by Lily Harlem
“No, the police looked into that. There is no one matching the description you gave in James Hill’s family or group of friends. It’s a mystery why this one case has become so obsessive to this man that he’s willing to go for a Cabinet-member’s daughter.”
“What does it matter why it’s important to him?” I softened my tone. “Just look into it, put in a good word, fund a decent human rights lawyer. There must be plenty out there in the British embassy.”
“Well, of course there is, and I’m sure they’re working on the young man’s case as we speak.”
“But not hard enough,” I said. My voice was still calm even though inside I was in turmoil. “Dad, this guy was carrying a small amount of a Class C drug and he’s been given life in prison and possibly, one day soon, the death sentence. It’s ludicrous. How long would it take for you to make one phone call?”
“That’s neither here nor there. It’s Thai law, and even I can’t change that. Drugs are drugs to them.”
“I know you can’t change their law but you can help individuals, British nationals. I’ve seen you do it before.”
“Penelope Elizabeth.” His face suddenly turned stern. “I’m sorry but the answer is no.”
My temper swelled. “Well, what about if my answer is no too?” I slammed my hands on my hips and pursed my lips. “What if I just head straight back to university, right now?”
“You most certainly will not be going back to Oxford, young lady.”
“Try and stop me.” I stalked to the door.
Dad flicked on his speakerphone.
I froze.
It rang twice then the deep voice of the policeman who’d collected me filtered into the room. “Yes, Mr. Tipping, sir.”
“Roger, please make sure my daughter under no circumstances leaves the premises.”
“Of course, sir, anything else?”
“Yes, you can come and take her statement now. I will send her to the drawing room.”
“Very good.”
I clenched my fists and heat rose on my neck. I knew a patchy rash would have spread over my chest the way it always did when I was angry or frustrated. And right now I was both.
“Seriously?” I snapped. “You’re holding me prisoner now.”
“Yes, seriously, and I don’t care if you’re cross with me, you’ll get over that. What you won’t get over is being harmed by a madman.”
“I can’t believe you,” I said, flicking my hand around the opulent room. “Here, of all places, with Mum’s fussing and those two overbearing brutes sitting at the gate.” I didn’t give him time to answer. Instead I barged from the office, slamming the door as hard as I could. Several hallway pictures shifted on their hooks.
He really was the most stubborn, conniving, power-crazy man who’d ever lived. I loved him but he drove me nuts.
Chapter Three
I gave my statement to Roger as quickly as I could, being purposefully vague about the whole incident. I used the same description as I had in Australia—an older, graying man—although this time I embellished his appearance with stubble and green eyes. I said I’d had a few drinks, using this as a reason for my hazy memory of exactly where the incident had happened. The alleys around the university were a rabbit warren and being cornered and shoved against one wall was much like getting shoved against any other.
Roger asked to see my short patch of hair then sipped on a cup of tea and wrote down what I’d told him. Eventually, with a sigh, he said I was to tell him immediately if anything further came to mind.
Wandering into the kitchen, I came face-to-face with Mother again.
“Ah, Penny, how are you feeling?”
“I have a splitting headache. It’s been a long day.”
“Oh dear, I’m not surprised, all this stress. Shall I get Hilda to come over tomorrow and counsel you? She’s just finished a psychology course, you know. I’m sure a session with her would help you enormously.”
“No, I’m fine, just tired.”
Hilda was one of Mum’s cronies from embroidery club. She had wide unblinking eyes and a hooked nose. I couldn’t imagine anything staying confidential with her. She could talk the hind legs off a donkey.
“But it’s important you have some victim support. You are, after all, a victim of a beastly crime.”
“No, it’s okay.” The only crime was that Ty hadn’t hung around long enough to give me any kind of satisfaction—emotionally or physically.
“But—”
“Mum, please.” I took a deep breath, stared into her eyes and found a smile. She was worried and she always fussed excessively when she was worried. I forced myself to cut her some slack and not take my frustration out on her. “I’m fine, really. I just have a headache after that long drive and having to talk to the police.”
“Well, let me at least make you some dinner before you disappear to your room.”
“No, really, I’m not hungry.”
“Well, a sandwich then. I have some lovely ham from Partridges and you have to eat something, it’s not good for you to go to bed on an empty stomach.”
“Okay, a sandwich.” I stepped over to the drinks cupboard and poured myself a gin and tonic.
“You have to keep your strength up at times like this,” she said, pulling packets from the fridge and banging them onto the counter. “Really, I know when your dad is under pressure, he doesn’t want to eat but I insist he does and he always feels better for it.”
I took a swig of my gin and tonic. It was sharp on my tongue but not sharp enough. I added another, generous splash of gin.
“Well, if he can sleep, that is,” Mum was saying. “He has terrible trouble sleeping when he has lots on his mind, like that time he had to go to France and sort out—”
“Mum,” I said, a sudden thought coming to mind. “Have you got those tablets the doctor in Australia gave me?”
“Yes, I think so, dear.” She stepped up to her medicine cupboard and pulled out a big, well-ordered box, rummaged around and produced a slim blue packet of sleeping tablets. “These ones?”
