Chapter twenty-one
The Chase Family Home, Kensington
25th December 2004
Violet
I’ve heard so much about the boy sitting across from me.
Harrison. My brother, Russell, pulled him from a ditch eight years ago and my father took him under his wing.
I know he lives in a children’s home, but my family will fund his final years in education at a private school starting next year.
Every Friday, my father goes to visit him and help him study.
I’ve never been allowed to meet him until today.
He is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.
My eyes are magnetized to him; I can’t stop staring.
“Violet,” my mother snaps, “pass the potatoes to Connor. Are your ears full of wax?” Harrison flashes me a cheeky smile, and my stomach flips.
“Sorry Mother,” I mumble, passing the plate then dropping my eyes to my meal. I eat silently for the remainder of our dinner.
At eight o’clock my father’s driver arrives to take Harrison back to the children’s home.
He walks over, takes my hands in his, and places a kiss on my cheek.
“It was lovely to meet you, Violet,” he says.
We’ve hardly spoken, but I’ve been aware of him watching me since he arrived.
“Merry Christmas.” My heart beats harder as he speaks.
He wishes my brothers goodbye with high-fives.
The three of them are close and socialize regularly on weekends—never here, they meet at parks or where he lives.
My father squeezes his shoulder and promises to see him soon as my mother passes him a box filled with treats.
With a final goodbye, the first boy I’ve ever openly crushed on walks out of the door.
***
October 2022
Harrison
Hunter sits across from me in my kitchen.
His phone is lying on the counter, silent.
He has multiple cars in position surrounding the Chase mansion.
There has been no obvious movement. Damon and Marshall went down to join them on the stakeout.
Russell and Connor have headed into the office and are awaiting an update.
It’s ten in the morning and Hunter is on his third whiskey.
None of us have slept—Samantha was offered a bed in my spare room by Mrs. D. who arrived for work at nine.
“Alcohol at this time in the morning, Mr. Devane,” Mrs. D. says, disgusted, as she piles a load of washing into the machine.
“If I must,” he replies with a grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Waite?” she asks. “This doesn’t feel like a normal morning. If you need me to carry out different duties, do tell me.”
“It’s Violet,” I tell her, and she glances at me.
“She’s in danger, and we’re trying to get hold of her. Bring her back before she’s taken back to America.”
Mrs. D. knows most things that happen here in our glass tower high in the sky.
She knows we aren’t normal lawyers and law enforcers.
She knows Hunter Devane isn’t a businessman who always stays on the right side of the law.
The woman isn’t stupid, and I am not prepared to treat her like she is.
“America?” she questions, her eyebrows drawing together. “Why would she have to go back to America?” Before I can answer, Hunter’s phone lights up with a call. He picks it up, accepts it, and raises the handset to his ear.
“Devane,” he barks down the line. The person on the other end speaks rapidly and Hunter nods along.
“We’ll catch up with you,” he says. “I have you on tracker.”
He cuts the call and turns to me. “Three black Mercedes have left the house. The windows are darkened, so they can’t see who the passengers are. My team is going to follow. Damon and Marshall will sit tight in case of any further movement.”
“Okay, what direction were they heading in?”
“The airport,” Hunter says. “We need to move now.”
As I am grabbing my keys, I look at Mrs. D. who is watching me intently. “Can you stay here and look after Samantha when she wakes up?” She nods. “Thank you.”
With a sympathetic smile, she says, “Go and bring her home. I’m ready to look after Violet too once she is here.” We stare at each other for a moment, her withered eyes holding my anxious ones. “Go get your girl. Your family.”
“Waite, come on,” Hunter snaps, and I run out after him.
Our journey down to the garage in the elevator is made in silence.
My companion’s focus is on the blue dot traveling across his phone screen which stops moving as the elevator descends – connection interrupted.
As soon as the doors open, we run to my car and jump in.
Hunter connects his phone to the navigation system, and the little blue dot reappears on my car’s screen.
With a turn of the key, the engine comes to life and we head off in search of the woman I love.
London traffic during the day is torture. I weave among the cars as best I can. “They’ve arrived at the airport,” he says. “All three vehicles have stopped outside the private entrance to the airfield.”
“Are your men there?”
