15. Dan
DAN
Driving probably wasn’t a good idea when I was supposed to be on bed rest, but I felt mostly okay other than a slight headache and some bumps and bruises—nothing worse than I had after a game.
So I gave myself medical clearance and got on with my mission.
But after driving to Lincoln’s campus apartment and discovering he was out, I was at a loss.
I texted Maisie, hoping she’d have some intel, but she just sent me a string of laughing emojis.
Okay then.
He wasn’t at his flat or Ashbrook House… That meant he was probably with a woman, buried balls-deep in her—
“Shut up,” I snarled out loud, with no one else to hear me. I immediately hated myself for it.
Fuck it. I was all the way over here in Whelford, so why not check out his family estate on the off chance he’d gone there?
Gripping the wheel, my headlights cutting through the darkness, I headed away from Whelford, driving through the small town of Nottswood and on to the road in the middle of nowhere in the Cotswolds, where the Bellingham estate was.
I bet Lincoln stayed there whenever he could. Rich, pampered bastard.
My teeth were still gritted when I reached the edge of the estate, making my headache even worse.
Easing up on the accelerator, I spun the wheel, sending my Range Rover coasting down a small side road, where I pulled into a tiny lay-by in front of a farmer’s field.
It was easy enough from there to scale the crumbling wall surrounding the estate—it was only about the same height as I was—and drop down between the trees on the other side.
Now, I had to make it to the mansion without either of the senior Bellinghams noticing me. Luckily, I was skilled in subterfuge, so I wasn’t too concerned. I kept to the trees, using the distant yellow glow as a guide.
Except the glow wasn’t coming from the mansion, as I discovered when I rounded a clump of trees and ended up in a clearing.
I forgot all about the Bellinghams for a second, enraptured by the sight in front of me.
A small cottage, all cosy honey-coloured bricks with ivy trailing up the walls, and smoke lazily curling from the chimney.
The golden light spilling from the windows enticed me closer, crossing the gravel parking area until I was standing at the front door.
Maybe it was a real-life gingerbread house, and I was going to die.
“I’m not worth eating,” I said aloud.
“Hello.”
I blinked, realising the door was cracked open, and a girl with dark hair was studying me quizzically. She was probably around ten or eleven, at a guess.
“Are you a witch?” was the first thing that came from my mouth, and she giggled.
“I saw you on the doorbell camera.” Well, that didn’t answer my question. I opened my mouth again, but she took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m not a witch.”
Hmm. I couldn’t rule anything out at this point. How had I ended up here, when I couldn’t even remember making a conscious decision to do so?
“Are you sure you’re not a witch?” I studied her through narrowed eyes, and she laughed again, shaking her head. Okay. Maybe I was being paranoid. “Haven’t you been taught not to talk to strangers?”
Her eyes brightened. “You’re not a stranger. You’re Ganon.”
What. The fuck. “Ganon? That’s not my name.”
“That’s what my cousin calls you, because you’re his nemesis.”
Her cousin. Who I was apparently the nemesis of. My stomach churned. Oh, fuck no. “Your cousin isn’t—”
The door suddenly swung open, and I was face to face with none other than Sergeant Michael Bellingham, currently spearheading the small local task force that was part of the Operation Foxglove investigation. Aka the man who was actively working against me, my family, and my closest friends.
Shit.
“Uh… Hello, Sergeant. I didn’t know you lived here.” I rubbed at the back of my neck as my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest.
“Clearly,” he said drily. “Care to tell me what you’re doing, trespassing on private property?”
“Uh…” I said again. “I was looking for Lincoln?”
He snorted. “Nice try.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know you lived here.” He wasn’t going to arrest me, was he? Neil and my mum would be seriously pissed off if that happened, and I was way too pretty for prison. “I was heading up to the mansion, and I got a bit lost and saw your gingerbread house, and—”
“Gingerbread house?” His brows rose.
“Yeah, like Hansel and Gretel. Y’know, that cottage in the woods that the witch lives in, and she wants to eat them…” I trailed off as he smirked at me. “Whatever. The point is I didn’t know this was here. I thought you lived in, like, a wing of the mansion, like my mum and uncle do in our house.”
All traces of amusement disappeared from his expression. “No,” he said shortly.
“Okay. Uh, sorry. I’ll just go.” I took a step back, but his arm swept out, beckoning me forwards.
“Mr. Hoyton. Please, come inside.” It wasn’t a request.
Gritting my teeth, I stepped over the threshold, into the stronghold of the enemy.