I tried to relax and act natural without throwing up. Others who’d waited in here had felt similar frustration apparently, as evidenced by the scratched-up table I sat at. On my right was a two-way mirror and I wondered if anyone else was watching from behind it.
A smartly dressed forty-something woman entered in civilian clothes, her ponytail twisted in on itself like an afterthought. She smiled brightly to greet me. It was the kindness I needed after all I’d been through.
“Emily? I’m D.I. Stewart.” Her Scottish accent lent a friendly air to her demeanor.
She took a seat on the other side of the table and pulled out a frayed notebook.
I smiled nervously. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”
“Of course. Just to confirm, your last name is Rampling?”
“Yes.”
“What brings you here today, Emily?”
“I’m worried about my boyfriend, Xander Rothschild.”
“You were living together?” She turned her notebook for me to read. “At this address?”
“Yes, and I’m here to report him missing.”
“I’m with CID. Sergeant Warren, who took your report, mentioned he was concerned about you.”
My heart hammered. “I’m fine, but I was threatened not to come here. I was warned not to talk with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, by the same man who forced Xander to leave. His name is James Ballad.” I pointed at her notepad, expecting her to write it down. “You need to find him.”
“James Ballad?” The tip of her pen stilled as she hesitated.
“That’s right. I was there when he ordered my fiancé to leave with him.”
“Xander left with…James?”
“He didn’t want to.”
“Where were you when this happened?”
“The Biltmore. James came to our hotel room.”
“When?”
“Wednesday night. I mean, Thursday morning at two A.M.”
“Where did they go?”
“Don’t know. I haven’t seen Xander since.” I bit my lip, deciding not to tell her that wasn’t his real name.
“Has he contacted you?”
“No.”
She paused, tapping her finger on the file as though mulling over what I’d told her. “How have you been feeling lately, Emily?”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“How have you been coping with things?”
“It’s hard, but I’ve been managing.”
“Have you experienced any depression, or any mental health issues?” She threw in a smile. “It’s a question I have to ask, you understand.”
“Sure. No, I’m fine.”
She seemed to be waiting for a confession.
“Look, this really happened. You have to find Xander.”
“To clarify, your boyfriend Xander Rothschild left with…?”
“James Ballad.”
She glanced toward the two-way mirror. “Tell me more about Xander.”
“We’ve been living together for six months. We’re engaged. He’s a tech expert. I think that’s why he’s so important to them.”
“Them?”
“The men who took him.”
“I thought he left with one man?”
“When I first met James at The Savoy, he was with several other men.”
“Do you have their names?”
“No. I didn’t speak to them.” I leaned forward. “James made it sound like Xander could do something special for him…some special skill.”
“In what field?”
“Computers?”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Not really, no. He didn’t like to talk about his work.”
“What did Xander say about James?”
“He confirmed he’d worked for him once.”
“Were there any clues as to what Xander did for them?”
I hesitated because not knowing exactly what your boyfriend did in his day job or otherwise was a firm ten on the Richter scale of weird.
A knock at the door made me jump.
The sergeant peeked in. “Ma’am, Ms. Rampling’s barrister’s arrived.”
“I don’t have a lawyer,” I said.
Stewart pushed to her feet and joined the sergeant in the hall.
Maybe they called a barrister for people who were being interviewed, though somewhere in the far reaches of my mind that didn’t ring true. A lawyer could stop you from talking.
When Stewart reappeared, she looked thoughtful. She sat on the edge of the desk and peered down at me. “How do you know James Ballad?”
“I told you. He took my boyfriend away.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“He’s the man who kidnapped my boyfriend.”
“Was there a violent struggle between them?”
“No.”
“So Xander left willingly?”
“He didn’t want to.”
“Did you argue with Xander before the incident?”
“No.”
“When did you last see Mr. Ballad?”
Oh, God.Yesterday…at my audition.
She studied my face. “Emily, Mr. Ballad is here.”
The two-way mirror.
“He says he’s your lawyer.”
I shot to my feet and backed away.
“He wants to talk with you.”
“He’s not a lawyer.”
Her mouth twisted in frustration. “He presented his I.D.”
I tried to follow her words. “Don’t let him in.”
“That’s not up to me. You’re his client and he has a legal right to see you.”
A chill slithered up my spine.
James Ballad strolled into the room with a confident swagger, his long woolen black coat and neatly combed dark hair giving him the air of a gentleman. A sleek briefcase hung by his side.
Despite his calmness, danger emanated from him. “How long has my client been here?” he asked with an edge.
“You’re not my lawyer,” I snapped.
James raised his hand. “Em, I’ve got this.”
Stewart moved closer to him. “Let’s talk outside, Mr. Ballad.”
