32. Protection
Chapter thirty-two
Protection
Charlie
What the fuck is happening? I want to scream. I’m in shock. My hands haven’t stopped shaking since the moment it all went to shit. How have I gone from a five-star luxury resort to being so alone and freaked the fuck out? No, that’s not even close to how I feel right now. I’m so fucking scared. I’m alone. I want to speak to someone but I can’t… I can’t and won’t contact anyone. I know it will only bring them trouble. I care too much to do that. I’ve already given too much away.
I will have to do some shandy, and very unlike me, shit to get out of this. If it wasn’t for Hank and Bridget, I don’t know what would have happened to me; they got me back to the UK early this morning and on a private jet no less.
I’ve spent the whole flight with my arms wrapped around myself, shaking, my limbs heavy with the weight of what happened, and what’s happening, and how I can get out of this.
We landed at one of the smallest airports I have ever seen. Dark and quiet. I’m on the other side of where I want to be. Home. Not that I can go there anyway, it’s too risky. My car is still at the Bournemouth airport. I know that’s pointless even trying to get that now.
If whoever this is, can find me on a Greek Island, book themselves into the same resort, and follow me around, then they know where my car is. They know the people I care about the most. They more than likely know everything about me.
I’ve been walking along this stretch of road for hours now. It’s muddy and wet. My fingers gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly they ache. When I set off, it was so dark, but also easy to hide. The light of day brings a new worry: I need to keep hidden. This road runs through a patch of beautiful forest, true English countryside. I need to get as far away as possible, try and hide for a while I figure out what to do.
Hank gave me some cash, enough to see me through for a while. If I can hire a room for a few days, I’ll be able to charge my laptop and take a look through the files I have. I need to see if the guys who attacked me, back at the resort, are who I think they are. Part of the Summers’ organisation.
I’m keeping just inside the tree line as I walk, so I can’t really be seen, but also so I don’t get lost in the woods, I have a feeling I’m being watched. I’m heading to a little town just on the outskirts of the forest. I’ll look for a room there. I should have enough, even just for a few days, somewhere discreet.
The trees are providing only some mild protection from the rain that’s hammering down. I’m soaked through and only have one change of clothes with me. I left my luggage, back in the apartment back in Greece, only picking up my backpack. There was no way I would be able to run with a huge suitcase trailing behind me. I took what I needed after I was attacked in the hall.
I made a quick plan as I ran to the apartment. When I opened the door, I took a quick look around to make sure I was alone; I didn’t have much time. If they were willing to confront me in the hallway, in a public space, then what’s going to stop them from going to the apartment to finish what they started?
I changed as quickly as I could, my travel clothes laid out on the bed waiting for me, slipping my jeans and t-shirt on, both feeling a little snug after a week in a bikini and eating way too much food. I placed the hoodie in my backpack. Checking I had the essentials, passport, purse, and some cash I had. I left all my cards in my case; I don’t want anyone to trace me.
My phone, on the other hand, I needed to leave it for Owen. I needed him to see what happened. He may be the only one who can help me. I know he’s moved on, but I can ask this one favour of him. Can’t I? I don’t care if he doesn’t come after me. I just needed him to know.
They cornered me, and it caught it all on camera, their faces, what they did, what they said and how I escaped.
“My boss wants you dead. We need the loose ends gone, and you’re the last one.”
I’m not sure if it’s the rain or the words that send a chill down my spine. My trainers are wet through from walking in puddles. I’ve only got ten more miles before I reach the town. I know that from the signs I keep passing. It’ll take me a while, but I can’t risk taking public transport, not that there is any chance of that on this road.
Running into Hank and Bridget, when I left my apartment in Greece, Hank took one look at me and knew something was very wrong. I was as calm and composed as I could be, but the growing bruise on my upper arm and cheek kind of gave it away, I guess.
I didn’t tell them anything more than I had to, that I had to leave but couldn’t get on my intended flight home. They ushered me into a private car. Hank said he would take care of everything else.
