Security (5 page)

Chapter Six

She hadn’t slept. Nathan had kept his word and stayed in the chair while she took the bed. It was nothing like her queen bed at home. The sheets here were not from anywhere remotely near Egypt, and whatever they’d been washed in hadn’t softened their texture.

She’d slept in her clothes, apart from her hat, and she’d clutched her purse tight to her all night. She was too worried that if she put it down, Nathan would take it. She needed it near.

She knew it was morning now, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. If she did, all the events of the previous day would come back to her and she’d have to continue to react to them.

“You awake?” Nathan asked.

Autumn closed her eyes tighter and held her breath.

“We need to get going soon,” he said.

She sensed him moving across to the side of the bed. Her heart quickened in response. What if he touched her?

“Hey, wake up!” he barked in her ear.

Autumn shot up and out from under the covers, her hands still holding her purse.

“Why did you do that? You could have deafened me! What would that have done to my career? I can’t sing if I can’t hear.”

Smoothing down her skirt and adjusting her jacket, she was acutely aware that she had been in the same outfit for twenty-four hours. The thought made her queasy.

“I need new clothes,” she stated, watching Nathan as he toyed with his mobile phone.

“Yeah, when we get where we’re going,” he responded.

“You haven’t said
where
we’re going yet.” Autumn played with the catch on her purse.

One…two…three…

“No, I haven’t,” Nathan answered.

“Don’t you ever have a normal conversation? Why can’t you tell me where we’re going? You say I have to trust you, well, how about showing a little trust in me?”

“Trust has to be earned.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I know as soon as my back’s turned, you’re going to try to make a call to your PA, you know, the one  sleeping with your boyfriend.” Nathan locked eyes with her as he turned around.

“Stop saying that. It isn’t true,” Autumn hissed.

She opened and shut the clasp on her purse even faster now, back and forth, open, shut, open, shut.

“Put the fucking purse down!” Nathan yelled.

The suddenness and volume of his voice made her drop the purse. She snatched it back up and hugged it to her.

He was looking out the window and had parted the net slightly at one side. He looked deep in concentration. His breathing was steady and slow, deliberate and controlled.

“Is something wrong?” she ventured.

“No.”

“Are you sure? I mean—”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Autumn’s heart leapt into her throat, and Nathan immediately reached into his waistband for his gun. He strode toward the door and motioned Autumn to go into the bathroom.

“Room service,” the voice called from outside in the hall.

“Please, tell me you didn’t order fucking room service,” Nathan hissed to her.

She was shaking, loitering by the bathroom door, not knowing what to do. She shook her head at him. His eyes were on her all the time. She’d not had the means to call room service even if she’d wanted to.

Nathan reached out and put his hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it. Autumn took a step back into the bathroom and squeezed her eyes tight shut. What should she do? She’d not been in a situation like this before. Should she pick up something to use as a weapon? There was a choice of a toilet brush or a razor she would have to unwrap from its plastic wrapping. She heard the door open, flipped her eyelids up and took a deep breath, waiting.

“Room service, Mr. Martin. Two full English breakfasts,” the voice announced.

“You must have the wrong room. I didn’t order breakfast, and I’m here alone. The name’s Shepherd
,” Nathan replied.

“Oh, I do apologize, sir. I’ll go check the order with the kitchen. Sorry for any inconvenience.”

“Not a problem.”

She heard the door close and Nathan practically ripped the bathroom door from its hinges as he came to find her.

“We’re leaving. Get everything you came with. Leave nothing,” he ordered.

He’d noticed the black transit van pull into the car park earlier. Two men had
left it. One returned fifteen minutes later and had been sitting in it ever since. The man seemed to be reading a newspaper, but he also kept looking at his watch and checking his rear view mirror. It wasn’t normal behavior for a normal person. It was, however, normal behavior for someone in a similar line of work to his.

Autumn was counting aloud as she checked and re-checked the small room. She didn’t have anything apart from that bloody purse and the stupid fucking designer hat, but he had to ensure she was alert to everything he said. The next time he asked her to get her stuff together, it might be a life or death situation. For now, they only had time against them.

She muttered to herself, breathing like an exhausted grayhound, gripping the purse as if it could save her life just by being close to her chest. Suddenly, he felt sorry for her. Yes, she was an irritating spoiled bitch, but looking at her now, all he saw was a terrified young woman. A beautiful, terrified young woman.

