by Bo Brennan
Lisa eyes narrowed. “I didn't belong there. Dr Johnson stole my baby.”
George laughed some more and downed his drink, placed the empty glass on the side. “No one’s going to believe you over him. Don't you get it? No one cares what you say anymore. You're mental,” he said tapping the side of her head. “We can lock you up for life if we want to. Like that,” he clicked his fingers in her face and Lisa flinched away. Things weren’t quite going to plan, but at least she was learning.
“Is that how he gets away with it?” she said. “Pretending people are mental so everyone stops listening?”
George clenched his jaw and jutted it in her direction. “He gets away with it because women like you don't deserve kids.” He tugged at her shirt and Lisa backed up until she was flat against the wall. “Look at you,” he sneered. “Coming round here dressed like a fucking whore. Hardly the master plan of a deserving mother is it.”
Lisa swallowed hard. “I just want them back. Tell me where they are. Please.”
“And what are you going to do for me?” George said gripping her jaw with his hand.
Lisa stared at him. “Tell me where they are and we can come to an arrangement.”
He squeezed her face harder. “Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. I hold all the cards. You give me something and you’ll get something in return.”
Lisa found his groin with a trembling hand. Fighting her instinct to squeeze hard and twist, she licked her lips.
“Good girl.” George smiled and unfastened his jeans. Pushed them to his ankles, along with his pants. Lisa glanced down at his scrawny flaccid dick and felt sick. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said. “Get on your knees and convince me you deserve them. And if I so much as feel your teeth, you'll never see either of your kids again.”
Chapter 34
Co Cork, Ireland.
“Wow, look at you,” Colt said as Maggie walked into the hotel bar. Single suited her, even if it didn't feel good right now. “I feel under dressed,” he said as she perched on the bar stool next to his. “You want a beer?”
Maggie smiled. “I fancy a wine actually.”
Colt raised his brows and beckoned the barman. He didn't even know she drank wine. Every time the team went out on the lash, she drank beer like one of the boys.
“Cheers,” she said chinking her glass against his bottle of Bud and taking a long swig.
Colt smiled at the dense lipstick mark she left on her half empty glass. “I want to revisit the Maloneys in the morning,” he said. “You should slow down, that stuff's dangerous.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and he instantly thought of India. She did a lot of eye rolling; she did a lot of wine too. And he knew exactly what it meant. What it led to. But India was different. He knew how dangerous her tastes could be, and more importantly, why. He wished she was here; she'd like the laid back nature of this place.
“I don't want to slow down,” Maggie said slapping his thigh. “I want to have some fun.”
Oh god, here we go. Colt propped his jaw in his hand and glanced around the busy bar, trying to guess her type. If she was going to shag a random to get her husband's infidelity out of her head, he didn't want to be around to witness it. But he'd make damned sure she was safe.
“We should eat,” he said turning back to face her as she placed her empty glass on the bar, and her lips on his.
He sat motionless for a moment. Shocked as she kissed him. And then he pulled away, staring at her. He ran his hand across his mouth a couple of times, trying to undo what had just happened. “Why did you do that? You know I'm in a relationship. You've met her.”
Maggie raised a shoulder and ran her hands clumsily across his chest. “It's not an exclusive one, though,” she murmured.
Colt frowned, gripped her hands in his and pressed them back into her lap. “It's exclusive to me,” he said. “Have you been at the mini bar in your room or something?”
Maggie covered her face, mortified and nodding. He could see the tips of her ears blazing red with alcohol induced embarrassment.
For fuck's sake, he hadn't seen this coming. His stomach lurched. He'd pulled away, but he hadn't pushed her away. It was Mags for Christ's sake. How the fuck was he supposed to deal with this? They couldn't stay here. Together. In this hotel. That was a recipe for disaster.
He took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and stood up. “Go and pack your stuff. We're going home.”
She didn't look up. “Our flight's not until tomorrow.”
