Final Justice (Lorne Simpkins thriller (Book Three))

by Mel Comley

  Jumping up, Lorne ducked under the Capitaine’s outstretched arms and squeezed her five-foot-five inches between them. ‘Come on, guys, we’re supposed to be on the same team here.’

  Michel shoved Tony away, with narrowed eyes he looked down at Lorne. ‘That’s what I thought too, Madame Simpkins.’

  ‘Hey, don’t lay the blame at Lorne’s door, buster.’

  ‘Oh, I assure you, Mr Warner, I hold you both responsible for disobeying … no that is the wrong word,’ he thought for a moment, then said, ‘no, violating, would be a more suitable word to sum up your actions tonight. You have violated both mine and my country’s trust. That is something I will not tolerate. At first light I will arrange for you to be escorted to the airport and sent back to England. Your country might put up with such dishonourable actions, but I am afraid in France we pride ourselves to solve cases by the book.’

  ‘Probably makes sense why Baldwin has settled here then. He views France as an easy touch,’ Tony said.

  ‘Why you …’

  The Capitaine charged at Tony, but again Lorne jumped between the two pig-headed men. ‘Cut it out! This isn’t going to solve anything.’

  She had a hand on each of their tensed chests, her head swivelling between them, as they glared and snarled at each other, neither man willing to back down. It wasn’t long before her wrists ached from the pressure of trying to keep them apart. Finally, she snapped, jumping in the air she landed on both of the men’s feet. ‘Jesus, guys … give it a rest, will you? No wonder Baldwin runs rings around the police. You two are acting like a couple of bloody Keystone Cops.’ Sapped of strength, she collapsed backwards onto the bed.

  ‘I think you should take back your accusation, Mr Warner.’ Michel rubbed his sore foot up and down the calf of his standing leg.

  Lorne’s eyes lifted to the ceiling. Jesus, these two could start their own world war right in this very room.

  ‘That’s impossible, Capitaine. In England, Baldwin never settled anywhere Lorne will vouch for me on that score, won’t you, Lorne?’

  Big mouth, keep me out of your petty squabbles will you? I’m retired from the force, remember!

  The way both men turned to look at her, she sensed they were both expecting her to come down on their side. She nodded, not wanting to be in an invidious position, raised her shoulders and dropped them again.

  ‘Your logic is unfathomable at times, Mr Warner. Maybe … Mr Baldwin did not care for your country. Perhaps, he prefers to live here,’ Michel said.

  ‘Bullshit! That’s bollocks in any language. He knows how gullible you French are. He’s aware how grateful the French can be when someone throws a few million around. Regardless of the fact his entire fortune happens to be illegally obtained.’

  The tension intensified and Lorne physically jumped when the phone by the bed rang.

  ‘Oui, daccord. Je compris, je regret.’ Michel said, before slamming down the phone. ‘That was reception, the people in the rooms either side have complained, they asked us to keep the noise down. I suggest we resume our discussion in the morning. Maybe our heads will be clearer and cooler by then.’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘We will rendezvous in three hours.’ He marched over to the door and threw it open, giving them little option but to comply.

  Tony stormed out and headed down the hallway towards his own room. Lorne hesitated in the doorway and looked deep into Michel’s eyes, silently pleading with him to forgive her disloyalty. Without saying a word his arms reached up and grabbed her shoulders. Expecting him to take her in his arms, Lorne expelled a relieved breath. Instead, Michel spun her towards the door, moved one of his hands to the centre of her back and nudged her over the threshold.

  Dumbfounded and hoping to plead her case further, Lorne turned to face him, only to find the door shut and juddering in its frame. Left standing, she stared at it, stinging from the insult and wondering if it was hatred she’d seen in Michel’s eyes. The same eyes that barely twenty-four hours before had emanated sincerity during their love-making.

  She shuddered, as she struggled to deal with the hurt steadily rising. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she headed back to her room, alone.

  Jesus Lorne, there’s just no stopping you at times is there girl? ‘Mrs Messup’, the blunders just keep on coming, don’t they? And sleeping with Michel has to be right up there with the best of them.

