Love and Liability (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 2) (33 page)

“Zoe!”

She turned around, her heart in her throat. But it was only Will, coming down the steps behind her. “Shit! You gave me a start.”

“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but we never seem to cross paths.”

“Talk to me about what?” she asked, her expression at once wary and hopeful.

“About Holly,” he replied. “I saw her Saturday, and she asked about you.”

“Did she?” Zoe mumbled, disappointed. She’d hoped…oh, well. Will always left her feeling tongue-tied and awkward, because she fancied him. A lot. “Sha told me she’s working at a restaurant. Gordon Scots. I really need to talk to her.”

“Yeah, she’s waiting tables. I overheard Mark and Kate complaining that she dumped a load of food into their laps.”

Zoe snorted. “Yeah, Mark’s done nothing but whinge about the waitress who ruined his trousers to anyone who’ll listen. I didn’t know it was Holly, though. Good on her.”

“It’s not the same since she left.” Will frowned. “She didn’t deserve to be sacked.”

“No, she didn’t. And I was horrible to her,” she admitted. “I was so sure she published that photo of me, but now I know I was wrong…about a lot of things. Zara said that Sasha really did have it in for Holly.”

Will’s expression was unreadable. “Sasha swears she didn’t have a hand in getting Holly sacked. She’s sorry it happened.”

“Sorry!” Zoe echoed. Her face was etched with scorn. “She’s sorry, and Holly’s out of a job. Being a magazine writer meant everything to her.” She hesitated. “There’s a job coming open soon at
Shout
; the editor-in-chief’s PA is leaving. I want to tell Holly about it. It’s the least I can do.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Since you need to talk to her anyway,” Will added as he pulled his keys from his back pocket, “why don’t we go to Gordon Scots right now? I happen to know she’s working the dinner shift tonight.” He lifted his brow. “I might even spring for dinner.”

Zoe hesitated, torn between her need to see Holly — and a chance to spend some time with Will — and her very real fear of being spotted by Erik.

We’ll be in Will’s car
, she reasoned.
He won’t be expecting that
. And she needed to warn Holly that Erik was looking for her. Besides — her gaze strayed once again to the photographer’s handsome face — she wouldn’t be alone. She always felt as safe as houses whenever Will was around.

“Okay. Let’s go,” she decided.

Twenty minutes later they arrived in Kentish Town as Will tried and failed to find a place to park the little red Fiat. “We’ll have to park around the corner and walk back to the restaurant.”

He finally found a spot in front of a chip shop two blocks away. “Look, there’s an ITV truck over there,” he observed, and pointed. “They must be filming nearby.”

As they made their way down the pavement, the crowds around them gradually thickened. Zoe glimpsed a brasserie just ahead, its dark green awning flapping in the breeze. Customers filled the outdoor tables out front.

A ripple of excitement ran through the onlookers as a tall man in chef’s whites strode out of the restaurant. A microphone boom hung over his head and a cameraman crouched before him, lens pointed upwards to capture the man’s long-legged stride.

“Well, at least now we know where the ITV crew are,” Will told her as he reached out to take her hand in his. “Stick close. I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

Zoe followed as he led her skilfully through the throng of people. Holding his hand felt completely natural, and she found herself wishing — not for the first time — that they could be more than just sort-of mates.

But Will fancied Sasha. According to the office grapevine, they were an item.

Well, Sasha might be a rude cow
, Zoe told herself grimly as she glanced over at the man in front of the camera,
but she was attractive nonetheless
. Who could blame Will for fancying her? After all, Sasha didn’t wear great sodding Doc Martens, and her hair wasn’t chopped into a black-dyed, mohawked mess—

Abruptly Zoe let go of Will’s hand and came to a halt. He turned back, puzzled, but she was oblivious.

She didn’t see anything but the tall man in chef’s whites as he turned to speak to someone.

“Chef Russo! Give us a smile!” one of the people standing nearby, camera in hand, called out.

He looked back and smiled briefly, and as he did his gaze skimmed over Zoe. She froze, afraid to move, afraid to look at him but even more afraid to look away. Thank God she was wearing sunglasses. The director called to him then, and he turned away.

Zoe almost sagged with relief. “Let’s go,” she told Will, her words low but terse. She tucked her head down and quickened her steps, making her way through to the other side of the crowd and leaving Will to catch up. Her heart raced. Thank goodness, the chef hadn’t recognized her.

