But my skin still tingled where his mouth had lingered, and my heart rate hadn’t yet returned to normal. My mind was flooded with him, those languorous eyes, those almost-feminine lips, his aftershave... He’d barrelled into my senses, bowling me over with his very presence, filling my mind, my soul. I couldn’t deny the attraction, and I had an undeniable and pressing urge to find him. My heart lurched and my stomach somersaulted at the thought of never seeing him again.
Shaking my head at my stupidity, I reached for my camera. It was time I went back to work and stopped arsing around. I was behaving like a love-sick teenager with a first crush.
Where was my camera?
I froze. It had been in its accustomed place around my neck when I’d come outside in search of some relative peace and quiet. When had I taken it off, and why didn’t I remember doing so? Thinking back, it couldn’t possibly have been around my neck when Rochdale (his name floated, in my mind, the syllables drawn out and lazy) had pinned me against the tree because I would have remembered the discomfort. Ten inches of black plastic and glass poking into my stomach wasn’t a pleasant experience.
‘Are you looking for this?’
I shrieked and whirled around, hunching into a defensive pose, my fists raised, legs braced.
‘Easy, easy...’ Scarlet man held up his hands in mock surrender, my camera dangling from one of them. He looked as though he thought I was about to shoot him.
Straightening a little, I lowered my hands, feeling a bit of a fool for the overreaction. ‘You,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Me.’
‘Where did you find it?’ I asked, jerking my head at the camera.
‘On the gravel just by the bushes.’
‘Oh.’
His face was in shadow, or would have been if it wasn’t for the cloud of red light glowing around his head and upper body.
‘Thank you,’ I added, examining his expression.
It didn’t tell me anything and I stepped forward, the fight instinct evaporating, to reach out to take the camera from him. Almost snatching it, I retreated a few steps. In such poor light it was difficult to tell if the camera was damaged, but my roving, searching fingers didn’t find any dents or cracks.
I turned my attention back to him, forcing myself to look at him. Who was he and what was he doing here?
I’d already decided I didn’t believe in coincidences, and here were a couple more. How likely was it that the same two men who’d caught my attention on that fateful night in Oxford, albeit for different reasons, should show up here, in the exact same place a minute or so apart? But the question which most concerned me was, why?
‘Who are you?’ I demanded.
He took a while to answer. ‘They call me Crow.’
‘Who does?’
‘People who know me.’
‘Those people must really dislike you,’ I said.
‘Oh, I don’t know. The nickname has sort of grown on me.’
I worried at my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to ignore the wash of red around him. The colour was too much like fresh blood for my liking and, thanks to the other night, I had intimate knowledge of what that looked like. He might be called Crow, but to me he was a red-feathered one.
‘I didn’t get a chance to thank you the other night,’ I said.
He let out a slow breath. ‘I wasn’t sure you recognised me.’
‘I seldom forget a... face.’ I almost slipped up again.
This man’s aura hadn’t changed a great deal since I first saw it. Maybe a little less dark flowed through the red tonight, but it was essentially the same.
We’d reached an impasse, this strange red man with the strange black name, and I. Neither of us appeared to want to speak first. I was waiting for him to leave now that he’d accomplished his mission and returned my camera to me and I’d thanked him for saving my life.
Voices, annoyed ones, reached us, and I realised the fireworks had stopped a while ago.
‘I’d better go,’ I said at last, feeling a rare need for crowds, light, and people. I’d had enough of dark, quiet places and men with odd names. And coincidences. I’d had my fill of those too. Something wasn’t right.
Rochdale had actively sought me out, I now realised. He’d known what I did for a living and he knew my name. This encounter tonight had been premeditated, and all because of a chance meeting of eyes in the theatre on that fateful night.
Surely, that wasn’t normal? Unless... I took a deep breath. I’d intrigued him, he’d said. Why? He must have caught the dazed gaze of many people that night. Why had mine been so special? What had he seen on my face which gave me away?
