Inescapable Fate: Hanleigh's London (The Fate Series Book 1)

by Hanleigh Bradley

  “I hope you can act, Kentley,” DCI Trent says in his ‘I’m the boss’ voice.

  “Probably better than you can,” I respond without looking at him.

  We make our way down to the ambulance, locking the door behind us. We look like we’re on our way to a Halloween Party, not the hospital. I just hope this isn’t a waste of time and police resources.

  It’s completely possible I’m wrong about the perp.

  He could attack someone else… except it doesn’t seem likely. He chose Miss Lolt for a reason. They have a history. A past. There’s motive there.

  We’re rushed into the hospital on stretchers, sent through A&E and admitted to the ward. Trent enjoys every moment of it. He’s a moaning mess, calling out for his wife.

  “Where’s my wife?” he barks. “Get off me. I want my wife. Madison!”

  He’s enjoying this far too much. I refuse to reply. Instead, I just groan and cry out in pain as if my life depends upon it, rolling into myself, hugging my stomach. The other patients in the hospital are looking at us with interest.

  Perhaps they’ve never seen this much blood.

  One older lady looks like she’s about to faint. Someone should tell her it’s fake before she crumples to the ground.

  “Madison! Madison, you Bint! Are you okay?”

  I can’t believe he is still calling me a Bint! Here we are in the hospital surrounded by people and he’s calling me, his wife, a BINT! If he was my husband for real, I’d murder him myself for calling me a Bint.

  “You misogynistic pig! Stop calling me a BINT!” I shout out.

  “Good. You’re okay,” he replies to me before lowering his tone, as if to stop me hearing him. “If she’s well enough to shout at me, we’re going to be fine.”

  The doctor to his right chuckles good humouredly.

  If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, I’d jump off my bed and go and hit the good-for-nothing pain in my arse that is currently telling the doctor all about how his wife likes to shout at him and call him a pig. What he fails to mention is that he is in fact a pig.

  Miss Lolt is asleep when we get to our ward.

  Trent insists on having the bed closest to the door. Another one of those misogynistic tendencies of his. He still doesn’t think I can take care of myself or our victim for that matter.

  I don’t know whether to be offended or to feel moved that he gives two figs about my safety. In reality though, I think he’s just scared that Daddy Kentley will tell him off if I get hurt. The idea is completely ridiculous, but I won’t correct him. Let him worry if he wants to.

  The next few hours we go through the motions of being hospital patients. We bicker more than we probably should. The nurses pop in regularly to check our blood pressure.

  Apparently, no one told them we’re not actually hurt.

  They even got a little worried when Trent’s blood pressure was higher than it should have been. He blamed it on me. He told them that I had been nagging him and that was why it was so high.

  I get the impression he is purposefully trying to goad me.

  Now we’re sat here with the TV on because he insisted on watching the news. Miss Lolt hasn’t recognised us yet and Trent has decided to keep her in the dark about our identities, in case the perp hers us tell her.

  “So how long have you two been married?” she asks me conversationally.

  “Not long. About a year,” I answer.

  “Ah, that must be nice.” Her voice sounds wistful.

  “It would be if I’d married someone else,” I mutter more to myself than her.

  “I heard that,” Trent says.

  “You were supposed to, Sweetums,” I say in my most sickeningly saccharine voice. The one that makes even me wonder if I plan to murder him in his sleep.

  “She loves me really, you know.”

  He is far too pleased with himself. As if he feels his acting skills need to be proved, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and begins to huff and scrunch his face up as he gets to his feet. Within a moment or two, he’s across the room and sat in the chair next to my bed.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” I glare at him.

  “I want to be by your side,” he says. Miss Lolt practically squeals in delight at his supposed display of affection.

  He takes my hand in his and kisses my pal before leaning back in his chair. I try to take my hand back but he refuses.

  “I’m sorry you were hurt, Madi. I should have protected you better.”

  “I…” Everything about this is weird. His voice is sweet and endearing and if I didn’t know better, even I’d believe he is sincere. “I’m fine.”

  “I know. You’re the bravest woman I know. But I still should have done better.”

  Miss Lolt is ahhing and oohing as if we’re a bloody soap opera.

  “You should be in your bed,” I chastise him because I don’t know what else I can possibly say.

  “Not without you.”

  I have to restrain myself so as not to hit him for that comment.

  “Ahhh. You too are so cute. So, what do you both do?” She asks.

  “Madi here stays home.”

  Trent pats my hand with his. I just know he’s going to say all the things he knows will irritate the hell out of me.

  “We want a family. Her only job is to bear children.”

  He can hardly keep the smirk off his face. He knows that I’m itching to hit him and he’s loving it.

  “I work in advertisement. Boring stuff.”

  Miss Lolt doesn’t know how to respond to him. I can see that she’s torn between being entertained and feeling offended on my behalf and perhaps the rest of womenkind too.

  Chapter Ten – Walker

  I hadn’t planned to sleep in the chair. It had sort of just happened. When I wake the next morning, sunlight is streaming in through the window.

