Текст книги "Bad Grace "

Автор книги: Annabel Chant

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    Five

Him

 

I checked my phone as soon as I got up, just in case she’d rung. I knew she wouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. She hadn’t seemed particularly overawed by my charms the previous night, even though I’d tried my damnedest to get through to her. I discounted the kiss by the car. She’d shut down on me so abruptly afterwards, it was clear it had meant nothing to her.

Judging by her reaction to the texts and phone calls she’d received on the way back to Chiswick, she still had feelings for Sparkes. What those feelings were, though, was more of a mystery. She’d been on edge but, whether it was because she was afraid of ruining her chances of getting back together with him or whether she was just plain afraid of him, I couldn’t tell. In some ways, I hoped it was the former. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being afraid of him, and all that it implied. At the same time, I fervently hoped that she wasn’t entertaining the idea of getting back with him. She deserved more than that.

It seemed unlikely, anyway. My gut instinct was that she’d been more frightened than worried, if I was honest with myself. If that were the case, I’d have to keep an even closer eye on her. I’d made her a promise, whether she’d taken it in or not, and I wasn’t one to renege on my word. It was time to do a little digging regarding Leo Sparkes.

First though, I had other business to attend to. The guys watching the hooker in the flat below the one Charlotte had given us as her address had been watching her round the clock. She hadn’t gone beyond her local row of shops, but there was something in their report that didn’t sit right with me, and it was time I investigated for myself. So, Thursday morning saw me sitting in a borrowed car – I didn’t want her to spot me, and she already had my licence plate – in a parking space a reasonable distance from her flat.

I’d been sitting there for a good couple of hours already, and the experience was beginning to pall. Matt’s car radio was fucked, and there was only so many times I could listen to the same Rock Anthems album, before getting heartily sick of Whitesnake, Motorhead, and the other so-called Legends of Rock. I was just rummaging through the glove box, to see what else I could find, when I happened to look up and see her passing right by the car.

I immediately snapped my head back down, hoping she hadn’t seen me. If she had, she gave no indication, and I threw up a silent prayer of thanks to the god of faulty electronics. I let her carry on up the road a little way, before opening my door and getting out. Then, I crossed the street and strode quickly up it towards my target. I had to get there before she did, so I moved quickly, weaving in and out of the shoppers, apologising and keeping my head down.

I made it there just before she did and stood back slightly, my face turned away, to give her time to do what I was hoping she was going to do.

She did it.

As I stood there, I watched out the corner of my eye, as she took a large envelope out of her bag. As she lifted it up to put it into the post box, I moved in front of it and took it from her.

‘Oh,’ she said, her hand still open before her. ‘Not you again. Give me that now, you fucker.’

‘One of these days,’ I said, tucking it inside my jacket. ‘You’ll learn to love me.’

She gave a snort of derision. ‘Give it to me, or I’ll scream.’

‘If you take my advice,’ I said. ‘And you will, you’ll go home and forget this ever happened.’

She opened her mouth to say something else, but I cut her off. ‘Go home, Jane. Forget Charlotte.’

She flinched at my use of her name.

‘I can’t,’ she said, but she sounded less sure of herself.

‘You can.’ I couldn’t help a sigh. ‘She’s in deeper than you know. I’m trying to help her, for fuck’s sake.’

That seemed to mollify her. She looked slightly relieved and almost smiled, but not quite. Instead, she shrugged. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Just make sure you do.’

I nodded, reassuringly.

In point of fact, I wasn’t in the least sure I could do anything to help Charlotte, but it was true that I’d try, if she gave me the chance. If Rick got to her first, it might already be too late.

    Six

Him

It was at that moment that Giles’s words came back to me. He’d said someone at one of the papers had inadvertently given out her address. I wondered just what Rick would do if he did get hold of her. The way he was acting, anything was possible.

I waited until she’d crossed the road and was heading back towards her flat, then I went back to the car. Once inside, I pulled the package from inside my jacket and read the address, written in shaky capitals across the front. I let out a long, low whistle. An expensive address, indeed. Our Charlotte was doing quite nicely for herself, thank you very much. Rick had been right when he’d labelled her a call-girl. It wasn’t the kind of postcode inhabited by your average pro. But then, Charlotte had never been that. She was class all the way, hence the reason we’d been so thoroughly duped.

I started the engine and headed to Belgravia. I was almost amused. Her real address was barely a stone’s throw from the Fforbes hotel and the F Bar itself. I’d been more or less chasing my own tail ever since I’d started looking for her, and she’d been within spitting distance the whole time.

