I glanced back at the quiet lane behind me with a heavy dose of paranoia. I’d made my way out of the city, jumping from train to train to throw off anyone who might be following. I’d worn jeans and a hoodie and had kept my head covered for the entire journey. Still, that lingering sense that Ballad would know I was here made me doubt the wisdom of my actions. Maybe I should go home.
You’ve come too far.
There was no response from my knock. I made my way around the back of the property and stepped into a bright garden with rows of colorful flowers. At the end, a line of lush trees with swooping leaves. It was nice to take a few seconds to imagine Xander playing over there as a boy. Then I saw it, the tree-house resting in the enormous trunk. The one he’d told me he liked to hide in to avoid the strange noises of this old house.He’d also told me he’d spent precious mid-summer days playing out here when he’d been home from boarding school.
He’d not shared much more, though, other than his parents were away a lot of the time living in far-off places while his dad served as a senior diplomat abroad. Places they were reluctant to take Xander. Later, he’d attended the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, rounding out his education in computer science that enhanced his natural flair for tech. He was so smart I imagined he wowed his professors.
This place was a connection.
I miss him.
I should be here with him.
There’d been so many memories left to make.
I suddenly spotted an older woman in a sunhat kneeling over a patch of dirt. She dug a shallow hole with the trowel and threw in a seed, scraping the ground to cover it.
“Mrs. Rothschild?” I called over.
It was her—the woman from the photo. She was a little older, but it was definitely Xander’s mum. She peered at me from beneath her floppy hat. She had Xander’s golden sun-kissed complexion and his high cheekbones and bright eyes. Even the elegant way she rose to her feet and walked toward me reminded me of him.
“Sorry to bother you.” I stepped forward.
There were stains on her jeans from where she’d been kneeling. This irreverence revealed her earthiness. It reminded me of the way Xander would become engrossed in his work, too. Very often I’d see his hair sticking up from pulling an all-nighter in his office, in the morning appearing as cute at hell in his creased PJs. He’d stand in the kitchen munching on a slice of buttered toast and sipping tea, his good morning smile so endearing, making me feel so at home.
God, I missed him.
“I’m a friend of your son.”
“You are?”
“He told me about this place.”
She had his intelligent eyes, the way they assessed a situation before lighting up when he smiled…just as she was doing now. Disarming, but I suppose that was the point.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call first.”
“That would have been wise.” Her accent sounded Norwegian.
I pointed to the treehouse. “He told me he used to play in there.”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you’ve heard from him recently.”
“Didn’t catch your name?” She pulled off her gardening gloves and threw them on the grass.
“Emily.” Not calling him Xander was a challenge, but I didn’t want to freak her out by using the wrong name.
“Our family is very private, Ms…”
“Rampling.” I gave her a kind smile. “Did he tell you about me?”
Her expression made my gut tighten with doubt.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“London. I took the train down.”
“It’s my recommendation you take the train back immediately.”
“Just tell me if you’ve heard from him. Tell me he’s…” Don’t scare her.
“How do you know him?”
“Did he ever talk to you about his work?”
She scratched her jaw as though needing time to think it through. “My son’s not here.”
“Will you ask him to call me next time you speak with him?”
“Why have you not addressed my son by his name?”
Shit.
“Sweet girl, he obviously wants nothing more to do with you.”
I waited for her to deliver another scathing strike, but she didn’t.
“We live together,” I said.
She frowned, as though this was news to her. “Evidently my son has his reasons for saying goodbye to you.”
“He didn’t say much about you either.”
“Do you see what’s missing?”
Looking around at the well-tended plants and flowers, I tried to catch her meaning.
“Chrysanthemums,” she said flatly. “The flowers one gives on the occasion of the death of a loved one. They are only used for funerals.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then you don’t know my son.”
“You’re saying his work is dangerous? He’s protecting me.”
“I’m protecting him,” she clarified.
“I would never do anything to put him in danger.”
“And yet you are here.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“Trust his judgment. He’s let you go.”
“I don’t believe that. Not after what we had.” I didn’t want to say anymore and alarm her. “We were going to get married.” My fingers caressed where my ring had been.
A mask of sadness fell upon her. “You should go.”
“Tell him I love him. Tell him…I’ll wait for him.”
I would wait a thousand lifetimes if that’s what it took. I would forgo children, and a home where a family would thrive, and a place where love would reign. My heart was his and it always would be because Xander was too extraordinary to forget.
My stomach ached and I rubbed it to soothe the knots.
I wanted to spend more time here…see family photos and talk about what kind of son he was and hear funny stories she was bound to have. Like when she went shopping with him in Tesco’s when he was a child, and he’d surprise the other shoppers at the checkout when he guessed how much the stuff in their cart would cost them. I wanted to soak in as much of Xander’s history as I could and keep this connection strong.