  She cursed her own weakness, jumped into bed and buried her head under the quilt, in shame.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After receiving the tip-off the police were about to raid the chateau, Baldwin had ordered Julio to get his private jet ready for a trip and given his men some time off, instructing them to report back for duty in forty-eight hours. The jet had landed in Monaco a couple of hours later around mid-afternoon. With some R&R on the agenda, the two men boarded Baldwin’s £350 million yacht, the yacht he’d cheated a Sheikh in Dubai out of, in a dodgy game of poker.

  The 525-foot yacht, with its four diesel engines and 9,000 horse power, had dropped anchor just outside the harbour walls of France’s notorious millionaires playground, bobbing away peacefully on the slight swell of the Mediterranean. A couple of smaller yachts, less than half the size of "Lady Luck", were dotted around them, anchored a couple of hundred feet apart, an unspoken rule for sailors to respect other’s privacy.

  ‘Ah, this is the life, Julio, huh? Sun, sea and sex on tap. Not a care in the world. Millions of pounds, dollars, euros and yen dripping into my account. Three more weeks and the title will be mine, "the world’s richest man".’ He laughed, a jovial belly laugh, the rest of the group joined him.

  Despite not understanding a word of what the rich Englishman was saying, the two large-breasted blonde bimbo-looking mesdemoiselles laughed. But Baldwin expected that, when he’d sent Julio ashore to pick up a couple of girls his instructions had been clear, he wanted the three B’s, breasts, beauty and brainless. The girls had been cherry-picked, with the aid of Julio flashing his bulging wallet around, and the two selected were undeniably lacking in the IQ and conversational skills department. An added bonus was that the two girls were "first-timer prostitutes".

  Julio slapped the backside of the blonde who was curled up on his lap, dozing in the sun. ‘Chambre numéro deux,’ he said, trying out his schoolboy French.

  The girl giggled, wriggled off his lap, slipped on a pair of deck shoes, and wrapped her bikini clad body in a towelling robe. Julio shook his head, ripped the robe off the girl and threw it overboard. ‘You won’t be needing that,’ he said smiling. He spun the girl around, patted her cute little arse and pointed to the stairs leading down to one of the five VIP suites. The sound of slapped flesh and giggles followed the randy pair, until the noise of a door being slammed shut drifted up to the deck.

  The other girl was sitting on the end of Baldwin’s wooden steamer, giving him a fake bashful smile. He grabbed her hair, picking up the end of one of her bunches he sucked on it, then smiled at her invitingly, before licking his lips and beckoning her with his finger. Using her breasts as if they were her hands, she teased her way up the length of his body, stroking his shins, then his thighs, it didn’t take long for his penis to double in size.

  Tugging at the strings on either side of her bikini bottoms he released the tiny piece of aqua blue material and it fluttered to the deck. His eyes dropped to his Speedos then back up to her pretty freckled face. No words were needed. She grasped his meaning immediately. He lifted his backside off the lounger, and she tugged down his trunks. The girl tried to kiss him on the lips, but he turned his face to the side. Taken aback the French girl frowned and looked hurt, but Baldwin wasn’t the type to let someone’s hurt feelings bother him.

  Again, using only his eyes to communicate, Baldwin glanced down at his cock, then back up at the girl as he watched a light bulb of comprehension register in the bimbo’s brain. She placed her warm, wet lips around his penis, he groaned as his hands sought out the pigtails on either side of h
er head, yanking on them he pulled her head down at the same time as he thrust his hips upwards. Faster and faster, making the girl gag, but he ignored her flailing arms and the way her lips pushed against his penis, trying to force the offending item out of her mouth.

  Eventually, he shot his load. Feeling exhausted from his exertions he rested his head back against the cushion. Meanwhile, the girl seized the opportunity to escape, she scrabbled around under the steamer looking for her bikini. The sound of her sobbing, as she covered herself with the flimsy garment pissed him off. It didn’t take much, he’d experienced sluts all his life, and when things started to get rough, that’s when the whining usually began and his patience snapped.