And he did. Shit, I owe them so much. They have given me the biggest advantage. I need to use it wisely. They even had a bag of supplies put together for me, food, medical supplies and a change of clothes. How they did this I have no idea, but I’m so freaking grateful. I shoved it all into my backpack, ran as soon as the plane landed, no questions asked.
Stepping out of the tree line for a moment, I watch as a small red car slows at the side of the road. I don’t move, too cautious to feel good about anything going in my favour. I don’t want to hitch a ride if I can help it, but when the woman sticks her head out the window and calls me over, I go. How stupid this is, I’m about to find out.
“Would you like a lift, love? I’m heading to the next town. You look like you could do with getting dry and see a friendly face, even if you don’t know me.” She looks kind enough. I hate to use the word, but she looks like a mum, joggers, hair in a messy bun, and a sweatshirt that says, ‘bat shit crazy, that’s what my kids have made me’. I smile and nod, my body agreeing before my mind can catch up with it.
“Great, get in. I’m Misha.”
“Hi. Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.” I don’t tell her my name. The less she knows the better.
“Look, after what my kids put me through this morning before the school run, dealing with you will be a breeze compared to the torture of having three boys all under ten. Just getting their shoes on is a full gym workout”
I laugh despite my mood. “Thank you,” I add before climbing in. The car feels warm, and in my wet cold clothes, it feels like heaven. I want to rest my head back and close my eyes just for a second, but I have to force myself not to. I need to keep vigilant. Misha hands me a huge towel covered in gaming logos from the back seat to wipe myself down.
“Sorry, it’s covered in mud, but it’s all I have.” Shrugging, she pulls away as I buckle in.
“I’m okay with it,” I reply, dabbing the rain off my hair and face. We fall into an easy conversation and for the next fifteen minutes, she tells me about her kids and what they did this morning. Not once does she ask anything about me and for that, I’m grateful. It’s like she knows I’m going through hell and she’s just happy to help me in whatever small way she can.
In the distance, I can see the small town coming into view. It’s nothing much, but just what I need to able to think for a few days.
As she slows and stops at the curb, I ask, “I don’t suppose you know of any rooms I’d be able to rent?” I know it was risky even asking, but Misha seems like a person I could trust. I don’t want anyone I knew, or didn’t know for that matter, to know where I am,
“I’m sorry, I don’t. I only pass through here on my way to work.” Misha opens the window as I step out on the path just outside of a newsagents.
“That’s okay. I’ll see what I can find. Thank you again for the ride.”
I find a place to stay pretty easily. It’s horrible, so basic, with only a very questionable mattress laid out on the floor, covered in a sheet that I will not be sleeping on and a small table, accompanied by a chair with only three legs, set in the corner. Unfortunately, the bathroom facilities are… vile, infectious, and downright degrading even, for anyone who has to use them. I’m not sure they have ever been cleaned. It would be better to set it on fire than use it. Even worse, they are shared. A shudder runs through me at the thought of using them.
As much as I want a shower to scrub the day away, I have a feeling I’ll come out feeling dirtier than when I went in, so I’ll pass and use the public toilets down the road to freshen up.
I plug in my laptop and wait for it to charge. While I’m waiting, I contemplate going into town to grab some food, but there is no way I am leaving any of my things behind. The creeping feeling of being watched hasn’t left me. I’m not judging those who are in the other rooms, but I know they’d not be here when I returned. And I need what’s on my laptop. Slumping down in the corner, I wait.
I drop my head to my knees, my hand reaching for my necklace, to seek comfort. My breathing stutters, feeling the empty space where it would normally lie on my chest.
A sob escapes me when I realise it’s not there. I search frantically around me, but there is no telling where I lost it. I’m so sorry, Owen. There's no sign of it. It’s lost, just like me.
A deeper cry erupts from my chest. I can’t hold it in. I can’t stop the tears. I don’t want to. This hurts, the necklace was the last piece of him I had. Always close to my heart. Angel and flames combined. Us.
