True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) (32 page)

‘What’s he like?’ I demand.

‘Tall.’  Her eyes glaze over.  ‘Meaty, lovely dark hair.  Brown eyes.  Really nice brown eyes.’  She giggles.  ‘And he’s probably got a massive cock, but I haven’t seen it yet.’

I shift about on my seat and glance at the door.  Sara’s description of her mystery man is far too familiar for comfort.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Name?’

‘Name.  Tell me.’

Confusion creeps into her eyes.  ‘James.  He’s got a lovely voice.’

‘Scottish?’

‘What?’

‘Is he Scottish?’ I snap.

‘No, silly.’  She chortles.  ‘Why are you asking that?  He’s English.  He lives in Oxford.  But …’  She touches the side of her nose.  ‘He’s married.  I’m his fancy woman.  Or I would have been if he’d turned up.’  She waves a hand at the bar.

‘Turned up here?’

Suddenly, things just don’t seem right.  The hairs on the back of my neck bristle with electricity.  I scan the empty room.

‘Here.’  She prods the table with her index finger.  ‘He was supposed to meet me here.  We’ve got a room together so we can … you know.’  She smiles, a sugary sweet, drunk as a skunk smile.  And then the sweetness dissolves.  ‘But he’s chickened out, the bastard.  Left me a message.’  She goes on in a false upper class accent, drunkenly trying to mimic him.  ‘Something’s come up.  Have a drink on me.  I’ll pay for it all.  Why don’t you just see your sister?’

I freeze.  Now why would he say that?  Again, I glance at the door.  A shaft of sunlight falls through the glass panes.  A pair of flies dance in it.

‘How does he know about me?’ I demand.

‘We talked. That’s what you do when you go on a date. I told him about my family.  He told me about his.’

No, this isn’t right at all.  Fishing my mobile out of my handbag, I hold it on my lap.

‘I don’t like this, Sara.’

‘What don’t you like?’

‘This place.  You need to come with me.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to Dan’s flat.’

She shakes her head.

‘No.  I can’t talk to him.’

‘You don’t have to.  I can’t leave you here.  Just go and pack your things.’

‘But I’ve had …’  She squints at the wine glass.

I lean across the table.  Things have gone far enough.  It’s time to bring out my evil twin.

‘I don’t care if you can’t see straight or string a sentence together or walk in a straight line,’ I snarl.  ‘Now, go and get your stuff.  You can crawl up the fucking stairs for all I care.  Just do it.’

Stunned by the force of my own voice, I sit back, silently amazed that my little outburst seems to have done the job.  With a distinct wobble, she staggers to her feet, pushes back her stool and zig-zags towards the door.  As soon as she disappears from view, I call Dan.

He answers on the first ring.

‘Maya?  Is everything alright?’

I close my eyes.  Just hearing his voice makes me feel safe.

‘No,’ I murmur.  ‘I’m scared.  I think …’

The phone is snatched right out of my hand.  Startled, I open my eyes and look up.

Straight into the face of Ian Boyd.

I hear Dan’s voice, faint, shouting my name.  Ian Boyd smiles at me and raises the mobile to his ear.

‘It’s okay, Daniel.  I’ve got her.  She’s fine.’

He ends the call and places the phone on the table.  It begins to ring.  I see Dan’s name.  Boyd hits the ignore call icon.

‘That’s going to get on my nerves,’ he says, his tone light-hearted.

The phone begins to ring again.  This time he answers it.

‘Listen here, Daniel, old boy.  Like I said, I’ve got her.  Maya’s fine.  Don’t worry.  And I wouldn’t bother with the police if I were you.  Things can happen.  Know what I mean?  Now would you be a good little man and stop bothering me?’  He ends the call with a smile and drops the phone back onto the table.  ‘Now.  Where was I?  Do you think they’ve got crisps behind that bar?  I’m a bit peckish.’

I can barely believe what’s happening.  I’m sitting in some tawdry dive of a back street bar with Ian Boyd, and he’s chatting away as though we’re old friends meeting up for a drink.  I’m retreating, withdrawing inside my head.  This isn’t really happening to me.  I’m not here.  I stare at the carpet, noticing that it’s stained, threadbare in places.

‘I’ve got a bodyguard,’ I inform him.  But really, what’s the point?  Boyd’s sitting right next to me and unless he came down from a bedroom, it’s a sure-fire certainty that Beefy’s already out of the picture.  I just hope he’s okay.

‘Have you?’  He points towards the door. ‘Oh, that big idiot out there?  No.’  He shakes his head contemptuously.  ‘He’s gone.’

In one fell swoop, my bubble bursts.  Denial gives way to fear, and fear to panic.  Jesus, I hope he doesn’t mean what I think he means.

‘What have you done to him?’

‘Oh, don’t worry.’  He picks up the wine bottle and examines it.  ‘A clonk on the head.  My boys won’t harm him.  They’ll just drop him off in an alleyway.  He’ll wake up with a headache, covered in piss.’

While I battle off a severe case of the shakes, Boyd turns slowly, examining his surroundings.

