“Except you conveniently forget one thing. She made the deal.”
“Ahhh, but all I have to do is encourage her to do something really bad. And poof! The deal will be void.”
“Bollocks. Shows you don’t know a damn thing about your daughter. She’s not that kind of girl.”
“Don’t bet on it. She is my daughter after all.”
Gregori continued to strut along the bar, smelling the air as he neared Amy, enjoying her presence.
“She smells of lilies, and I love lilies.”
When he’d reached her, he put his hand on her chair, leaned between the two tipsy women, and listened to their chitter-chatter. He pulled his cigar up to his mouth and drew in. “You might as well forget her, Romeo. She’s got a new lover now. She’s no longer yours. I’ve made sure of that.”
“You’re delusional.” Jack smirked with disgust.
Gregori leaned in close to the back of Amy’s neck and blew a line of cigar smoke across her skin.
“She’s mine, get over it Jack.” He started to sing the Rolling Stones track… ‘you can’t always get what you want…’
“Shut the fuck up.” Spat Jack.
Amy gazed up into the long mirror behind the bar, to see if someone was lingering close behind her, but she saw no one, just a group of patrons a few feet away, engaged in a heated conversation. She was sure she felt a breeze across her neck. She rubbed the hairline at her collar, maybe the alcohol had made her skin tingle.
She shivered and giggled. “Ohhhh, someone just walked over my grave.”
Jack clocked her reaction, just for a split second, or had he imagined it? Had she sensed Gregori’s presence? Had she felt something? No, surely not. How could she have sensed Gregori, yet not him?
Gregori stepped away from Amy and returned to his end of the bar. Calmly, he sipped his drink, never taking his gaze off his daughter.
“Be assured, Jack. She belongs to me. I will kill her when the time’s right.”
Jack stomped back to his empty glass, topped it up from the bottle, and knocked back another drink.
“Drinking’s not going to help,” Gregori scoffed.
“You know it’s fictional. It has no effect.”
“On the contrary. You’re relying on old habits to numb your feelings. It affects you. Mark my words. Poor Jack, no one to play with,” he spat sarcastically.
Jack had had enough. He jumped onto the bar and launched himself across the room, flying over the barman’s head and landing in front of a shocked Gregori.
Gregori backed up, knocking over a nearby bar stool. A heart-stopping blast reverberated as it crashed to the floor, drawing people’s attention to a stool rolling on the floor for no apparent reason. Someone rescued it and placed it upright. The crowd resumed their drinking and chattering, unaware of the antics occurring around them.
Jack hopped off the bar and landed on Gregori. The two men rolled around the floor, punching, kicking, strangling, throwing each other across tables, chairs, and people. They fought with unrelenting force, neither willing to surrender.
Amy, giggling at Sally’s comment about finally getting through her dry patch, lost her amusement for a moment, as she felt the room’s energy shift. As Jack and Gregori smashed each other against a far wall, she sensed something out of kilter. She gave the room a once-over, but she didn’t see anything unusual, just a group of revellers having fun. She shook her head and turned back to Sally. She was tipsy. It was time to go home.
The two men rolled through the bar window and out onto the street. Their fight continued as traffic drove through them.
Jack grabbed Gregori, lifted him high above his head and threw him back into the bar. He rolled and landed at Amy’s feet. Pained and exhausted, he looked up at her, realizing he wasn’t as young as he used to be, his youthful army physique fading.
Jack stood over him. “Stay away from her, or you’ll regret it. You’ll burn in hell for eternity.”
Gregori staggered to his feet, bloodied, bruised, and in pain.
“I’m already in hell, you plonker. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. She’s mine, Jack…when will you understand that? Get over yourself and piss off.”
“I’m watching you, old man.” Jack hissed after him.
Gregori staggered out of the bar muttering, waving his hand away at Jack. “Blah de blah, blah de bloody blah…like I give a toss.” Hobbling, puffing on a beaten-up, shredded cigar butt, he disappeared.
Jack stood still, so close to Amy, but yet so far away. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his bloodied hand.
“I love you, Amy. I’m gonna bring you back to us.”
He leaned in and kissed her lips, hovering for a minute, hoping for a reaction. But nothing.
Suddenly feeling a fool, he roughly swiped away a rogue tear from his eye and strode out. Not looking back.
Amy touched her mouth.
She turned to Sally.
“Can you smell cigar smoke?”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Jack strutted down the Kensington Street, prodding his earlobe with an angry forefinger. He leapt on a nearby car’s bonnet, climbed onto its roof, and jumped up onto an apartment block. He studied the street below while waiting for Pyke to pick up.
“Bonjour, mon petite plonker. What’s up?”
“We have a problem.” Jack paced the roof, backwards and forwards, anger building inside him.
“Don’t we always? What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m with Amy.”
“Jack, you can’t spend all your time baby-sitting Amy, not when we need you here.”
“Gregori is stalking her. He’s working out how to take her down. We must come up with a plan before it’s too late. Is Maggie there?”
“She’s out, in a meeting with the boss. I’ll let her know about Gregori. She may want to add it to her agenda.”