“Yes, that’s them. He said to take them if I was having flashbacks or nightmares. I think I’ll have one tonight, help me sleep through the headache.”
“Oh, good idea. After what happened yesterday I really think it would be sensible to get a proper night’s sleep.”
I took the box and knocked back two of the small white pills.
“Probably not best taken with gin though,” Mum said with a frown.
“It’ll be fine. I’m going to eat now, aren’t I?”
Mum handed me the sandwich and I kissed her cheek. She smelled of lavender soap and face powder. “See you in the morning. Say good night to Dad for me.”
“But I am sure he will want to come up and say—”
“No, I don’t want to see anyone again tonight.” I sighed and softened my voice. “I’ll be down in the morning, Mum, see you then.”
Taking my food and drink, I strode from the kitchen and up the two flights of stairs to my top-floor bedroom. I clicked shut my door and set my sandwich down on my dresser. All I wanted to do was sleep, sleep and lose myself in thoughts of Ty and figure out how I could orchestrate it so he could get to me again.
As I went through the rituals of getting ready for bed in my en suite, I finished the gin, and by the time I flicked off my light I was feeling decidedly floaty. Lying down in the dark silence, I imagined the mattress was the earth, swallowing me up, taking me into a deep pit. My mind was fuggy and although the hour wasn’t late, sleep enveloped me quickly.
Suddenly he was there again, before me, his blue eyes boring into mine and his lips wet from kissing me—kissing me hard and urgently, as if he would never, ever stop devouring my mouth.
I tried to touch him but couldn’t. He was a dream, a figment of my imagination. Shifting on the bed, I heard myself groan in frustration and sank into the well of my exhaustion again.
He turned. I chased. My legs were like lea
d and my chest heaved for breath. Down narrow streets uneven underfoot, and around high walls I followed. Calling his name, frantic to find him, to catch him.
“Ty, wait,” I shouted, scraping my shoulder against the gritty corner of an ancient building. “Please, Ty, wait for me.”
He was gone. Desperation shredded my soul.
There was the sound of breathing at my shoulder—hot, heavy breaths. I spun, heart racing. It was James, tall, dark-haired and handsome, the same smile on his face as the one on his Facebook photo.
I gripped his arms—thick, strong arms, not thin the way Ty had described his appearance now—and looked up into his face.
“Penny,” he said with a smile, though his voice bubbled as though he was speaking underwater. “I’ll take you to Ty.”
“Yes, oh yes, please.” My emotions soared with joy. That was what I wanted, more than anything, to be with Ty.
James grinned and we ran together, hand in hand through the maze of Oxford backstreets, our legs flying over the ground and the wind in our faces. All I could think of was getting to Ty, finding him, touching him. It didn’t matter how far I had to run, I could run forever, my legs were weightless.
Suddenly I spotted him standing in the middle of a perfect, emerald-green lawn. His hands were shoved into the pockets of faded jeans and a white t-shirt stretched over his wide chest. He was staring at me, his eyes sparkling.
James stepped in close behind me, his body radiating heat onto mine and his hand pressing the small of my back, urging me toward Ty.
As I approached Ty, my sprint slowed to a walk. When I got near enough, Ty reached out and cupped my cheeks. I fell against him, not needing to speak to let him know how much I wanted him. His face dropped to mine and his heat and scent enveloped me. Our lips hovered, a whisker apart. I fluttered shut my eyes, waiting for his kiss, his passion, his desire.
He gave it to me.
As we kissed, James’ breath tickled my neck, his arms slid around my waist and his groin pressed into my butt. He had a long, thick erection. So did Ty.
Ty and James were both holding me, both grinding hot, hard cocks against me. I felt surrounded, adored. It was perfect. Everything was okay. James was free, Ty was with me. An overwhelming sensation of calmness and safety washed through my soul.
They disappeared.
Vanished.
I stared down at the empty lawn—nothing but long, spiked blades of grass that gripped my bare feet as if they were fingers. I whirled around, a full three-sixty, despair fisting my heart. Ty was gone. I’d lost him…again. James wasn’t free, he was still in hell.
Suddenly I woke. My body jerked, jumping within my own skin. It took me a minute to remember where I was—at Mum and Dad’s and not in my student bedsit.
I sat up and flicked on the light, swung my feet down to the deep-pile carpet and sucked in a breath.
The fear and the lack of control I had with Ty had released a whole host of new emotions within me that were feeding my dreams—dark, dangerous dreams that twisted my gut and stole my breath.
But they couldn’t stay as dreams. I wouldn’t accept that.
I had to find a way to let Ty capture me again, then, as a matter of urgency, we had to find a way to get James out.
*
“I’ve come up with a compromise,” I said, striding into Dad’s office.
Dad looked up, sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Good morning, Penny,” he said in an annoyingly calm voice.
“Morning,” I said, fighting a frown.
“Do go on with this compromise of yours.”
I took a deep breath. “I will go back to Oxford, but I will not leave the university complex. I’ll go to lectures then back to my room. No harm will come to me if I’m surrounded by fellow students at all times.”
He raised his brows.
