Chapter 15
Rex
Andrea drove through the city like a man possessed.
Red lights. Amber. They meant nothing to him.
He threaded through the traffic with the skill of a man who'd done this many times before.
I sat in the passenger seat with the window down, hoping the sharp night air would work the pain killer and clear my head.
My headache had reduced to a dull blade sitting behind my eyes, but my mind still felt sluggish.
"I've got two men heading on route to meet us now. ETA: ten minutes," Gabriel said through the car speaker phone.
"We’re closer than that," Andrea answered.
"I know. I'm five minutes behind you. Don't wait for us." He paused for a moment before letting me know that Jameson and Carina's flight had landed.
I glanced up at the night sky and the slow moving, blinking lights. "When?" I asked.
"Twenty minutes ago. Jameson texted me from the terminal."
I huffed out a deep breath. "They know?" I asked.
"They know enough."
Gabriel ended the call and I checked the time. 00:25. Time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. She'd been alone with Dexter for far too long.
I didn’t want to think what that could mean, and yet it was the only fucking thing on my mind.
My phone lit up with Carina's name. "Where is she?" she asked as soon as I answered. Her voice was low and controlled. That's how I knew how furious she was, how worried.
"We don't have her yet." I watched the road. Southwark spread out before us, a mirage of light and shadows.
"She went alone."
"Yeah."
The line stayed open. An announcement came over the terminal's address system. They were still in the arrivals terminal. The sound of shuffling feet followed the clanging of doors. Then Jameson's voice, close to the phone. Though I couldn't catch his words.
"If he threatened Priya or any of her family for that matter," Carina said. "She'd go. You understand that? She'd walk into a burning building for them."
I flared my nostrils and sucked in a deep breath. My jaw pulled tight. I wasn't angry at Rahat. I was angry at myself for not seeing the move before she made it. Adam had read her better than I did, and I was standing right fucking next to her.
"I know," I said after a moment.
"Don't be angry at her."
"I'm not."
The line went quiet again. I waited for Carina to challenge my statement. Instead, Jameson spoke. "This holding company. The registered address. It's thin. You know that?"
I ran my hand over my head and bunched my fists. Like I didn't know that. "It's what we have."
"You're not thinking straight," he said. "I can hear it in your voice."
Andrea glanced at me then. He hadn't spoken in ten minutes. But that look spoke a thousand words. They were all fucking managing me, preparing me for the worst.
"Walk me through how he moved her." Jameson's voice was flat, bored even. But that's what he sounded like at his sharpest.
"The industrial building at the river was a collection point. Second man on site. We believe they loaded her into a black transit van and headed north. Traffic cameras clocked them on Blackfriars Bridge at 22:11.
"North?" Carina said. "Bermondsey's south east. Why aren't you heading north?"
"Staging and holding aren't the same thing," Jameson said, to her rather than me.
But I had to question if she was right. I was latching onto this one thing as it was all we fucking had.
"Go in carefully," he said. "Gabriel and his men aren't far behind you.
I'll get to you as soon as I can brother. "
"Yeah," I said because what else was there?
"And Rex," his tone sharpened. "He planned for this. He's been ahead of you since you landed. Don't let that make you reckless."
The rational part of my brain knew he was right. But that part of me had left my body when I woke up alone in Carina’s flat.
I ended the call, removed my phone from the dock, and dropped it in my pocket. Andrea swung down a service lane behind the warehouse block, and pulled over. I had the door open and was out of the car before he had the chance to cut the engine.
The building was a narrow, three story, brick faced warehouse. From the outside it looked like nothing. Dark and unremarkable. I tried the front door handle and found it unlocked. Andrea looked at me and motioned to the fire exit.
"Be careful," he said as he pushed his jacket from his hip and climbed the steps, leading to the second exit.
I pushed into the dark, keeping low. The floor opened wide before me.
Low ceiling, concrete floor. Much the same as the last place.
But this one smelled clean, and like fresh paint.
I swept the room. Bare walls, a folding table against the far side, one leg slightly bent.
Two doors. One right, and one straight ahead to the staircase.
I held still and listened. Silence greeted me. But it felt weighted. Like I wasn't alone.
Then, a sound came from above. A scrape or a shifting of weight on old boards.
I rushed over to the staircase and took them two at a time.
The second floor was dark. Two rooms, both empty and cold.
The second staircase I found was narrower.
The plaster on both sides was new and freshly painted.
A single door stood at the top, and a thin thread of light spilled beneath it.
I listened hard, and heard ragged breaths as if someone's airway wasn't fully open. My heart raced and heat flushed through my whole body.
I stopped, pressed my back against the wall and breathed. There was a possibility Rahat was behind that door, and Adam and God knew who fucking else. I had one shot at getting this right.
I pushed open the door and saw Rahat.
And every fucking fibre of my being stopped functioning.
She was on tip toes on an upturned wooden crate, both arms raised, gripping the rope above her head.
It ran up over the ceiling beam, and was looped around her neck like a noose.
My heart thundered and a lump formed in my throat.
Her toes were balanced on the edge of the crate, her legs shaking.
Her left eye was swollen and nearly shut.
There was dried blood tracking from her hairline and from the lump on her head into her brow.
Her eyes locked onto mine the second I stepped through the door. She was trying hard to stay still, as if breathing too hard would shift the crate beneath her. Her grip on the rope tightened and her arms strained, taking as much of her weight as she could give them.
"Don't move," I said, crossing the room.
"I'd listen to him." Adam spoke from the far corner, near the window. "He's giving you good advice."
I froze.
He stood with his back to the wall. twelve feet from Rahat, ten from the door behind him.
The rope ran from the pulley fixed to the beam above Rahat's head and straight into his hand, wrapped tight around his palm.
He was the only thing anchoring her weight on the other side.
There was no slack. The line was taut and thrumming with tension.
The rope was already biting into her throat, her arms taking what weight they could. If he let go...
"Rex," Rahat's voice came out raw and strangled. "He's got--"
"I can see," I said, not wanting her to strain her voice. I kept my eyes moving from his hand to the rope. "What's your move here?" I asked Adam.
He smiled. "You found me faster than I expected." He glanced at Rahat for a moment and his face hardened. "She doesn't belong to you," he said.
"She doesn't belong to you either."
He took one slow step sideways, angling towards the door at his back. The rope shifted with him and pulled tighter. Rahat's breath caught in a sharp hitch. She adjusted her grip, but her arms were shaking badly.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Only what's mine." He glanced at Rahat again. "You already know how this ends."
"You're not leaving." He was the only fucking thing keeping Rahat on her feet
He took another step back.
"Rex," Rahat said, her voice even thinner. Her arms were burning now. I saw it in every line of her body, the locked shoulder and shaking biceps, the way she was fighting to keep her toes on the crate and her weight off the rope.
Adam took another step back. His shoulder touched the door and his eyes stayed on mine. He smiled and released the rope.
Rahat jerked as the rope snapped tight against her throat. The crate shifted beneath her toes.
I moved.