True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) (29 page)

And my heart slumps.

Because now it’s about to end.

I slide onto a stool opposite Clive, grunting a barely conscious greeting in his general direction.  Looking pretty dishevelled, he grunts one back in return.

‘How was Bermuda?’ he asks, opening up with small talk.

‘Short and sweet.  I love it though … even with the giant monster cockroaches.’

He smiles a little.

‘And the flight back?’

‘Flights,’ I correct him.  ‘We had to change in New York.  It was bloody awful.’

And that’s an understatement.  It turns out that conquering a Lear jet is no preparation for the joys of boarding a big scary thing on two separate occasions.  While the journey from Bermuda to New York was spent in state of near catatonia, the Atlantic crossing saw me curled up into a ball in a Club class pod, quaking and jittering and letting out the occasional groan.  And even though Dan held my hand, or let me sidle over onto his lap whenever the seatbelt sign flicked off, it didn’t seem to make the slightest bit of difference.

‘Coffee.’  Clive pushes a mug towards me, one of three.  ‘I thought you’d need it.’

I take a sip.

‘Do you think Jodie’s alright?’ I ask.

‘She’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

I sigh in relief.  ‘Thank God for that.’

‘She spoke to a friend this morning.’

‘Does Dan know?’

He casts a glance at the open front door.  Out in the lobby, Dan’s busy talking to a newly-reinstated Beefy.

‘Not yet.’

Shoving the suitcases to one side and slamming the door behind him, Dan joins us.  He slips his iPad onto the counter, grabs a mug of coffee and takes it over to the window.  Looking out over the Thames, he begins to fire off a barrage of questions and although they come thick and fast, Clive manages to catch every single one of them.

‘Any more news?’

‘A friend managed to contact her.  She finally answered her phone.  About an hour ago.’

‘So, what’s going on?’

‘She’s as high as a kite, holed up in a flat with some bloke, too zonked out to answer her mobile until now.’

‘And she knows this man?’

‘No.’

‘Is it Boyd?’

Clive hesitates.

‘No secrets.’ Turning away from the window, Dan takes a mouthful of coffee.  ‘Maya’s in on everything now.’

‘It’s not Boyd.  He’s too young, about Jodie’s age.  Apparently, she was out shopping.  He chatted her up and invited her back to his flat.’

‘Jesus, that girl’s got a screw loose.  So, any connection to Boyd?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And where’s the flat?’

‘The friend asked.  Jodie didn’t have a clue.’

‘That’s no help.’

‘But she could see a pub from the window.  The Tiger.’

There’s a silence.  While Dan finishes off his coffee, Clive takes a mobile out of his jacket pocket.  He seems to be looking up a web page.

‘So, where do we go from here?’ Dan asks at last.  ‘There must be plenty of pubs in London called The Tiger.’

‘Actually …’  Clive holds up the phone, displaying a map.  ‘There’s only one.  And it’s in Camberwell.’

Coming over to the counter, Dan puts down his mug, takes the mobile out of Clive’s hand and studies the screen.  ‘We should go down there.  Knock on a few doors.’

‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ Clive smiles.

‘So what are we waiting for?’

‘What?’ I splurt.  ‘Now?  But you’re knackered.’

With a shrug, he hands the mobile back to Clive.

‘What difference does it make?  We need to get her home before Norman has a coronary.’

I’m over-tired and hardly thinking straight after the marathon terror session, and perhaps that’s why my brain’s suddenly flooded with melodramatic visions of Ian Boyd lurking in the shadows like a spider at the edge of its web.  I can hardly believe it when I spring to my feet and grab at Dan’s shirt sleeve.

‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ I plead.

With an indulgent smile, he wraps his arms around me and plants a kiss on my forehead.

‘Don’t worry, sweet pea.  It’s not in the plan.’

Clive gets to his feet, shrugs on his suit jacket and runs his fingers through his hair.

‘You know,’ he muses, ‘this could be nothing at all to do with Boyd.’

