The Runaway In Love (The Runaway Trilogy Book 2)

by Helen Bright

  “Because she saved your life? Kolya, you didn’t have to tie yourself to her legally. Now she can take you for half of what you own, just because she happened to be in the right place at the right time. I’d say the little runaway had a huge stroke of luck the day she crossed your path.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that, Yannis.” My voice was low, my tone cold. I would not tolerate anyone speaking so flippantly about the day Tess was shot. He was there; he saw the whole thing.

  Yannis took a deep breath and held it, as if he was about to say something but thought better of it.

  “I’ll get in touch with James tomorrow,” I informed him. Before I could hang up the call, Yannis cleared his throat and in a quiet voice declared, “I’m sorry, Kolya. I shouldn’t have spoken about your wife in such a way. It was disrespectful and totally uncalled for. I hope you can forgive me.”

  I didn’t answer straight away. Despite his apology, I was still so angry at his words, especially after what had happened here this evening.

  “Kolya, you have been my best friend for over twenty years. I don’t want to see you go through what I have with regards to marriage. My first wife fucked my father; my last two fucked me financially. I would hate to see you go through the same thing.”

  “We’ve been over this already, Yannis. And you have spoken to Tess a number of times in our video chats. Surely you can see she isn’t a gold digger. She doesn’t covet status or a lavish lifestyle like your ex-wives.”

  “They can change, Kolya. I’ve seen it happen. I just can’t believe you couldn’t enforce a prenup.”

  “That wasn’t an option, my friend, and even if it was, it wouldn’t have been necessary.”

  “But what about James? How will he fare financially if she decides to take you for half of what you have? And what about me? As James’s godparent, you put me in charge of his finances until he turns twenty-one, should anything happen to you. Will that agreement still stand now that he has a stepmother? One who is two years younger than him, with no idea how to manage a billion-dollar company, I might add.”

  “I have made sure that Oliver has arrangements in place to secure James’s future, and that of KOLCAT. But as my wife, Tess will be well taken care of when I am no longer around.”

  “So am I to take it that you no longer wish me to be his financial guardian?” Yannis let out a sigh as he said this, as if disappointed. When Catherine passed away I re-wrote my will, giving Yannis legal guardianship over James in the event of my death. This included managing my son’s substantial inheritance, which he would receive on his twenty-first birthday.

  “Oliver said that wouldn’t be an issue, and I hope James can still come to you for any other advice, if he needs to,” I added.

  “Of course he can. James can come to me for anything, you know that. And he knows it, too. But I was also wondering what I should do about my own will. As you know, James stands to inherit everything I own—including Athilos—with you overseeing the whole process until he comes of age. I need to know that if anything happened to both of us, your wife couldn’t challenge those documents. After all, you are named on all of them, should the unthinkable happen to our boy.”

  “God, Yannis, don’t go there tonight. I’ve had too much to deal with already. And in any case, our lawyers made sure there could be no legal challenges to either of our wills as far as my son’s inheritance is concerned. I needed to do so to prevent my father becoming James’s legal guardian and taking over KOLCAT. I don’t want my son involved with the bratva, never mind my father getting his hands on my business. Every government outside of Moscow would have a fucking fit if that happened.”

  I heard Yannis chuckle at that. He gave an order, likely to one of his guards, to bring him another drink.

  “Yannis, are you drunk?” I questioned.

  “Not nearly enough, my friend, but I’m hoping the next one hits the mark. You aren’t the only one who has had things to deal with today,” he replied, a touch of frustration in his voice.

  “Ahh, so your cousins are still trying to exercise their right to vote. I have to say, Yannis, as shareholders, they are entitled to voice their opinions.”

  “They veto everything I propose though, Kolya, no matter how beneficial it would be. We need to branch out into other avenues. There is no money to be made in the ship-building industry anymore. The Americans are taking over the cruise ship market; the Arabs have seen more growth in their luxury liners and hotels this year than we have in the last five. If it wasn’t for my father investing so much in oil, we might be facing difficulties.”

