The Pleasures of Summer

by Evie Hunter

  Adam moved a step closer to Flynn, apparently warming to his subject. ‘He should have been grateful that someone was willing to marry that frigid tart. She might look like she’s a goer, and she takes a good photo, but she’s a bloody icicle.’

  Flynn had no idea how it happened. One moment he was standing on the other side of the table, the next he was holding Bayliss by the neck. ‘You little prick,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I’m going to wring your fucking neck.’

  Bayliss clawed frantically at Flynn’s hands, desperate to relieve the pressure on his throat, but Flynn wasn’t letting go. This worm was the one who had taken photos of Summer at her most vulnerable and posted them all over the internet. And who had almost broken her pride. His fingers tightened. He ignored the clawing, even when it drew blood, and enjoyed seeing his eyes bulge with terror.

  What was he doing? The worm didn’t even know Summer was missing. Flynn dropped him in disgust.

  Adam landed on the floor, panting for breath and scrabbling away frantically. His eyes were red and bloodshot and the marks of Flynn’s fingers showed clearly on his neck. ‘I’ll have you arrested. Who the hell are you anyway?’

  ‘Haven’t you guessed? I’m Summer’s husband.’ Well, he would be, if there was the slimmest chance that she would have him. As soon as he found his orchid girl safe and sound they would have to talk.

  The smell alerted him. He looked down and saw that Adam Bayliss had pissed himself. The scent of urine pervaded the room and showed up clearly against his light coloured pants. Flynn couldn’t resist. He whipped out his camera and took several shots. ‘See you on YouTube,’ he told Bayliss before he left the room.

  The noise level of the entire mansion rose as soon as Tim O’Sullivan walked in. Even though he was just off a long flight from Atlanta, he radiated energy and temper. ‘Where the hell is my daughter?’ he roared as soon as he came in the front door. ‘What sort of an arse-feckin outfit are you running that you could lose her like that?’

  Niall took a breath before he replied. ‘Summer deliberately gave her bodyguard the slip. She came home, spent the night here, phoned people, apparently had a romantic disappointment and drove herself away. She’s an adult; she can make her own decisions.’

  ‘Adult?’ Tim spat. ‘She’s an idiot. She needs someone to mind her. And that was supposed to be you.’

  Flynn couldn’t take any more. ‘Summer is not an idiot,’ he said coldly. ‘Don’t speak of her like that.’

  ‘She’s my damned daughter; I can call her anything I like.’

  The only thing which kept Flynn from throttling the bombastic little tyrant was the faint tremble in his hands and the pallor of his skin.

  Tim demanded updates on all their efforts to find Summer, and occasionally put in a sharp, helpful comment. He looked up from sheets of computer printouts when Malcolm came in with an envelope on a silver salver. ‘Why are you interrupting me? Give that to Brian,’ he barked.

  The high turnover of staff was no longer a mystery. Flynn wondered idly why Malcolm put up with Tim. He hoped he received a very high salary.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. This was delivered with instructions to give it to you personally.’

  It was a padded envelope, with no stamps. Tim ripped it open before anyone could stop him. The only content was a cheap USB stick. Flynn stuck it into his laptop and Summer’s image flickered into life.

  At the sight of her scared and dirty face, Flynn forgot to breathe. God no, his orchid girl was hurt. She was in danger. The fury that roared through him at the thought of anyone hurting her made it hard to hear what she was saying. He forced the rage and terror deep inside him, assuming an icy mantle so that he could concentrate on the details.

  The picture was shaky, probably taken with the camera on a phone. He focused on the silent, unsmiling girl sitting on a mattress in a bare room. Beside her was a copy of the Financial Times, ironically featuring news of Tim O’Sullivan’s latest multimillion-dollar deal.

  The muscles in Flynn’s stomach clenched when he saw the bruise on her left temple.

  Summer raised her eyes to the camera, as if waiting for instructions. Then she read an extract from the stock exchange prices for the day before picking up a piece of notepaper. ‘If you want me returned, the price is one million pounds in diamonds, payable tomorrow. If you don’t pay, I will die. You will receive instructions about payment. Follow them exactly. If you don’t, I will die. Do not contact the police, or I will die.’

