Bex Wynter Box Set

by Elleby Harper

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I’ve never been criticized for not being thorough in my work. Every online delivery made from Sainsbury’s is fully checked before it leaves the store.”

  “I give up, Quinn. I don’t know why I think you’ll take any advice to heart.”

  “Well, it’s not your problem any more is it? You’ve returned your goods as faulty and defective and have received a full refund.”

  “Quinn, please stop taking the piss out of everything I say. You don’t seem to realize how close your team was to being shut down last time. I’m only offering advice because I still care about you.”

  “Forgive me, Madam, for assuming that you care about your designer shoes even more. You haven’t been immune from your own publicity, though, have you?” he couldn’t resist sniping.

  There was a pregnant pause, before Isla’s sweetened voice sent shivers licking up his spine. “Since you’re referring to that beat up story about those far right dickheads, England for English, disrupting my court case yesterday, I take it you are keeping tabs on me, Quinn.”

  He forced out a light-hearted chuckle. “It’s always interesting when you pull a less than stellar performance. How did your client take it?”

  “He knows these things happen. If anything their actions will make the magistrates’ decision even more politically correct so as to be seen as being unbiased.”

  “So, is Li Jian your new squeeze of orange juice?” Quinn hated that the question had been burning him up ever since he’d seen the footage of Isla’s hand on Li’s arm. He hated that he didn’t have the willpower not to ask.

  Isla gave a throaty chuckle. “Your jealousy is so flattering, Quinn. But, like you said, our personal business is our own. You have enough on your plate without worrying about my love life.”

  “So, that’s no to our premium knitwear brand? I take it you prefer the imported variety?”

  Isla hung up.

  “Woman trouble?” Eli asked.

  Quinn didn’t answer. He had no intention of getting into his issues with Isla. There was no future there. She had made it clear and he simply had to suck it up and move on.

  “I know what that’s like. Sydney’s given me the cold shoulder since this happened. She thinks it’s somehow related to my work. That the girls have been nabbed because they’re a copper’s daughters.”

  “That’s bullshit. They took twenty other girls. Your kids were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s one of those unfortunate facts of life.”

  “Tell that to Sydney. I doubt she’ll believe you.” Eli shook his grizzled head. “You know the really funny thing? I took this position with Youth Crimes Team thinking it might give me a more normal work routine. Monday to Friday, nights my own and weekends off. The extra hours I put into this job are killing my marriage.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, mate. It’s a tough one. This isn’t an ordinary career. There’s no easy solution except get out of the job.”

  Eli gave a snort. “Who’s going to hire a forty-five year old with no other work experience?”

  “You could always set yourself up as a private investigator.”

  “You mean check into cheating spouses and lost dogs?” Eli snorted again. “No thanks.”

  Quinn’s phone rang.

  “You’re a very popular man, Quinn, my boy.”

  It was Idris. Quinn answered.

  “I’ve found something you need to take a look at.” Urgency coated Idris’s voice.

  “Idris, I’m on my way to shake down a bookie who might have a lead for us. Are you back at work already? You haven’t had a ten hour break.”

  “This is more important. I mean it, Quinn, you need to haul your arse back to the station. I think Bex is in danger.”

  Chapter 26

  Fairbridge House College, Bromley

  Bex came to, her cheek pressed against a cold, hard floor, something rigid against her back and a bad taste in her mouth, leftover from whatever narcotic Red Eyes had used to knock her out. Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on banishing the dizzy feeling lingering around the edges of her brain. She listened intently for several minutes. Hearing nothing, she carefully peeked under her lashes.

  She was no longer in the custodian’s office. Narrow shafts of light trickled through cracks in wooden boards that had been nailed across the room’s single window. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness and she made out two beds. Her back was shoved up against one of the beds. Neither had any bedding. Only mattresses sat atop metal post frames. She turned her eyes towards the stucco ceiling where it was just possible to discern that the light fitting had been ripped out of the ceiling. It looked like some sort of dormitory room that had been stripped bare.