“Where’s Mara?”
“I haven’t seen her. Are you coming back now?”
“Not until Amy is safe. I’m sticking to her like glue. The bastard is not going to get her.”
“You can keep an eye on her from up here….”
“What does someone have to do to be sent down?” Jack interrupted.
“Depends. A severe crime…murder, child abuse, rape...why? Are you thinking he may try to get her to do something that’ll get her sent down? She wouldn’t fall for that. She’s too much of a goody-goody.”
“I don’t know how else he can trap her.”
“Return to the Unit. You can’t stay down there. You’re needed up here. We’ll keep an eye from afar. That’s what we do.”
“Yeah, but sometimes, in dire circumstances, a person can get the full attention of a guardian until they’re safe. That’s what I’m doing with Amy.”
“Maggie’s not going to like it.”
“She’s Amy’s mother for god’s sake. She’ll love it. Besides, the boss has given me permission.”
“How? Why? When do you get to see the boss? Only Maggie gets to see him.”
“We’ve worked together on a few things in the past. We have an understanding. It’s a long story. Get the message to Maggie. Let her know I’m here. And so is Gregori. I’m staying. The sooner you guys sort it, the sooner I, sorry, we, can come back.”
“OK, OK. I’ll tell her, but stay out of trouble, Jack...if that’s possible. I’ll get back to you. Oh, one more thing.”
“What?”
“Check out Alice for me, will you?”
“If you check out James Smythson and set up a dating profile for me.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Jack prodded his ear to disconnect the call.
He leapt across to the next building and jogged the length of the street. He chucked his body over a turret wall and disappeared into an alleyway below. His long black trench coat, outstretched, soaring wing-like behind him.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Foxtrot Union Bar,
Ken
sington, London, UK
Jack returned to the Foxtrot Union Bar and waited outside until a tipsy Amy and Sally surfaced, hugging each other in the street, taking an age to say goodbye.
He followed Amy home. He helped her stumble in and out of a taxi and navigate her apartment building’s entrance and stairway. He knew her home well. Her tiny one-bedroom flat stretched its small square footage on the rear side of the second floor, backing up to the graveyard where he used to jog. With her nest’s limited space, he could barely swing his arms in it. He sat on the floor, trying to stay out of the way as she stumbled around the room, giggling and singing.
When she finally crashed out in a drunken stupor, he helped her undress and pulled the duvet over her sleeping body. He left a pint-sized glass of water and two headache tablets on her nightstand for the hangover she was bound to experience after ethanol dehydration set in.
He checked through her phone and saw James had left several text messages asking her to meet him the following night. He deleted them.
He sat at her desk and used her computer.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Russell Garden Mews,
Earls Court, London, UK
Amy woke with a stinking hangover. She reached out from the bed and knocked back the two pain killers and pint of water. She didn’t even remember placing them there last night. Must be getting sensible in my old age.
She stumbled into the shower and let the hot water roll over her skin for twenty minutes, improving her circulation and easing her headache.
She checked her phone, disappointed no messages awaited her from James. She checked her emails. She found a notification from her dating agency, that she had an admirer.
She’d brought a three-month membership for the dating site, which was about to run out. After an initial flurry of interested admirers, she’d grown bored seeing the same old faces, the same old disappointing dates (who never resembled their photos) and opted not to renew the membership. Her money was best spent elsewhere instead of paying for the privilege of linking up with a bunch of psychos.
With a resigned sigh, she slumped onto her sofa and hit on the link to investigate her new admirer, expecting to feel the usual disappointed response of…oh my god, no!
A picture of a dark, ruggedly handsome male popped up on her screen, ‘Jack888’. Her mouth dropped open. Wow, he’s gorge.
Perking up, her attention peaked. She sat on the sofa’s edge and ran through his bio. Normally, the self-descriptions beamed full of glowing info about the member, waxing lyrical about their lives and what they had achieved. Most of it bollocks. But Jack had the minimum. His tagline said, “Looking for an Angel.”
In his bio, he had ‘Ex-Army & Security Services.’ She scrolled down, looking for more, but that was it. No hobbies, dreams, first date venues, likes, dislikes, favourite food, music, books, or movies. No hints had been listed on his preferred qualities in a woman or why a woman should choose him. His bio was virtually blank. It intrigued her. She found the scars on his face sexy.
Jack888 had linked her as a favourite, then sent her a message.
“I live in Texas. I’ve never been east of New York, so we’ll probably never meet. Therefore, you are safe with me. I’m just looking for a pen friend to help survive this crazy world. What do you say?”
She stared at the message for a long time. Her fingers hovered over her phone, deciding whether to reply. Her elbow flinched, knocking her hand against the screen, her finger pressing the accept button by accident.
Jack smiled as his nudge worked.
Amy threw the phone on the sofa like a hot coal. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How did that happen?
She slowly retrieved her phone and scrolled to Jack’s picture. You are gorgeous.
What harm could it do? A sexy pen pal. She replied, “Yes, I would like that,” and punched the send button.