Chapter Seven

“Now, you do exactly what I say, is that clear?” he barked at Autumn as they waited at the fire exit that led out toward the car park.

Her head was spinning, she felt sick, and she had a run in her stockings. She couldn’t stop looking at it as it seemed to be growing by the second.

“Autumn, you need to listen to me if you want to stay safe.” Nathan took hold of her wrist.

She raised her head to meet his eyes with hers, and she nodded like a programmed robot.

“Right. Now, when I open this door, I want you behind me, holding on to my belt, head down, making for the car, okay? Don’t look up, just walk quickly and keep hold of me,” he said.

“You think there’s someone outside, don’t you?” Autumn asked through chattering teeth. “That’s why you were looking out the window.”

“That’s my concern, not yours. Head down, make for the car, keep hold of me,” he said again.

He took her hands and pressed them to the leather belt at his waistband.

His shirt wasn’t quite tucked in properly, and her fingertips touched the skin at his back. She shut her eyes and bit her teeth together, preparing herself for everything and nothing, all at the same time.

She felt him push the bar on the door, then, all at once, he strode off. The speed of his movement surprised her. She clung to his belt and tried to keep up with his pace.

She kept her head down, looking at the ground as Nathan hurried them toward his car. Paving stones turned into gritty
tarmac. Her fingers chafed on the leather belt she suspected wasn’t really leather, and her heart beat a fast flamenco in her chest.

She heard the car door open. Nathan turned to face her, took her hands off his waistband, and pushed her down into the car. She clutched her purse and blinked to refocus on the outside.

Suddenly, a flash went off in her face, and a camera appeared at her passenger window. She let out a scream of terror, her hand instinctively reaching for the lock on the door. She couldn’t breathe, and her heart was racing again, but she watched as Nathan tackled the photographer to the ground and drew his weapon.

The paparazzo looked terrified. His eyes bulged, and with Nathan’s left hand around his throat and his right directing a gun at his temple, it was hardly surprising. But Autumn looked again at the photographer, and this time recognized him. He
was
paparazzi. He’d photographed her many times, and he was one of the faces she saw in the crowd at all her personal appearances.

She unlocked the car door and tentatively stepped out. “He’s a photographer,” she stated to Nathan.

He had his knee in the middle of the poor man’s chest, probably cutting off his air and crushing his rib cage.

“Having a camera doesn’t make you a photographer. Get in the car, Autumn.”

“I’ve seen him before,” Autumn said as she leaned over him. “He’s paparazzi. He’ll have ID. If you get off him, he can show you.”

He attempted to nod his head despite the restrictions on his neck, but Nathan held firm.

“Let him go, for God’s sake, you’re hurting him,” Autumn said.

The photographer was starting to splutter, and his face was turning an awful shade of mauve.

“Get in the car, Autumn. That’s an order,” Nathan spat, turning to face her.

“Let him go! He’s just doing his job. He scared me, that’s all. Let’s go wherever we’re going and leave him to moped on over to Angelina Jolie’s London pad, or wherever he’s heading.”

“If you don’t get into the fucking car, I’m going to hold this gun against
your
head instead of his,” Nathan threatened.

“This is
not
Kabul!” Autumn shrieked.

“Get in the car!”

“Let him go!”

Nathan relinquished hold of the man’s neck, dragged him up off the concrete, but kept the gun trained on him.

“See, there’s his ID, right there on his chest. His name is Milo. I apologize, Milo, for that treatment,” Autumn began as the man rubbed at his injured neck.

“You’ve said enough. Get in the car,” Nathan ordered, opening it back up and grabbing Autumn by the wrist.

She fell into the seat with a thump, and Nathan slammed the door after her. She watched out the window as he spoke to the photographer and sent him away with a firm thump on the shoulder.

When he returned to the vehicle and got into the driver’s seat, he was sweating and breathing heavily.

“I thought you were starting to understand how things are going to go around here,” he stated as he started the car.

“I knew that man. I’ve seen him. He takes photos. He wasn’t about to kidnap me
.”