As for this man, who was standing in front of me and blocking my way, he’d tracked me down, too. Not once, but three times. It was him who I’d seen driving past my cottage. It was him who’d been lurking in Carew Castle. And he’d turned up here, tonight.
Fear stroked an insidious finger down my back and adrenalin tingled along my arms and legs, my stomach clenching.
Something definitely wasn’t right.
‘Are you stalking me?’ I blurted, prepared for a blustery denial, a shocked expression, a backing-off at the accusation.
‘Yes.’
My mouth dropped open. What the hell?
‘It’s for your own good,’ he added, as if that made it better.
‘Really?’ I was incredulous. I might owe him my life, but that didn’t mean it was okay to stalk me. The guy was deranged, delusional. Dangerous? Desperate? Were there any other words beginning with “d” that fitted the occasion?
I was rambling, my thoughts scattered, neurons short-circuiting with fear. I needed to get away from him fast; he could have a knife... Actually, looking at his build, he wouldn’t need one. His bare hands could do the trick. Jacketless, his muscles were impressive under his shirt, and he held himself loosely, confidently, without any of the languor Rochdale had exuded.
At least this Crow guy hadn’t made a move on me yet, and I wondered how much he’d seen, and whether he’d witnessed my little encounter with Rochdale. Shame warmed my cheeks. It wasn’t like me to behave so out of character.
‘Can I pass, please?’ I asked, my voice high and a little shaky.
Crow looked surprised. ‘Of course.’ He stepped to the side, but I’d still have to sidle past him, and then he would be behind me and—
‘You first,’ I amended.
He gave me an amused look, but walked ahead of me anyway. I hadn’t realised how far into the trees Rochdale had brought me. If it wasn’t for those fireworks, he would’ve had his wicked way with me and no one would ever have been any the wiser. Liquid heat pooled in my nether regions, but this time it was unwelcome and unwanted.
A chemical reaction, I reminded myself, nothing more. Certainly nothing to get worked up about. The man had been a sexual itch, that was all, and I’d been all too ready to scratch it. Even now, in the cold light of day, so to speak, I didn’t trust my body not to throw itself at him if he was standing in front of me right now.
Bugger, there was my brother. I heard him before I saw him, as I slipped out of the cover of the trees and strolled across the gravel, trying for nonchalance and failing, to join a handful of guests who were milling around. I probably looked as guilty as hell. Thankfully, Tim had his back to me and hadn’t seen me emerge from the undergrowth with a man, because he would have jumped to the wrong conclusion. I had to admit to myself, it didn’t look good. I was supposed to be a professional, merging into the background and taking my unobtrusive photos. I didn’t think that almost fucking one of Tim’s guests under the nose of the man’s wife, was part of my remit.
‘Honestly, if you want something done right, you’ve got to sodding well do it yourself,’ Tim was saying. ‘Who let them off, that’s what I want to know?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, I’ve no idea, but I can assure you when we find the culprit, the hotel will come down on him like a ton of bricks.’
‘That doesn’t
help me now though, does it? The fireworks were supposed to happen at the end of the night, the grand finale.’
‘It was only a couple, sir, we still have the others.’
‘Yes, but it won’t be a surprise, will it?’
The man, who I assumed must be the hotel’s duty manager, was wringing his hands. ‘Maybe the hotel can come to some arrangement, as compensation, sir?’
‘Hmm.’ My brother appeared to think about it. I knew the signs; he was in bargaining mode and was probably secretly delighted the fireworks had been set off early. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d lit the damned fuse himself. ‘If the rest of the fireworks go off as scheduled, I’ll say no more about it,’ he offered.
The manager smiled, relief written all over his face. Wait for it, I wanted to warn him. My brother hadn’t finished with him yet.
‘But I’m not prepared to pay for them,’ Tim added. ‘I expect better service from this hotel, to be honest. This is an utter shambles.’
The man sagged visibly. My brother was wealthy, flash, and full of himself, and the manager probably thought it best not to get on the wrong side of him. ‘Of course not, sir. Thank you.’