“Of course. How do you think I know? And Damon has just arrived.”
He eyeballs me then focuses back on his screen.
“Put your foot down, Waite.” I push the accelerator further to the floor as we join the motorway traffic.
It’s busy but moving freely, and within ten minutes we are driving up the side of the airfield.
It’s a small private one, not the airport we initially expected him to be taking her to.
There is a private jet with the name Marley painted along the side.
Fuck, he must be doing better than we thought, or taking his clients’ money and spending it for personal use.
The three black vehicles sit beside it, all the doors still closed.
We pull to a stop behind Damon’s inconspicuous gray Ford Focus which he uses when he doesn’t want to be noticed.
I push open my driver’s door at the same time he does and we climb out, walking toward each other.
“You brought the Ferrari,” he says, his face contorted in annoyance. “So much for a fucking stakeout. Under the radar.” He lifts his eyebrows to emphasize his point.
“It’s the fastest car I have,” I snap back.
“Come on, you come with me,” he mutters and signals for me to follow him. I climb into the back seat of his subdued car as Hunter jumps in the other side.
“I’m coming too,” he declares.
“No you’re not,” Damon tells him. Hunter ignores the comment and settles himself in the seat. “Devane, get out.”
“No,” he says. “I’m not missing out on the fun.” Marshall laughs as Damon sighs then drives toward the entrance to the airfield.
“There is going to be a fucking mess to clean up after today,” Damon mumbles. “I can feel it.”
As we pull forward to the entrance, a security guard approaches the car. “Good morning gentlemen,” he says. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Damon answers—we’ve all been warned to keep our mouths shut. “Chief Inspector McKinney.” He passes the man his badge. “I have reason to believe that an airplane on your premises is holding stolen goods. I need to gain entry to assess the situation.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Do I need one?” he replies. “If there is nothing to find, this should be a short visit.”
As the men debate, one of the rear doors of the waiting black cars opens. Marley steps out wearing a sharp suit and carrying a briefcase. He turns and leans down into the car, speaking to someone. He shakes his head, then leans in, reaching into the vehicle.
“McKinney,” I say, not taking my eyes from the unfolding scene. “We need to get in there.” He’s still arguing with the security guard.
Violet steps out onto the tarmac. Her dark hair is loose around her face—it blows off in all directions with the light wind.
She’s wearing a simple, black, long-sleeved dress that hangs off her slim frame.
It looks like something her mother would wear.
Aiden has his hand wrapped around her wrist; he pulls her to his side then slams the door closed.
She pulls her arm from his grasp, and he spins to face her.
I can’t hear what is being said, but it’s obviously an argument underway.
Two of his men then come to her sides. They take an arm each and escort her toward the plane steps.
“We need to get fucking in there,” I snap, and Marshall turns in his seat to look at me.
“Come on then, Maverick,” he says, pushing open his door. Hunter does the same. I follow their lead and we make a run for the partially open gate. The three of us make it and slide through the gap, running for the plane as fast as we can.
“Stop,” a man’s voice sounds from behind us.
We ignore him and keep running for the private jet.
I watch on as Violet climbs the stairs with the two burly men behind her.
Aiden went up first and has already disappeared into the cabin.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” our pursuer shouts.
A gunshot rings out and all the people on the stairs turn in the direction of the sound.
Violet’s two escorts descend, heading for us.
Aiden reappears. I’m only feet from her now.
Hunter pulls his gun from his waistband and shoots one of the heavies in the leg, causing him to fall to the ground.
Violet screams, and I look up to see Aiden manhandling her up the stairs as I reach the bottom.
“Get in here, you stubborn bitch,” he yells. I hear commotion behind me but don’t turn to look. My only focus is getting her away from this maniac as I jump the steps two at a time. She disappears from view.
The aircrew gape as I enter the plane. They step in front of me, stopping my progress. “Sir,” a perfectly dressed blonde woman says, “this is a private plane. You’re not meant to be in here.”
“I’ll collect what’s mine, and I’ll leave,” I tell her, pushing past and walking into the luxurious cabin. My eyes dart around the space—there’s no sign of Violet or Marley. “Where did they go?” I snap over my shoulder.
