by Mandy Baggot
“That is the truth. We’re on Beaver Island. Get your purse and your designer hat, we’re getting off.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and motioned toward the door.
“Well, where is that? Not that I believe it’s a real place, but whatever it’s really called, where is it?”
“America. Ready?” Nathan pulled out his gun and prepared to disembark.
“Do I have to hold on to you again?” Autumn queried nervously as she stepped up close to him.
“Only if you want to,” he responded, grinning.
She buttoned up her jacket and chose to ignore him. He opened up the door, and, straight away, the heat hit her. It made her reach for the buttons on her jacket again, this time to unfasten them.
She followed him closely down the steps, her hand shielding her eyes from the fierce sun. Just off the tarmac was a four-by-four vehicle with a trailer attached. Sitting inside were two dark-skinned men dressed in khakis. Nathan approached the car with caution. Autumn walked steadily behind him.
“Mr. Regan, it’s good to meet you,” the driver spoke. “We have a mutual friend in Mr. Matthews. I am Teo.”
“Good to meet you,” Nathan said, holding his hand out to the man.
“And this is Jazz,” Teo introduced his companion.
Nathan nodded a greeting to the other man then turned to face Autumn. “Get in the back. We’re going to get the stuff off the plane.”
Teo got out of the Jeep and opened the door for Autumn, indicating the back seat. The fabric was torn, and there was a thick layer of dust covering it. In the footwell were rags, an oil can, and a large wrench.
She held her breath and stepped up into the vehicle, trying to perch on the very edge of her bottom so as not to absorb anything.
“You, Jazz, you armed?” Nathan queried.
“Sure,” he responded, between chews of gum.
“Good. Well, you stay with her and keep your eyes everywhere. Everywhere, got it?” Nathan asked.
“Sure, I got it,” Jazz answered, unfazed.
“I’ll be two minutes,” Nathan said, looking to Autumn.
She nodded and felt a slight niggle in her gut as he left her side for the first time since they’d met. It felt odd to be out of his sight. But then, wasn’t that what she’d wanted?
“Have you got a mobile phone?” she hissed at Jazz.
“Sure,” he answered, turning to look at her.
“Good. Let me have it,” Autumn demanded as she held out her hand.
“Oh no, Ma’am, I don’t think so.”
“How much?” Autumn asked, opening the catch on her purse and rummaging through the contents to find her wallet.
“How much what?”
“How much money is it going to take for you to let me use your phone? A hundred pounds?”
She didn’t really know why she was looking in her purse for cash. She never carried cash. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even touched a note, which was probably a good thing, seeing as how, apart from communal bowls of nuts, handling money was the fastest way to catch something nasty. But to make contact with the outside world and the only people familiar to her, she would gladly give him her bank card.
“Dollars, not pounds here,” Jazz replied.
“Listen, I’ll give you my bank card, you can withdraw whatever currency you like. Just let me have your phone for one minute,” Autumn pleaded.
She was desperate. She hadn’t realized just how much she relied on Janey to run her life. Without someone directing her diary and telling her where to go, what to do, and even what to wear, she was lost. She knew she was here now, but just hearing where she was meant to be, hearing Janey’s familiar voice, it would be something to remind her of who she was and what she did up until twenty-four hours ago. She didn’t even know what time it was.
“No amount of money can buy me. Besides, I am aware of Mr. Regan’s reputation,” Jazz told her firmly.
“Mr. Regan tells me everyone has their price,” Autumn whispered.
She could see Teo and Nathan leaving the plane, the black duffle bags from the back over their shoulders.
“Not me. I value my life,” Jazz responded.
Autumn’s heart dropped to the bottom of her chest. She shoved her wallet back into her purse and held it to her as Nathan and Teo returned to the vehicle.
Her one chance without his eyes on her and she had blown it. For someone to turn down unlimited funds, this reputation Nathan Regan had must be pretty serious.
“Everything okay?” Nathan asked, directing the question at Autumn.
Those hazel eyes knew. They knew what she had asked Jazz and they were confident about the outcome. He knew everything she did even if he wasn’t there.
He tried to pretend nothing had changed, but almost everything had in the time it took to cross the Atlantic. He had no idea what to do next. He didn’t know what to tell her and what not. She was freaking out as it was. She couldn’t handle anything else just yet. He looked across at her as the Jeep left the landing strip and pulled onto the road. There was a stain on her precious skirt, and she rubbed at it with her fingers, counting every stroke. He didn’t think she could cope with honesty yet. She was only just getting used to protection.
Chapter Ten
When Autumn saw the property, she smiled for the first time in a very long time. It was gorgeous. This was more like it. This was what she was used to. As soon as the Jeep had parked up outside and Teo had opened the door, she had almost floated out of the vehicle, joy and awe etched on her face. It was a new building, traditionally constructed, the color of slate with a green tiled roof. There was a garage straight ahead, and to one side, wooden steps led up to a front door.
Her jacket was over her arm now. The heat was stifling, and she knew that inside there would be a shower at the very least, somewhere she could wash off everything she had endured over the last day. She walked toward the steps, unable to wait any longer.