“I won’t go out partying with the girls or stay late at the library. I’ll just keep my wits about me and study. And I’ll call, twice a day, three times a day, to let you know everything is okay.”
“I really don’t think it will work.”
“Of course it will. It has to, there’s no way I can stay here. I have so much to do. I’m missing a lecture on liability this morning. It’s important.”
“Can’t you just download the information and learn it?”
“No, Dad, that’s not how it works. I need to be there, to ask and hear the answers to questions, to understand what it really means, not just be able to repeat Wikipedia like a dumb parrot.”
“There’s nothing dumb about you, Penny.”
“Exactly, so please, let me go and look after myself.”
He steepled his hands, leaned his elbows on the desk and settled his chin over the tips of his fingers, all the time staring at me with his piercing, intelligent eyes.
“Please,” I said again with a hesitant smile.
He sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You need police protection until this thug is found and locked up.”
It was all I could do not to stamp my feet with frustration. “But, Dad, I can’t stand it here. It’s worse than when I was tied up and held against my will in Australia, much worse.”
His head jerked. For a split second it seemed as though I’d struck him and I instantly felt terrible. But it was true. This was worse than when I’d been kidnapped by Ty. At least then I’d seen some action.
“That is a cruel thing to say about staying with the people who love you and want to protect you, Penny.”
I sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, really I am, I didn’t mean it. But if you love me you’ll let me get on with my life, let me go to university like every other law student does. It’s not fair that because you’ve chosen a career in the public eye I have to suffer. I’m not a foreign minister. I’m not important to the government, you are, that’s your life, not mine.”
“We’ve spoken about this before. The three of us are a family and what we do affects one another. You going to Oxford while this unhinged, desperate man is on the loose is nothing short of foolhardy.”
I stared out the window. Roger’s car was on the drive next to Dad’s Mercedes. An idea began to form in my mind. It wasn’t ideal, but it could work.
“How about if I had a bodyguard?”
Dad gnawed at the inside of his cheek and tilted his head.
“Like Roger. He could keep an eye on me in the halls and make sure I get to and from lectures safely. What do you think?”
“Mmm.” He frowned.
“Please, Dad, you know I can’t stay here. It’s vital to my future that I’m at university, and we can’t let this, this madman win, can we?”
“No, we certainly can’t.”
“So is that a yes?”
He sighed, pushed back his chair, stood and walked around the desk. “Penny, my darling, you have always been such an independent girl and damn stubborn with it. It’s one of the many things I adore about you. I see a lot of myself when I look at you.” He smiled softly. “And I can see that I’m not going to win this one, so yes, yes, you can go back to Oxford, providing it is with police protection.”
“Yay, thanks.” I whooped and flung myself into his arms. “It will all be fine, absolutely fine, you’ll see.”
“I bloody well hope so,” he said, smoothing my hair and planting a kiss on my head. “Because if it’s not I’ll never forgive myself.”
*
Roger didn’t seem too happy about his new babysitting assignment and was silent on the trip back up the M40 to Oxford. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be his friend. I just wanted to think of ways to shake him off my tail. Having him hanging around was going to severely limit Ty’s chances of taking me hostage again, but at least there would be chances, unlike if I was stuck in the house in London.
Back in halls, Roger settled himself in the communal lounge just outside the door to our corridor. All four corridors on the second floor led to this lounge and from here he would have a perfect view of who was
coming and going, plus he’d be able to watch the old TV that sat on a wonky table in the corner to pass the time.
“I have a late afternoon lecture over at the main building,” I said as I slipped toward my room.
“Right you are,” he grunted, settling on the threadbare sofa.
The door banged shut behind me and I breathed a sigh of relief at being home again.
“Oh my god, Penny, you’re back. Nat, she’s back.” Tara ran up and threw her arms around me in a tight hug, her slight arms bony and desperate.
“Shit, we’ve been so worried, and none of us had your mobile number. People were saying the police came and took you away. Did they? Is that what happened?”
I nodded.
“Jesus, why, what the hell did you do?”
Nat came rushing out of the bathroom. “Penny, oh thank goodness, we’ve been so worried.”
“I’m fine, really, and I hadn’t done anything. It was to do with my father.”
“Your father?” they both said in unison.
I nodded. “Yes, have you never connected my surname?”
Tara dipped her head and her long blonde hair slid over her shoulder. “Tipping? Oh, um, oh, yes, yes, like the…er…”
“The politician, Richard Tipping,” Nat finished for her.
“Yes, the foreign minister. Crap, is he your dad? Why didn’t you say?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like to be known for having a famous father, it can get me into all kinds of strife.” Strife that at the moment I rather welcomed and wasn’t coming often enough, but I wasn’t about to tell them that.
“Well, it’s not like he’s a movie star or in a rock band or anything,” Nat pointed out.
I laughed at the thought of Dad beating the drums and living a rock-and-roll life. Tattoos up his arms and a piercing in his nose. “No, I guess not. It’s rather boring really.”
“Well, you’re back now,” Nat said, “so come on, let’s get the kettle on.”
“I think I’d better write up the notes I missed from yesterday, get them off the internet or something.”
