True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2)

by Mandy Lee

  ‘Oh, don’t worry.’ He picks up the wine bottle and examines it. ‘A clonk on the head. My boys won’t harm him. They’ll just drop him off in an alleyway. He’ll wake up with a headache, covered in piss.’

  While I battle off a severe case of the shakes, Boyd turns slowly, examining his surroundings.

  ‘I could really do with a snack,’ he announces. ‘I suppose I’ll just have to help myself, seeing as the barman’s nipped out for an hour.’ He winks at me. ‘I asked him to give us a little space. Gave him a few quid to spend. The receptionist was the same.’

  My breath catches. My stomach reels. With Beefy out of the way and the hotel staff paid to keep a distance, I’ve got nothing more than a drunken sister for back-up.

  ‘And what about Sara?’

  ‘Oh, her?’ He smirks. ‘I’m glad you sent her back up to her room. Nice move, that. Far easier to deal with. She’s locked in the bathroom. I’m just glad I never had to fuck her.’ He sniggers. ‘Not a pleasant prospect.’ And now he’s serious. ‘So, are you going to come with me or not?’

  The last thing I should do at this moment is give way to anger, but I just can’t help it.

  ‘Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you?’ I seethe.

  ‘Do I really have to explain?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I look at my phone, reminding myself that I may well be in a state, but I need to string this out for as long as I can. By now, Dan should know exactly where I am, but God only knows how long it’s going to take him to get across London.

  ‘Because Mr Swanky Pants needs to be taught a lesson,’ Boyd grumbles, rubbing his belly.

  ‘I think you’ve already done that.’

  ‘And, of course, because you and me are meant to be together.’

  ‘We’re not meant to be together. I’m with Dan, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. So you can stop all this nonsense.’

  ‘Nonsense?’ He grins at me, his dark eyes flashing.

  ‘Killing his dog,’ I remind him with a scowl.

  ‘Aye, well, he was pissing me off, so I thought I’d piss him off in return. Tit for tat. That sort of thing. Never mind, eh? It was only a dog.’

  ‘Only a dog?’

  ‘Aye. A dog.’ He purses his lips in disgust. ‘I can’t stand the fucking things. Never understood the English obsession with them. I prefer the Chinese attitude.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘They eat them in China.’

  ‘You’re sick.’

  ‘Maybe. And maybe not. Actually, I could eat a dog right now.’ A bright smile crosses his face, collapsing almost immediately. He leans forwards, elbows on the table. ‘You know, I really thought you’d leave him when you found out about the Italian Job. But, no.’ He shakes his head. ‘I let you in on the fact that your boyfriend’s full of shit, and what do you do? You jump on a plane with him and scoot off out of the country.’ He leans back, holding his hands in the air. ‘Go figure.’

  ‘You can’t break us up.’

  ‘And then …’ Ignoring me, he presses an index finger against the table top. ‘Then I have to go to all the trouble of luring the pair of you back to London.’ He shakes his head again. ‘I could have done without that.’

  ‘What you did to Jodie was wrong.’

  ‘A teenage pothead. She was an easy target.’ He shrugs dismissively. ‘So, are you ready to go?’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

  ‘I’ve got a car waiting outside.’

  ‘And I’m not getting into it.’

  I glance down at the phone. It’s still switched on, and it needs to stay that way. When I look back at Boyd, he’s scowling at me.

  ‘Now don’t be difficult, Maya. Just get in the car. Let me take you away and remind you what you had with me.’

  I’d laugh if I wasn’t terrified. What I had with Boyd was nothing less than a nightmare, and I’d remind him of that if I thought it would make a scrap of difference, but arguments and reason seem to bounce off this man like raindrops on glass. I need to stall some more.

  ‘Okay,’ I murmur. ‘But first I need a drink.’

  ‘Oh, Maya.’ He gives me a disapproving look, as if I’m a child. ‘You’re not still knocking it back are you? It’s very un-ladylike, you know. I’ll cure you of that.’

  Biting back the urge to tell him to get stuffed, I force a smile.

  ‘A drink. For old times’ sake.’

  He stares at me, perplexed.

  ‘And to steady my nerves,’ I add for good measure. ‘I wasn’t really expecting this.’

