by JL Simpson
Bogdan bumped into her. “Move.”
Daisy glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t. My foot’s stuck.”
“You want I should shoot you in the head?”
Daisy shook her head. “No. Of course I don’t. It’s not my fault my foot’s stuck.”
He looked down at her boot. “Pull it out.”
She made a great deal of noise, panting and groaning, as she attempted to pull her foot free. “It won’t budge.”
“Take off boot.”
She bent down, juggling her bag and breakfast in one hand, and unzipping the boot with the other. There was no way she could stall much longer. She glanced at the front of the hotel. Surely Solomon had discovered she was missing, and would come running to her rescue any minute now. She’d saved him twice; it was about time he returned the favor.
*
Solomon stepped back, to let Paul into the room. He crossed to his bag, pulled out a fresh T-shirt, and pulled it over his head. Paul stood at the foot of the bed staring at the mess of covers.
“Where’s Daisy?”
Solomon glanced at him. “That’s a very good question.”
“Are you saying she didn’t spend the night with you?”
“Are you accusing me of sleeping with your wife?” Solomon sat on the sofa to put on his socks and boots.
Paul stalked across the room, and stopped in front of him, fists clenched. “Are you denying it?”
“Daisy would never cheat on you.”
Paul leaned closer. “And yet the clerk tells me the room is booked in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Benson, and you checked in with a woman.”
“The clerk talks too much.” Happy his boots were laced up tight, Solomon got to his feet, and stood toe to toe with Paul, as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Underneath the bravado, Paul didn’t really believe Daisy had cheated. He undoubtedly knew something weird was going on, and sex was the easiest answer to whatever twisted questions ran through his head.
Until he got the response he wanted, Paul would never follow through and punch Solomon, despite the body language. Solomon had known Paul long enough to read him, and if Paul really believed what was coming out of his mouth, he would have lead with his fists and asked questions later.
Solomon ran a finger over the scar above his eyebrow, and held back a smile. Paul had a great right hook.
“Isn’t Benson the name Daisy was going to use, to work undercover as a newspaper reporter?” Paul asked.
“I see you’ve not lost your investigative skills. You should consider rejoining the military police.” Solomon pushed Paul aside, crossed the room, and pulled the door open.
Paul stomped after him. “We haven’t finished talking. I want to know what’s going on. Where’s Daisy?”
Solomon might have kissed Daisy a time or two, and even enjoyed it on some level, but he’d done nothing that didn’t need to be done. She was Paul’s wife, and would forever be off limits, even if his libido took control of his brain and wanted him to follow through on the promise in the stolen kisses. “I was just on my way to find her, unless you’d rather stand here and argue about something completely ridiculous.”
“Why is it ridiculous? I know you find her attractive.”
Solomon glared over his shoulder at Paul, as they marched down the corridor toward the bank of elevators. “I’ll not deny that I care deeply for your wife, but not in the way you think. For reasons you’ll never know, I would never sleep with her.”
“What reasons? You care for my wife? Since when? Last time I checked, you were hell bent on killing each other.”
The elevator door opened, and Paul followed Solomon inside. Solomon pressed the button for the lobby. Paul crossed his arms and glared at Solomon.
“What reasons?”
“I said you’ll never know.”
Paul stalked toward Solomon. “Why did she ask me if I’d ever slept with someone I worked with?” He poked the Irishman in the chest. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t a hint that she planned to sleep with you?”
Solomon shook his head. How could two people so in love be so useless at communicating with each other? Daisy should never have asked the question when she couldn’t tell Paul the reasons why, and Paul should never have kept Morocco a secret. The bell dinged, to announce they’d arrived at their destination.
Solomon took a deep breath, and meet Paul’s fierce gaze. “She met Nobby.”
Paul took a step back, his expression a mixture of anger and suspicion. “Who?”
“Delia—Nobby—Clark.” Solomon exited the elevator, and made his way across the empty lobby.
Paul shadowed him. “What did Delia tell her? And how the fuck did she meet Delia?”
“Nobby is key to solving the case we’re working on, and she never told Daisy anything. She did what she always does. Hint, evade, and set people to imagining things that send their lives down a path best not taken.” Solomon glanced over his shoulder at Paul, and raised an eyebrow. “How did you know where we were staying?”
“I got a phone call from a woman who said she was checking the room booking late last night.”
Solomon stopped and turned to face Paul. “And yet you waited until this morning, to drive down here.”
Paul shrugged. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
Solomon snorted. “You don’t believe it, and furthermore, I bet my life no one here made that call.”
“You think it was Delia?”
“Of course it was.”
“Why would she want me here?”
Solomon shrugged. “Disruption. Chaos. She must be up to something. Either that, or she never forgave you for not sleeping with her, and thought dropping a hint your wife was banging your best mate would be the crack.” Solomon smiled. “She always did have a soft spot for you.”
Paul shuddered with apparent revulsion. “A soft spot I never needed. What on earth does Delia have to do with missing dogs?”
“It’s not dogs were looking for. It’s missing diamonds.”
“Diamonds?”