Will caught up to her a few minutes later, when they’d rounded the corner and left the film crew behind. “What’s your hurry? It was only that television chef, the one with the bad temper. Why’d you take off like that? Afraid he’d throw a rolling pin at you?”

She thought about lying. But what was the point? She’d have to tell Will the truth sooner or later. “His name,” she said, “is Marcus Russo. And he’s my dad.”

The man in the aviator sunglasses could scarcely believe his luck.

He’d been watching the restaurant, Gordon Scots, since morning. But he’d seen no sign of Holly James. Sharon had described her — pretty, blonde, dressed like a stylish gypsy — and he’d studied every female who’d gone inside the place, looking for someone who matched her description.

But he’d seen no one resembling Holly. Either she’d gone in the back entrance, or she wasn’t working today.

Irritated, he decided to get a cup of tea from the shop down the street. He noticed a crowd of people gathered outside the Brasserie Russo.

Fucking hell, he could scarcely make his way through the bloody throng; didn’t any of these people work?

He saw her then. Not Holly, no. Even better…he saw Poppy. She stood frozen to the pavement, her gaze fixed on something. Marcus Russo, he realized as he followed her gaze. He was Bethany’s husband, and Poppy’s father. The potty-mouthed chef must be filming a television episode.

But she wasn’t alone. A lanky bloke with stubble darkening his jaw stood next to her. Without warning, Poppy darted away, and her boyfriend, if that was what he was, hurried after her.

As the two of them wove their way through the crowd, Erik fell into step behind them, keeping them always in sight, secure in the knowledge that neither of them realized they were being followed.

Chapter 48

Holly handed the menu to Will and Zoe with a flourish.

“It’s great to see you again!” she said, and meant it. “Our specials tonight are vegetarian barley soup, salmon sauced with mustard, and prawn crostini—”

“Holly,” Zoe cut in, “before we order — I’m really sorry for how I acted after you got sacked. I know now that you didn’t have anything to do with swapping that photo out.”

“Thanks, Zoe,” Holly said with a shrug, “but it’s over and done with, now. Whoever
did
do it—” she glanced pointedly at Will “—will get what’s coming, eventually.” She tapped her pencil against her order pad. “So how
is
Sasha these days, Will? Still terrorizing the halls of
BritTEEN
?”

“She’s okay. Better, actually. Since the—” he hesitated and glanced at Zoe “—situation with her sister’s been resolved, Kate says she’s eased up on the team quite a bit.”

“I’m glad,” Holly said, and meant it. “I miss working there. Except for the Sasha part,” she added pointedly.

Will flicked a glance at Zoe. “Tell her what you told me on the way over, Zoe. She needs to know.”

Holly tucked the order pad under her arm and regarded Zoe quizzically. “Tell me what? What is it I need to know?”

“He’s after you, now, Holly.” She spoke in a rush. “That bloke I told you about — Erik? He’s still looking for me. He saw your article, and now he’s convinced you can lead him to me.”

“What?” Holly felt a prickle of real fear at Zoe’s words. Damn Sasha for switching those photos! If she hadn’t done it, Erik wouldn’t have found either of them, and none of this nightmare would be happening—

“I’ve got his phone,” Zoe went on. “I took it by mistake when I ran away. It has…evidence, Holly. I think he’s a sex trafficker. And he won’t stop until he gets that phone back.”

“Okay.” Holly took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. “Tell me — what does he look like?”

Briefly she described him. “He drives a black Maserati. I dyed my hair red and had it cut even shorter, not that it’ll fool him. He’s far too clever. Holly,” Zoe added, her expression troubled, “be careful. He knows where you work.”

“How does he know that?” She stared at Zoe, horrified.

“He got it out of Sha. He threatened to put her on the streets, working for him, if she didn’t give up where you were.”

“Oh, shit. That means he knows where I
live
, Zoe!” Thank goodness Gordon Scots was busy tonight; if Jamie knew the half of this, he’d go completely ballistic.

“At least Jamie’s here to protect you. I don’t think Erik will bother you as long as he’s around.”

“That makes me feel
so
much better,” Holly snapped.