  He shifts his position on the stool.

  ‘There’s wine here … and I paid for it.’ He picks up Sara’s half-finished bottle. ‘Cheap shit. No more than she deserves.’

  ‘I need something stronger.’

  ‘A good malt?’

  ‘If you like.’

  He rises to his feet and makes his way behind the bar.

  I check the door.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ he smiles. ‘You won’t get away.’ He examines the optics. ‘Jesus, this place is the pits.’ At last, he pours two glasses of cheap whisky, takes a sip of one and grimaces. ‘How about the South of France? Fancy that?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Our little getaway.’ He disappears for a moment, rummaging beneath the counter. ‘Ah, bingo. Dog flavoured crisps!’ With a laugh, he straightens up, shoves a packet of crisps into his pocket and comes back to table, brandishing the drinks.

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh come on, Maya. You’d like France. It’s all smelly cheese and strong coffee.’ He puts the whisky down in front of me. ‘Before long, you’ll forget Mr Swanky Pants and we’ll be happy.’ Taking his seat, he opens the crisps. ‘You’ll remember that you love me.’

  ‘I never loved you.’ It’s the wrong thing to say, but the words arrive too quickly, shooting out of my mouth before I can stop them. ‘I can’t force myself to love you. I don’t love you and I never will.’

  He shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.

  ‘You’re in denial,’ he says at last, pointing a finger at me. ‘We’re made for each other. We’re meant to be together. Now, drink up.’

  With a shaking hand, I pick up the glass. Taking a small sip of whisky, I wince as it burns my throat.

  ‘Faster than that, lady. We’ve got to make tracks.’

  Realising that I’m running out of time, I stare at the carpet again. Perhaps I should just swap stalling for complete non-compliance.

  ‘I’m not coming with you.’

  ‘Oh, yes you are. Drink up.’

  ‘We’re not made for each other. We’re not meant to be together. I’ll never love you. All I feel for you is contempt. You’re a sick man and you need to be locked up.’

  He stares at me, wide-eyed.

  ‘That was some pretty nasty stuff. You’ve hurt my feelings.’

  ‘It’s the truth. Just leave me alone.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’ Taking a slug of whisky, he goes on slowly, as if he’s trying to convey a simple idea to a moron. ‘I’m going to take you with me, and you’re going to learn that you’re wrong. I’m going to teach you that you’re wrong. And I’m going to teach Mr Foster a lesson.’

  ‘You need help.’

  ‘You think I’m a nutcase.’ He finishes off his drink. ‘Plenty of people do. But they’re wrong. I’m just a little different.’

  I look down.

  ‘Why don’t you give me the benefit of the doubt, Maya?’

  ‘You don’t deserve it.’

  ‘And he does?’ He takes a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it out on the table top. It’s a page from a newspaper. I’m not entirely sure which one.

  ‘One of London’s most eligible bachelors,’ Boyd reads, ‘is officially off the market.’ I lean forwards, squinting at a creased up photograph, surprised to find that it’s me and Dan outside the Savoy. ‘Apparently, you’re getting married. Fianc
ée, it says here. Fiancée?’

  Maybe I should tell him it’s all a massive mistake. But then again, maybe I shouldn’t.

  ‘You will not marry that man, Maya.’

  ‘I’ll do what I like.’

  He slams his fist on the table, causing me to jump almost clean off the stool.

  ‘I won’t have it.’

  ‘You need to see a doctor.’

  ‘Doctors. Ridiculous. I can sort myself out.’ Pushing back his stool, Boyd gets to his feet and extends a hand across the table.

  ‘I’m not coming with you.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice.’

  ‘I always have a choice. And I’m choosing not to come with you.’

  And now I see the anger rising in his face, the real man emerging from beneath the façade of jokes and laughter.

  ‘Maya, I’m through with the game playing and the warnings. Come on.’

  I pick up my glass, slowly.

  ‘I’m finishing my drink.’ I take another tiny sip.

  He turns his attention to the mobile, his face wrinkling into a smile.

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ He picks up the phone. ‘Mr Foster’s tracking you on this and you’re giving him the time. Clever girl. So, where’s he coming from? The big HQ?’ He checks his watch. ‘Hmm, not that far. We’d better get moving.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Get up.’