  I’d stayed awake most of the night, on guard in case the perp made an attempt. He didn’t though.

  So, I’d had far too much time to think about everything and anything. I had found myself focusing on things that I didn’t think I should, like the sound of Kentley’s breathing as she slept in the bed beside me.

  I had held her hand all night, although I’m not completely sure why. I’d tried to convince myself that I’d stayed in the chair so that I’d find it easier to get to my feet if that arsehole did show up, although, at least half of me knew better.

  I had wanted to sit in the chair. I’d wanted to be close to her.

  By four in the morning, I was past tired and more than happy to swap with Kentley, but I’d refused to give her her hand back. I’d rationalised in my head that if I was holding her hand then I’d wake up if there was a problem.

  If she left her bed for any reason, in fact.

  So, I’d slept there for at least five hours holding her hand tightly in mine.

  She’s sitting there, upright in her bed, frowning at me when I finally open my eyes.

  “Can I have my hand back now?” she asks. “My arms gone dead and I need the loo.”

  I chuckle quietly as I release her hand.

  “Sorry.”

  I notice the way she scowls further at my apology. I stand up and go to the window, looking out over the car park.

  “What are you doing out of bed, son?” I hear from the doorway behind me.

  It’s a voice I recognise well. John has come to act the part of the caring parent. He’s going to be our contact with the rest of the force and apparently now he’s my father.

  “Dad.”

  I nod my head before making my way back to my bed.

  “Where’s my daughter-in-law?” he asks gruffly as he extends an arm to help me.

  “Bathroom,” I huff out, acting the poor soul as best as I can.

  Not ten minutes pass before Kentley is limping out the bathroom.

  “Madison, dear,” John turns towards her so that he can assist her across the ward, “how are you?”

  “I�
�m okay.”

  She smiles up at him, giving him wide eyes and a sad smile that says, ‘feel sorry for me’.

  “That stupid son of mine… getting you into this mess.” John tuts. “I’m give him a good bashing.”

  She has the audacity to laugh.

  “It’s okay. We’re alive; that’s all that matters.”

  The moron that I am, I didn’t realise how boring this would be. I’d thought we’d have a great time being undercover. In actual fact, sitting on a hospital bed for hours on end is anything but fun.

  The only enjoyment I’ve found is teasing Kentley but I get the impression I’m the only one who enjoys that particular past time.

  It’s entertaining to watch as a mixture of frustration, irritation and downright loathing flit across her face before disappearing.

  She has a pretty good poker face, except in that brief second before she controls her expression. I live for that second of time when she lacks control. It’s fleeting but oh so beautiful.

  Two whole days pass without anything of interest happening at all. The most exciting thing that happens is the turn of the year. We watch it on the news, the fireworks in London, New York and every other big city the world has to offer.

  All the while, we sit in our beds bored beyond belief.

  We try to keep ourselves entertained. We play cards – turns our Kentley and my ‘dad’ John are both a dab hand at poker. I read. I read out loud just to annoy my ‘wife’ who eventually seems to get into the story so much that she keeps telling me to read ‘just one more chapter’.

  “It’s time to sleep,” I tell her in a hushed tone, so we won’t wake up Miss Lolt. We’re currently sat cross legged on Kentley’s bed, sat opposite each other with a table between us. On the table there is an assortment of snacks. We’ve been having some crazy arsed picnic – or she has – I’ve been reading.

  “I don’t want to sleep.”

  She pouts at me.

  “I don’t care,” I tell her sternly. “The later you stay up, the later I have to stay up.”

  She understands immediately what I am telling her. She needs to get her five hours now so that I can get mine in five hours’ time.

  “You can sleep first,” she whispers. “I’m wide awake.”

  “No.” I won’t budge.

  “But…”

  “No buts.”

  I get to my feet and wheel the table against the wall so that she can lie down without anything in her way, then I plonk myself down in the chair next to her bed, my eyes focused on the door to our ward.

  She glances down at me.

  “Are you really going to sleep in that chair again, tonight?”

  I have every night so far, so I don’t really know why she’s asking. I’m a man of habit; once I’ve made a decision, I stick to it.

  “Sleep Bint.”

  I watch for the anger that radiates across her face at the word. I relish it. I can’t keep in the bark of laughter that erupts at the sight of her expression. Acting the part of her doting husband is quite fun to be fair.

  “Come on love, it’s late,” I say before standing up and kissing her forehead softly.

  She schools her expression to try and stop me from seeing just how confused she is by my behaviour. No one else is here, except for a sleeping girl, so why bother with the pretence?

  I have no explanation but, in all honesty, I don’t care.

  I don’t need to explain my actions; not to myself and not to her. I literally push her shoulders back until she’s lying down on her bed, take her hand in mine and sit back into the chair.

  My eyes are trained on the door, my ears focused for even the tiniest of sounds from the hospital corridors beyond it.

  I notice the moment that her breathing shallows and she falls asleep. I glance back at her, taking in the look of pure serenity that has taken over her face.

  Who would have thought we’d manage to survive each other’s company for this long?