  Glancing down she saw her wrists were bound, but her feet weren’t, although her shoes had been taken. Thank goodness Red Eyes hadn’t broken any bones in her hand, she thought, wriggling her fingers gingerly. Her watch was missing so she had no idea how long she’d been knocked out.

  She struggled into a sitting position. Apart from a few bruises and aches, all her body parts seemed to work. Her cheek throbbed from the backhander he’d dealt her and a headache tablet would be welcome.

  When she twisted onto her knees and pushed herself upright she noticed two doors opposite the beds.

  She moved to the main door, noting the electronic lock that could be activated by a swipe card, similar to a hotel room. That told her this room wasn’t meant to be a jail cell, it was supposed to allow people to come and go at will. Pressing her ear to the door she heard only muffled sounds that were impossible to distinguish. She considered banging on the door and calling out, but that would only alert her captors that she was awake. Better to keep looking around to see if she could find something that would be useful for an escape.

  She moved to the next door, which opened onto a miniscule en suite bathroom. She tested the light switch. Brightness assaulted her eyes, bouncing off the dazzling white walls, from an in-ceiling fitting. The glare revealed a toilet, a basin and a molded shower with a clear plastic, not glass, screen. The bathroom must have been recently renovated because it was endowed with the latest retro fittings: Glossy rectangular wall tiles and exposed copper piping jutted from the ceiling over the basin and in the shower. The mirrored doors from the bathroom cabinet, the towel rack and toilet holder had been removed. There didn’t seem to be anything loose in the room.

  Moving back into the bedroom, she ventured closer to the window. She placed her eye at a chink in the boards. It was barely light outside, but still difficult to judge exactly how much time had elapsed since she’d been knocked out. Scrabbling her fingertips underneath the bottom plank, she gave it a hard yank, but it remained sturdy. She doubted she would be able to pry off sufficient boards to escape via the window.

  Bex weighed her options. She could move one or both of the beds in front of the door to block the entrance. But then what? She had no phone and no means of communicating with the outside world and no way to pry the planks from the window. It might buy her time if someone was coming to rescue her, or it might simply aggravate her captors into shooting through the door.

  She heard locks scrape back on the door and threw herself to the ground, pretending to be unconscious, her senses on high alert.

  Footsteps sounded. A heavy boot nudged her aside and there was a thump as something was deposited on the bed, like a heavy load of laundry.

  Hot, musty breath blasted into her nostrils as someone bent over her. Her skin tingled and prickled at the presence, but she kept her breathing even. A callused hand snaked through her hair, viciously yanking her head upright. A hiss of pain escaped her lips.

  “Knew you were faking!”

  Bex opened her eyes to glare back at her tormentor. He released her hair with a jerk. A low moan sighed from the bed.

  “Look after your girlfriend. The boss tells me you know each other.”

  “Your boss is wrong. I don’t know anyone in London.” It w
as always good to do whatever you could to unbalance your attackers, make them wonder if they had the correct information or if their sources were wrong.

  Red Eyes gave a nasty laugh. “Then think of this as an opportunity for you two ladies to get to know each other. As for you, bitch, we still have unfinished business.” He looked her over like a dog anticipating a tenderloin. “I don’t have time to deal with you now. But trust me, I will be back.”

  He licked his lips, giving her a salacious grin.

  Bex contained a shudder to stare coolly back at him. “Looking forward to it. Bring me roses and a box of candy next time. You sure know how to treat a lady!”

  “Sure, bitch, I’ll be sure to treat you like a lady next time. You can count on it.”

  He slammed back out of the room.

  Chapter 27

  Fairbridge House College, Bromley

  The body on the bed was dressed in a pale lemon suit that Bex found familiar. She hopped up to open the bathroom door to shed some illumination into the room. The glow pooled around Isla Standing’s Titian hair.

  “I’m going to throw up!”