She opened the clasp on her purse and took out her powder compact. Checking the mirror, she could see a fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead. This was all
his
fault, this grubby, rough, whatever-he-was. The sooner she got to a phone, the better. He had to leave her at some point. Perhaps she could brave public toilets. He wouldn’t follow her in there.

“And how do you know he
wasn’t
about to kidnap you? People will do anything for the right amount of money,” Nathan told her.

“
You
maybe,” she retorted, touching up her face with the powder.

“Not you? Not a naked
Playboy
centerfold
or anything?” Nathan challenged.

Autumn stopped what she was doing and looked across at him. He had seen her naked in the magazine. The thought disturbed her, and her stomach contracted, also reminding her of how hungry she was.
Playboy
had paid extremely well, but she hadn’t done the photo shoot for the money. She’d done it to quell the rumors that she was anorexic. Of course, she’d had to binge eat for a few weeks before the photographs then starve herself for a month afterwards, but the press machine had rolled out appropriate headlines, and the job was done.

“And what did you think?” she asked him.

“Not my thing really,
Playboy
. No puzzle page,” he said with a smirk.

First the transit van, then the room service call and the photographer. He was starting to panic about this assignment. If he’d had any sort of choice, he wouldn’t be here right now. Right from the outset, when he’d been given his instructions
, he hadn’t been sure whether there would be a good outcome for anyone involved. That thought troubled him more with every passing minute. The truth was, he wasn’t really sure of anything anymore, not with this job, or any other.

Chapter Eight

She didn’t know where they were going, and, at the moment, she didn’t really care. She knew it wasn’t back to her apartment or anywhere remotely familiar to her, and, wherever they were headed, she knew she would be with him. She was actually starting to wonder about his suitability for the role of her bodyguard, if that’s what he was supposed to be. Pouncing on a photographer, pulling his gun out at every opportunity, he didn’t do things with any degree of consideration for the consequences. He obviously had no idea about discretion.

Nathan pulled the car off the main road and drove up a rough-looking track for a short distance before taking to the grass. The ruts in the ground bounced Autumn around, and she steadied herself by holding onto the plastic rail above the passenger window.

“Where are we going?” she asked as her purse fell off her knee and into the footwell.

“Here,” he responded.

He turned around a small copse of fir trees, and there, almost hidden from view, was a landing strip, on which sat a light aircraft.

“What? I can’t leave the UK yet. I have appearances to make, interviews before the music award preparations.”

“You’re getting really boring.” He parked the car and turned off the engine.

“I don’t have my passport. There! We can’t go because I don’t have my passport, and they don’t let you in anywhere without a valid passport.”

She opened and closed her purse clasp again as she spoke to him.

One…two…three…four…five.

He let out a laugh and clapped his hands together as if giving her a round of applause. Her cheeks flamed, and she couldn’t meet his eye. Why did he always make her feel so stupid?

“No passport control where we’re going. Come on, grab the fucking stupid purse and let’s go before any more photographers jump out at you,” he said, opening the car door.

Autumn watched him as he approached a man who stood by the plane. The man was in his forties and was dressed in jeans and an inconspicuous gr
ay shirt. It seemed no one knew about fashion in this world she had been pushed into. She took one last look at her appearance in the vanity mirror then got out of the car.

“…and you’re sure I can trust them,” she heard Nathan say as she approached.

“Yes, two hundred percent, mate. On my life,” the man said, looking to Autumn.

He looked older close up, had a mottled complexion and a smile that showed up tarnished teeth. Her personal dentist would have had a field day with him.

“On your kid’s life?” Nathan asked, staring at him with a deadpan expression.

“Not such a kid now. He’s twenty. Just joined up,” the man told him.

“Swear it on his life, Matthews,” Nathan demanded, his eyes trained on his companion’s face.

“I swear it. I said I swore it, didn’t I? You can trust them, and you can trust me. You’ve always been able to trust me! Hello,” the man said, smiling at Autumn.

“Hello,” Autumn answered as she noticed the true extent of his awful clothes.

“I’m Gerry Matthews, a friend of... What you calling yourself this time?” he asked as he held his hand out to Autumn.

“Regan.”

Autumn looked at the offering and contemplated a little too long about what to do with it.

“Shake his hand, Autumn. Don’t be fucking rude,” Nathan told her.

Gerry clasped her fingers with his large paw and pumped it up and down until her purse fell off her shoulder and hung from her elbow.