Still in my jeans and t-shirt, I’m soaked through. Standing, I strip them off, my skin clammy from being wet for so long. Pulling the spare clothes from my backpack, I inspect them for the first time. They’re a little bigger on me than my own things, but they look comfy. A pair of joggers, and matching hoodie, a bralette and some very tiny silk and lace knickers. Where did she get these from?
Peeling off my wet underwear, I slip on the fancy lace ones, still wondering how Bridget guessed my size.
Owen would love these.
He’d watch me as I undressed, he’d edge closer, like any distance between us was too much. He’d eye me like I was his whole world, the possessive growl that would tear from his lips when I would reveal a new set of underwear to him.
My heart sores at the memory of how he would prowl towards me, the gasp that would echo in the room when he would throw me over his shoulder, hold me up against the wall, or march me into the bedroom, intent on making me his. Claiming me. I miss him so much, the way he would savour every second of our time together, making us both as needy as each other.
My heart sinks. That’s not what we have anymore. Getting lost in my memories of us is one of the small pleasures I’ll allow myself right now. Anything to take my mind off this shit I’ve got myself into.
But he left. It makes everything he did irrelevant, pointless even. All that time wasted. And for what? Okay, yes, he needed to get himself better, that I understand. That is the only thing that makes his distance sufferable. The other thing, keeping me safe? How’d that work out for you, Owen?
Not so well, right? I walked right into the worst kind of danger; I knew what I was doing when I said yes to working with Simon. I knew the risks, but I don’t think I really understood that it could actually happen to me. I don’t think anyone could actually see this coming.
Did I do it to bring him back? Did I hope he’d find out and come home?
I’m not prepared to answer myself …maybe? Subconsciously?
“What have I done?” There's no way I could have known.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I finish getting ready, pulling my hoodie over my head, and placing my wet things on the back of the chair to dry before I can place them back in my bag.
I want to be ready to go if I need to. I know they will find me. It’s only a matter of time.
The light on my laptop switches to green, letting me know it can at least be turned on. Sitting back in the corner of the room, I open it up and power it on. Finding the pen drive, I plug it in and start my search to confirm what I think I already know.
Dragging up the files I have on all the members of the organisation that are known to us. I start my search for the two men from Greece. The one from the hallway, and the other that appeared a moment later. Mr Summers has a wide reach of people he pays off. From high court judges to people on the street selling what he has to offer, and the ones in between that keep them in line. The enforcers, the soldiers, the money guys, the movers. I have evidence against them all in varying degrees. Things I have found, and matched up to profiles, dates, missing people and deaths. Documents linking these things, or people together.
The only one I don’t have is the accountant to link it all together, but that’s been kept a closely guarded secret.
I spend the next few hours looking through the files. Maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong, maybe I’m overthinking it all, maybe there is no official accountant. Maybe Mr Summers is the accountant. It would make sense; other than that one video I found of him killing someone, he’s never got himself involved. He’s discreet a front man. I don’t have a scrap of information on anything about one. But if it was Mr Summers himself. Shit, how could I have missed that?
I spot the man I’m looking for a few minutes later. The way he held himself, the way he kept eyes on me. How could I have been so stupid?
Mr Hughs.
Shit.
His Name is definitely not Mr Hughs, it's Ezera Ferris. A higher-ranking officer in the organisation. One that’s not seen often. He has men to do his dirty work. He’s more a front man for the legal side of things.
That’s what he meant then. I’m a loose end they need tying up. I can only assume they know about the video I have, or at least they know I have been digging around in their business.
Oh shit, what if Simon’s in trouble? What if that’s how they found out about me?
It would explain why I haven’t been able to get hold of him. I tried a couple of times this week but got nothing.
I’m shaking now. I need to put a plan together. I need to end this. I need others to know what I have, so I’m not the only one. What I can’t do is give away my location.
It’s risky to start with, going out in public, but I can be gone before they can trace me. I can get it done before they find me.