  At the sight of Isla’s heaving shoulders, Bex rushed forward to grab the other woman. Despite her bound hands, she swept her clumsily into the bathroom, watching as Isla retched violently over the toilet bowl. She had obviously had a more intense reaction to the narcotic than Bex.

  Isla slumped onto the ceramic floor tiles while Bex flushed the toilet quickly to eliminate the stench. Then she managed to drag a groaning Isla to the sink. She turned the faucet on full blast and the copper pipe leading from the ceiling vibrated noisily against the tile as she splashed cold water over Isla’s face. Isla sank back to the floor. Resting her back against the wall, she pushed her hair out of her eyes with her bound hands. Shock and displeasure registered in the tawny gold eyes gazing at Bex.

  “I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m certain that somehow you’re behind all of this,” she blamed Bex.

  “Listen, Ms. Standing, I’m really in the dark as much as you. But I can tell you that the position we’re in isn’t good. I came across two dead bodies and that doesn’t bode well for us.”

  Isla looked startled. “Are you saying Li Jian is a murderer?”

  Bex blinked. “Why have you made a connection to Li Jian?”

  “The last thing I remember was being with Li Jian this afternoon. He requested a special meeting to go over the case. Since I had some paperwork to clear up, I agreed to meet him at my office at two o’clock.”

  “What did you discuss?”

  Isla shook her head. “Nothing that we hadn’t already been over. Although he hides it, it’s obvious to me that Jian is extremely anxious about this case. If he loses his visa, not only will he be extradited but also his cousin, Xiu Lan. And since it’s Xiu Lan’s uncle that’s funded his car import business and the Investor Visa, that would result in severe loss of face. So I spent the whole time reassuring him. When I indicated our time was finished, Jian offered me a lift home. He said his driver was waiting downstairs for him. I thought, what the hell, why not? We drove back to Fitzrovia and then he insisted on accompanying me upstairs to my flat to make sure I got inside safely. I turned at the door to say good-bye and that’s it. That’s all I remember.”

  “He must have used a hypodermic on you to knock you out. Have you invited him to your home before? Were you two dating?” Bex remembered Li’s invitation to her to go on a private tour of Buckingham Palace. Had he set her up to do exactly the same thing to her? But why?

  “Does that have any bearing on our situation?” Isla’s voice was prickly as a heat rash.

  “If Li Jian is the murderer behind kidnapping you and me, then it may well have an impact. For instance, is he targeting single, professional women of a certain age?”

  “No, I didn’t date him.” Isla’s voice became tentative, as she admitted, “But I considered it a possibility once our professional relationship ended. You have to say, Jian’s a gorgeous hunk. He’s powerful, well-dressed and rich. All the things that Quinn Standing isn’t.” Isla sighed. “Do you think the police will be looking for us?”

  Bex wondered if her phone call had made a useful connection. She felt a twinge, hoping she hadn’t dialed her parents or Walt back in the US. There was nothing they could realistically do and her call would have only distressed them.

  “Would anyone know you’re missing?” Georgie would expect her back by the end of the day, but other than that nobody would have a clue Bex was missing.

  “I didn’t have any plans after work. My dad might call, but I don’t think he’d be worried unless I didn’t call him back by tomorrow. I did speak to Quinn today and we argued about Li Jian. Maybe he’ll follow up on that? When we were together our arguments used to end up in the sack. The way he could move those snake-like hips would make me forget what we were arguing about! Until next time,” Isla revealed, her eyes latched onto Bex’s, almost like a challenge.

  A rush of intense curiosity about the Standings’ relationship consumed her. Trying to stave it off, she fiddled with the plumbing fixtures, feeling the faucet jiggle away from the wall. The exposed copper piping seemed to be held in position only by saddle clamps. She concentrated on rattling the pipe some more.

  Shame filled her as she surrendered to her curiosity. “What did you argue about?”