  “How about the other shareholders? Do they have much to say?”

  “The ones who worked with my father are like sheep, following the ways of the old shepherd. They make it difficult when I try to guide them to more bountiful pastures. Before the recession, it didn’t really matter. No effort was needed to pull in new business. They came to us. Then boom, the big financial fuck-up paved the way for the thieves from the Middle East. They took over the cruise ship, hotel, and leisure industry, one fucking gold brick at a time.”

  “You need to take a break, Yannis. Come to Oxford and stay with us for a while. You can officially meet Tess and put your fears about her to rest,” I told him.

  “I will, as soon as I present the revised proposal before the board. I have meetings in London and Paris next month so I will see you and your new wife when they have ended.”

  “I look forward to it, Yannis. Now go inside and keep an eye on my son. The older he gets, the more I worry.”

  After bidding Yannis goodnight, I made my way upstairs to the room I shared with Tess. The light was off and she was pretending to be asleep. I knew she was still awake and silently seething when I slid into bed beside her and her elbow made contact with my ribs.

  “Ow, Tess, what the hell was that for?”

  “Fuck off, Kolya, you aren’t stupid. You know why I’m mad at you,” she hissed.

  “How did you expect me to react? You put yourself in danger by going outside.”

  “He was sat in a car, Kolya, and I knew Ivan and Dave were out there too.”

  “He could have had a weapon. You could have been lying once again in a pool of blood. Did you think about that? Did you, at any time, stop and think how the people who love you would feel if that happened? Or do you just not care about any of us?”

  “Of course I care. I just wanted to wipe that horrible fucking smile off his face, and possibly bash his skull in with something hard and heavy. I spotted the plant pot and thought that would do.”

  “I know you are angry and frustrated, Tess, but you have to try and be sensible about this. Hassan was filming you. He could go to the police with the threats you made and the damage you did to the car.”

  “But he drove here, Kolya,” she whined. “Surely the police will see that’s intimidation.”

  “They might give him a warning but at the end of the day, neither you nor Jean have a restraining order against him, and as long as the driver pays his car tax, he is entitled to drive on any pubic road.”

  “I can’t say I won’t do it again, Kolya. I want to see the same injuries on him as Sarah had in those photos. I wish he was dead, rotting in a boggy marsh somewhere like she was.”

  A thin sliver of light shone through a gap in the curtains, highlighting her pale features and determined expression. Sliding my arms around her shoulders, I could feel how tense she was. We needed to sleep, yet she was so wound up with anger and frustration I knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Unless…

  “Tess, you know I would do anything for you, don’t you?”

  “So you say,” she replied, dismissively.

  “Well know this, my darling. You will get your wish. But you must do something for me in return. You have to keep your cool if we come into contact with Hassan again before we leave. You need to remain calm and aloof and act like he’s not even there, but above all else, you need to let me keep you safe. Do you under
stand what I’m saying, Tess?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said, hesitantly. “What are you—”

  “Shh,” I whispered. “You do not need to speak of it or worry about it ever again. Just be content that the amount of time Hassan Akbar has left is extremely limited.”

  Tess nodded her head before snuggling into me. I held her tighter, glad that my words had not caused her to fear me. Even though our bodies were pressed together so tightly in a narrow single bed, there was nothing sexual about it. How could there be, when Tess lay there with the knowledge that her husband was going to kill for her? Again.

  9

  Tess

  Jean was busy packing her case ready for our trip to Oxford, so Jonesy offered to cook breakfast. Jean had insisted on serving the men a hearty full English breakfast every morning since our arrival. I think she’s enjoyed cooking for everyone. Although she tries to keep herself busy with various activities, she said she’d felt quite lonely since she had to give up fostering. I could understand that. I felt bad that I wouldn’t be living in the same town anymore, but Kolya said Jean could stay with us whenever she wanted.