He stared at her. “Why are you interrogating my client?”
“Ms. Rampling appears emotional, Mr. Ballad. Want to tell me why?”
James looked around the room. “This isn’t exactly The Savoy.”
“That’s the hotel where your client states she first met you.” Stewart held her ground.
He glanced over at me. “I saw her there once.”
“I was there with my friends,” I clarified. “And with Xander.”
James arched a brow. “Em, it would be best if you remained quiet. You could be held on alleged suspicious behavior outside Gordon House.”
“You mean the place I used to live?”
Stewart pivoted toward me. “Emily, there’s no record of you living there. Though there is footage from CCTV cameras outside Gordon House of you coming and going. There’s no footage of the man you describe as Xander. And I need you to remain calm when I tell you this—” She swapped a wary glance with James. “There’s no record of a Xander Rothschild living there either. In fact, we can’t find proof he even exists. No birth certificate. No social security number. No driver’s license. No tax records. No property records. No footage of him leaving or entering the building…ever.”
My mouth went dry as I realized there were no bank records.
“There’s no evidence of the man you describe at The Savoy,” Stewart added. “Or The Biltmore.”
“No footage at all?” I stuttered.
Her tone was sympathetic. “So why do you like hanging around Gordon House so much?”
James shrugged it off. “Let’s take a closer look at that footage.”
My knees went weak, but I forced myself to remain standing.
James turned to face Stewart. “May I see it?”
“I appreciate that, Jenny. First, I need a moment alone with my client.” He placed his briefcase on the table.
Stewart glanced my way. “Not sure she wants that.”
“Are you trying to keep me from doing my job?” he said flatly. “Let’s not break the law before lunch.”
“Do you need me to stay?” Stewart’s expression was sympathetic.
“Why would my client refuse to talk with her attorney?” James’ intensity was infused with manipulation. “Unless you told her something that would be misconstrued—”
“Everything has been conducted by the book,” Stewart said quickly.
James gestured to the door. “Then please bring me the footage.”
With a final glance back, Stewart stepped through the door and closed it behind her. We were left alone with nothing but tension between us.
James pulled the chair back from the table and motioned for me to sit down.
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t, of course. My emotions were about to spiral out of control.
He gripped the chair. “I won’t ask you again.”
I hesitated for a moment, then walked over and sat down.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a smartphone and tapped the screen. “Now there’s no way for them to hear us.”
My gaze flittered to the two-way mirror.
“They can’t watch us,” he said. “That would be an offence. She’d go from D.I. to beating the pavement as a constable if she listens in.”
Panicking, I sprang from my seat toward the door.
He cut me off.
I retreated three steps, but he kept moving until his body pressed me against the wall.
James rested his hand on my chest to keep me in place. “They can’t see or hear us, Emily.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“This is where you listen.”
“Where’s Xander?” I gripped his wrist. “Tell me you didn’t hurt him.”
“Calm down.”
My hand slid to my side. “Tell me.”
“Xander’s fine.”
“Where is he?”
“We’re not talking about that right now—”
“Xander’s using a false name, but he’s real.” I tried to comprehend what kind of technology could erase a life. “How did you remove him from the footage?”
“It’s called ‘deepfake.’ It’s the kind of tech that can save or decimate a life.”
I smirked. “They’re listening to us right now.”
“I scanned for body heat behind the glass,” he said, glancing at the mirror. “And checked for listening or recording devices.”
A tremor ran through my body. “I…hate you.”
“You didn’t yesterday, though. When you came twice against my mouth?” He gripped my chin. “Right, Emily?”
“That was different.”
“You were compliant. I need to see the same obedience now.”
“What do you want?”
“You and I will leave together. You will not speak to anyone. You won’t make eye contact—”
“I’m not leaving with you.”
“There will be consequences should you disobey.”
“You’re a criminal.”
“Actually, I’m not.”
Shaking my head, I tried to ignore the rich scent of his cologne. Those dark notes of seduction reminding me of yesterday…
My limbs tingled, an ill-timed arousal from the way he’d crushed me against the wall. My nipples hardened thinking of the way his voice vacillated between kindness and ruthless power, seducing me with a dark-edged sin.
The memory of his kiss…down there.
I stared up at him. “Who are you?”
“I’m the one who calls the shots, Emily.”
“Are you even a barrister?”
He dared to answer with a smile.
“What you’re doing is illegal.”
He leaned forward. “I don’t break the law,” he whispered. “I fucking massacre it.”
No, no, no. His behavior wasn’t going to be rewarded by me getting wet at the sound of his voice…or the controlling power of his tone. Or the way his palm sat squarely between my tits while pressing me against the wall. An unwanted memory flashed into my mind of how incredible his tongue felt against my skin.
