Chapter 23
GREGORY
I pull the Lamborghini to a screeching halt outside my office block and fly through the revolving glass door.
‘Gregory! Someone took her. They took her!’
‘Who? What? Where is she?’ I skid to stop in front of Paul.
‘I don’t know. There was a kid, the new one from the twenty-third floor. He was outside. I think she was going to him. Then another guy pulled her. Put something over her head. They put her in a car and they left.’
My gut falls to the floor, heart racing. There’s no air in my lungs.
‘Greg!’
Jackson bursts into the building and I’ve never been so fucking dependent on him for my next move.
‘Trina was here. They took Scarlett. Three of them. My guys tailed as far as they could but they lost them. They must have switched cars.’
I bite the knuckles of my clenched fist and fight the anger and grief that’s tearing me up. ‘Jackson, what the fuck do we do?’
‘We go home, kid. We get the team together. We fuckin’ find her.’
I rub my hands roughly up and down my face then shake my head. ‘No. Now. We have to go now.’
‘Greg, we don’t know where she is. I know how much you want to lash out. You need to keep your cool.’ He’s calmer now, trying to rationalise things.
I feel like I’m outside my fucking body, watching myself break down. My eyes are on fire. ‘Jackson.’ It’s all I can say.
‘We’ll find her.’
I can’t lose her. It feels like a bullet cuts through my chest and I ball my fists, screaming out as I punch the door of the lift. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the cold metal, thumping the side of my fist against the door again.
‘Greg, every second we waste, she gets further away.’
I rub my face roughly one more time. ‘Bring him,’ I growl, pointing to Paul as I charge out of the building and tear away from the curb in the Lamborghini.
As I burn through the dark streets, swerving through traffic, ignoring red lights, I look for her, knowing I won’t find her.
Twice, I fight back the start of crushing tears.
‘Scarlett,’ I mumble into the empty car.
Jackson must drive like a maniac too because he pulls into the basement right behind me. We ride to my penthouse together. By the time we reach the apartment, Jackson’s security team are already there and I’ve got my head straight enough to listen to Paul.
I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and unfasten another button at the neck, then I crank up the air con.
I pace the floor of the lounge as Jackson gets everything he needs out of Paul, vaguely aware of other conversations going on in the room.
I know they’re doing everything they can and I’m so fucking grateful for Jackson right now.
‘He was about Gregory’s build. Older. Jeans and a polo. He looked normal,’ Paul says.
‘Nick Henshaw,’ I bite.
Jackson nods. ‘The guys are pooling everything we’ve got on Trina, Stuart and Nick. Ken is looking for any links to places they might’ve taken her.’
That’s the reality. He’s said it himself, we’ve got no fucking idea where she is. I swear to God, if they touch her. If Nick Henshaw lays a fucking finger on her…
I pick up the first thing I can get my hands on – a crystal decanter – and launch it at the wall with a wail that sounds more like an animal than me. The glass shatters, liquor spraying out across the floor.
There are seven other men in the room and they all turn to look at me.
‘Fucking find her!’
‘Greg, we need you with us,’ Jackson says. ‘Get a drink and get your shit together.’
I sit onto the edge of the sofa and drop my head into my hands.
Come on. Take control. Take. Fucking. Control.
Put her out of your head. It’s a game. One big fucking game.
Come to the fucking table. I drag air through my teeth and do as Jackson says; I take a bottle of Scotch from the kitchen, swig a mouthful to take the edge off and get ready to play the man.
Two of the guys are on the phone; one of them is Ken.
One guy in khakis and a black hoody and built like a brick shit house is on a computer with devices and wires all around his space at the dining table, all connected and linked into the monitor.
The other two guys are with Jackson and Paul and they’re in the lounge now, papers and tablets spread out in front of them.
‘Get Barnes,’ I say, eyeing Jackson as I approach them. ‘If Katrina Martin is involved, she’s looking for a story. She wants the bribes. If Scarlett’s got any sense, she’ll give me up.’
‘She won’t do that,’ Jackson says, and damn that girl, I hope he’s wrong but I know he’s right.
I nod, not wanting to accept his truth. ‘She might not talk.’
Jackson stands from the sofa. ‘Or she’ll do what she thinks is right, she’ll do what you and I both know she’ll do.’
‘She’ll confess.’
Jackson nods now. ‘I’ll get Barnes in.’
‘Get his team, Jackson, not just him.’
‘Greg, not the bobbies. That’s the wrong move.’
‘Jackson.’ My words sound defeatist. ‘Get them. I don’t care about the bribes. I don’t care about me. Get everyone we can. I’ll take whatever comes. Just find her.’
He slaps my arm. ‘All right.’
I’m listening, taking in what the team are doing and trying to think logically.
Ken shouts us over to the dining table and starts spreading documents.
This is everything we have on Stuart Culliton.
He pulls up a still on his computer of Stuart and Trina from tonight.
The photograph that one of Jackson’s guys emailed to us earlier.
A CCTV still taken near my office block that told us Stuart was mixed up with Trina in some way.
The image that made me call Scarlett, too late.
The intercom buzzes and I let Jackson deal with it, thinking it’ll be Barnes, but when I turn towards the door, Sandy comes hurtling at me, her arms flailing, landing blows on my face, my chest. Christ, I let her. I deserve it. I failed Scarlett. I failed them both.
‘You did this,’ she cries. ‘Ever since she met you. This is your fault. You find my little girl. You find her.’
Jackson moves towards Sandy but I hold up my hand, telling him to stay back, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest, accepting two more blows until she relents and breaks down against me. She’s the only other person in the world who has any idea how I feel right now.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll find her, Sandy. If it’s the last thing I do. I’ll give my life to have her back. I won’t stop. I’ll find her so help me fucking God.’
Lawrence and Williams are here and ask Jackson what they can do. There’s so much commotion, I almost didn’t notice my mother. Now I do, and she’s staring at the image of Stuart and Trina on the computer screen, walking towards it with her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes.
‘What is this?’ Her words are barely audible. Then she screams, ‘What is this?’
‘It’s two of the kidnappers,’ Jackson says.
I flinch at the use of the word but it’s right; that’s what’s happened. Tonight, the woman I can’t live without has been kidnapped.
‘Stuart? He—’
I leave Sandy and run to my mother, twisting her by the shoulders, shaking her. ‘You know who that is?’
Tears stream her face. ‘Yes.’