  He lifted his head and sneered at the girl, watched her shudder. A malevolent fascination tinged with a spark of excitement filled him. Hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. A half-smile curled his lips, he patted the steamer beside him inviting the girl to sit down, she hesitated, but when his lips pulled into a full-smile he saw her defences weaken. Slowly, she sat on the end of the steamer and moved cautiously towards him, her movements filled with trepidation and fear then, before she had a chance to stop him, he tore off her bikini top, her tiny hands tried to hide her penthouse-worthy breasts, but failed. Amusement filled his sparkling eyes and spiked another spear of fear into the blonde.

  His erection sprung to life and his outstretched arms forced the girl into position. He placed his cock between her huge breasts and looked at her, expecting her to know what to do next. She gulped, her fear deepened and tears welled up in her eyes as she enclosed his throbbing dick with her huge breasts. After a few minutes he ordered her to stop. Puzzled, the girl looked up at him. Amused, he smiled when he saw the relief in her eyes. He shook his head, and with hands digging into either side of her waist, he lifted her up and settled her onto his lap, his cock buried painfully inside her.

  She wriggled, trying to escape, but the movement only seemed to heighten his excitement. She managed to squirm her way off him once, but his powerful arms grabbed her again and roughly placed her back in position. The girl stopped wriggling, Baldwin knew she was hoping he’d back off, but he hadn’t finished his sadistic game, yet. His irritation intensified, his hands gripped her shoulders as his thrusts gathered momentum and strength. He could feel her insides being ripped apart.

  ‘Non, s’il vous plait, non!’ she shrieked, as tears coursed down her reddened cheeks.

  ‘Ah, oui, chérie. Oui.’

  Then he moved to the edge of the steamer, the terrified girl wedged in place with his cock still impaled in her. Standing now, he continued thrusting into her, his arms slipped down to either side of her waist, ensuring she couldn’t escape him. He walked over to the side of the boat, pinned the girl’s back to the metal railing to keep her in place. More tears ran, useless tears that only increased his hatred for her. Driven, his hands clawed at her throat, her eyes bulged and she pleaded in her own language for him to stop. But he ignored her, continued to thrust and choke, his eyes tightly closed in concentration. Choking and thrusting, until he climaxed for the second time.

  When he opened his eyes, the girl’s head had flopped to the side, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. He pulled himself out and casually slung the girl over the side of the boat. Her lifeless body hit the water with a loud splash.

  Seconds later, Baldwin was reclining on the steamer, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Julio arrived on deck, out of breath, his eyes searching.

  ‘Problem, Julio?’

  ‘Umm, boss … where’s the gi—?’

  ‘Where’s the girl? Oh, she fancied a swim.’ He laughed.

  Julio ran to the side of the boat, first the port then the starboard. His eyes locked on to the naked girl lying face down in the water.

  A scream made both men turn. The other girl looked petrified and visibly shaken. Julio moved to comfort her, but Baldwin threw out an arm blocking his way. ‘You’ve had your fun with her, now get rid.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me, unless her fucking screaming has made you deaf. Get fucking shot of her. Now.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Despite Michel telling them their moonlight adventure would be discussed over breakfast the next morning, it wasn’t mentioned at all. The four sat around the breakfast table glaring at each other in a stony silence. But then, at nine, true to Michel’s word, a car arrived and drove them back to Charles de Gaulle Airport.

  Lorne had tried talking to Michel in the reception of the hotel, but it proved to be a waste of time. She only tried the once, as the hatred filling his eyes pierced her heart and left her wondering how she could have ended up in bed with such a cold, heartless man. She shuddered when she thought that only a couple of hours before she had compared him to Jacques, the love of her life. How foolish and misguided could one woman be?

  Tony spent the two-and-a-half hour flight back to London lost in his thoughts, a relief for Lorne, it meant she didn’t have to worry about empty apologies or banal conversation, and left her free to concentrate on her own confused thoughts.

