by Emma Tallon
Dangerous Girl
An utterly heart-stopping thriller
Emma Tallon
Also by Emma Tallon
Runaway Girl
Dangerous Girl
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Hear More From Emma
Also by Emma Tallon
A Letter from Emma
Acknowledgements
Dedicated to the centre of my universe, my strongest motivation and the person that all of this is for – my son, Christian.
Prologue
It was pitch black. The only thing the scared young woman could hear was the slow, constant drip of water somewhere in the cold, damp room. Her tightly bound ankles ached deeply where the rope had bruised through to the bone. She took a deep breath in, the sound sharp against the silence. The action sent her lungs into spasm and she coughed harshly. Days she had been down here in this makeshift prison. She shivered, and another tear rolled down her face. Why was she here? Who was doing this to her?
The bottom of the door scraped against the floor, announcing her captor’s arrival as she stifled a scream. Her eyes grew wide as she attempted to see him, to see anything. His tall, broad frame was outlined by the sliver of light that made its weak way through the door for just a second, before he kicked it shut again behind him.
She heard the sound of a chair being dragged along and the creak of a body sitting down on it. Her eyes darted about in the darkness until he switched on a torch. She winced in pain at the unexpected light. He kept it trained on her face, blinding her. He sat behind the light where she couldn’t see, just like he always did.
‘Please,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I won’t,’ she begged her silent captor. The tears now streamed down her cheeks. There was no answer. ‘I have money, you know; my family have money. If you tell them you have me, they will pay you well for my safe return. I’ll say whatever you want me to. I wouldn’t say a word about all this, if you just let me go, I swear on my own life. Please,’ she beseeched, her voice thin and shaky.
He lunged forward, pushing the torch against her eyes so she had no choice but to squeeze them shut. She shuffled backward on the filthy bed until her back hit the damp wall behind.
‘There are some things,’ he whispered, ‘that money cannot buy you.’ His cold tone sent a chill through her heart.
He moved and suddenly she felt a sharp blade as he pushed it against the skin of her throat. She began to shake with fear, her tears falling faster. He pressed harder and dragged the knife slowly downward until it began to pierce the flesh.
‘Please, oh God, please,’ she whimpered, her cries turning to hysteria. Her whole body shook, and her thighs grew warm as she wet herself in pure terror.
The knife was raised to her mouth, covering it, pressing hard against her lips. She quickly stifled the noise she was making, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps.
‘Your God don’t come to these parts,’ the man whispered again.
Without another word he switched off the torch and stepped back into the darkness. He closed the door as he left, leaving the room in silence once more.
Resting her face in her hands a moment, the woman rocked back and forth.
Her cries echoed around the windowless walls as she screamed desperately for help. She screamed for all she was worth. She screamed for hours, until she finally passed out in exhaustion. Not a single person heard. No one came to save her.
1
Ash Bentley slammed the truck door and shifted the weight of the small, heavy box he was carrying. Checking both ways of the busy London street, he crossed the road and headed towards the closed club. The jarring sound of a pneumatic chisel in the next street filled the air amongst the running engines, beeping horns and local chatter. The sky was bright blue above the tall buildings, and a sweet breeze drifted over the top of the CO2 emissions and the smell of brake dust. He breathed it in deeply and smiled. It was going to be a nice day. His ex-missus was grudgingly letting him take his little girls out for the afternoon and he wanted to take them to the park.
Two young women out shopping for the day passed by and gave him an appreciative look. He winked and gave them a cheeky grin. They giggled and looked back a couple of times after he passed. Ash was a ruggedly handsome chap with dimples, muscles and tattoos. He also had the gift of the gab. A bit of a Jack the Lad, he could charm the knickers off almost anything. It was a pastime that had cost him his family after his ex had caught wind and showed him the door. He felt bad about that, as he knew he should have done better by her, but he was who he was, so these days he stayed strictly casual with women.
Reaching the black side door to Club Anya, Ash pushed the buzzer and waited. A couple of minutes passed, then it opened slightly and a salt-and-pepper head with a receding hairline poked round inquisitively. Seeing who it was, Carl grinned and pulled the door open wide, moving out of the way.
‘Ash! How you doing, mate?’
‘Yeah, good thanks. Yourself?’
‘Ah, you know me – I’m good. Tickin’ over, keeping things running smooth.’ Carl smiled warmly as he spoke. Everyone knew that Carl loved his job. He was second-in-command at the club, after the two joint owners. Having no family or partner of his own, Carl pushed all of his time and efforts into the club and saw his employers and the rest of the long-term team as his family. He was good at what he did and was appreciated for it. A man who liked a simple life, he had no complaints.