“I'll get another one.”
“Oh my god,” Maggie mumbled. “What was I thinking?”
Colt glanced around, wary of drawing attention. “It's all right,” he said thrusting his hands in his pockets instead of squeezing her shoulder as he usually would. “You're emotional and you've had a drink. You're not thinking straight.”
“I can't even look at you,” she said shaking her head in her hands. “I'm so embarrassed.”
Colt let out a long low sigh. “Look, we weren't here. This never happened, okay? We'll leave now and start afresh on Monday.”
Maggie's shoulders rose as she drew a steadying breath and slid from the stool.
“I'll meet you at the car in twenty minutes,” Colt said.
He watched her swiftly head for the hotel lift. Once the doors closed, he gripped the bar with both hands, hung his head, and let out a ragged breath. What would he tell India? Should he tell India? Nothing had happened, not really. So why the fuck did he feel so pissed off and guilty?
He glugged down the last of his beer and ran his tongue over his teeth, not sure what part of this scenario was concerning him the most - the fact he hadn’t seen it coming, missing another visit to the Maloney’s, or the thought that he and India weren't exclusive. Slamming his empty beer bottle down on the bar, he headed for the hotel stairwell.
Chapter 35
Park Gate, Hampshire.
Gray Davies pulled an ice cold beer from the giant American fridge. He could get used to this. He'd followed his work-out with a long relaxing soak in the tub, and now he was ready to settle down and watch the match on a state of the art home cinema system. Tonight, panoramic sound would not include neighbours arguing furiously through paper thin walls, which seemed an everyday occurrence at his own place of late.
He wasn't generally a man who enjoyed isolation, found India's place a bit creepy if he was honest, but, he could live here. Colt had set himself up with a proper no shit man cave. One with a complicated remote control. He eyeballed it as he settled on the sofa. A few jabs later and the TV sprang to life.
Gray peered at the silent split screen wondering what the hell he'd done wrong, and then saw movement in the top right hand box. He frowned and leant forward in his seat. It was India locking her front door. He looked towards the window, couldn't even see her place from here, and then back at the screen. The bottom left showed a car entering the track from the top of the lane. Gray stood up and moved to the window. It was real time. She was standing on her deck done up to the nines.
With his heart pounding in his chest, he rammed his feet in his trainers, grabbed the keys, and sprinted out the door towards her. “Where you going?” he called as he reached the bottom of her steps.
“Doctor's appointment.”
Gray shook his head. “I'm being serious.”
India stared at him. “So am I.”
Gray glanced over his shoulder as the car headlights approached. “Please don't do this. You'll regret it.”
She tutted and rolled her eyes as she came down the steps and pushed past him. Gray grabbed her arm. “India, he's working!”
“So am I,” she growled pulling her arm free and climbing into the back of the taxi.
Gray put his hands on top of his head and watched the tail lights grow more distant, hoping the car would stop. It didn't. He let out a frustrated grunt and kicked the bottom step. Colt was right. She was on self-destruct.
He let out an exasperated sigh. All he
could do now was wait. Whatever happened, he'd be here to pick up the pieces when she got back. Wearily, he climbed the steps to creepsville and let himself in, wishing he could kick her as hard as he was kicking himself for not seeing the signs sooner. He flicked on the main light and stood motionless in her lounge. Mouth gaping wide, he stared at the wall.
The Concordia Club, Hampshire.
India didn't see the woman coming; she was far too engrossed in what was happening in the plush private booth across the room. “For a choosy woman, you make very poor choices,” she purred sidling up to her on a high backed chair.
India tilted her head in the woman's direction without diverting her gaze. “Are you talking to me?”
“I've watched you turn down bankers, traders, and Fortune 500 CEOs in the last hour, without taking your eyes off the good doctor over there once,” the woman said. “And you're new here.”
India's eyes narrowed, irritated by her unwanted company. “And you're observant,” she said turning to face her, wondering who else may have noticed her interest.