  Isla bestowed a knowing smile on her, as though she could see straight through Bex’s veneer of indifference. “It may surprise you, but a lot of times it was about the legality of the law. Quinn’s passionate about justice ending up with the bad guys behind bars. My dad thinks he sometimes cuts corners to get results and he’s terrified that Quinn will open the Met up to a lawsuit one day. If that happens, I hope I’m prosecuting. Quinn believes I bend the law too much for the bad guys. He’s got more of a black and white kind of perspective. Guilty or innocent.”

  “And you see shades of gray?”

  “Sometimes more than fifty.”

  “Is that why you broke up?” Bex avoided Isla’s smug expression, keeping her eyes trained on her fingers as they fidgeted with the faucet. The more she played with it the looser the screws became. The first saddle clamp was almost free from the wall.

  Isla lifted her hands to her head and rubbed at her temples. “I don’t know. We had one fight too many, or perhaps I made one slight too many on Quinn’s pride. He thinks I don’t love him. With Quinn it’s always all or nothing. That black or white mentality of his. He just can’t bring himself to compromise. I wanted to stay in my old apartment. It’s practical. Quinn wanted us to buy something new together. I thought that was unnecessary. We butted heads. Neither of us would give in. I guess I knew what would happen, Quinn being Quinn.”

  “Do you regret it?” The question slipped out against her better judgment.

  The silence dragged through seconds as Isla considered her answer.

  “Maybe. Or maybe I just haven’t given myself long enough to get over him.”

  The words filled Bex with unexpected dread. How much time was needed to get over someone you loved? she wondered. She wished someone would give her a definitive answer.

  Abruptly, the piping in her hands broke away from the white tiles, leaving the faucet suspended over the sink without attachment to the wall. She eyed the long copper pipe snaking its way up to the ceiling. If she could snap the pipe she might be able to create a weapon of sorts.

  “Congratulations on cracking the Dunreath case, by the way.” Isla’s business-like tone indicated her bathroom confessions were at an end. “Sophie Dresden certainly soaked up the publicity and milked it for everything it was worth. Why wasn’t your face plastered over the press?”

  Bex tested the pipe, finding a weakened spot about a foot above the faucet that allowed her to bend it first one way and then the other.

  “I was in training when the case was cracked.” Bex chose her words carefully, mindful how close the team had come to being terminated because of her lack
of credentials.

  Isla gave a laugh. “Oh, that’s right. Your temporary visa hadn’t kicked in when the team was handed that case.”

  Something about Isla’s voice made her wonder if Isla knew more about it than she was claiming credit for. Hadn’t Quinn once said that Vincent Titus, Isla’s father, was very close to Viscount Dunreath?

  “It was you who informed Dunreath about my temporary visa not being valid, wasn’t it?” Bex accused just as the pipe in her hands snapped off and a gush of water spurted over the sink into her face.

  Chapter 28

  Third floor, New Scotland Yard

  Quinn’s heart raced as he listened to the recorded message that had come through on Idris’s smart phone sometime during the afternoon while he’d been asleep at home.

  “…nter and I’m warning you to put your weapon away. If you cooperate with the law then things might go easier with you.” There were some muffled sounds, then Bex’s voice again, “Who are you? What do you want? Did you kill Ron Thompson? What for? What are you after?”

  A male voice with a rough accent, grunted, “Shut up! There’s nothing I’d love to do more than shove my fist into a mouthy bitch like you.”

  The line crackled, then there was silence.

  Idris had contacted Quinn as soon as he listened to his messages. Not wasting any time, Quinn and Eli had reversed direction and traveled straight back to the Yard to meet with Idris and Reuben.

  Quinn replayed the recording one more time, hearing the strain in Bex’s voice, a clear tell that she felt under duress. This wasn’t a prank or an accidental butt call. Where the hell was she and who was she talking to?

  “Bex obviously dialed Idris trying to send a message. Sounds like she’s in some deep shit trouble,” Reuben said.