‘And if it isn’t, that girl’s in major trouble.’  With another kiss, Dan releases me.

‘And if it is, it could be another distraction.’  Clive pauses, waiting for Dan’s full attention.  ‘What about Maya?’

‘Oh, don’t be daft.’  I wave a hand dismissively.  ‘He’s not going to break into the Batcave while Dan’s out playing the superhero.’

‘She’s perfectly safe,’ Dan confirms.  ‘We’ve got Beefy up here.  And besides, he wouldn’t get past the concierge.’  He picks up his iPad and switches it on.  ‘Give me your phone, Maya.’

I jolt.  ‘What?’

‘Your phone.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I want to put an app on it.  I want to be able to track you if I need to.’

Silently grumbling that this really is going too far, I retrieve the mobile from my handbag where it’s been languishing for the past few days, amazed that it’s still charged.

He holds out a hand.  ‘Once Boyd’s off the scene, I’ll remove it, I promise.  But right now, we need to play it safe.’

***

It’s early afternoon when they leave.  Desperate to distract myself from all thoughts of what might be going on, I haul the suitcases up to the bedroom and unpack.  After a shower, I sit in the studio, staring blankly at the canvases for an age.  I really should get back to the paintings, but I can’t.  I’m too consumed with worry over Dan.  When my stomach eventually grumbles, I go back downstairs and make sandwiches and tea, inviting Beefy in for lunch.  He asks about Bermuda.  I gush about its beauty, complain that we couldn’t stay longer, and apologise belatedly for abandoning him in a side street.  He thanks me for getting him reinstated.  And then exhaustion seeps through every last molecule of my being.  While Beefy resumes his position outside, I lie on the sofa, telling myself that I’ll just close my eyes for five minutes.  When I open them again, I find Clive crouching in front of me, touching me lightly on the arm.

‘Maya,’ he whispers.

‘You’re back.  What time is it?’

‘Nearly six.’

‘Jesus, I’ve been asleep for hours.’  And suddenly, I’m panicking.  Why isn’t Dan waking me up?  Something must have happened.

‘Where is he?’

‘Relax.  He’s in the shower.’

I sit up.

‘Did you find her?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, what happened?’

Clive blows out a breath and from the look on his face, I’d say that things didn’t quite go to plan.

‘She was in a flat opposite the pub.’  He talks quietly, occasionally looking towards the stairs.  ‘Smoking dope with some lowlife kid.  Dan knocked seven shades of shit out him.’

My face must be a picture of horror.

‘It’s alright,’ Clive reassures me.  ‘The kid’s pretty bruised, but he’ll live.  And he owned up.  He’d been paid to do it.’

‘Boyd?’

He shakes his head.

‘A third party.  The kid couldn’t name him … even after Dan broke his nose.’  He winces at the memory.  ‘But it’s Boyd alright.’  He nods towards the staircase, lowering his voice and leaning in.  ‘Look.  There’s no easy way to say this.  I’m worried about Dan.  After we dropped Jodie off with her mum, he made me take him back to the club.’

I narrow my eyes, hoping to all that’s holy that Clive doesn’t mean what I think he means.

‘Isaac’s place?’

‘Yes.  He’s got it into his head that Isaac’s hiding Boyd.  He went through that place like a lunatic, caused a total rumpus, had Isaac up against a wall … again.’

‘Again?’

‘Like he did at the Savoy.  Lily told me about that little episode.’  He bites his lip.  ‘I’ve never seen him like this before … I’m scared.’

And so am I.  Within the space of a few hours, it seems that my calm and carefree boyfriend has been transformed into a fist-wielding hot head.

‘If we don’t get this sorted soon,’ Clive goes on, ‘he’s going to end up in big shit.  He’s lucky Isaac isn’t pressing charges.’

‘Maybe we should call the police.’

‘Are you kidding?  If we involve the police, the kid denies being paid and Dan gets done for GBH.’

‘That might not happen.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it.  Besides, Jodie’s mum doesn’t want any trouble.  We just need to find that bastard and deal with him.’

