m still breathing.
He says nothing, the apartment filling with the sound of his computer groaning and the clack of his keyboard as he enters his password.
“That’s everyone, right?” Poppy’s voice cuts through the tension. “Then let’s get to work.”
I shake my head out of the angry daze. Fuck it. Let’s get on with this then.
Dan plugs a hard drive into his laptop. “This might take a while.”
I lean against the chipped counter, arms crossed, trying not to look at the clock.
The gun sits tucked in the back of my waistband.
Dan is hunched over the coffee table, sweat beading on his forehead as lines of code scroll up the screen.
The letters and symbols keep coming, an endless stream that seems to regenerate itself.
We’ve been going at this for at least two hours now.
Poppy cracked open a window not long ago, but all that’s allowed in is the sound of traffic.
Mia sighs tiredly. “Is there not just an undo button you can press?”
He snorts, “Why didn’t I think about that?”
“How much longer?” Poppy asks.
“Maybe an hour.”
Another hour?
I thought I’d be least pleased about this, but Andy looks like a ghost who’s barely holding it together.
I knew something was off about him, but it isn’t until now, with him only a metre in front of me, that I see his every movement.
The way he jumps at every little sound, his eyes darting round the room as if he’s expecting someone to kick down the door at any second.
He’s clutching a half-empty beer like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Every time someone moves, he flinches, his hands shaking so bad I see it from across the room.
He shakily places his beer aside, rising to his feet, voice barely audible. “Bathroom?”
I gesture to the end of the hallway, and he traipses down the hall.
Poppy hisses, “What’s up with him?”
“I thought you’d know.” Mia turns to me. “I tricked him into coming here. I couldn’t even mention your name. I thought you were hurting him.”
“You thought I was the one hurting him?” My eyes widen. “Why’d you say that?”
She shifts uncomfortably. “There are certain things he refuses to talk about, and you’re one of them …”
I’m one of them? I feel sick.
I’ve been rotting here for months, while he’s been suffering and Mia’s been attempting to pick up the pieces. I could’ve supported him if I’d known. Made it my sole purpose to find out what’s bothering him so badly.
Mia’s voice drifts off. She shakes her head.
I watch her carefully, the way she stares down the hall waiting for Andy to appear. A thought comes to fruition, and I ask, “Mia, where did Dan get this information on Richard?”
She hesitates, but she doesn’t falter. “They’ll be here soon.”
“They? Are we expecting someone else?”
A knock echoes on the door.
Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Poppy gets to her feet, checking through the peephole. My hand twitches on the gun instinctively. She glances towards me briefly before opening the door.
“Sorry,” a voice says from the doorway. “It took a while to get away.”
Gigi steps into the room, and I freeze. Her rain-sodden hair frames her face as she hesitates near the entryway.
We stare at each other.
I want to hate her for everything she’s done. Christ, I want to. But here she is. And I’m struggling to breathe.
She doesn’t say a word, just stands there breathing hard. Words pile up in my throat, but nothing comes out. No breath, no thought, not even anger.
Then I laugh bitterly. “Get out,” I say.
Poppy steps between us. “Wait – she’s soaked. Let her in.”
“I don’t care if she’s on fire,” I say. “She’s not coming in.”
Gigi looks like she wants to say something back. Something ugly, maybe honest, but she bites it down. She steps closer, ignoring the others.
“I’m not here to rat you out.”
“Right,” I scoff. “You just happen to pop by when we’re building a case against your father—”
“Sorry, sorry.” Mia’s voice cuts through. “Your WHAT?”
“You expect me to believe he and your fiancé just gave you the night off?” I snap.
Tense silence swallows the room.
Mia shuffles to stand in my peripheral, composing herself. “I invited her.”
This night can’t get any worse.
“We need her, Harry.”
I lift my head. I can’t look anywhere else – not when Gigi is standing only a few feet away and I don’t know whether I want to scream or just fucking hold her. I can’t have her around. Not when we’re this close.
Andy walks out the bathroom, his chin lowered. He sits on the edge of the sofa, tiredly swiping his hand down his face.
Mia presses on. “Gigi’s the one who—”
Andy draws his head back then, something suddenly snapping in him.
It’s like a switch flips. His entire body jolts, eyes bulging as wide as saucers.
He scrambles back against the cushions, knocking over the beer on the side table.
He’s breathing fast, shallow gasps, sounding like he’s about to hyperventilate.
“Get away!” His voice cracks, high-pitched and desperate. “Get the fuck away from me!”
My head whips towards him and back again, noticing the way his eyes drill into Gigi. They’re wild and bloodshot as if he’s trapped in a nightmare. His breath comes in sharp gasps like he’s one step from passing out.
Perched on the arm of the chair, Poppy’s hand flies to her mouth as she whispers, “Oh my God.” Even Dan looks up from his laptop, his fingers freezing mid-type.
“See?” Mia leaps to her feet. “I told you he’s been acting strange. I’ve been trying to help him—”
“Not her!” Andy shakes his head violently. “He’s gonna know! He’s gonna fucking know!”
Sweat beads on his forehead, mixing with the dried blood from a cut above his eyebrow. For a second, I think he’s going to bolt for the door.
“Andy …” Poppy edges closer, her face pale. “What’s going on?”
I set the gun down and move forwards, kneeling beside him, my hand on his shoulder. “Whatever’s got you like this, it’s not getting in here. Breathe.”
Muttering incoherently under his breath, his fingers claw the sofa cushions. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?” I press.
“Richard … and— And— Oh fuck. He’ll find out …”
Gigi stands there, frozen for a beat, her expression shifting from surprise to concern. She moves forwards slowly, crouching down on Andy’s other side, leaving just enough distance in case he swings at her.
“What did they do to you?” she asks, an undercurrent of worry in her voice. “You can talk to me.”
He raises his head. His good eye fixes on Gigi, tears welling up and spilling over.
She nods encouragingly.
Andy clears his throat. His voice sounds like it’s been dragged over gravel. “He’s after you and Harry.”
The room goes dead silent as if all the air’s been sucked out. Gigi and I exchange a silent look.