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“Leo...” There was warning in his tone. “What have you done?”

“The thing is, I need a passport for her. If I send you a photograph, can you have one made up and couriered to me?”

“You’re going to fuck everything up, Leo.”

“Everything is already fucked up. Jodie is dead. Harvey is dead. My life is ruined. I don’t give a shit about anything else anymore.”

“And you’re going to drag the rest of us down with you, are you?”

“I’m dealing out what should have been done the moment we knew Rasmus had got away with the shooting. Since when did we let everyone walk all over the Cornells? Look at Harvey’s murder. No one has ever paid for that.”

“Jodie wasn’t a Cornell.”

I curled my lip in fury. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

He let out a sigh. “Okay, send me the photograph. I’ll get you a passport, but it’s going to take me at least twenty-four hours. Don’t do anything stupid while you’re waiting.”

I glanced back at the cabin. “I’ll try not to, but I can’t make any promises.”

“And don’t forget that we have a big import coming in a couple of days. I need you here for that.”

“I’m sure you can manage without me.”

I swore I could hear him grinding his teeth in exasperation.

“That’s not the point, Leo. This is a family business, and you’re part of that family. You can’t expect to just fuck off whenever you feel like it and leave the rest of us dealing with things.”

I thought he had enough people to help now that he had the Wynters in his pocket from shacking up with Hallie, but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut.

“Don’t worry, Tam, I’ll be there.”

“Good, 'cause one of our guys saw a stranger sniffing around the warehouse the other night, and we think it might be one of the Gilligan men. If things kick off, we need you here.”

“Got it.”

I doubted the Gilligans were going to try anything. Now we had aligned with the Wynters—however fragile that union might be—we made a more intimidating gang than they did. Our resources were far greater, and we were in control of more territory.

I ended the call and started the engine. My stomach growled. It had been twenty-four hours since I’d last eaten, and I didn’t do well without food. I’d have put my crappy mood down to my hunger, but I knew it went deeper than that.

The closest town—if you could call it that—was a thirty-minute drive away. I drove in silence, my thoughts spinning through my head. What did I plan on doing with the girl once I’d got her back to London? Was I going to kill her? I didn’t like the idea of killing a woman, but did I have much of a choice?

One thing I knew for sure was that there was no way I’d return her to her father.

I reached the town and found a local store. My stomach rumbled again, churning with hunger, and acid burnt up the back of my throat. I didn’t think I’d ever been this long without a decent meal, and with my size and age, I needed a good number of calories just to keep going. I could feel the difference the lack of food had made in me already, the weakness in my muscles, a strange lightness to my head. I’d also been up the whole of the previous night, plus taken an early flight, so the lack of sleep also didn’t help.

I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb, especially with my dirty shoes and still damp trouser legs. I might as well have had a flashing light above my head that said, ‘stranger.’ A few people were already in the shop, and it seemed as though the whole place fell silent as I walked in. It was like a scene from that old werewolf in London film, and I half expected them all to rush at me with pitchforks. I didn’t know what it was that marked me as being a stranger, since I shared the blond hair and tall build of the Estonians, but something did. Would being so noticeable make it easier for Rasmus to find me? We were several hours’ drive from his compound, but this country only had a small population. How easy would it be for him to get the word out?

Moving as quickly as I dared without looking suspicious, I selected items off the shelf. I bypassed the pickled fish but picked up a tub of potato salad, some smoked sausage, bread, eggs, milk. I’d seen there were supplies of tea and coffee at the cabin, along with some regular store cupboard items such as oils and seasonings. I wasn’t sure I could even wait long enough to get back to the cabin before I could eat something, so I grabbed a couple of prepackaged roast pork sandwiches to eat in the car.

I kept my head down as I went to the counter and paid for my shopping. The man behind the till bagged everything with frustrating slowness. I wasn’t so much worried about being spotted now as much as desperate to sink my teeth into some bread and meat. Finally, I paid using the credit card I had in my fake name and carried everything out to the car. I tore open the sandwich and ate it in just a few bites, so desperate to get something in my stomach I was lucky not to choke from my lack of chewing.

Once my stomach was full, I drove back to the cabin. I’d been gone well over an hour. I hoped that wasn’t too long. I stopped a short distance away and just observed it for a moment to see if anything had changed. Was there anyone else around? Any sign of tyre marks? Any doors or windows that were open? Everything seemed the same, but it was best to be sure. Even so, I kept my gun close at hand. I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if someone looked like they were up to something.

Satisfied all was clear, I let the vehicle trundle forward the rest of the way and then drew to a halt. I climbed out and grabbed the shopping bags from the back seat where I’d left them and carried them to the front door. I listened out for any signs of the screaming, but all was quiet. Was that because she’d just given up, or was her silence down to another reason?

I didn’t relax my guard. She might have escaped her bonds and got out of the cupboard and now be standing behind the front door with a knife, ready to attack.

Moving slowly, I put they key in the lock and opened the front door. It gave me a view right through the living space to the cupboard door, which was still closed. I took that as a good sign.


Tags: Marissa Farrar Romance