The rest of the guests wandered back inside, and I decided to follow them. It was time I went back to work.
Tim caught up with me. ‘There you are!’ he exclaimed. ‘Did you see that?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve got a good mind to sue.’
‘This isn’t America,’ I said. ‘No harm was done.’
‘No harm? Huh!’
‘You’ve got a good deal,’ I pointed out.
‘Yeah, I have, haven’t I? If I knew who set them off early, I’d shake his hand.’
‘It wasn’t you?’
‘Good God, no. Right, best get back to it. I’ve got work to do, and so have you.’
He strode off, up the steps and into the foyer. I followed more slowly, bracing myself for the onslaught and readying my camera, when I realised Crow was behind me.
‘It was me,’ he said, almost in my ear, his voice low. ‘I set off those fireworks. It was the only way I could think of to save you.’
Chapter 17
Crow
Olivia shot Crow a look. He interpreted it as scornful, filling in her unspoken words – “Save me?” she seemed to be saying. She clearly hadn’t believed she needed saving.
Under any other circumstances, he would agree with her. She was an adult, and if she wanted to have a quick knee-trembler behind a tree, it was no one’s business but hers. Except, it was his business because she’d almost let Rochdale have his wicked way with her. Crow didn’t know much about Olivia Parr, but everything he’d learned so far hadn’t given him the impression she was an easy lay. Quite the reverse in fact. She’d hardly left the house since her sojourn to Carew Castle, and he knew for a fact that she didn’t have a love interest on the scene. He may be entirely wrong about her of course, and perhaps she did make a habit of having casual sex with complete strangers in the undergrowth, but once again he was going with his instinct.
And the way she’d stared at Rochdale, almost blankly, as if the man had sucked all conscious thought out of her head, had sent Crow’s hackles into overdrive.
To think he’d almost given up on her earlier today, and had been on his way to retrieve the tracker from her car which hadn’t moved from its parking spot outside her cottage in several days, when he’d been alerted to the fact that she was on the move by that little red dot.
So he’d followed her.
What else was he going to do?
Olivia had led him to her parents’ house and he’d recognised her brother’s posh car in their driveway. No sign of the sister, but then she’d not long had a baby, so maybe she didn’t feel like a family get-together. The brother, Tim, was some kind of big-shot in the marketing business, although Crow wasn’t sure what he did exactly, because he hadn’t paid the man much attention, apart from a few general background checks. He drove a sweet car, though, even if it was a bit wankerish. Crow wouldn’t mind having a go in it.
He pulled self-consciously at the cuffs of his jacket. Dressing up wasn’t his thing, and although he looked okay in his ancient tux, he didn’t feel particularly comfortable. But, bloody hell, was he glad he’d decided to follow Olivia tonight.
The girl in question was currently glaring at him, then she barked out an ironic laugh. ‘I should fetch my brother,’ she said. ‘He’d like to shake your hand. Apparently, you’ve saved him a fortune.’
‘It was you I was more interested in saving,’ he replied.
‘Really?’ she said, her tone one of incredulous disbelief. ‘Look, as much as I’d like to stay here and chat, I’ve got a job to do.’
He held back a smile; she so clearly didn’t want to chat. For all her belligerence, she hardly looked him the eye, preferring to keep her gaze on the ground. She was hiding something, he could tell.
He couldn’t leave it there. ‘Can I see you later?’
‘Look, I’ve said thank you for saving my life that night. What more do you want?’
‘I want to explain. Please?’ He was serious. ‘I meant it when I said I was trying to save you. Rochdale is dangerous.’
‘Oh?’
Crow could tell she was interested, despite herself, as she shot him a quick look from under her lashes, then her attention returned to the gravel.
Keeping her eyes averted, she said, ‘Okay, but it will have to be somewhere public.’
‘There’s a McDonald’s in the retail park a couple of miles down the road. It’s a twenty-four-hour one. Will that do?’