  He’d been so sweet this morning, kissing me awake and bringing me tea and toast in bed.

  I’d gotten my period through the night. Although I’d bought pads and tampons in the supermarket yesterday, I’d been in such an angry mood when I came to bed I’d forgotten to put on a pad, just in case. As per usual, I’d leaked through my pyjama bottoms so there was blood on the sheet. I was mortified, but Kolya seemed to take it in his stride. Despite my objections, he stripped the bed then took the sheet into the bathroom to rinse with cold water. He demanded my pyjamas too, but I wouldn’t let him wash those. I was embarrassed enough already.

  I’d asked him how he knew it was best to use cold water to remove blood stains, forgetting he was married before, then hating myself for being jealous of a dead woman. Kolya said Nan had taught all the men about soaking bloodstained fabrics in water. She’d gotten fed up with the towels in the gym getting stained when any of the men had gotten a little too rough in the ring. She hated using strong chemical stain removers and favoured a more natural approach wherever possible. So she’d laid down the law and insisted they soak everything in buckets she had provided, telling them if she found anything lying around that hadn’t been pre-soaked, she would bin it.

  I missed Nan. I’d become so close to her over the last few months, which was understandable as I’d seen her almost every day. She’d called me every night since I’d been here, and I’d cried down the phone to her the day they’d shown me those photographs of Sarah’s body.

  I couldn’t wait for Jean to meet Nan. I’m sure they’ll become friends. They’re nearly the same age and are quite alike in so many ways.

  I’d apologised to Ivan and Nate this morning. All that screaming and swearing at them last night was uncalled for, and I worried that I’d hurt Ivan while I was thrashing around when he’d restrained me. Not that I could move much. The man is a six-foot-eight wall of muscle.

  Neither Nate nor Ivan seemed bothered or upset by my behaviour towards them last night. They seemed more concerned about my feelings about the situation. Ivan didn’t want me to go to the station to see PC Foster and asked if we could get her to come here instead. I just wanted this last visit out of the way so we could all go home.

  Home. To actually have a place to call home is a dream come true, but the fact that my home is a huge sprawling estate with two swimming pools, a basketball court, a home gym, and a shooting range, is truly something else. Add in the Scottish castle and the hotel in London, I almost feel like I should have HRH beside my name.

  Jonesy switched the radio up and began belting out the words to a song that I recognised from one of Jean’s “Hits of the ’60s” albums. The song was Young Girl by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap. I knew the song was about a man finding out the girl he’s seeing is underage, but when Jonesy started to sing it—first to me, then to Jean—the expression on Kolya’s face changed from amused to brooding. As if he was worried about something. I went over and hugged him; he didn’t hug me back. He just smiled a sad smile and told me it was time to go.

  I didn’t like the room that PC Foster had escorted us to. It wasn’t like the opposing grey-walled interview room where I’d been questioned all week. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

  It had ivory-coloured walls with pretty paintings of spring flowers and bluebells in woodland—a sight I normally love to see. The seating couldn’t be more different to the heavily scratched plastic seats in the interview room, either. There were three comfortable high-backed leather-look chairs and a matching two-seat sofa. An oak-effect coffee table stood between them. Oliver had moved one of the chairs around so he could sit beside Kolya while PC Foster and her colleague, PC Winters, chatted with us. The room was designed to put people at ease, but all I could think about was how many victims of rape and other forms of abuse and assault had sat on this same sofa and looked at the same paintings, their eyes filled with tears as they recounted the terrifying moments that brought them here.

  Kolya had shown the officers the video of Hassan that Dave had recorded last night. I hadn’t looked at it. I didn’t want to get angry again—not in front of the police, anyway. You couldn’t fail to hear all the shouting and swearing I was hurling Hassan’s way. To be honest, I felt a little embarrassed. I hadn’t realised it had sounded so bad. No wonder Kolya tells me off when I do it.