His mum peered up at the sky as though assessing the weather and there was something uncanny in it. “There’s a shortcut to the station over the field. It’s dense woodland. The coverage is good.”
Was she hinting we were being watched by satellite?
My body felt chilled despite the warmth of the sun. “You know about them, don’t you?”
She pointed to where she’d been gardening. “I’m planting peonies.”
“Please, Mrs. Rothschild, I’m concerned for Xander.”
“Xander?” She stared at me with sorrow.
That’s not his name.
“What’s your favorite flower?” she asked.
I gave a nod of resignation. “Lilies…or roses? I’m not sure.”
“That’s because you’re too young.” She gave me a warm smile.
“Mrs. Rothschild…”
“Use the gate. I’d hurry if I were you.”
“I’m fine with taking the same way back.”
She looked surprised. “Dear girl, my advice is equal in its standing to that of my son’s.”
“He told me the wrong name.”
“Ah.”
“What’s his real name?”
“He always loved secrets.”
“Did you know he’s a chess master?”
“My son showed extraordinary talent for many things at a young age.”
“Like what?”
“He had an uncanny ability to read people. Something tells me you’re very special.”
“I miss him,” I said, pressing a hand to my heart.
“Whatever he has done it is to protect you.”
“You know about them, don’t you?” I stepped forward. “He might have gotten caught up
with some sinister people. It’s not my intention to upset you. I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“I’m sure it will all work out.”
“Do you know James Ballad?”
Her lips twitched, revealing that she did. “True power is hidden.”
“I’ve seen a little of his influence.”
“You’ve seen nothing.” She drew in a sharp breath. “And anything you have seen you would be wise to forget.”
“He’s really that powerful?”
“My husband was a diplomat, working in some of the most dangerous places on earth. He’d say his happiness, his safety, his contentment was not important. What he did was for a greater purpose.”
“You know what your son does, don’t you?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to use the gate.”
I refused to give up trying to find Xander. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Rothschild.”
“Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“Yes.”
“And money?”
“I’m fine.”
She hesitated, and gave me a look of sympathy. “It’s probably best you don’t return to Great Missenden.”
I heard what she said, but I didn’t look back.
I made my way along the side wall and out the front gate, feeling crushed that I’d not been able to persuade Mrs. Rothschild to help me.
Walking along the sundrenched pavement back the way I’d come, my hand ran along the leaves of a hedge as a sob shuddered through me. I’d hit the ultimate dead-end. Her words haunted each step I took with their scathing clarity—Xander wanted nothing more to do with me and I would never know why.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the blur of an SUV as it pulled up next to me.
A rush of terror left me paralyzed.
Four men in combat gear poured out of the vehicle, trapping me between them and the hedge. My heart hammered against my chest as adrenaline spiked through my veins. With unsteady legs, I bolted left to round the car and escape…
Brutal hands dragged me to the back of the car, violently forcing me onto the rear seat. I bashed my head when I hit the other side, trying to get out.
The men trailed in behind me.
One of them snatched at the hair at my nape, keeping my head still. I looked into the angry eyes of one of my attackers. His buzz cut suggested he was military.
“Careful of my hands,” I begged.
I should never have come here…
“Keep still.”
“Get off me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped.
The scent of expensive cologne seeped under my skin and I tried to inhale another breath. My scream sliced the air.
The barrel of a handgun was shoved between my lips, bruising my mouth as it crushed my tongue. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tasted the cold tang of metal and froze.
Oh, God, he’s going to kill me.
“Blowjob, metal edition,” he sneered, with a chuckle.
He let go of my hair as the gun was withdrawn. I wiped saliva off my chin as I gasped for the air I’d lost. Turning my head, I refused to look into the man’s dead eyes.
The SUV swerved, wheels spinning, and gravity pulled me onto the floor as we sped off.
Military Man held a boot to my stomach to keep me down.
“Careful with her,” said a gravelly voice from the front seat.
“She defied the boss. I’m letting her know she made a big mistake.”
“That wasn’t the order,” came a warning from one of the others.
“He won’t know.” Military Man tucked his gun away.
“He’ll know,” came that same gravely tone.
I dragged in air, my eyes stinging from hot tears. I was drenched in sweat and being blasted with air conditioning, causing me to shiver uncontrollably.
“Not sure why you care,” said my attacker. “Ballad’s not exactly going to be gentle with her.”
Breathe.
Just breathe.
I hung from shackles with my feet barely supporting my weight, a blindfold pulled taut over my eyes. My lips felt bruised from having a gun shoved into my mouth. Regret filled my every thought, and this time I felt a good dose of rage along with the fear.
