The Outcall

Holly Harlow is intelligent, courageous and independent.And she works as a London call girl.When a client is murdered in her bed, she has to find the killer - before the police arrest her for the crime. Holly's trail leads from human trafficking to unbridled celebrity egotism and the corridors of political power.What she discovers is almost unimaginable."Where did you find the dress! Tell me! Where did you buy this?""A tailor, in the woods. Let go of me, woman. What is with you? What is this about?""What was the name of the shop! You must tell me, Gregory!"He tried to undo her claw-like grasp on his arms but to no avail. She was digging her fingers in for dear life."Tell me!""The Verdant Egress! Why?"Caralynne turned to flee the room, meaning to head for the door once more, but Gregory was quicker. His hand shot out, drunk or not, and he turned her back towards him."You can't go out at this hour alone! It's unheard of!""Let go of me!" Caralynne squealed, pushing at him."Caralynne, I can't let you leave…not like this!"For a moment, she paused and looked up at him. In his cups or no, he was stronger than her. This wouldn’t be easy for her to say, but there was much at stake. And she would give anything to leave the house in this very moment. There was no time to spare."If you…if you let me leave, I shall return…"Her hands were gentle as she pressed them lightly to his velvety vest and pushed him away from her. She saw him swallow at the merest hint of heat in her touch, but still he didn't let go of her arms."When I return, I shall…I shall find you. In your…bedroom…"Lord Esteban's eyes widened at the suggestion. Caralynne nodded, knowing he had made the connection she intended. Whether she would keep that soft agreement she had just made or not, she didn't care. But she needed to leave. Now."When you return," Gregory said carefully, "I'll be in my bedroom. Attend me there. Like a wife should…"Caralynne nodded this time and slowly, Lord Esteban let her go. Then she turned and left the room, running for the door that a servant was already opening for her. With barely enough time to draw her cloak hood up over her head, she ran out into the rain and into the night.