“Autumn! You wait!” Nathan bellowed, turning his attention away from Teo and Jazz and toward her.
She gritted her teeth in irritation but turned back to face him, smiling. She could do this. In minutes, she would be inside, out of this sweaty day, rambling around a house so big she would be able to lose herself in it—and find a phone.
“There is another Jeep in the garage for you. Keys,” Teo said as he handed them to Nathan.
“Thanks.”
“We stay at house, just over there. There are maps inside,” Teo informed him.
“Thanks,” Nathan said again.
“See you tomorrow,” Jazz added.
Nathan waved. “I’ll be in touch.”
Autumn opened and closed her purse in impatience. She wanted a bit of the five-star luxury she was used to, and, from the exterior appearance of this place, she was going to get it.
Nathan watched the Jeep until it was out of sight then pointed to the bags on the tarmac.
“Grab one of these, will you? Oh, and, anywhere new, I go in first,” he said, strolling past her, two of the bags on his shoulder.
She looked at the bags, the sheer bulkiness of them. She knew exactly what was inside. Weapons, guns of all kinds, and probably other lethal devices to inflict pain on unsuspecting potential kidnappers who dared to cross Nathan Regan’s path.
She took hold of the straps of one and jerked it upwards while balancing her purse on her other arm. It barely moved. He was halfway up the steps when he turned back.
Why did he always try to humiliate her? She wanted to weep. She was so close to somewhere that looked decidedly better than anywhere she had been with him, but still, he had to degrade her, keep her from anything remotely comforting.
She bit her lip and pulled the bag with all her strength. It moved a couple of inches.
“That’s it, Autumn, put your back into it. Apparently, we have a sunken double bath inside. I can’t wait,” he said.
That grin was on his face again. That self-confident, ver
ging-on-smug expression he used whenever he thought he’d said something clever. He was utterly detestable, and when this threat was over, she would ensure he never worked again.
Everything he’d asked for was there. Matthews was a loyal friend, and he’d obviously earned the same amount of respect from Teo and Jazz somewhere along the line. The house had four bedrooms, a den, a large kitchen and dining room, two bathrooms, and a deck right across the front of the building with a view of Lake Michigan. Steps led down from the deck onto the beach, and that’s where he was now, staring out across the expanse of water, thinking about what to do next.
This was always what happened in his line of work. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but this time, for some reason, he was. He needed to get back in control of this situation before it all went to shit. He needed a plan—another beer and a plan.
If she closed her eyes in this bath, she would fall asleep. There was no doubt about that. She had walked into a huge double bedroom, with an uninterrupted view over the lake, and had jumped in excitement when she found that the row of closets had clothes in them. Granted, they weren’t designer, but they were stylish, and they were clean, and that was a luxury. She’d peeled off the Audrey Dupont suit and threw it into a bin by the dressing table. She couldn’t possibly wear it again after all it had been through.
Her eyelids flickered closed, but she snapped them open. She couldn’t fall asleep. She needed to stay alert with him around. She wouldn’t put it past him to just walk into the bathroom, unannounced, and demand her out of the bath for some reason, perhaps another photographer to menace.
Her stomach rumbled as she smoothed bubbles over it with her hand. She’d not eaten since the pizza the night before. That was good. She’d been so busy being dragged across the world, she hadn’t even thought about eating. Or not eating.
She lined up the miniature bottles of bubble bath at the side of the tub, counting them into place. She was hungry now though—well, a bit. Actually, she would kill for fries.
After she’d dried her hair and dressed in a simple white cotton dress she’d found, she made her way into the kitchen. What she saw took the breath from her chest for a second. It was Nathan, at least, she thought it was, but he looked completely different. He was dressed in pale linen trousers and a light blue t-shirt, his feet bare, his hair freshly washed, and not a hint of stubble on his chin. He’d shaved and the transformation was almost unbelievable.
He stood over the stove, stirring something in a wok. “So, do you drink red wine or white?” he asked, not looking up from what he was doing.
“Um, well, I…”
“Dunno why I’m asking really. I know the answer. You like Prosecco,” he said, putting the spoon down and holding out a glass to her.
She moved toward him with a degree of caution. She reached for the glass just as he retracted it.
“But, before you have this, you’ve got to promise to eat,” Nathan said, indicating the meal he was preparing.
“I should have guessed there would be a catch. What is it?” Autumn asked as she looked into the pan.
She couldn’t really concentrate on what was in it because of him. Whatever the food was, it smelled good, but he smelled even better. She really needed to get some sleep. Aromas of meat, coupled with fresh vegetables, herbs, sandalwood, and musk assaulted her nostrils. She could almost reach the wine if she leaned across him. No, too close.
“Chicken, red pepper, baby sweetcorn, onion, mushroom in a white sauce with tagliatelle,” he told her.
“You can cook,” Autumn said. She internally cursed herself for stating the obvious. How stupid must he think she is.
“I can cook this. Don’t be expecting cordon blue every night.”
“Cordon bleu,” she corrected.
“Yeah, that, too. So, are you going to eat it?”
“Of course.”
“All of it?”