  Her voice faltered over the last words, but then she raised her chin and stared at the camera. She seemed to be looking at him. He resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her face. She was trying her best to be brave but he could tell that it was hard for her.

  Tim groaned.

  Beside him, Sinead whimpered. ‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered as she sagged against him.

  Flynn squeezed her hand. ‘We will get her back. I promise you.’

  While Andy took her to the kitchen and made some tea, Flynn sat in front of the laptop and watched the brief clip half a dozen times. Scanning the room for any clues to her whereabouts, listening for background noises, watching Summer’s face for every minute change. Before she started reading, she glanced in one direction, obviously at the camera man and then a little to the right? Was there more than one man? It seemed likely.

  Tim stood up. ‘Where are you going?’ Niall asked.

  ‘To get the money. You heard them. They said a million pounds in diamonds. I need to get that from the bank. No matter what it costs, I’m going to get my little girl back.’

  Despite the weight of the quilt, she couldn’t seem to keep warm. Summer reached for the water bottle and then remembered that it was empty. Voices outside made her sit upright. Gypsy was back. Maybe they were going to let her go. She rolled out of bed and hurried to the door. With as much force as she could muster she banged on the wood with her fists, throwing in a few kicks for good measure. She wouldn’t stop until someone came.

  The lock clicked open. Summer stepped away from the door as Gypsy pushed his way inside. A string of words, which Summer guessed were curses, streamed from his mouth when he saw her shivering in the darkened room.

  ‘We need another picture. The negotiator has demanded further proof that you are still alive.’

  A picture? He hadn’t come to set her free. She could just imagine what she looked like by now. Her dad would be worried sick. ‘Alive? I won’t be alive for long without food or water.’

  Gypsy’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have had nothing since I left?’

  ‘A small bottle of water,’ Summer grudgingly admitted.

  He looked around the room, noting the crumpled quilt and the bucket in the corner and she caught a little flicker of sympathy in his expression. He wasn’t the worst of them. Well, he wasn’t as bad as Andrei.

  ‘You wash now.’

  His words were a demand rather than a request. She was tempted to refuse, but the prospect of warm water was too appealing. Summer followed him along the corridor to the tiny bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  The image in the mirror was worse than she had expected. Her hair hung in lank clumps around her face and her pale skin contrasted with the dark circles beneath her eyes. Even in the awful days after Adam’s betrayal, she hadn’t looked this bad.

  Outside, the shouting began again. English mixed with whatever godforsaken language they usually spoke. Summer opened the door a crack and peeked out. The kitchen door was closed and the corridor was clear. Dare she?

  Summer slipped out and hurried along the corridor, holding her breath as she passed the kitchen door. Her bare feet were silent. The men were still arguing. She pushed open a door at the end and hurried up the narrow staircase, until she reached the landing. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered that she was gone. Another door beckoned and she stepped into a marble-floored hallway. She caught her breath.

  She knew this house. She had attended a cocktail party here several years
before. The family were in the Far East now. What was their name? Roxton? Floxton? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was that she knew where she was. She couldn’t be more than ten miles from home.

  Summer hurried to the front door. It was locked. Too much to hope it would be open. She had a vague memory that the dining room had French doors which led out to the garden. She would break out of here if she had to.

  The furniture was covered in dust cloths and the curtains were drawn but the room was still the same as she remembered. Summer jerked on the handle. The door was also locked. There must be a spare key around here somewhere. She reached for the ledge above the door and ran her fingers along the dusty edge. Yes. She breathed silent thanks.

  Her fingers curled around the key. Trembling, she pushed it into the lock and turned. The door opened with a protesting creak. She was free. Now, all she had to do was make it to the road and flag down a car. She closed the door behind her. The longer she could delay her pursuers the better.