  I shake my head, fix my eyes back on the carpet.

  ‘You always were a wilful madam.’

  It all happens so quickly. I feel his fingers close around my upper arm and I’m yanked upwards, off the stool. I let out a scream, hoping that it’s loud enough to be heard by a passer-by. Immediately, I’m swung round, my back slammed against his chest. An arm clamps tightly across my stomach while a hand covers my mouth. Fear and panic take hold, flipping me into fight mode. Struggling against his grip, I twist my head from side to side until finally, I manage to bite his fingers.

  ‘Behave,’ he shouts.

  I kick at his shins, as hard as I can, over and over again. He tightens his grip and drags me backwards, out of the bar, through the main door and onto the street. Still kicking and struggling for all I’m worth, I note a black car waiting for us at the kerbside, the back door open, a faceless man standing next to it. And that does it. Full-blown panic. If he gets me into that car, there’s no way anyone is going to rescue me. I’ve got to rescue myself. Boyd’s hand is back over my mouth now, and I take my chance. With one almighty effort, I bite clean into his skin.

  ‘Fucking bitch!’ He jerks the hand away.

  Swinging round in his loosened grip, I bring my knee up to his crotch and ram it home. He lets go of me and doubles over.

  And I run.

  I’m at the end of the road when I hear the screech of tyres, stopping just in time to brace my hands on the bonnet of a black Mercedes Benz. I register Clive’s surprised face, hear the driver’s door open, catch the flash of a suit, and then I’m in Dan’s arms.

  ‘Where is he?’

  I point back up the road.

  ‘There. He’s there.’

  Only he’s not. The car’s already pulled away, disappearing out of the road and taking Ian Boyd with it.

  And suddenly, I’m overwhelmed. If I’m not very much mistaken, I’ve just been almost-kidnapped, and that’s ridiculous. Things like that don’t happen in the real world. But then again, ever since I walked into Daniel Foster’s life, the real world seems to have gone crazy. Digging my head into his chest, I do my best to blot out the madness, without much success. A sob works its way up my throat, and then another. Before long, I’m a jittering, weeping shambles.

  ‘My sister. She’s in there.’ I force out the words between gulps. ‘She’s in her room. In the bathroom.’

  ‘Which number?’

  ‘I don’t know. And Beefy. They got Beefy. I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Clive, go and sort out the mess in there.’ Holding me tight with one arm, he motions towards the hotel. ‘I’ll call Foultons.’

  I’m guided to the car, gently lowered into the passenger seat and left for a moment while he makes the call. And then he crouches next to me.

  ‘Did he hurt you?’

  I shake my head. ‘I hurt him.’ I fight back another sob. ‘I bit his hand and kneed him in the bollocks.’

  He smiles proudly and smooths my hair.

  ‘I wouldn’t mess with you.’

  I can barely believe he’s so calm, but then it strikes me: no matter how he’s feeling now, he’s playing down the entire situation, trying to keep me under control. Pushing himself up from his haunches, he reaches across and fastens the seatbelt.

  ‘I thought we were going to have no drama today. What happened?’

  He crouches back down and watches me, keeping a hand on my arm. Through more sobs, I tell him everything: from Sara’s phone call to Boyd dragging me out to the car. He listens to it all, occasionally glancing up the road.

  ‘Listen.’ He says quietly when I’ve finished. ‘I need you stay in the apartment for a few days.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’

  I’d like to interrogate him further, but Clive returns, holding an overnight bag in one hand and steadying Sara with the other.

  ‘There’s no staff around.’ He opens the back door and guides my sister into a seat. I hear a muffled hiccough. ‘Should we hang around until they show up?’

  ‘What are they going to tell us?’ Dan asks. ‘They won’t put their jobs on the line for the truth. Let’s just get back to Lambeth. I need to think.’