The glamorous cougar pulled the skewered cherry from her glass and provocatively popped it into her mouth. “If you're looking for fun, you're looking in the wrong place,” she said.
India stared at her. “I like my meat straight.”
The woman laughed. “Same here, sweetheart. But all you'll get from him is a one way ticket to A&E,” she said jabbing her redundant cocktail stick in Dr Johnson's direction.
India inclined her head, intrigued by the stranger's agenda. “Is that so?”
The woman ran a finger seductively up and down the stem of her glass. “Unless you like it rough, I'd set my sights elsewhere.”
India watched him over the brim of her glass as she sipped her sparkling mineral water. Watched him raise a hand and summons table service for more champagne with an arrogant click of his fingers, while the fingers of his other hand dug deep between the bare thighs of one of the blondes seated next to him. “How rough?” she murmured.
“Let's just say those caring hands aren't quite as caring when it comes to his wife.”
“He's married?” India said raising a brow. “He doesn't wear a ring.”
“She kicked him out after the last battering,” the woman mused. “Well, into another property on daddy's estate anyhow. Seems putting his hands on the child was a step too far.”
Finding she was interested in the company of the stranger after all, India turned her back on Johnson and his bevy of beauties. “Terri,” she said extending her hand. “What happened with the child?”
“Angel,” the cougar returned with a smile. “He broke the boy’s arm when he tried to save his mother.”
Chapter 36
Winchester, Hampshire.
Lisa Lewis carefully climbed off him and silently stepped from his bed. As she began collecting her strewn clothes, he murmured something inaudible. She froze, staring at him. Wondered exactly how asleep he could be when the hand dangling from the bed still clutched the vodka bottle.
A blow job was his price for Sasha. He wanted more for Billy.
In his drunken stupor he mumbled of dangerous men and Johnson. She'd done what he asked. But he hadn't returned the favour. The fat bastard had passed out before making the phone call that would reunite her with her son.
She crept around the bottom of the bed, one eye on George, the other on the nightstand next to his head. His mobile phone was there. Had taunted her with it earlier in the evening. Waved it in her face as he lay naked and spread eagled on the bed. One call from him he'd said. And one ride from her. She needed that mobile. She needed him to make the damned call.
He snuffled as she reached for it. She glanced down to see dribble forming a white crusty track from his open mouth to the pillow. He was out cold. She placed her clothes at her feet and turned all her attention to the phone. Breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't locked. She had no knowledge of these new-fangled expensive gadgets, but guessed contacts meant the same whether the phone cost forty quid or four hundred quid.
She touched the screen and a list of names appeared. Bit her lip when she couldn't see a button to scroll the list past 'A'. She poked the screen and it moved, so she continued poking until she reached 'Johnson, Dale.' Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her eyes roamed for pen and paper. She reached for the nightstand drawer. And George reached for her.
Lisa jumped and dropped the phone as the bottle smashed to the floor and he grabbed her wrist. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he said stumbling from the bed into the darkening pool of vodka at his feet.
“You said you'd phone Dr Johnson,” she spluttered trying to pull away.
George Sarum's eyes narrowed as they roamed her naked body. “Without your chicken fillets they're like two bee stings on an ironing board,” he murmured prodding her breasts.
Lisa cringed, tried desperately to cover her body with her free arm. The self-confidence she'd arrived with, discarded alongside the push up bra at her feet. Even her children's fathers had never seen her naked childlike body. “Please, just phone him. Tell him to give me my son back,” she pleaded. “I've done everything you wanted.”
One side of George's mouth lifted in a cockeyed smile. “Not yet you haven't,” he said dragging her by the arm to the bathroom. He stood her at the sink and pressed a flannel into her hand. “Wipe that shit off your face. All of it.”
She soaped the flannel and scrubbed. Rubbed the mascara from her eyes until they were bleary and red. And then he tugged her back to the bedroom, to the mirrored wall of wardrobes.