  I shook my head and closed my eyes, making a mental note to try and take a step back and count to ten the next time I was in a situation where my anger was getting the better of me. Whether it would work or not, I wasn’t sure, but I was willing to try, for Kolya’s sake.

  Listening to PC Foster talk about Lisa and Ben, the residential social workers who had worked at The Willows, was the first test of whether I could control my angry outbursts. She was explaining the steps that Lisa and Ben had taken to try and manage Sarah’s rebellious streak. I laughed when she began to tell me how worried they’d been when Sarah and I disappeared.

  “Don’t make me laugh,” I told her. “Lisa didn’t give a shit about me and Sarah. She was against us right from the start.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked PC Winters.

  “She wouldn’t take us to visit Jean at the hospital. Then, when Jean was better, Lisa stopped her coming to see us at The Willows.”

  “From the notes I have regarding the exact situations you’ve just mentioned, it appears that Lisa had very good reasons to deny both. I can’t let you look at the records we were given when you and Sarah went missing, but I can tell you that Lisa made enquiries about taking you and Sarah up to the hospital. Your caseworker got together with the rest of her team and decided that seeing Jean so poorly would be too traumatic for both Sarah and you to handle. Stopping Jean from going to visit you and Sarah at The Willows after her recovery was because of Sarah’s behaviour every time Jean left. From what I read, Sarah would become tearful, which would then lead to destructive and violent behaviour once the tears subsided. Do you recall Sarah acting this way, Tess?”

  “Well, yes. But it wasn’t that bad. Not really.”

  “So threatening to smash all the windows and set fire to the building if they didn’t let her go back and live with Jean wasn’t that bad? Or perhaps you think getting into fights with other children and throwing things at the staff was acceptable behaviour? Tell me, Tess. What else could Lisa have done in that situation? She had other children to think about and protect, too, not just you and Sarah.”

  “They could have done more to stop her meeting Farid, Tariq, and Hassan,” I insisted. “But they were no help at all.”

  “I have seen several pages of notes regarding Sarah’s ongoing disappearing acts. How she kept cutting the wires to the alarms on the windows as soon as they had been fixed; how Ben had noticed her leaving one evening and followed her to where a car was waiting. The car drove away before he could memorise the pla
tes. Sarah screamed and spat at him when he tried to take her back into the property. She blamed him for them leaving and didn’t speak more than two words to him after that. And they weren’t ones you would repeat in polite company.

  “When you reported Sarah to the teacher, her caseworker was already trying to find a place for her in another residential children’s home or foster. But there aren’t many foster families around who would have the ability to cope with teenagers with such…challenging behaviour, and those that could help were already full. During those few days she spent in the other home, she exhibited no behavioural issues whatsoever.”

  I placed my hands over my eyes. Having her mention things that Sarah had gotten up to brought memories of those turbulent times back to the forefront of my mind. Yes, at times, Sarah could be difficult. But it wasn’t often. Hearing PC Foster talk about those incidents felt wrong. She was no longer here to defend herself. Sarah came into foster care having previously lived in a similar situation to myself, but hers was much worse. Her mother and stepfather had been abusive and thought nothing of beating Sarah, even as a toddler. They’d passed away in a drunk driving accident when Sarah was eleven, giving her a welcome reprieve from their constant abuse. No wonder she often became violent. Until she went to live with Jean, she’d known little else.

  I felt like I had to tell them about the real Sarah. The one I loved like a sister. So I told them all about how she used to help the younger kids with their maths homework. Sarah was brilliant at all kinds of mathematics. She just got stuff like that. Not like me. I was rubbish at it. I also told them how she’d stick up for those weaker than her. She hated bullies and would always try to protect those who were scared and vulnerable. She just didn’t know how to take care of and protect herself. That was my job and I’d failed epically.

  I couldn’t stop the tears from falling once again. If only I had done more to help her. I should have reported Tariq and the rest when she first went to meet with them. Yes, she might have been moved, but at least she’d still be alive.