  When I first met her, I’d been convinced that she wasn’t worth the badge she had in her pocket. I’m beginning to realise I was wrong. I lift my legs up, so they are resting on her bed and lean back in my chair, her hand still clutched firmly in my own.

  That’s why I hear the bang.

  I’ve dropped her hand and am on my feet quicker than lightning. She’s awake like a shot too.

  “What was that?” she asks groggily.

  “Not sure. Stay put.”

  I make my way towards the door, peek my head through and notice a nurse. She’s dropped everything she had been carrying onto the floor. I close the door once again.

  “False alarm.”

  She nods before glancing at her watch.

  “Might as well swap then.”

  “It’s not been five hours,” I correct her.

  “Close enough.”

  “Nowhere near.”

  “It’s been four and a half. The extra half hour will do me no good at all.”

  I relent, returning to my seat.

  “Why don’t you sleep in your bed?” she’s telling me off again.

  “I thought you wanted to swap? I’m sleeping. Shhh!”

  “ARGH! I could sit in the chair. Why can’t you at least look a bit more comfortable?”

  “You want to sit in a chair? Just stay where you are and keep your eyes…”

  “On the door. I know.”

  “Don’t get mouthy, Bint.”

  “But it’s so entertaining to watch you get pissed about it.”

  “If people hear you, they’ll think you really are a misogynist.”

  “Who says I’m not?” I tease.

  “I like to believe you’re a little better than you seem.”

  “A little better?” My eyes widen and my smile grows. “It’s nice to know you believe in me.”

  “Sleep,” she demands.

  It’s weird. I’ve been letting her boss me around more than I should. I’ll need to reassert my authority in the morning.

  Chapter Eleven – Georgia

  When he’s finally asleep I can relax. When he isn’t intentionally trying to get on my nerves, he’s being confusingly sweet.

  Where has my bossy pain in the arse DCI gone?

  I can’t wait for this damn case to be over with, so that we can go back to how things were before, when he wasn’t insisting on holding my hand and kissing my forehead.

  He’d still be calling me a Bint and I’d still want to kill him but at least we’d have a clear line to follow. We wouldn’t be blurring the boundaries and confusing the crap out of me. I’m counting down the seconds until that undetermined moment when my life can go back to bloody normal.

  My eyes struggle to stay open but if there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s not to fall asleep on the job. Instead, I get to my feet, extracting my hand from his.

  “Where are you going?” he asks me.

  “Damn it.” I curse. “I just want to stretch my legs. Anyone would think I was being held hostage…”

  “No. Just trying to keep you safe.”

  “I’m not the one we’re here to protect.” I berate him.

  “Who says I can’t protect two people at once?”

  Trust him to look like a puppy with a wounded pride.

  “I don’t need protecting.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  “I’m in charge.”

  His tone is much the same as the one he uses at the yard and I find myself mouthing my response.

  “Fine Sir.”

  “If you can’t stay awake, we can swap.”

  I’m not sure if he’s being considerate or if he’s reprimanding me for my inability to keep my eyes open.

  “Not necessary.”

  “It’s okay if you’re tired.”

  He’s right. It is okay. What wouldn’t be okay is letting someone else, someone who is equally as tired as I am, do my work for me.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Let’s stay up
together then,” he offers.

  “No. You should sleep.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I said no.”

  He frowns at me, opens his mouth, perhaps to remind me that he is the boss but decides against it and settles back in his chair, allowing his eyes to drift closed once more.

  It’s an hour and forty-seven minutes later when I hear the creek in the hallway beyond our hospital room. It’s another minute before the door knob turns and I see just a peek of light through the now slightly open door.

  I play dead, pretending to be asleep.

  Just one eye open, I peek to see who enters our room. I see his face. It’s the man who stood on my arm and broke it. My instincts are screaming for me to make a dart for him but he’d get away for sure if I did that.

  Instead I wait.

  I watch as he approaches Miss Lolt’s bed. He has to pass by my bed to reach hers. That’s when I see the knife.

  In an instant, I’m up vertical and off my bed.

  I jump on his back and try to tackle him to the ground before he even realises I’m there. He pushes back against the wall, trapping me with his weight.

  When he pulls back away, I’m crumbling down onto the ground. He goes to approach the bed again.

  I can’t let him hurt her.

  Why isn’t Trent awake?

  Every other time I pulled my hand away he woke immediately but right now he’s sound asleep.

  Really? He couldn’t pick his moments a little better?

  “Trent!” I call out, hoping to wake him up.

  I get back to my feet. The assailant has his knife raised. He jabs it forward, towards me.

  His eyes are panicked.

  I lung for his leg, hooking my foot behind, hoping to take him down. He stays upright though.

  He’s stronger than me but that doesn’t intimidate me. I know my strengths.

  Trent’s voice breaks through the quiet, “You can’t get away. Even if you stab her, you won’t be able to escape.”

  His words catch me off guard and that brief second of distraction is enough to almost get me killed.

  The arsehole grabs for my broken arm, turning me around so my back is to his front, blade to my throat. I try to resist but he’s stronger than I am, and I have a broken arm.