Solomon turned and continued walking across the lobby, moving to the left of the hotel’s automatic front doors. “Shite.” He glanced at Paul. “Why the feck can’t your wife do as she’s told? She was supposed to stay in the bleedin’ room.”
Paul stared out the window. “Bakery bag left hand. She needed food. But what’s she doing with that man? And what the hell is she wearing?”
“Your wife has terrible fashion sense. My jumper doesn’t go with the pants. As to what she’s doing, I’d say”—Solomon recognized her companion—“she’s trying to stall long enough for me to save her.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Daisy stared at Bogdan. His eyes were cold, and lacked any sign of emotion. She shivered as goose bumps marched across her skin. The man made her flesh crawl.
“Did you kill Chester and Candy?” she asked.
His gloating gap-toothed smile made her empty stomach churn. “What if I did? Move.”
If she got in the van, she had not doubt she’d be his next victim. Better to go down fighting, than to accept the inevitable end. “No. If you plan to shoot me, you’ll have to do it here in the street.”
“Don’t tempt me, crazy woman.”
“When they catch you, they’ll lock you up and throw away the key, for killing two people. “
“Three.”
“Three?” Daisy’s voice was a high pitched squeak.
“You forget Sean.” He gave her a shove. “Move.”
She took a step toward the van, lurching as she struggled to walk with one four-inch heel and a bare foot. Bogdan grabbed her arm, and hustled her along. The pounding of her runaway heart made her chest ache.
She tried to shake him off. “Wait. Wait. I can give you the jewels. They’re in my hotel room.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“What can I do? You’re the one with the gun.” She took a deep breath, determined to sound solid and in control. �
��Let’s just walk calmly to my room, and then I’ll hand over the diamonds, and you can be on your way.”
“No deal. Jewels are no good. Move, or I shoot.”
Her body surged with a powerful jolt of adrenalin. She twisted and tugged, in a vain attempt to escape. If he knew the jewels were fake, she had nothing left to bargain with. “I don’t understand.”
“Nothing to understand. Get in van, or I blow your head off.”
She met his icy stare. Why capture her, and then shoot her in the street? And if he didn’t want the jewels, why was he even in Bristol? “You need me for something, don’t you?” He grunted, and pushed her another step closer to the van. She scraped up every ounce of bravado she could manage, and smiled at him. “You won’t kill me.”
Bogdan shoved the gun deeper into her side and whispered, “Bang,” close to her ear.
Daisy flinched. His demonic laugher made her stomach heave.
“Next time, for real. Get in van.”
Daisy looked over her shoulder at the hotel. Movement inside the lobby caught her attention.
*
Solomon stepped out of Bogdan’s line of sight, as the Pole turned his focus toward the hotel before shoving Daisy into the back of the van. She wasn’t tied up, and no one had helped her in, so Bogdan had to be working alone for now.
Paul lurched toward the hotel’s front door. Solomon grabbed him around the waist, and dragged him back.
Paul struggled, punching and kicking. “Get the fuck off me. We’ve got to save Daisy.”
“We can’t do anything until we know what we’re up against. You need to calm the feck down. He won’t kill her until he gets what he wants.”
Paul landed a solid punch on Solomon’s chin, making his head snap back. The coppery taste of blood filled Solomon’s mouth. “Do you want me to knock you out, or are you going to fecking well stop fighting, and help me get your bleedin’ wife back safely”
Paul stopped struggling. “You’ve got a plan?”
The van screeched away from the curb, and Solomon noted the registration number had changed. The plates were probably stolen, so following the owner up would be a dead end, but it was worth a try. At least he could use the number to track the van’s progress once he got the cops on board the operation, and they alerted the city’s CCTV operators. Thank God for the Government’s big brother attitude to law and order.
He let Paul go. “We need to call the police.”
“That’s the best you’ve got?”
Solomon put his arm around Paul’s shoulder. “It’s only the beginning, Doughnut. That feckless maggot has no idea what we’re capable of. He should never have stolen our woman.”
* * * * *
Daisy was tossed unceremoniously onto her arse, as the van pulled away. She crawled to the back door and tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The back windows were tinted so no one could see her pounding the glass, screaming for help. She lurched left, as Bogdan took a corner too fast. She grabbed on to the side of the van to stop her head crunching into steel shelves bolted to the body of the vehicle. On hands and knees, she crawled toward the front. A metal grille separated the driver’s compartment from the storage area. She tugged at it, but it didn’t budge.
Bogdan glanced over his shoulder. A slow smile curled up the corners of his mouth. The man looked deranged. He probably was. Daisy slumped onto her knees, and turned to sit, facing the back doors. Solomon would be missing her by now, but he’d have no idea where to even begin looking, unless that was him in the hotel lobby. Even if it was, he might be too late. She needed a plan to save herself. The bakery bag she’d been holding slid across the floor, and bumped her foot. She kicked it away, and it bounced off her handbag as the van plummeted downhill, sending her stomach into freefall.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Solomon paced the room, phone to his ear, as a Detective Lyons checked up on the registration number. This was taking too long. If they didn’t move now, Bogdan could leave the city center and be into the countryside, beyond the limits of CCTV surveillance.