A door bangs upstairs.

‘Don’t ask him about it,’ Clive warns me.  ‘Just try to calm him down.’  He gets to his feet.  ‘And don’t let him come into work tomorrow.’

‘He won’t.  He’s on holiday.’

‘And like an idiot, I told him what’s going on at Fosters.  We’re having a few issues.  He’ll want to come in, Maya.  Believe you me.  And if he does, he’ll be biting heads off left, right and centre.  Keep him at home.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Clive glances at the staircase one last time and stands up.

‘I’d better get going.  Good luck.’

As soon as he’s gone, I make my way upstairs, slowly, warily, as if I’m about to surprise a complete stranger.  He’s not in the bedroom, but the door to the en-suite is open and I can hear the sound of running water.  Entering the bathroom, I find him in the shower, hands resting against the tiles, head dipped under the water, motionless.

‘Dan?’

He doesn’t respond.  Maybe he hasn’t heard me.

Unnoticed, I take off my clothes, open the door and slip in behind him, running my hands around his firm waist and noting that his knuckles are bruised.  He rolls his head against the tiles, straightens up and turns.  Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me deeply, urgently, and it’s obvious that he’s wound up tight.  Pulling away, I take hold of his hand and inspect the knuckles.  I want to tell him that he’s gone too far, that he needs to be patient and leave it all to the professionals.  But I’m going to act on Clive’s advice.  Instead, I wait for him to speak.

‘It’s all out of control,’ he whispers, gazing at his hands.  ‘Everything.’

‘You’ll sort things out.  You always do.’

‘I can’t think straight.  I’m making bad decisions.’

‘Then tell me what you need.’

He doesn’t speak.  He doesn’t have to.  I see it in his eyes as soon as they meet mine.  He needs to escape, to hide, call it what you want. It’s how he’s always dealt with pressure in the past, and it’s how he needs to deal with it now.  Cupping his face in my hands, I take a deep breath.  I’m about to offer him his very own brand of forbidden fruit.

‘No baggage.  No past.  No connection.  No hurt.’  I can remember his words exactly, and it’s all I need to say.

He understands immediately.

‘I told you, I’m not going there.’

‘And I’m telling you, this is what you need.’  He doesn’t deny it.  ‘Do whatever you need to do.  Be whoever you need to be.  It won’t change a thing.’

He shakes his head.  ‘Maya, don’t push me ...’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m really fucking tempted.’

‘Then give in to temptation.  One last time.  With me.’

Exhausted, he leans back against the tiles and stares at the floor.  And while he battles his way to a decision, just about every single part of me begins to quake.  I have no idea what I’m letting myself in for, but if it’s a choice between this – whatever this is – and watching Dan come to pieces, then it’s an easy choice to make.  Slowly, his shoulders relax, his breathing calms and his fists unclench.  When he finally speaks again, his voice is detached, curiously devoid of feeling.

‘Go and dry your hair.  Wait for me in the bedroom.’

I’ve had just enough time to sort myself out when I hear the bathroom door open.  Completely naked, he enters the room and throws his clothes onto the chaise longue.

‘Eyes down,’ he orders briskly.

Washed through with nerves and anticipation, I do as I’m told.  Taking my hand in his, he leads me out across the hallway, and into our secret room.

I hear the door close behind me.  I’m brought to a halt in front of the cross.

‘This is it,’ he says.  ‘The moment of no return.  Do you want to change your mind?’

I swallow hard, taking in the leather restraints, wondering what on Earth he’s going to use on me, how far he’s about to go.

‘Answer me.’

‘No,’ I whisper, my voice small.

Instantly, I’m grabbed from behind: an arm across my stomach, a palm across my mouth.  His grip tightens.  I feel his hard chest against my back, his penis at the top of my buttocks.  Forcing my head back against him, he grinds into me and I fizzle at the contact.

‘No talking.  Understand?’

I nod, my breath quick and ragged against his hand.