  After finding his car in the vast airport car park, Tony drove Lorne home. Since eating breakfast five hours ago, they’d barely spoken a word to each other. Finally, as he pulled up outside her house, Lorne had had enough.

  ‘I get the impression you blame me for this, Tony.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Don’t give me that crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

  ‘As it happens, I’d say it was fifty-fifty.’

  ‘How the hell do you work that one out? It was your plan that got us kicked out of France.’

  ‘My plan, oh was it, now?’

  She turned to look at him, her nostrils flaring with rage. ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean, agent boy?’

  His eyes narrowed as she called him that confounded nickname again. ‘I have no doubt my plan was partially to blame, but if …’

  ‘Oh, don’t you dare stop there. Let’s have it, smart arse. I’ve had one of the worst journeys of my life stuck with someone I thought was a friend, who totally ignored me for five hours. Come on, lay it on the table.’ She had a feeling what Tony was going to say and prepared herself for the onslaught, her fists clenched till her knuckles turned white.

  Tony stared ahead of him, and she followed his gaze to watch a mini trying to reverse into a space twice the size needed for the car, and still managing to cock it up. ‘I said it was fifty-fifty. Yes, I screwed up the plan, well kind of. I’ve still got some evidence we can work on, but if you …’ He paused, to watch the mini screw-up its second attempt to park and Lorne bashed his thigh with her clenched fist, urging him to continue. ‘All right, all right. Maybe, if you hadn’t slept with the guy things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand.’

  He had a point, she’d told herself the same thing more than a couple of hundred times during their journey, but she had no intention of admitting that to him. ‘That’s utter rubbish and you know it, Tony.’

  ‘Is it? If he hadn’t come looking for an encore, he wouldn’t have known we were missing, would he?’

  ‘Did he say he’d come to my room last night?’

  ‘No … but …’

  ‘There you have it, Tony. No. For all we know he might have had the receptionist keeping an eye on us. Here’s a novel suggestion for you, he might’ve even telephoned your room with a query about the case.’

  ‘I doubt either one of those scenarios is correct, Lorne.’

  ‘Why? Because in your eyes it’s always the women who screw-up, isn’t it?’

  ‘Bingo, hon. But they don’t just screw up, they screw around too …’

  Before he had the chance to carry on she slapped him, hard, across the face. A red mark appeared instantly and the force left her hand tingling. She couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with him, why he felt the need to be judge and jury about the way she led her life, or if there was another underlying reason behin
d his vicious, accusing words. Maybe a past girlfriend or his wife had done the dirty on him. If that was the case, maybe he was the type of guy who tarred all women with the same brush.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tony, that was uncalled for,’ she whispered.

  He shrugged and continued to watch the mini try for the fourth time to park. When that didn’t work the driver revved the engine and set off down the road. ‘Obviously a woman driver,’ he said, his dry sense of humour trying to break the tension.

  ‘It’s bound to be, if my parking is anything to go by,’ she chuckled.

  ‘I rest my case. I apologise, you had every right to hit me. I allowed my past to cloud my judgement and that should never have happened.’

  So she was right, he had struck out at her because of a past experience, her interest piqued. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  He shook his head. Patted her leg and said, ‘Let me do some digging and I’ll get back to you in a few days.’

  ‘Digging into what?’

  ‘Aren’t you intrigued to know what those murdered men were doing in France? I’m not satisfied with what Amore dug up, so I’m off to HQs to do some digging of my own.’

  ‘But he didn’t dig anything up on those guys.’

  ‘Precisely, that seems odd to me. I’ll get back to you later, okay?’ He stepped out of the car to retrieve her overnight bag from the boot. She joined him, apologised again for hitting him, took her bag, then turned and walked up the path to her home.

  The air in the car had been frosty, but it was nothing compared to how cold the house felt when she stepped through the front door. Lorne walked through to the kitchen and turned the heating up then she boiled the kettle and poured herself a mug of coffee.

  Feeling warmer she went back through to the lounge to ring her father.