‘I could really do with a snack,’ he announces.  ‘I suppose I’ll just have to help myself, seeing as the barman’s nipped out for an hour.’  He winks at me.  ‘I asked him to give us a little space.  Gave him a few quid to spend.  The receptionist was the same.’

My breath catches.  My stomach reels.  With Beefy out of the way and the hotel staff paid to keep a distance, I’ve got nothing more than a drunken sister for back-up.

‘And what about Sara?’

‘Oh, her?’  He smirks.  ‘I’m glad you sent her back up to her room.  Nice move, that.  Far easier to deal with.  She’s locked in the bathroom.  I’m just glad I never had to fuck her.’  He sniggers.  ‘Not a pleasant prospect.’  And now he’s serious.  ‘So, are you going to come with me or not?’

The last thing I should do at this moment is give way to anger, but I just can’t help it.

‘Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you?’ I seethe.

‘Do I really have to explain?’

‘Yes.’

I look at my phone, reminding myself that I may well be in a state, but I need to string this out for as long as I can.  By now, Dan should know exactly where I am, but God only knows how long it’s going to take him to get across London.

‘Because Mr Swanky Pants needs to be taught a lesson,’ Boyd grumbles, rubbing his belly.

‘I think you’ve already done that.’

‘And, of course, because you and me are meant to be together.’

‘We’re not meant to be together.  I’m with Dan, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.  So you can stop all this nonsense.’

‘Nonsense?’  He grins at me, his dark eyes flashing.

‘Killing his dog,’ I remind him with a scowl.

‘Aye, well, he was pissing me off, so I thought I’d piss him off in return.  Tit for tat.  That sort of thing.  Never mind, eh?  It was only a dog.’

‘Only a dog?’

‘Aye.  A dog.’  He purses his lips in disgust.  ‘I can’t stand the fucking things.  Never understood the English obsession with them.  I prefer the Chinese attitude.’  He raises an eyebrow.  ‘They eat them in China.’

‘You’re sick.’

‘Maybe.  And maybe not.  Actually, I could eat a dog right now.’  A bright smile crosses his face, collapsing almost immediately.  He leans forwards, elbows on the table.  ‘You know, I really thought you’d leave him when you found out about the Italian Job.  But, no.’  He shakes his head.  ‘I let you in on the fact that your boyfriend’s full of shit, and what do you do?  You jump on a plane with him and scoot off out of the country.’  He leans back, holding his hands in the air.  ‘Go figure.’

‘You can’t break us up.’

‘And then …’  Ignoring me, he presses an index finger against the table top.  ‘Then I have to go to all the trouble of luring the pair of you back to London.’  He shakes his head again.  ‘I could have done without that.’

‘What you did to Jodie was wrong.’

‘A teenage pothead.  She was an easy target.’  He shrugs dismissively.  ‘So, are you ready to go?’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘I’ve got a car waiting outside.’

‘And I’m not getting into it.’

I glance down at the phone.  It’s still switched on, and it needs to stay that way.  When I look back at Boyd, he’s scowling at me.

‘Now don’t be difficult, Maya.  Just get in the car.  Let me take you away and remind you what you had with me.’

I’d laugh if I wasn’t terrified.  What I had with Boyd was nothing less than a nightmare, and I’d remind him of that if I thought it would make a scrap of difference, but arguments and reason seem to bounce off this man like raindrops on glass.  I need to stall some more.

‘Okay,’ I murmur.  ‘But first I need a drink.’

‘Oh, Maya.’  He gives me a disapproving look, as if I’m a child.  ‘You’re not still knocking it back are you?  It’s very un-ladylike, you know.  I’ll cure you of that.’

Biting back the urge to tell him to get stuffed, I force a smile.

‘A drink.  For old times’ sake.’

He stares at me, perplexed.

‘And to steady my nerves,’ I add for good measure.  ‘I wasn’t really expecting this.’

He shifts his position on the stool.

‘There’s wine here … and I paid for it.’  He picks up Sara’s half-finished bottle.  ‘Cheap shit.  No more than she deserves.’

‘I need something stronger.’

‘A good malt?’

‘If you like.’

He rises to his feet and makes his way behind the bar.

I check the door.

‘Don’t bother,’ he smiles.  ‘You won’t get away.’  He examines the optics.  ‘Jesus, this place is the pits.’  At last, he pours two glasses of cheap whisky, takes a sip of one and grimaces.  ‘How about the South of France?  Fancy that?’

‘For what?’

‘Our little getaway.’  He disappears for a moment, rummaging beneath the counter.  ‘Ah, bingo.  Dog flavoured crisps!’  With a laugh, he straightens up, shoves a packet of crisps into his pocket and comes back to table, brandishing the drinks.

I shake my head.  ‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh come on, Maya.  You’d like France.  It’s all smelly cheese and strong coffee.’  He puts the whisky down in front of me.  ‘Before long, you’ll forget Mr Swanky Pants and we’ll be happy.’  Taking his seat, he opens the crisps.  ‘You’ll remember that you love me.’

‘I never loved you.’  It’s the wrong thing to say, but the words arrive too quickly, shooting out of my mouth before I can stop them.  ‘I can’t force myself to love you.  I don’t love you and I never will.’

He shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.

‘You’re in denial,’ he says at last, pointing a finger at me.  ‘We’re made for each other.  We’re meant to be together.  Now, drink up.’

With a shaking hand, I pick up the glass.  Taking a small sip of whisky, I wince as it burns my throat.

‘Faster than that, lady.  We’ve got to make tracks.’

Realising that I’m running out of time, I stare at the carpet again.  Perhaps I should just swap stalling for complete non-compliance.

‘I’m not coming with you.’

‘Oh, yes you are.  Drink up.’

‘We’re not made for each other.  We’re not meant to be together.  I’ll never love you.  All I feel for you is contempt.  You’re a sick man and you need to be locked up.’

He stares at me, wide-eyed.

‘That was some pretty nasty stuff.  You’ve hurt my feelings.’

‘It’s the truth.  Just leave me alone.’

‘I can’t do that.’  Taking a slug of whisky, he goes on slowly, as if he’s trying to convey a simple idea to a moron.  ‘I’m going to take you with me, and you’re going to learn that you’re wrong.  I’m going to teach you that you’re wrong.  And I’m going to teach Mr Foster a lesson.’

‘You need help.’

‘You think I’m a nutcase.’  He finishes off his drink.  ‘Plenty of people do.  But they’re wrong.  I’m just a little different.’

I look down.

‘Why don’t you give me the benefit of the doubt, Maya?’

‘You don’t deserve it.’

‘And he does?’  He takes a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it out on the table top.  It’s a page from a newspaper.  I’m not entirely sure which one.

‘One of London’s most eligible bachelors,’ Boyd reads, ‘is officially off the market.’  I lean forwards, squinting at a creased up photograph, surprised to find that it’s me and Dan outside the Savoy.  ‘Apparently, you’re getting married.  Fiancée, it says here.  Fiancée?’

Maybe I should tell him it’s all a massive mistake.  But then again, maybe I shouldn’t.

‘You will not marry that man, Maya.’

‘I’ll do what I like.’

He slams his fist on the table, causing me to jump almost clean off the stool.

‘I won’t have it.’

‘You need to see a doctor.’

‘Doctors.  Ridiculous.  I can sort myself out.’  Pushing back his stool, Boyd gets to his feet and extends a hand across the table.

‘I’m not coming with you.’

‘You don’t have a choice.’

‘I always have a choice.  And I’m choosing not to come with you.’

And now I see the anger rising in his face, the real man emerging from beneath the façade of jokes and laughter.

‘Maya, I’m through with the game playing and the warnings.  Come on.’

I pick up my glass, slowly.

‘I’m finishing my drink.’  I take another tiny sip.

He turns his attention to the mobile, his face wrinkling into a smile.

‘Oh, I get it.’  He picks up the phone.  ‘Mr Foster’s tracking you on this and you’re giving him the time.  Clever girl.  So, where’s he coming from?  The big HQ?’  He checks his watch.  ‘Hmm, not that far.  We’d better get moving.’

‘No.’

‘Get up.’

I shake my head, fix my eyes back on the carpet.

‘You always were a wilful madam.’

It all happens so quickly.  I feel his fingers close around my upper arm and I’m yanked upwards, off the stool.  I let out a scream, hoping that it’s loud enough to be heard by a passer-by.  Immediately, I’m swung round, my back slammed against his chest. An arm clamps tightly across my stomach while a hand covers my mouth.  Fear and panic take hold, flipping me into fight mode.  Struggling against his grip, I twist my head from side to side until finally, I manage to bite his fingers.

‘Behave,’ he shouts.

I kick at his shins, as hard as I can, over and over again.  He tightens his grip and drags me backwards, out of the bar, through the main door and onto the street.  Still kicking and struggling for all I’m worth, I note a black car waiting for us at the kerbside, the back door open, a faceless man standing next to it.  And that does it.  Full-blown panic.  If he gets me into that car, there’s no way anyone is going to rescue me.  I’ve got to rescue myself.  Boyd’s hand is back over my mouth now, and I take my chance.  With one almighty effort, I bite clean into his skin.

‘Fucking bitch!’  He jerks the hand away.

Swinging round in his loosened grip, I bring my knee up to his crotch and ram it home.  He lets go of me and doubles over.

And I run.

I’m at the end of the road when I hear the screech of tyres, stopping just in time to brace my hands on the bonnet of a black Mercedes Benz.  I register Clive’s surprised face, hear the driver’s door open, catch the flash of a suit, and then I’m in Dan’s arms.

‘Where is he?’

I point back up the road.

‘There.  He’s there.’

Only he’s not.  The car’s already pulled away, disappearing out of the road and taking Ian Boyd with it.

And suddenly, I’m overwhelmed.  If I’m not very much mistaken, I’ve just been almost-kidnapped, and that’s ridiculous.  Things like that don’t happen in the real world.  But then again, ever since I walked into Daniel Foster’s life, the real world seems to have gone crazy.  Digging my head into his chest, I do my best to blot out the madness, without much success.  A sob works its way up my throat, and then another.  Before long, I’m a jittering, weeping shambles.