Again, she found herself chucking the phone onto the sofa as if distancing herself from the madness of it.
Jack leaned against the wall watching her, revelling in her excitement. She adored his picture, scars and all. He was abusing the rules, but he could justify it by saying in order to protect her he needed a way to communicate with her. It would be tricky, but Maggie would find a way. His body buzzed with a revived vigour. At least if he couldn’t be with her, he could talk with her and get to know her.
Amy looked at her watch and squealed. Another late start to her day and another excuse she’d have to invent before her boss fired her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She rushed around the flat like a banshee to finish getting ready. Jack shifted out of her way, arms crossed, smiling, loving every minute, thrilled to be near her.
Using his own image bordered on risky, but Pyke could have added more to his bio. He noted she hadn’t recognised his photograph, which proved she had no recollection of her time in the sky or her world-saving escapades. It was safe to communicate with her.
She darted out onto the street and jumped on the number 14 bus to work. He followed and sat beside her on the journey. He gently wiped her hair from her face as the wind caught it, kept her mobile from falling out of her bag, and blocked a cyclist from thundering into her as she crossed the road. Jeez, how did this woman survive so long?
Standing arms crossed, watching her step into her office, he realised he was loving every minute of it.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
WTF Creative Management, Cadogan Square,
Knightsbridge, London, UK
Amy hovered over her desk, packing up to go home. She didn’t think the day would ever end. The last of her team had already abandoned her. The empty office, apart from her boss in the boardroom on a conference call to the States, carried an uneasiness with all the doors locked.
She stacked empty coffee mugs and drinking glasses she’d gathered from desks, and carried them to the kitchen. The last person to leave at night was responsible for running the dishwasher. Company rules.
She groaned at the lunch debris her lazy co-workers left in the sink and begrudgingly layered the dishwasher racks with their dirty items. Finished, she snapped the machine’s door into its locked position and switched it on.
Staring out the kitchen window, she listened to the machine’s gurgling and thought of James.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard from him over the last three days. Why hadn’t she heard from him? She’d left him her number, but hadn’t thought to get his. She hadn’t thought it necessary. Had his behaviour all been a show? Had he just been using her? He’d seemed so keen on her. Keeping herself preoccupied, she spent her days at the office and her evenings messaging her new pen pal, Jack.
The boardroom door opened, her boss paraded down the corridor towards the kitchen and popped his head through the doorway.
“Room for one more?” He shoved his coffee mug forward.
“Yes, sure,” she answered, reaching over and accepting the mug from him.
“Err, sir,” she said, feeling awkward.
“Yes.”
“May I ask about James Smythson?”
“Who?”
“James Smythson, our new client.”
“Is he?” He scratched his head. “I’ve never heard of him.”
“I’m sure you have…the guy at the office party the other night.”
“Not that I recall.”
“He lives in Knightsbridge, Kensington Apartments.”
“Doesn’t ring any bells. We haven’t had any new clients for a few months now.”
“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, confused. “Never mind, my mistake.”
“Well, no worries. I’m off. Will you lock up?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Have a good weekend, Amy.” He walked out, whistling, happy to be going home.
Dumbfounded, Amy stared after him until he was out of sight. Why did James lie?
Jack propped himself against the wall, listening. Arms crossed, he watched Amy stare out the window, turning the boss’s coffee cup round and rou
nd in her hands, shaking her head, muttering.
“What a wanker.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Kensington Apartments,
Knightsbridge, London, UK
The black taxi pulled up outside the Kensington Apartments and deposited Amy at the curb. She jogged up the apartment steps, prepared to have it out with her one-night-stand and find out why he lied.
She pushed through the main entrance doors and walked across the opulent reception area to the security guard’s desk.
“Hello there,” she said, aiming her most flattering smile at the guard. He smiled back, a tinge of recognition in his eyes.
“Yes, miss, what can I do for you?”
“May I speak with Mr. Smythson?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Smythson, James Smythson, the tenant on the fifth floor.”
“We don’t have a Mr. Smythson. I told the other girl as well.”
“But I was here the other night with him. He has to be here.”
“Maybe he was a guest?” The Guard smiled apologetically. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen a young lady taken advantage of during his years as a Security Guard. The young girls would get a little tipsy, believe their young men would give them the world, then find out they had been duped. He shook his head with a sigh. “Sorry, dear.”
“Who lives in the fifth-floor apartment?”
“No one. It’s a show flat.”
Amy’s heart sank. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve worked here five years, and in all that time, no one has lived there. I’m sure,” he sighed, he’d given many other women the same bad news over the years.
“Sorry to have bothered you.”
“Don’t worry, miss. It’s been a funny old week. I’ve been bothered left, right, and centre. Seems things are finally back to normal.”
“What, with the police?”
He rolled his eyes. “Can you believe it? They’ve been here for days.”
“They were coming in as I left the other morning. What did they want?”
“Haven’t you seen the news, miss? About the VIP abuse ring, Doctor Dio Buchananan? He owns the block.”
The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1) Page 27