  ***

  I slip into a daze during the journey back, aware of Dan checking on me every now and then, of Clive making calls, confirming that Beefy’s been found with nothing more than a mild concussion. When we finally arrive in the garage, Dan ushers me out of the car and waits with me while Clive does his best to rouse Sara, propping her up as she staggers to the lift. Upstairs, I insist that I’m fine, certainly fit enough to put my sister to bed in the guest room. By the time I leave her, she’s snoring like a pig, blissfully unaware of the chaos she’s just caused. I console myself with the fact that she’ll have one hell of a hangover in the morning. As far as I’m concerned, she deserves it.

  Downstairs, I join the men at the breakfast bar.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Dan touches me on the back.

  ‘Fine.’ I let out a jittery breath.

  ‘We’ll call the police.’ He turns his mobile in his hands. ‘Boyd’s gone far enough.’ He’s about to say something else when the phone begins to buzz. He checks the screen, his expression icing over. From where I’m sitting, I can see it’s an unknown number.

  ‘Boyd?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Put it on speaker.’

  He shakes his head. ‘If it’s him, you shouldn’t have to listen.’

  ‘I’m not an idiot, Dan. I told you not to keep me in the dark. Now answer it.’

  With a sigh, he complies. Laying the phone on the counter top, he raises an index finger to his lips, warning me to stay silent before he accepts the call.

  At first, there’s nothing but the sound of breathing. My stomach knots. At last, I hear a voice. The Scottish lilt is unmistakable.

  ‘I’m not happy.’

  ‘And I don’t give a shit,’ Dan growls. ‘How did you get this number?’

  ‘I have my ways. You won’t trace this phone, by the way. A stolen mobile is a wonderful thing. Use it once and chuck it in the river. Is Maya there?’

  I cringe at the sound of my name coming from that mouth.

  ‘No.’ A hand slides across my thigh. ‘Why are you calling?’

  ‘I’d just like to make sure we have no outside involvement.’

  ‘Attempted kidnap is a crime.’

  ‘If you say so, Mr Foster.’

  ‘If I say so? You’ve gone a step too fucking far.’

  ‘But still … if you know what’
s good for you.’

  Chewing at his bottom lip, Dan glares at the phone. In silence, I watch as the flecks of copper seem to glow in his eyes.

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ he demands slowly.

  ‘Just giving you some advice.’

  ‘And I’ll give you some back,’ he snaps. ‘This has gone far enough, Boyd. Maya’s not interested. She’s with me. Get that into your thick head.’

  ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure.’ Boyd laughs. ‘And that’s some advice for you, Maya.’

  Dan’s face floods with confusion. I can only guess he hasn’t seen the newspaper yet.

  ‘And anyway,’ Boyd goes on. ‘It’s not just about Maya any more. You’ve been poking your nose into every part of my life, dragging up my past, and I don’t like it. I feel violated, Mr Swanky Pants. You’ve been playing dirty, trying to destroy me.’

  ‘You need to be destroyed.’

  ‘Do you know what he’s been up to now, Maya?’

  ‘She’s not here.’

  Ignoring him, Boyd pushes on.

  ‘Bribery. He’s been bribing women to lie about me.’

  I turn to Dan, pinning him down with a good glower, wondering what the hell he’s been doing, and when he’s had a chance to do it. I can only suppose he made a few calls from Bermuda … behind my back.

  ‘You abused those women.’

  ‘Really, Daniel. You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told. An old soak of an ex-copper isn’t a trustworthy source, believe you me. And not a single one of those women blabbed. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

  ‘That they’re terrified of you.’

  ‘Or maybe there’s nothing to blab about.’ Boyd pauses, his breath coming fast and heavy. He’s clearly agitated now. ‘You need to stop your witch hunt, Mr Foster. It’s going nowhere. And another thing, you need to leave my friends alone.’

  ‘You don’t have any friends.’

  ‘Oh, yes I do. And you upset them last night, marauding your way through Isaac’s lovely little club. That wasn’t very gentlemanly. We’ve seen your true colours now, haven’t we, Daniel? I wonder if Maya knows what you’re really like. Does she know what you did to that boy? That you threatened an elderly man?’

  Both elbows on the counter, Dan lowers his head.

  ‘They’re not innocent.’

  ‘Maybe not. But you can’t prove a thing. So, you can go to the police if you like and then we’ll see what happens. Isaac’s ready to press charges, by the way, and so is the feckless kid with the broken nose.’