Lisa frowned as he slid the end door aside, looked her up and down, and reached inside. He tugged a garment from the rail, threw it at her and said, “Put it on.”
Lisa bent down and hooked a finger through the metal coat hanger. Straightening up she stared at the navy blue school uniform hanging from her finger. Her heart lurched into her throat when she saw the embroidered City Secondary School emblem.
She lifted her eyes to the bed as George tossed the phone back onto the nightstand, along with the broken chunks of bottle, and got himself comfortable. And ready. “Put it on,” he leered stroking himself.
Lisa mechanically walked towards the bed, uniform in hand. Standing over him, she slipped the sweater from the hanger, and all the air rushed from her lungs. Her trembling hand traced the carefully stitched name tag at the collar. Sasha Grant.
A grunt from the bed brought her back to the here and now. George Sarum, wanking himself stupid, eyes closed, grunting and groaning. She'd give him something to fucking groan about. She dropped the uniform, grabbed the broken bottle neck and jumped on top of him. “Easy tiger,” he said opening his eyes and lifting his head from the pillow. “What the fuck?”
“Make the fucking call,” Lisa said holding the jagged glass against his dick. “Now!”
George's eyes filled with terror and almost bulged from their sockets. “Just hang on a minute,” he said going instantly limp in her hand. “Don't do anything stupid.”
“Make. The. Fucking. Call,” she gritted out through clenched teeth and tugged his limp dick taut with one hand, pressed the jagged edge of the bottle against its base with the other.
“I'm doing it, I'm doing it,” he whimpered slowly reaching for the phone. “Please don't hurt me.”
“Tell him to give me back my boy,” she said. “Or I'm going to do some serious fucking damage to all of you.”
George began blubbing as he made the call. Candles of snot trailed from his nose, reminding her of Sasha's first childhood cold. It merely intensified her rage. “Speaker phone,” she demanded. “I want to fucking hear him.”
She breathed deeply, nostrils flaring as the phone rang and rang. Her face twitched as music came down the line before she heard Dr Johnson's voice. “What do you want?” he snapped as the music played on.
“It's.... it's me.... George.”
“I know who you are you fucking imbecile,” he said. Lisa tilted her head,
frowning hard as she heard girly giggling in the background. “What the fuck are you interrupting my Saturday night for?”
Lisa stared at George and tightened her grip. “Lisa Lewis wants her baby back, if you don't give him back she's going to do some serious damage,” he blurted.
The doctor laughed and Lisa's naked skin prickled. “She's locked up in an asylum you fool. The only damage she's going to do is to herself. If we're lucky she'll do us all a favour and top herself soon.”
“You're sorely mistaken, Doctor,” Lisa said. “I'll kill you before I kill myself.”
The doctor didn't respond.
“Tell him George,” she said jabbing him with the bottle.
George screamed and covered his eyes as the first spot of blood oozed from a mere paper cut on his shaft. “She means it. Just give him back before she cuts my dick off,” he blubbed.
When the doctor spoke again, the background music had faded. Lisa was pleased he'd seen the threat succinct enough to leave his party. “All right. You can have him back,” he said soberly. “But you have to understand it will take time.”
“You've had more of his fucking life than me,” Lisa shouted. “If you don't bring him to me now, I will finish George and then I'll come for you.”
“Okay, okay,” he said hastily. “There's no need for that. Listen to me carefully. It's the weekend. I can't do anything until Monday.”
“Monday,” Lisa repeated feeling her body lighten.
“That's right. I will personally bring Billy back to you on Monday,” the doctor said softly and calmly.
“What about Sasha? Where’s my Sasha? I want her back too.”
“Sasha too,” the doctor said. “Isn’t that right George?”
Lisa looked down at George's sweaty face. Wide eyed, he nodded vigorously. “I’ll bring her back from Haltingbury on Monday, I swear.”