Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
Harry
I hover to a slight crouch, crooking my finger at Gigi. “Let’s get on with this then.”
She sulks, pressing her cotton-wrapped hands to her hips. “Can’t I just train with Poppy?”
“You lost your right to negotiations after disappearing for five weeks.”
The furniture has been pushed into the corners of the room in the apartment, barely making space for our makeshift training area. I’ve been circling her for twenty minutes now, ready to pry the truth out of her.
She fights it, eyes occasionally drifting to my torso and snapping back to my face a second later. I smirk, letting her bask with no subtlety for a while longer.
“Now,” – I curl my finger again – “I asked you to come here.”
She begrudgingly moves towards me.
I sweep my leg out. She dodges, but not quickly enough. Her foot slips, and I catch her before she hits the ground. My arm wraps round her waist, and I feel a tiny tremble in her chest.
Her face is close, tilted up towards mine.
“You good?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice is shaky. “Let go.”
I do slowly, positioning her back on her feet. She steps back quickly. Tight workout gear clings to her curves as if it’s begging for my hands. I’m sweltering in this apartment, even the gym shorts too much, yet Gigi’s wearing long sleeves.
Would it be pushing it too far to ask her to take a layer off? Probably.
“You should’ve told me no if you weren’t ready for this.”
“I am ready,” she snaps.
“You’re shaking.”
She exhales, frustrated. “Maybe it’s adrenaline.”
“Maybe it’s me.”
Her eyes betray her again, tracing the lines of my tattoos, dark ink swirling over my shoulders and my chest, and dropping lower with intensity, as if the V disappearing into my shorts is an invitation. It can be, if she wants.
“Show me again.” Her voice comes out breathier than intended.
I put my hand up. “Let’s just start from the beginning.”
We start slow, demonstrating a simple block and counter. She mimics me, our bodies moving in sync, but every time she swings, I dodge with ease.
“What happened to the feisty little thing who used to pin me with knives?”
She growls.
I grab her arm, pulling her into me for a takedown demonstration. “You’ve got three seconds to break this hold,” I say against her ear. “Ticktock.”
She counters, spinning round, her fist cutting through the air towards my jaw. I trap her arm, gentle but with purpose, and twist her round, her back moulding against my chest.
“Too slow,” I whisper.
Gigi shivers, but she doesn’t move. I don’t release her either. I press my palm flat on her stomach, splaying my fingers over her abdomen, pulling her in that last inch.
“Now.” My voice drops low. “You going to tell me where you’ve been hiding?”
She spins out of my hold, eyes flashing with determination.
“Honeymoon?” I ask. “Jamie whisk you off to the Bahamas?”
“Not his kind of thing.”
“Is it yours?”
“Why?” she counters. “You taking notes?”
“Maybe.”
We trade blows – her jabs light and precise, mine firm but controlled. She’s quick, but I’m quicker. I block a kick and pull her close again, our faces inches apart. Her cheeks are flushed, sweat glistening on her forehead.
“Where does your husband think you are right now?” My hand lingers on her waist, my thumb tracing a slow circle on her hip.
Her breath catches. “Why’d you ask that?”
“Because if you were mine, I’d know where you were. Every minute of every day. Who you were with. What you were doing.”
She twists in my hold, trying to break free, but I hold her firm.
“Is your possessiveness meant to turn me on?”
I smirk. “Is it working?”
I feel the tremor in her legs as I press closer, backing her against the wall. I cage her in, bracing my weight on the hand beside her head. Our noses brush as a smile creases my mouth.
In the treacherous weeks of her disappearance, Gigi was extracting information after all, pieces here and there.
She eventually found the buyer due at Pixies.
Hugo, a Spanish man, never seen without his right-hand men.
Gigi found all three of their mugshots in Richard’s office.
Jack was able to set up perimeter tracking at all British airports and ferry crossings.
If anyone with a similar appearance showed, we’d know.
“I’ve captured you,” I rasp, “which makes you mine.”
She doesn’t move, her breath shaking against my neck.
My thumb brushes her pulse as I position her, drawing both hands above her head. Her limbs loosen, eyes never leaving mine.
She’s breathless, forbidden, and intoxicating.
“I’m going to release you … Will you run?”
Her response is a tremble of breath.
I back away, though her hands remain above her head as if I’m still holding her hostage, her back slightly bowed, eyes dark.
I stare down at her. “You tell me to leave, and I will …”
She swallows.
I lower my head, skimming my lips over her collarbone, across her chest, then I drop to my knees. My mouth hovers above her waistband. The sliver of olive skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, and I ache to taste it.
My hands start at her hips, moving to her waist. My desire to just fucking hold her has me wrapping my arms round her. I flatten my palm between her shoulder blades, pulling her tighter.
Her voice wobbles. “Harry, I—”
Poppy strides in.
I rest my temple against Gigi’s stomach with a defeated sigh. “Fuck.”
I feel something move through my hair, gentle fingertips threading through the strands. I tilt up my head, skimming her skin. Her eyes hold mine momentarily before she slips her hands free as if being caught doing something she shouldn’t.
Poppy coughs to clear the tension. Does this little wench always need to walk in at the most inconvenient times?