They walked through to the empty club, and Ash’s eyes immediately swept over to the attractive brunette seated at the other end of the long bar. Her slim legs were crossed and she was looking down, intently writing something in a notebook. His eyes roamed over her appreciatively. Her long hair was styled and glossy, and she wore an elegantly sexy black pencil dress. It was simple, but it showed off her impressive figure and her smooth, bare legs. If it had been anyone else, Ash would have sidelined whatever else he was doing and made it his mission to seduce her. You didn’t see a fine specimen like Anna Davis every day. But that was the thing. This was Anna Davis. Club owner in her own right, but more importantly, she was Freddie Tyler’s woman – and Ash didn’t particularly fan
cy losing any fingers right now. No one in their right mind would show disrespect to Freddie like that, or to Anna herself either. She was off the table.
‘Are you going to just stand there all day, Mr Bentley, or are you going to come over and show me whatever it is that you have in that box?’ Anna’s clear voice carried over to him calm but authoritative. Ash blinked in surprise; she hadn’t even looked over. He hurried forward, and as he reached her side, she closed the book and swung the swivelling bar chair round to face him. Anna gave him a tight, professional smile, and once again Ash was struck by how attractive she was. Deep blue eyes bored into him intently and he gathered his wits.
‘Sorry, Miss Davis. Was just thinking about something. This—’ He placed the box on the bar next to her and tapped the top of it. ‘This is just a little present from my boss to you. Not for the bar, just for your own personal collection. He thought you might like it. You know, like, at home or whatever.’
Anna opened the box, curious. She pulled out what appeared to be a large, gold Russian Fabergé egg on tiny wheels. Pulling a confused face, she looked at Ash for clarification. He leaned forward and took it from her. Placing it on the bar, he pushed the top half of the egg open on its hinge with both hands. Inside was a beautiful clear bottle that fitted the shape of the bottom half of the egg, with an elegantly designed lid. Around the lid hung four intricately decorated shot glasses.
‘Oh, that’s interesting.’ Anna leaned forward and unhooked one of the tiny glasses. She held it closer and inspected it. She looked down at the writing – ‘Imperial Collection Super Premium Vodka’ – and pressed her lips together. She had seen this stuff once before, at a supplier fair. It hadn’t been for sale, just an attraction at one of the stalls. It was expensive stuff. Seriously expensive. Much too expensive to give a client as a sweetener gift. This wasn’t for her, not really. This was for Freddie’s benefit. She shut the lid carefully and placed it back in the box.
‘Fabulous. I love it. When will you be dropping off Tanya’s?’ She smiled broadly at him and waited. Ash froze at the mention of Anna’s business partner. His boss had only given him one and told him to give it to Anna, to keep Freddie sweet; show him that they were properly looking after his missus.
‘Er, thing is, there was only the one, so…’ He fidgeted awkwardly. Anna laughed.
‘It’s OK, Ash.’ She tapped his shoulder to let him know that she was just messing with him. She looked at the box again and rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure Freddie will appreciate the gesture.’
Ash visibly relaxed and smiled back at her. She knew the game, this bird; she wasn’t short of a few brain cells.
Anna picked up her paperwork from the bar and indicated that he follow her through to the office. He took the box and carried it through for her. Once inside, Ash looked around as he sat in the comfortable leather seat offered to him.
It was cosy and neat with everything organised properly. Nothing like the cold, haphazard mess his boss resided in. There was a collection of paintings on the walls. He liked the biggest one: a beach at sunset with big splashes of oranges and reds throughout and the silhouette of two people sitting in the distance. This painting was set in prize position, in the middle of the largest wall. On the desk there was a framed picture of Anna and Freddie laughing together. He realised that Anna was watching him. He focused his attention on her, and she opened up the file that was ready in front of her.
‘It’s quite apt that John sent us vodka, really, considering that’s the subject I want to discuss with you.’ She eyed him, her face unreadable. ‘You’ve undercut every other supplier out there. Initially by a little bit, but lately by a lot. Why?’ she asked bluntly.
‘Well,’ Ash said with a shrug, ‘guess we just have better deals set up, don’t we? And we like to pass savings on to the customer.’
‘Right.’ Anna nodded slowly. ‘Or,’ she said after a few moments’ pause, ‘you’re selling me the fake shit and trying to make me feel like I’m getting a great deal. Which does make business sense, I guess. Unless you’re on my end of the deal, of course.’ She folded her arms and waited for Ash to respond.