  Heart pounding, Summer raced to the front of the house and down the driveway. She winced as her feet found every tiny stone along the way. Behind her, she heard a roar. Gypsy or Andrei was following her.

  She could hear a car. Yes! She’d be rescued. She increased her speed. Almost there. Ignoring the thudding footfalls closing behind, Summer clambered over the gate and stepped out onto the road, waving her arms at the oncoming vehicle.

  Relief washed over her when a dark blue BMW screeched to a halt. ‘Thank you. Oh thank you.’

  She hurried to the driver’s side of the car. ‘You have to help me. I’ve –’

  Summer stopped in mid-sentence. It was Uri. The car door opened and he climbed out. His face was a model of cold fury.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’

  This couldn’t be happening. Not when she had come so close. She backed away, desperate to get free. A breathless Andrei vaulted the gate and cursed when he saw who she was with.

  ‘Take her back to the house. Now,’ Uri shouted.

  ‘No!’ she screamed. She kicked out as Andrei tried to grab her. It was useless in her bare feet, but she’d try anything to stop him. Surely another car would come. Summer landed a punch on his nose and was rewarded with a grunt of pain.

  ‘Pizdǎ.’ Andrei’s mouth curled in a vicious snarl and the last thing she remembered was his fist flying towards her face.

  The second message was delivered by a helmeted courier to O’Sullivan Airlines HQ. Tim O’Sullivan was to carry the diamonds in a bag to St Pancras train station where he would receive further instructions. Once the diamonds were picked up and verified, Summer would be released. If Tim was followed, or the police were involved, she would die.

  Niall had tried to convince Tim to let the agency handle it. But he had refused. He was determined to do this alone. There was no way that he was risking his baby.

  But Flynn couldn’t give up. They still had twenty-four hours to try to find a lead. Someone had to know something and he would start with Molly.

  Her flat was a lot like her, a mixture of the weird and wonderful and impractical. There were mismatched scatter cushions, all in startling colours, a leather and horsehair sofa, an elegant mahogany table with rings bolted into the legs. A collection of old teddy bears occupied one armchair, and a rainbow of small fish darted around an aquarium filled with castles and model forests. Lavender oil was burning in a small incense burner.

  Molly looked out of place, wearing a smart suit and dressed like a grown-up. She was nervous and agitated. ‘Please tell me you’ve found Summer.’ She clutched Flynn’s arm, ignoring Sinead.

  He shook his head. ‘No sign of her yet.’

  Molly gulped back a sob. ‘I knew there was something wrong. She was supposed to come and stay with me, but she never showed up.’

  ‘When was she supposed to arrive?’

  ‘On Tuesday. She said she had something important to tell me. I should have stayed home to meet her,’ Molly sobbed. ‘I just told her to let herself in, and I’d meet her after work.’

  Tears leaked down her cheeks. ‘She never arrived. Now, I’ll never know what she wanted to tell me. It’s all my fault.’ Flynn questioned her for a few minutes, but it was obvious she had nothing more to add.

  ‘Girl, girl.’ The voice seemed to come from very far away. ‘You eat now.’

  Someone put an arm under her back and lifted her to a sitting position. She opened her eyes and closed them again quickly. The light was too bright and her face hurt like hell. Summer pressed a hand to her cheekbone. Her skin felt painful to the touch, but she didn’t think that anything was broken. That side of her face was stiff and swollen, but it was nothing compared to the knowledge that she’d lost her chance.

  Her escape attempt had failed. The men would watch her like hawks now.

  On a tin plate beside the bed was an apple, a small packet of crackers and a bottle of water. She took a mouthful of water before she pulled open the plastic wrapping and ate the crackers two at a time, licking the salty crumbs from her fingers. The apple, she approached like a feast, relishing its scent before she bit into the dark red skin.

  A sudden vision of the croft came into her head, of Flynn licking honey from her skin while she squirmed helplessly under his seeking hands and hot mouth. Was this the last man with whom she would feel a lover’s touch? Despite everything that had happened afterwards, she was glad that it had been Flynn. She couldn’t imagine wanting to spend her last night of passion with any other man.