“The uglier sibling is on the phone,” she says. “It’s bad.”
I rise to my feet, nearing the phone. Gigi closes in on my right, wiping sweat from her brow. Poppy holds it between us, putting it on speaker.
Jack’s voice crackles through the line. “We’ve got intel moving fast.”
“You’re certain?” I ask.
“Hugo hit the coast twenty minutes ago. They’re due to arrive in London in a few hours.”
Gigi mutters, “Shit.”
“That’s not all.” Poppy grimaces.
“My crew are tied up with an extraction up north. We’ve been trying to gain access to Pixies’ guest list all week, but it’s too risky.
If they suspect a rat, they’ll close it down.
” Jack pauses, and I’m already bracing, my muscles locked tight.
“Your name’s already on the list, Harry. They know you.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “There’s no other way.”
I’m a second away from snapping the phone in half.
I run a tense hand through my hair, forcing my breathing to steady. Gain the trust of human traffickers. I can feel bile creeping its way up my throat at the thought of playing the part of a buyer interested in acquiring women.
I grit out, “So what does this mean?”
“You’ll need someone to pose as yours …” The line falters for a moment. “Put on a display so they think you’re one of them. Make it look like you’ve got a willing girl under your thumb.”
“Who would possibly agree to that?”
Poppy’s eyes flicker – only slightly, but I spot it.
I feel a surge of protectiveness as Gigi’s eyes widen knowingly, my hand instinctively reaching out to her, but I stop myself.
She shoots a sidelong glare at Poppy. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Gross,” she mutters. “I’m married, don’t forget.”
Gigi glares, narrowing her eyes. “So am I.”
Would it really be so bad? the selfish, anxious part of me thinks instinctively. Then, as I suddenly come to the reminder she’ll be surrendering her dignity, I want to strangle her fucking brother, former best mate or not.
“What about Emily? What’s she up to nowadays?”
“Gigi.” Poppy’s voice drops deadly serious. “That’s his cousin.”
“You know Richard, how he acts, what he’s capable of, G. You’re better equipped for this scenario then any of my team,” Jack says. “Think about the girls who don’t have a choice.”
Her fingertips tangle in her hair, concealing her flushed face.
Poppy is uncharacteristically sympathetic, placing a hand on her shoulder.
With a soft exhale, Gigi pulls her hands free, meeting my eye. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“Jamie,” I say knowingly.
She hesitates for a beat, then she nods.
“I have an idea,” Poppy sighs, “but you’re not going to like it.”
Gigi turns from me to Poppy as if looking for confirmation. “Whatever it is, we’ll give it a try.”
Scepticism has me stepping closer to the phone, but Poppy hangs up, slipping it into her back pocket.
“This isn’t something your brother should hear.”
“Spit it out then,” Gigi quips, flustered.
Poppy maintains eye contact and details, “If you’re looking to pass off as unrecognisable, you need to dress in something so daring they’ll be too blindsided by what you’re wearing to even make the correlation. Pixies has plenty of lingerie—”
Yeah, absolutely fucking not.
No. No way.
The thought of men seeing Gigi in such a vulnerable manner has my hands already flexing, imagining the joy I’ll get smashing their skulls in. Obliterating the images of her ingrained in their putrid minds.
I’m reeling with madness, only clinging to fragments of the conversation. Something about sitting on his lap, then needing to escalate if needed. Wanting to be seen as submissive, under his control.
I glance at Gigi. She stands there, arms crossed, her face a mask of determination. But I can see the unease in her eyes; the thick lump in her throat.
For the sake of my own inability to stay calm, I put myself in her shoes. She must be fucking terrified, the weight of the women heavy on her shoulders. And in the disgusting reality we’re faced with, I know I’d never trust her life in anyone’s hands but my own. Jamie fucking Callahan included.
I’m finally coming back round when Poppy concludes, “There are plenty of costume wigs at Pixies to choose from, and coloured contact lenses too.”
Gigi nods, swallowing hard, but it looks more like surrender then agreement. Poppy’s eyes flick to me, and the vein in my neck throbs with unease, but I nod too.
“But what if he does notice?” Gigi asks, a hint of either guilt or fear. “What do we do then?”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I say. “I promise you that.”
She gives a small nod, her tight-lipped smile not reaching her eyes. Poppy slips her phone from her back pocket, and I notice her enjoyment in watching it ring before she answers Jack again.
Voice tight, he asks, “You told them?”
“I did.”
He says nothing, encouraging Gigi to ask, “When do we need to be ready?”
“Hugo and his men are expected to rest for the evening, so we’ll need you both at Pixies tomorrow night.”
She nods, pulling herself together quickly with poise.
I narrow my eyes sceptically at the phone as Jack outlines the final detail – a flight back Thursday night, this being our only shot – and that losing focus will sacrifice everything.
His voice is a distant buzz as I backtrack. There’s not a glimmer of remorse for what he’s putting his sister through; not a hiccup in his tone. Although he once took pride of place as my best friend, this is where we differ.
Jack favours the lives of all women.
I favour the life of my woman.
I’ll protect Gigi always, even when she confesses to me what she’s hiding, no matter how terrifying I fear her lies will be.