Ash licked his lips and settled back while he decided which way to go with this. He knew the deal on this account. From what he had heard, when they got together three years ago, Freddie had offered Anna a direct supply of all the fake booze that he imported into the country. It would have saved her a lot of money and upped the drinks profits tenfold, but she had refused. Much as she accepted Freddie’s line of work, she determinedly kept her club squeaky clean. It meant that her profit margin on drinks was OK but modest.
Freddie had got one of his outlets to undercut her original suppliers by just enough that she couldn’t refuse but not enough that she would suspect. Over time, the suppliers were to drop their prices again and again, and when the prices got too low for them to supply the real deal, they were to switch to Freddie’s fake versions. He prided himself on the fact that the spirits were good-enough copies that they were still at the same strength and they tasted no different. As far as Freddie was concerned, Anna would get the profits she deserved, but she would be none the wiser to the less-legal products being sold and everyone would be happy.
Now, though, sitting here under the sharp scrutiny of Anna’s gaze, Ash’s faith in Freddie’s plan was wavering. John had told him that if she was ever to question him that he was to deny any knowledge. It would get Freddie into trouble, and that was something you just didn’t do. He frowned, as if the idea she’d presented was confusing to him, and played dumb.
‘Fake? How can it be fake? It’s Smirnoff we bring you, right? How could we be bringing you fake Smirnoff?’
Anna raised one eyebrow and held his gaze. Reaching down to the floor, she picked up one of the bottles and plonked it unceremoniously on the table.
‘You know, that’s just what I’ve been sitting here asking myself, Ash. I’ve even been over every single inch of this bottle this morning, looking for the differences.’ She paused and casually ran her eyes over the bottle, studying it. Ash froze. Had she found something? Was there a giveaway? Were they going to end up getting Freddie Tyler in trouble with his missus? This was not good. He began to pale and swallowed, trying to think of a response to that.
Anna flicked her gaze over at him and saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he floundered. She noted his eyes brighten and his muscular shoulders tense and pursed her lips together, smiling wryly. His reaction told her everything there was to know. She turned away from the bottle.
‘But I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.’ She watched him visibly relax. ‘The thing is, though, I have this friend. She’s a bit particular about what she drinks, because she gets this strange, itchy rash on her neck when she drinks cheap vodka. So she only drinks certain brands that she knows don’t affect her. Smirnoff is one of them. Imagine my surprise’ – Anna leaned forward, folding her arms on the table – ‘when a big, blotchy red rash appeared on her neck in my club, at the VIP table, where I’d been bringing her Smirnoff all night from my own bar. Such a bad reaction, in fact, that my friend had to leave early to go and buy a pack of antihistamines. It was not the evening that I had hoped to give her.’
Ash didn’t say anything. What could he say to that? He was dreading relaying this conversation to John.
‘Aside from ruining her evening, it also made me look like a twat.’ Anna’s face was hard. ‘I now look like a back-alley cheapskate, when all I’ve done these last three years is work damn hard to make sure that this club has a decent reputation; that it is known for its quality. And now look.’ She held her hands out to the sides. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ Anna stared at him, her eyes wide in question. ‘No? No answer to that?’
She stood up, agitated, and leaned back against a small filing cabinet. She drummed her fingers on top of it and bit her top lip, looking off into the distance.
‘You know, statistically speaking, it’s been proven that, on average, if
someone has a good experience somewhere they tell three people, and those people pass what they’ve heard on to three more people, and so on and so forth. It’s how reputations get formed through word of mouth. Unfortunately, the same statistics prove that for bad experiences, it’s five people that get told. Five people that pass on to five more people, et cetera, et cetera. Do you see my problem here?’
Ash knew when he was beaten, but even so there was no way he could go back to his boss and tell him that he had admitted fault. He couldn’t, not with Freddie so personally involved. It would be the end of their good reputation. He shook his head and pulled a sad expression.
‘That’s terrible, it really is. But I tell you now, it ain’t that vodka. It’s the proper stuff. It must have been a dodgy bottle, that’s all I can think of. Maybe the seal broke and the air got to it or something in storage, caused it to go a bit funny. I’ll have a look into it. In the meantime, I’ll get another crate sent to you free of charge as an apology, Miss Davis. And I’ll make sure this gets reported directly to John.’ He stared at her, sincerely and unwavering. Anna stared back at him for a moment, then nodded softly.