Chapter 1 #3
“A week.” He walks close to his son then opens his arms and pulls him in close.
This is a private moment and I half turn away, giving them space as they hug each other and Alden sobs.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be here that I told you.
You!” he snaps and turns his head, frowns at me.
“Yes?”
“Do it. Get me this damn person on the phone. The cops have kept Joseph’s murder quiet for weeks, apparently, on the command of some upper office instruction.
An embargo on my son’s death and they have nothing!
No real leads. I want to speak to these people who can hide bodies and fucking cars.
I need to find out what happened to my son. ”
Fuck, there is my answer to this. He needs us. I dig out my phone. This is the perfect lever. Tragic though it is. “Of course. Here.”
The silver-gray Skoda I spotted earlier charges onto the road, scattering branches and leaves.
It screeches its tires, fishtails, and straightens, then zooms down the road in the direction we arrived.
I jog two steps then stop. The horse has been frightened and jitters backward. I hear Benjamin soothing it.
“Georgia’s in that car!” The little bitch is escaping. “Shit.” Now I’m pissed off. I swing back to Alden and Benjamin—he’s recovered the reins. Son on one side, horse on the other.
Once I sort this out, I will have to find Georgia before she does something stupid. Something bloody stupid as the Australians say.
Alden is looking shaken and red-eyed, but is recovering. He clears his throat, swallowing unshed tears, I’ll bet. “That’s Georgia for you. Wild and crazy.”
His father gives me a flat smile. “I’d lend you my horse but Reggie is a bit slow. There’s a car at the house that I can give you to chase her.”
“Thanks.” I thumb through to the best contact, let it ring, then answer at the voice.
“Hi. I have a fuckup on uhhh Sir Benjamin Somersby’s property, Somersby Estate.
Three DOAs. One squashed Porsche. I need you to reassure him we can clean this up.
He has other needs. Something that we can do for him. ” Hint, hint.
I hand Benjamin the phone and head back to the Porsche, certain that they will follow.
By the time we round the gap in the hedge, step through, and are walking past the bodies, the change in the man’s voice says he’s ninety percent won over.
The magic of money and influence. And power.
My family is big but not this big. The board will suck out his marrow, if they can.
Then feed him some of the most jaw-dropping kink parties he has never seen.
Bets are high that this man is like most of the aristocracy, and kinky as fuck.
Benjamin gives a disgusted grunt at the sight of the mangled vehicle. He hands back my phone and I get an update then drop it into my pocket.
He nods at the disappearing phone. “I agreed. We are doing this. So help me, I hope I don’t regret this. Someone out there slaughtered my son and a whole boatload of people and I need to know who, how, and fucking why.”
Shit. My mouth is open. I close it. Worse than I thought then. I’m not telling him that Georgia might be tangled up in the same mess. Or not yet.
“How will you find her? May I ask?”
“I’ve put a tracker on her where she will never find it.” In her shoe.
“Where?” Alden asks, deliberately stepping over one of the bodies. He folds his arms and scowls, looks as if he wants to punch someone. Anyone. “Up her cute little ass?”
I only grunt. I don’t tell him. Secrets are good. I look around but this is where my skills are useless. No one to shoot or wrestle down, or sell armaments to—which is what I should be doing right now.
Dead car. Dead men. And one stupid girl who has gone haring off over the horizon when men are trying to kill her. I promised to be her guardian slash warden, even if she doesn’t know it.
I need a new vehicle, and I forgot to ask them to bring one.
“Your car still okay for me to take?”
“I have seven of them. Sure. Just not my favorites.”
“Thank you. Now we wait for the help to arrive.” I check the time against the ETA of the clean-up crew. “It’ll be quicker to get a lift to your house than walk.”
I retrieve my phone and tap through to the tracking app.
At the blinking of that small white dot on the map, the ashes of that cruel streak I thought I’d quashed forever, flame to life.
This blip shows exactly where my precious girl is.
I’ve held back and done absolutely fucking nothing to her, until now. My patience has shattered.
When I catch her, I will need the utmost control to not upend her and spank her, at a minimum.
Maximum?
If only. I’d take her to one of our parties and lead her about, fucking well collared and shackled, and have her fucked by every Tom, Dick, and Dick.
I raise my head, staring at the blurred trees surrounding this clearing. Or not.
I know what was done to her in that house. Am I a bad man for even imagining that?
But now that I’ve freed my imagination, I’m not sure I can ever stop thinking about doing things to her, and making her do things to me.