“Ballad’s not going to be gentle.”
Trembling, taking deep breaths, I tried to judge how many hours I’d been in this place. I’d lost all sense of time and direction, but it felt like evening. My limbs were battered from the way they’d manhandled me in and out of the car. We’d been driving for what felt like hours in that SUV.
When the vehicle had finally slowed, I’d heard marching, the sound of boots on the ground and a man shouting out orders. If we’d driven through a military checkpoint the guard had failed to see me in the back, bound and blindfolded.
Or perhaps that sort of thing wasn’t out of the ordinary here.
Motivated by frustration, I managed to work the blindfold off my eyes by scraping my face along my forearm.
I looked around at the sparse interrogation room.
Only minutes later, I inhaled sharply as my kidnappers filed in.
One of them lit a cigarette. He offered a drag to his gun-wielding buddy who’d bruised my lips. After inhaling the smoke, he handed it back and then swaggered over to me with a threatening, arrogant expression.
I flinched when he touched my face.
The bully blew cigarette smoke into my face. It stung my nose and left me coughing.
My terror morphed into anger. My defiant stare showed no remorse—not after they’d kidnapped me. Not after I’d done the right thing.
“Who do you work for?” he asked.
“I don’t work for anyone.”
He grabbed my chin. “Lie again and see what happens.”
“Does Xander know I’m here?”
“Who?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“This will hurt. Brace yourself.” He punched my stomach.
Stars blurred my vision and agony flared in my gut as all the air left my lungs. Pitching forward, my wrists snapped in the shackles, stretching my arms painfully wide.
“I’m sorry I went to Great Missenden,” I huffed out.
He pulled his fist back, ready to punch me again.
The door opened and he appeared like a vision of intimidation in his black tuxedo, his striking features seemingly even sharper—perhaps because his fury was only barely contained.
He strode powerfully across the room toward us. “Why is she shackled?”
There came an uncomfortable exchange of glances from the others.
James snapped his attention to me. “You’re making quite a habit of defying me.”
“So you resort to kidnapping a girl,” I bit out. “Bit tacky for you.”
He straightened his back. “As far as everyone’s concerned, you’re in London.”
“I told a friend.”
“You don’t have any.”
I had Kitty. She’d report me missing. Or at least look into why I wasn’t answering my phone.
James smiled as though reading my mind. “Kitty Adair works for me.”
Might as well have been punched a second time. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, reality seems to be a problem for you.”
“Is setting your thugs on me protocol, too?” I snapped.
“I hate it when my victims yell at me, Emily.”
“I promise not to go back to Great Missenden.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh? That makes everything splendid.”
“Does Kitty really work for you?”
“She’s actually rather fond of you.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Quite honestly, I’m undecided.”
Fear slithered beneath my skin.
“Ms. Rampling, I need to see remorse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
I looked over his shoulder at the other men. “I�
��ll never disobey you again.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“I mean it this time, I promise.”
“Do I need to threaten your family—?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m doing the talking right now.”
Swallowing hard, I cursed myself for not thinking this through, for putting everyone around me in danger. My mum, Harold, and even Xander.
“What will it take to persuade you to forget Xander and go away, Emily?” he said darkly. “Do I need to step out of the room?”
Nausea made my stomach churn. “James, please, I just need to know he’s happy.”
He stepped back with a sigh. “Maybe the only way to convince you is to have him push you away.” James pivoted toward the door.
I drew in a sharp, hopeful breath as Xander appeared.
His expression was as complex as when I’d first met him at Piccadilly…and just as beautiful. My beloved, the one who’d know how to get me out of here. Maybe we’d be able to leave together.
He, too, was dressed in a tuxedo that contrasted greatly with the rough surroundings. Really? They were both wearing posh suits fit for fine dining or an evening mixing with other elites—while I’d been imprisoned and abused in here.
Xander came towards me and I flinched at his glare of disappointment.
He looked conflicted. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to see your mum,” I admitted.
He shot James a look of concern.
“I’m afraid she did,” said James.
Xander slipped into the man I once knew, wrapping his arms around me and resting his forehead against mine, his warm breath against my skin. I clung to hope, but at the same time grief wracked my body at the thought of losing him forever.
With his firm body crushed to mine, I couldn’t imagine him not being in my life. Xander was more than a part of me.This was both sublime and unbearable as I prolonged the agony of him leaving again.
His fingertip caressed my mouth. “Who did this?”
I felt too dazed to answer.
“Em, who did this to you? They cut your lip.”
Trembling uncontrollably, I tried to speak but no words came out. I was too drenched in panic.
Xander spun round. “Who?”
“Step back,” said James.
Pervade Duet: Pervade London & Pervade Montego Bay Page 12