Solomon’s phone buzzed, alerting him to an incoming message. He pulled it from his ear, ended his call, and hit the message icon. “Daisy!”
Paul pushed away from the window, and grabbed for Solomon’s phone. “What?”
Solomon moved it out of Paul’s reach, and continued to scroll through the message. Bogdan clearly had no idea Daisy still had her phone, or if he did, he wasn’t aware it could be a problem. “Your wife’s been captured by an amateur.”
“Let me see.”
Solomon handed over the phone. “She can’t tell where he’s taking her, but she’s unharmed and says he isn’t looking to get the jewels back.”
Paul clutched the phone in his hand. “Should we send her a text?”
“Is she smart enough to have put her phone on silent?”
He handed Solomon the phone. “Good point.”
“Well at least we know she’s still fine.”
Paul pulled his own phone from his pocket, and tapped at the screen. “We know more than that.” He turned it toward Solomon.
A map filled the display with a moving red icon front and center. “Jeysus. Why did I not know she had a locator on her phone?”
“Because she didn’t want you to know.”
Paul headed toward the door. Solomon grabbed his arm. “We need a plan before we head out.”
“We can get a plan while we’re on the move.”
Solomon reached over and leaned his hand on the door, stopping Paul from opening it. “We’ve not got time to get it wrong. Too much is at stake. Slow down, Doughnut, and get your head back in the game. If this was an operation, we’d not go in without planning.”
Paul grabbed the door handle and tugged, making the door bang in the frame. “This isn’t an operation. This is my life.”
Solomon placed his free hand on Paul’s shoulder, and squeezed gently. “Which is why we need to get it right the first time.”
Paul let the door handle go, and turned around. His eyes were filled with menace. Doughnut Dunlop, master tactician and major butt kicker, looked ready to do whatever was needed to get his woman back. “We have to know where he’s taking her.”
“And once we do, we’ll need a way to distract him long enough to get her out, without risking any of us getting shot.”
* * * * *
Daisy stared through the grille, trying to see anything remotely familiar through the van’s windshield. Now Solomon was aware she’d been captured, he’d be planning a rescue, but no one could help her, unless they knew where she was. Paul could find her, but he was back home. Maybe she could text Solomon, and tell him to call Paul to find out where she was. The problem was, she’d made Paul swear never to reveal her whereabouts to Solomon. The only way she could get the information to Solomon was to text Paul. She didn’t have time to give Paul an explanation, and Solomon didn’t need the distraction of Paul’s wrath, when he was busy tracking down the maniacal murdering Pole, but he would have to deal with it. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent the text.
The van turned off the road and stopped. She pressed her face to the grille. A boom gate lifted. The van lurched forward, and sped downhill to be swallowed by the gaping mouth of an underground car park. If Bogdan left her alone in the vehicle, she might be able to use her nail file to open the back door or undo the screws that held the grille in place, and steal the van. The wheels squealed, as the van hurtled past bays filled with all manner of vehicles. Engines roared, doors slammed, voices ebbed and flowed, and the cacophony of life was punctuated by the loud echoing yaps and deep bass woofs of a choir of dogs. Daisy’s heart clenched with fear, and her skin grew hot and clammy.
Escaping the van was no longer a priority. Staying as far away from the gnashing, barking, growling pack currently occupying the car park was. Daisy huddled over her phone, hiding the light from Bogdan, as he swung the van into an empty space and slammed on the brakes. Fingers shaking, sh
e hit the icon to bring up Solomon from her contacts list, and hit ‘Call’ before shoving the phone down her jumper, to nestle between her breasts. The grille rattled, and she squealed with fright.
The Pole’s laughter gave her the creeps. One more scare like that, and she’d need clean underpants.
“You not so brave now, lady.”
Daisy took a deep breath, tossed her curls over her shoulders, and stared at him. She raised her voice, and spoke slowly. “Why are we at the dog show?”
“Why you talking like that? You stupid or something?”
“I’m not talking like anything.”
“You talk like stupid person.” Bogdan imitated her. “Why are we at the dog show?”
“I wanted to make sure you heard me.”
“I’m not deaf. You smart private investigator. You figure it out. Or is that what idiot you work with does? Why does he keep you? You must be great fuck.”
His gap-toothed leer made Daisy squeak with fright, and back away from the grille. “I’m rubbish in bed. I don’t like sex. I’m no good at it.”
“Maybe I help you.”
“Maybe you should concentrate on why you’re here. If we get carried away, you might miss the exchange.”
Bogdan frowned. “I never said anything about exchange.”
“We’re at the dog show, where I’m collecting the money for the jewels. If you don’t want the diamonds, you must want the cash. The only problem is I have nothing to hand over, so how are you getting the money?”
“Not so stupid.” He chuckled. “Maybe you kick man in balls, and I grab money and run.”
“Don’t you think it will look a bit odd, if I walk in there dressed like this? I’m supposed to be a newspaper reporter, and I don’t even have a photographer with me.”
Bogdan chuckled. “Clothes in bag next to shelves. Photographer is me.”