‘Yeah, but make sure you get there before me and you leave before I do,’ she warned.
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Yeah, actually it wouldn’t make any difference, would it, because you already know where I live.’ She sounded scared and more than a little annoyed. ‘You were outside my house. I saw you.’
Fuck, he must really be losing his touch. He could’ve sworn he’d been unobserved, especially since it had been almost pitch black – no moon, no street lights, only the occasional security lights on some of the houses.
He was going to lose her, if he wasn’t careful. If he didn’t give Olivia Parr something to work on, she wasn’t going to show. Coming to a decision, he blew out his cheeks. ‘Rochdale’s got my sister,’ he announced, his voice bleak.
Her mouth dropped open. ‘You should go to the police,’ she said.
‘I have. They’re not interested.’
‘If he’s kidnapped your sister...?’
‘I didn’t say she was kidnapped,’ he said.
‘No?’
‘He’s not taken her against her will,’ he explained. ‘Not in the sense you mean.’ He glanced around. ‘I don’t want to discuss it here. What time do you think you’ll be finished?’
She checked the time. ‘Another couple of hours.’
‘Okay.’
Without saying another word, she trotted up the steps, leaving him standing on the sweeping gravel drive.
Chapter 18
Olivia
With the camera raised to my face as a shield, I went looking for Rochdale. He had to be here somewhere, with or without the anticipated wife.
Three-quarters of an hour later, I was forced to admit defeat. He was nowhere to be seen.
I completed my job on automatic pilot, pointing and snapping, framing shots with practiced ease, hardly thinking about the results but knowing they’d be good enough. Photos taken at events like this would hardly win any awards. It was a point and click exercise, nothing more.
Tim stayed until the end, as I expected he would, considering he was the host. I let him have his moment of victory and dissection, then asked for a quick word.
‘I thought it went swimmingly,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ve got some good photos. How soon can I have them?’
‘I’ll email them to you first thing in the morning,’ I said.
He grunted and turned to lea
ve. I caught his sleeve. ‘What do you know about a guy called Rochdale?’
‘Rochdale?’ Tim frowned. ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘He was here, tonight, one of your guests.’
‘He could very well have been,’ my brother said and shrugged. ‘If he was, he was probably a hanger-on. Not one of the main players. He was most likely someone’s right-hand-man.’
Rochdale hadn’t struck me as a beta. This guy had been an alpha male, through and through.
‘Medium height, dark curly hair, black eyes?’ I tried.
Tim shrugged. I was probably describing a good chunk of the men here. I tried again.
‘A bit of a...’ I struggled to find a word to fit, and once more I found one in the classics. ‘Dandy,’ I announced. ‘He was wearing a cravat.’
Tim’s frown cleared. ‘Oh, him? Yes, I did notice him. I quite liked the cravat.’
‘Who is he?’
My brother tapped his fingers against his chin. ‘He was a last-minute invite, I believe. Expressed an interest in the financial side of things, a banker maybe? No, that’s not it.’ He paused, the frown returning to his face. ‘Do you know, I’m not entirely sure. One of the guys will know.’
“The guys” were his employees, those suited, polished, young professionals with slicked-back hair and gleaming white smiles, who ran around after him. I might have spent most of the evening around them, but I couldn’t tell them apart. I bet they all drove the same make and model of car and worked out at the same gym. Golf would probably be involved somewhere along the line, too.
‘Why the interest?’ Tim asked.
‘No reason. I thought I’d seen him before, that’s all.’
Tim scoffed. ‘I doubt it.’
If my brother had been more approachable, maybe I would have confided my plans to him, but his assumption that Rochdale and I moved in totally different circles and therefore couldn’t possibly have met, rankled. It was silly of me not to tell anyone that I was about to meet a strange man, one who had already admitted to stalking me and who knew where I lived and what I did for a living, in a fast-food place in the middle of the night in a retail park which would be deserted at this hour...
The Colour of Death Page 9