  Summer smoothed the page of the newspaper. At least they had left her that. She flicked through the pages, smiling wryly at the gossip column. Maya and Natasha were planning a double wedding. She wondered if they had even noticed that she was gone, or did they still think that she was in Scotland? She closed the newspaper and tossed it on the floor. ‘Stop being maudlin. You’re not dead yet.’

  34

  Summer drifted in and out of sleep, losing track of time. Raised voices came from outside and she heard a car driving away, but still no one came. Sometime during the night she reached for her water bottle to find that it was empty. She lay there shivering until she fell asleep again.

  The sound of Andrei tearing down the blackout tape from her window brought her back to consciousness. He crammed it into a rubbish bag. Daylight flooded the room and she blinked.

  He eyed the plastic bucket with distaste. ‘Go to bathroom and empty it. You look a mess.’

  She struggled to her feet before staggering towards the corner. There was no sign of Gypsy and no familiar scent of morning coffee. Where was he?

  Andrei dragged the quilt from the mattress and tossed it into the hallway. The tin plate and sheet were shoved into the black refuse sack. A sudden flare of hope made her ask, ‘Has the ransom been paid?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied in a clipped tone as he scanned the room. He dragged the mattress from the floor and stood it against the wall behind the door before putting some of the cardboard boxes in front of it. ‘What are you waiting for? Move it.’

  Summer grabbed the bucket and fled down the corridor. It was over. They were going to free her. She wanted to jump in the air and scream her delight but Flynn’s words about the stages of kidnapping flashed into her head. Release was a dangerous time. They would be on edge. She emptied the contents of the bucket into the toilet and flushed it.

  Andrei came up behind her and pointed at the stairs. She went up obediently, keeping an anxious eye out so that she could tell where she was. He gestured her into a room off a bare corridor. It was a utilitarian bathroom, complete with towel, shampoo and soap.

  Why would they care what she looked like when she was free? She didn’t care. It had been almost a week without washing; it was too good an opportunity to miss. She started to strip off her sweat-stained clothing until a chuckle reminded her that Andrei was still there.

  ‘I guard you,’ he said, grinning. ‘You wash or I do it for you.’

  With horror, s
he realized that he intended to watch her shower. She shuddered as she stepped out of her jeans and into the shower. She determinedly kept her back to Andrei while she scrubbed her hair and body as quickly as possible. As soon as she was clean, she wrapped herself in a towel. He made a disapproving noise but didn’t move from his position lounging against the door. His eyes made her feel dirty.

  Summer dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle it. In the tiny scrap of mirror over the sink, she stared at her face. A pale, hollow-eyed reflection stared back at her. She was bruised where Andrei had struck her, but she was alive and determined to stay that way.

  She reached for her clothes, but Andrei was there first. He pulled her T-shirt out of her hands and his eyes raked her body. ‘Pretty little pizdǎ. How ’bout we make sex pictures together? You like that. Yes?’

  ‘N-n-no,’ she stammered. ‘I would not like. My father has paid the ransom. You have to let me go.’ She said the last words with more confidence than she felt.

  Andrei flashed her a look of impatience. ‘Uri is very angry. He told them no tricks, but your father put tracker in diamonds.’

  He dropped his hand to his cock and stroked it slowly through the fabric of his jeans. ‘Now, you be nice and maybe I will make it quick for you. Yes?’

  A boiling rage swept over her. Andrei was going to kill her. They never had any intention of doing otherwise. They had beaten her, starved her, and lied to her. But she was damned if she was going to let Andrei touch her. The rage disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and a cold calmness descended on her as she drew on her memories of Flynn’s lessons in self-defence.

  He was bigger than she was. He was probably armed, but Andrei was thinking with his dick and that was the only advantage she had. With more confidence than she felt, Summer let her towel drop to the floor and forced herself to smile at him.

  She only had one shot at this and had to make it count. Smiling, she stepped towards him, conscious of his eyes on her breasts, the cold-hardened nipples simulating an arousal she didn’t feel.