“She’s got OCD about germs and everything. Hope you haven’t been scratching your arse.” Nathan smirked at his friend.

Autumn snatched her hand back and started to wipe it up and down on her Audrey Dupont skirt. It was soiled already anyway by twenty-four hours of moving and sleeping in it.

“Well, everything’s in there you asked for, and you’ve got one brief stop to refuel,” Gerry told him.

“Cheers,” Nathan replied.

“So, do
you
know where we’re going?” Autumn questioned the man.

“Not the exact location, no. I believe that’s on a need-to-know basis, and the less I know about all this, the better,” Gerry said with a throaty laugh.

“Get in the plane,” Nathan ordered her.

“I do hope they have waitress service,” Autumn remarked, looking at the tiny jet.

“Yeah, of course. We’ve also got a full fucking orchestra to play us something by Beethoven,” Nathan replied.

“Why do you have to
be
like that?”

“Why d’you have to be like
that
?”

“Right, I’m getting out of here. My job’s done,” Gerry said as he backed away from them. “I’ll take care of the car later. Tie up all the loose ends.”

“Thanks Gerry. I owe you,” Nathan called.

“No, not yet, you don’t. Listen, you need me, just call me, any time.” Gerry waved a hand.

She had maybe a minute before Nathan got on board the plane. She had to find a phone. This Gerry had indicated there was ”stuff” on the plane. ”Stuff” could mean essentials like a phone or a laptop, maybe. Anything to communicate with the outside world would be good. One little message to Janey and she would feel better. She didn’t have to exactly tell her what was going on, she could just make contact.

She saw half a dozen large duffle bags at the back of the plane, and she headed toward them. She pulled back the zipper on the top one and reached her hand inside. There had to be something she could use. She felt around and pulled out the first thing that came to hand. It was oval in shape, with grooves on the outside, about the size of a kiwi fruit. She looked at it, and, all at once, she realized what it was. She let it go in horror.

“Fuck!” Nathan exclaimed, catching the grenade in midair as he boarded the plane.

“I thought it was the new Blackberry. It felt like the new Blackberry,” Autumn said. She hyperventilated and counted one hand of fingers with the other.

“You don’t touch anything else. Do you understand me? If that pin had come loose, you could have blown us all up, for fuck’s sake!”

She thought he’d looked angry before when he’d been close to throttling Milo the pap, but this was a whole different angry altogether.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as tears formed at the rim of her eyes.

She really meant it, and that surprised her. She
was
frightened, and she didn’t know how to deal with that. There was usually someone to do something about her anxiety or her concerns. Not listen, of course, but make it right somehow, usually with money. And, if not
someone
, there was one of her mother’s magic tablets. She could have done with one right about now.

“Listen, put your seatbelt on and we’ll get going. Once we’re in the air, I’ll get you a drink. Martini
, isn’t it?” Nathan asked.

“I hate martini,” Autumn announced as she sank into the cool, leather seat.

He sat down across the aisle from her. “Yeah, I know. Just testing. You like Southern Comfort on the rocks. Not sure we’ll have that here. You might have to slum it this once.”

Before they were even at their required altitude, she was asleep. This gave him the perfect opportunity to observe her. The hat she’d worn all day the day before was placed on the seat next to her, and her red hair wasn’t quite as set in place as normal. She looked pale. Her skin had a pearlescent sheen to it, and her lips, just managing to hang on to a smear of twenty-four-hour lipstick, were dry and cracked. Despite the entourage of people keeping her preened and perfected for the cameras, it was obvious that, under the superficial exterior, she didn’t look after herself very well.

She was physically weak and emotionally challenged. She had no concept of the real world. But then, he could say the same about himself. Wasn’t he emotionally challenged, too? Hadn’t he forgotten how to feel? He let out a sigh and put a bottle of water to his lips. He had no idea what to expect from this job, and he didn’t know whether that was an advantage or a disadvantage.
Expect the Unexpected
was one of his favorite mottos, but wasn’t he getting a bit old for all that? Thirty-six, no family, a retired soldier, what he should be doing now was making something, a business, a pot of money to fall back on for later in life. But then, people in his line of work didn’t have that long a life expectancy. That was why he
should
get out. Trouble was, he didn’t know who he was without this career. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to find out.