“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I couldn’t promise that. I don’t have a very big appetite and…” She drifted off.
He said nothing. He picked up the glass of wine he had offered her and drank it all down in one gulp. Autumn swallowed and tried not to react. She had come to the conclusion that he thrived on her reaction to things.
“Nice wine, that. I’ll have to congratulate that Teo guy on his choice,” Nathan said.
“I’ll eat it. I’ll eat it all,” Autumn stated in a rush. She didn’t just need a glass of wine right now; she craved it like a junkie.
Nathan moved to the fridge, opened it up, and retrieved the bottle. He poured some into another glass and held it out. She hesitated, gauging whether she should try and reach for it again or not.
“Take it,” he urged.
She took the glass, her fingers nudging his as she took her grip.
“Sorry,” she apologized as her cheeks colored up.
“You want to lay the table?” he suggested then turned his attention back to the food.
“Okay.” She looked for the table then the drawers she thought housed what she would need.
“So, tell me about your career. How does a girl from Essex become one of the most well-known singers in the world?” he inquired.
“I’m not from Essex. I’m from London,” she stated, easing the drawer open and taking out two seagrass mats.
“You were brought up in Chigwell. Chigwell’s in Essex.”
Autumn sniffed at his attention to detail. “My bio says London.” A detail that didn’t really matter.
“Your bio. Yeah, I don’t go much on ‘bios’. I like the facts. So, Chigwell to Chelsea and all those bestselling records. How did it happen?”
“Why do you want to know?” Autumn queried.
“For fuck’s sake, Autumn. It’s called conversation. You know, two people in a room, talking with each other. Shit, you’re hard work,” Nathan said, opening the fridge for more wine.
“I don’t know how it happened. I love to sing, that’s all,” she responded tentatively.
“Lots of people like to sing. Half of those idiots on The X Factor think they can sing. You don’t get made into a star overnight unless you’re pretty special,” he said.
She looked over at him as she put cutlery down beside the tablemats. It sounded like he was being sincere, but, any second now, he could turn it all around and be making fun of her again. She just didn’t know how to take him.
“I played about, wrote songs when I was a kid, but nothing came of it. Probably because, despite her now using the information to thrill her friends, back then, my mother hated the fact I wanted to be in the music industry. She tried to discourage me at every opportunity. But then, when I was a teenager, I sang in a vocal group in Chigwell. One day, Eric Foster came to rehearsals. You know who Eric Foster is, right?”
“No idea.”
“Well, he’s the biggest music mogul in the UK. He formed Bad Nation Boys and Visual. He was looking for girls to form a new girl band to rival Girls Aloud. Mother didn’t want me to audition. In fact, she refused to drive me to rehearsals that day, so I snuck out and walked two miles.”
She paused and took a breath.
“I love to sing, but I never really wanted to sing in a group. There’s less room for personal expression in the songs, and that’s the bit I love. You know, taking something and making it your own. I only joined the group in Chigwell to see if I could sing with other people, but truthfully, I only enjoyed the solo sections.”
She stopped, surprised she was telling him all this. He was still looking at her though, paying attention to her words.
“Anyway, Eric Foster only gave one girl his business card that day, and that was me. The girl band never materialized. He put all his time and effort into creating me, and I guess we never looked back,” Autumn concluded.
Nathan nodded his head and took a drink of his wine.
“Plus, I was absolutely crap at everything at school. So, making music was the only way I was going to get out of Chigwell,” she added with half a
smile.
“What about your mother?”
“She can’t hold a note, not even at karaoke.”
“No, I meant Chigwell. She’s self-made with her career, too. Owns a house in Mayfair, another in Spain. Wouldn’t she have helped with your career if the singing hadn’t paid off?”
“You’ve met my mother. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. Do you think I want to be in financial or emotional debt to someone like that?” Autumn responded.
She threw down the last fork and spoon and walked back over to the stove.
Chapter Eleven
He’d watched her push the meal around her plate over the last twenty minutes or so, and he knew she was counting every mouthful. He didn’t understand it. How did someone get that way? Was it a nervous habit she had picked up because of all the scrutiny she had to endure in her work, or was this constant anxiety borne out of her fucked up relationship with her parents? Or was it a result of her relationship with that dipshit of a boyfriend? Juan—the bald-headed, sunglasses-wearing rapper who called himself Rockweiler. He’d seen how that bloke operated. Juan talked out of his arse and wouldn’t know reality if it came up and shot him in the head. Now, that idea was tempting.
Autumn took a large mouthful of wine and put a strand of tagliatelle into her mouth. Nathan had finished his meal ages ago but hadn’t moved. He sat opposite her, toying with his wineglass, watching her every move. The creamy sauce was likely laden with calories, and she had eaten almost half of the huge portion he had served her. But there was nowhere to dispose of the food here. He had his eyes on her. There was no way she was going to get away from this table without clearing her plate. She felt five years old all over again. A distraction, she needed to distract him.
“So, where are you from? Obviously not London,” Autumn said, putting her fork down and nursing her glass of wine.
“Obviously?”
“Well, I mean your accent is…” Autumn started.