“Sir, you shouldn’t be in here,” she argues, and I twist to face her, pulling my gun. “The bedroom at the back,” she stammers, terrified, gesturing toward the rear of the plane. I charge between the leather seating and marble counters to the closed door.
“Aiden, no, please,” Violet’s cries come through the door.
“You’re fucking mine,” he snarls. “Behave, stop struggling, and lie here quietly until I ensure the inconvenient assholes that have followed us are disposed of.”
My shoulder slams against the barrier between me and the ongoing altercation. It flies open. Violet is laying on the bed. He’s on top, straddling her to keep her pinned down. She is struggling beneath him. He grabs her hands and holds them above her head.
“Fucking get off her,” I yell, lifting my gun and aiming at him.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he barks. “Security. Get this asshole out of here. I have a whore to claim.”
“I said, get off her.” My words are slow and clear.
“What are you going to do about it?” he says with a grin.
“She’s mine to do with as I please. Her father said so. Now, fuck off. Or do you want to watch?”
I take a step forward, my gun still aimed at his face.
“Are you going to shoot me? Is the pauper boy going to dish out his vengeance?”
He laughs, throwing his head back. Violet takes the opportunity of him being distracted to use a free hand and grab his genitals through his pants.
Her hand twists furiously, and he squeals like a wounded animal.
I fire. The bullet hits his shoulder, and he falls backward as one of his security guards appears behind me.
Violet climbs off the bed. I grab her hand and turn, hitting the man across the face with the butt of the gun.
We push past him as he stumbles and make our way back down the cabin past the startled cabin crew, who have found themselves in the middle of a gunfight.
Their jaws hang open, bodies frozen in position ready to work.
“Violet,” Aiden’s voice says from behind us.
“Another step and he’s a dead man.” She stops.
I pull her hand, but she resists. “Good girl, Princess. Now, listen. Come back here immediately, and I’ll let him live.”
As I turn back to the man I despise, I become aware of the little red dot on my forehead.
The red laser cuts across the space between me and the bodyguard with the gun. Violet looks at me then back to Marley.
“Don’t hurt him,” she whispers gloomily. Her voice is strained. “I’ll go with you if you let him live.”
“Good girl, Princess,” he repeats. “Now, let go of his hand and come here.” She goes to drop my hand, but I hold on tight, not releasing her fingers.
“Let me go, Harry,” she says quietly, diverting her eyes. “This is a fight we can’t win.”
“Listen to her,” Aiden agrees. “Your friends are outside at the end of the barrels of my men’s guns. Take a look.”
I glance out the window and see Damon, Hunter, and Marshall all on their knees, weapons trained on them.
“Turn around and admit you’ve lost. Walk off this plane and forget about Violet. You and your friends can leave without anyone getting killed”
“Harry,” Violet says, “you need to save your friends. Go. I’m meant to be with Aiden.” Her wide watery eyes blink up into mine. She takes a step toward me then rises on tiptoe and places her free palm against my cheek. Her lips touch mine momentarily. “I need to go with him.”
“I promised I wouldn’t withdraw again,” I whisper fiercely.
“You’re not. You’re doing the right thing. It isn’t your choice to leave.”
I look at the bastard who is in control of the situation, and he raises an eyebrow in question. If I refuse, we could all be dead. If I walk off this plane without her, chances are I may never see her again.
“I don’t want to leave you. I love you,” I say, and she smiles sadly against my lips.
“We were never going to work. You said so yourself. We’ve always been a bad idea.” She kisses me again. “Now, let me go.”
“This is all very touching,” Aiden says, sounding bored.
“Go now, Waite, or my man will shoot.” I release Violet and step backward.
The space between us feels enormous. Aiden is holding a towel to his shoulder where my bullet must have passed through.
The security guard behind me grabs my elbow and pulls me in the direction of the stairs.
He pushes me hard, and I stumble down them, only to be caught by another goon at the bottom.
My friends are still on their knees, hands tied behind their backs. “Kneel beside them, eyes on the ground,” the goon barks. As I move into position, I take one final glance up at the plane and see Violet looking down at me through the window, devastation clear on her face.
Trussed up on the ground beside my friends, we watch the plane take off into the air with Violet inside.