“Look, I’m really sorry for dragging you into all this,” Zoe said miserably. “All you tried to do was help me, and I’ve brought nothing but trouble down on your head.”

Holly took a deep, trembly breath. “It’s okay; it’s not your fault. But just the same — I’m really, really scared.”

“Why not go back home?” Will asked Zoe later as Holly deposited two steaming bowls of barley soup on the table. “Your dad’s famous, after all. And you’ll be safe.”

“The problem’s my mum,” she answered. “Dad’s always off filming, or doing cookery-book tours, or going off to supervise one or another of his restaurants. It was okay, really, until—” She stopped.

“Until what?” Will prodded.

“She met this guy. A few weeks later she left Dad, and took me with her,” she explained. “She’s had boyfriends before, and I never cared; I mean, after all, Dad was never home. Who could blame her?” Her face darkened. “Then she met Erik.”

“Did she move in with him?”

“No. But he came to our flat a lot. One night he showed up when Mum wasn’t home. I hadn’t changed out of my school uniform yet. I told him she wasn’t there, but he said he’d wait and pushed his way in. He’d been drinking. He started kissing me. At first, it was okay, and I let him.” She flushed and added defiantly, “I know, it was stupid. But I was mad at Mum, and he was really attractive, and…it was okay, really. But then he wanted to have sex and I said no, and things got — scary.”

“What happened?”

Zoe’s voice shook as she went on. “I told him to stop, but he laughed. I fought him off — it helped that he was drunk — and got away and locked myself in the bathroom.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “He shouted through the door, said I was acting like a child, that he’d have me like he’d had my mum…and I’d like it, and beg for more.”

“My God, Zoe,” Will said softly, his face etched with concern. “You must’ve been terrified.”

“I was. It was my own fault, for letting him kiss me in the first place. But…” Her voice trailed off. “He really scared me, Will. I had to get away — far away — from him.”

Will was silent, his expression hard. Waiting.

She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I heard his car roar off — he has a Maserati — then I waited a bit longer. I was afraid he might come back.” She pushed her soup aside, her appetite gone. “I left a note and told Mum I’d gone to Dad’s. I knew he was off for a couple of weeks and wouldn’t realize I was gone till he got back. That bought me some time. I threw some stuff in a duffel, and ran away.”

“I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”

“Erik left his mobile behind,” Zoe went on. “I grabbed it by mistake; I thought it was mine.” She bit her lip. “It wasn’t. And the next morning, when I read his texts, I realized he’d got the sat nav turned on. I switched it off, but he already knows I’m in central London.”

Will glanced at her uneasily. “London’s a big place. He won’t find you; he’s probably not even looking.”

“That’s just it — he
is
looking.” She looked at him, her eyes dark with fear. “He…texts me, sometimes — says he’ll see me soon, stuff like that.”

“Shit, Zoe!” Will scowled and ran a hand through his hair. “This is serious. You should tell your mom, and the police.”

Zoe shook her head firmly. “Erik said if I tell Mum, he’ll say I came on to him. And she’ll believe him. The police will only send me back home again, to her — and to Erik. Then what’ll I do?”

“Where are you staying now?”

“Holly’s old flat. I’ve moved in with Kate.”

“Good. At least you’re not alone. Come on.” Will thrust back his chair and stood up.

“Where are we going?”

“To pay the bill,” he said as he tucked cash into the leather bill flap, “and to see the police.”

It was dark when they left the restaurant and walked back to the Fiat. The crowds around the Brasserie had gone; but all of the tables outside were occupied.

“I’m not going to the police,” Zoe said stubbornly as she settled herself in the passenger’s seat and slammed the door.

“Don’t you see? You haven’t got a choice!” Will started the engine and pulled out into the flow of traffic. “You can’t deal with this guy alone, Zoe. I won’t let you.”

They’d driven in silence for several minutes when Will glanced with a frown into the rear-view mirror. “Don’t panic,” he said grimly, “but I think we’re being followed.”

“What?” Zoe spun around in her seat and looked back. All she could see through the Fiat’s tiny rear window was a pair of headlights some distance behind them. “What kind of car is it?”

“Can’t tell,” Will replied, “but it’s stayed with us since we left Gordon Scots.”

“Go a bit faster and see if they speed up, too.”

He pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The car kept pace with them.

“It might be a coincidence,” Zoe ventured uneasily.