As he leaned in, I felt his hardness against me, a sizable threat that was devilishly pressed into my stomach.
I drew in a sharp breath. “What do you want?”
“What was it I told you, Em?
“I wasn’t to come here.”
“And yet…”
I lifted my chin, fighting the urge to bite his lip. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You do as you’re told.”
“Tell me Xander’s safe.”
“Of course he is. Now…are you going to be a good girl?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Sure you want to defy me?”
I gave my head a slight shake, my lips trembling.
“Better.”
This felt like descending into madness. “What do you want me to say to them?”
He stepped back. “Nothing.”
The absence of his warmth felt like a terrible loss, his body a protection I hadn’t asked for.
The sergeant came back in. “Sorry, sir, we’re having issues locating the footage of Ms. Rampling outside Gordon House.”
James turned to me with a smug smile. “I see.”
I’d lost my chance to speak with Stewart in private.
“My client and I will be leaving now,” said James.
Stewart appeared in the doorway as the sergeant left. Her glare flittered to me then back to James. “I just need to ask Ms. Rampling a few more questions.”
“How does the footage look?” James asked.
“It appears there is no footage.” She shook her head. “Or at least we can’t locate it now.”
His glare served to chastise their incompetence.
“We have our forensic computer team on it,” she shot back.
“I’m sure you do.” James gestured towards me. “Em and I are leaving.”
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I’d bitten the inside of my cheek.
Stewart frowned. “Emily, will you be okay?”
I nodded reluctantly.
She closed the gap between us and leaned in, whispering to me, her words rippling into my consciousness and providing hope.
“What are you saying to my client?” snapped James.
“Just letting her know I’ll be here if she wants to talk.”
“What a generous entrapment.” He picked up his briefcase. “Time to leave.”
My legs refused to move. If I stayed, that footage would be reinstated, and if I left with him…
“Emily, shall we go?”
Leaving the safety of the police station with Ballad was insane.
I’d risen to a new level of recklessness.
The look I’d given D.I. Stewart on the way out told her I knew this was a mistake. But seriously, I had no choice. Xander was in danger. And I’d already jeopardized his safety by coming here and spilling my secrets to the police. I’d also jeopardized my own life.
With an ironclad grip on my arm, James led me out of Scotland Yard into the chill of the late morning air. I was walking away from possibly my one chance to convince someone this shit was real. Had his grip not been so tight, I would have run back into the police station.
My life was ruled now by his endless threats.
Waiting conveniently, not to mention illegally, on the curb was a sleek black Jaguar. Standing beside the flashy car was a tall policeman. Instead of handing over a ticket to James he tipped his hat to prove he’d been guarding the Jag.
James gave a nod of thanks to the officer. Then, with the same arrogance he’d shown while extracting me from the station, he ushered me into the front passenger seat.
This was one of th
ose expensive cars where you couldn’t hear the engine running. The interior was all cream leather and maple wood. I would have admired it more if I wasn’t being kidnapped right under the nose of London’s finest.
“Put your seatbelt on.” James threw his briefcase on the backseat. “Don’t want to get you arrested.”
“No, that would be bad.” I rolled my eyes.
He smirked as he steered the Jag away from the curb, following behind a double-decker bus as he navigated into traffic.
I fastened my seatbelt and glanced over at him. “You’re evil.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Xander told me you were sinister. Now I have proof of what kind of technology you use.”
“As in?”
“You deleted proof that Xander ever existed. I just got the mother of all demonstrations.”
“So, Ms. Rampling, what I’m hearing is you don’t need to be locked up and the key thrown away?”
Folding my arms, I refused to comment further. Asshole.
He chuckled. “Shall I elaborate?”
“As long as it doesn’t mean you’ll have to kill me afterward.”
“Very dramatic.”
“Xander told me anything is possible with tech.”
“This is how it works. If we want to own you, we do.”
“And…?”
“I own you.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to obey.”
“Didn’t I just leave the police station with you like a good girl?”
“It’s a start.”
“Maybe I’ll leap out of the car.”
“You’re tainting my mood.”
“This is who I am.”
“And you’re not without your qualities.”
“What did you do to Harold?”
James looked surprised. “Nothing.”
“He sold his house. Totally out of character for him. He loved that place.”
“We offered him double his property’s value.”
I turned in my seat to stare at him. “Making sure there’s no one else left in my life to confide in?”
“You have Kitty.”
“If you touch her…”
“Now, now, don’t be tedious.” James pressed the accelerator and I shot back in my seat.
“You’re going to get a speeding ticket.”
He shook his head, amused.
The Pervade Duet Page 10