As I turned into Eaton Square, I ducked my head to look up at the houses. Tall, solemn terraces with white, Georgian facades lined the road, their columns standing to attention as I drove slowly past. I’d had half a mind to move here myself once, I remembered wryly. I’d had some mad idea that Aimee and I would settle down here…as if either of us would’ve settled down anywhere, back then. I put the thought from my mind and focused instead on finding the house I wanted.

When I spotted it, I parked outside, which was a miracle in itself. Maybe it was a sign things were going to go smoothly for once. Or not. I took a deep breath, and walked between the columns of the porch and pressed the buzzer of flat number two.

There was no reply. I hadn’t expected there to be, to be honest. It would have been too simple, and nothing was simple at the moment.

I waited a few minutes, before pressing it again. This time, a voice answered the buzzer. It was a woman. Her voice was thick, as if she’d just woken up, but she was still making a credible attempt at sounding well-spoken. It was Charlotte.

‘Who is it, please?’ she said. ‘I’ve no appointments this morning.’

‘Open the door,’ I said. ‘I don’t need an appointment.’

The intercom switched off abruptly.

I waited, but no one came to the door, so I rang the buzzer again.

‘Open up, Charlotte,’ I said. ‘Or Christine, or whatever the fuck your name is. We need to talk.’

There was no response again for a moment or two, but then I heard footsteps behind the front door and, after a moment or two, it creaked open slightly.

Charlotte peered at me from within the hallway. I could see only half her face, but the part I could told me she was nervous. Her caramel eyes were wide and fierce, and she was biting her lip. ‘What do you want?’ she said, grudgingly.

‘We need to talk, Char…Christine.’ I held out the envelope. ‘And I’ve brought your post.’

‘Jane!’ She put her hand around the door to take it. ‘She told you where to…?’ Her voice was incredulous.

‘She told me nothing,’ I said. ‘Except that you’re some kind of plaster saint.’

‘She was homeless when I met her.’ She shrugged. ‘I let her use the downstairs flat. The house belonged to my parents.’

‘Quite the heroine,’ I said. ‘I must say, it surprises me.’

‘The perfect match for a knight errant,’ she said, opening the door slightly wider. She was wearing a fluffy white dressing gown, the soft, butterscotch skin of her cleavage more than apparent within it. She was pushing it forward deliberately, I was sure, and I looked away, back to her eyes. She was regarding me with an almost hungry look. I stepped back slightly, taken by surprise. This wasn’t how I’d envisaged events panning out, not by a country mile.

She moved forward, letting the door fall open, and put her hands to my collar. ‘We had something good, you know,’ she said. ‘I felt it.’

I didn’t know what to make of it. Was she for real? Had she really not understood anything about our relationship? Or was she playing games? It seemed the more likely scenario.

‘Now Charl…Christine…’ I began, but she put her finger to my lips.

‘Charlotte,’ she said. ‘It’s who I am nowadays, and you know you want me. Why don’t you come upstairs?’

‘So you can video me?’ I raised my eyebrows and damned near smirked. So that was what she was after – another chance to get some evidence for her big story. In a way, it was a relief. The haul I’d taken at my flat must have been everything she had, and that could only be a good thing. But, on the other hand, her gall at pressing me again, at trying once more to coax me into her honey trap, was frankly insulting.

I turned to go.

‘Wait!’ she said. ‘You’ve got it wrong. I can’t sell that fucking story, not for anything. Whatever you and your old boys’ network have done, it’s final. They’ve closed me down. I’ve lost all my contacts at the papers. I’ve nothing now except…’ She indicated down at herself…at her body.

I shrugged. ‘It’s the price you pay,’ I said. ‘For fucking people over. What did I ever do to you?’

‘Nothing.’ Her eyes were still downcast, and she sounded genuinely miserable. ‘And everything. You’re the only guy I ever thought…’ Her words tailed off into an inaudible whisper. She looked up at me, her eyes fierce again, suddenly. ‘I’d have dropped the story like a stone if you’d only…’

‘Hey,’ I said. I didn’t want to hear any more. ‘Christi…Charlotte…you’ve caused a steaming heap of shit. You’ve no idea. Rick Palmer…’ I looked at her, meaningfully.

‘Rick?’ She shook her head, impatiently. ‘Don’t you get it? That story was the bomb. It was going to get me out of this…pay off this house. I can’t go back to the East End. I just can’t. I had to do something, and Rick – he was my last hope.’

‘You’ve ruined him, Charlotte,’ I said. ‘And his family. I’ll give you the money.’

‘I don’t want your money.’ She sounded close to tears. ‘I love you.’

‘No,’ I said, firmly. ‘Don’t even go there.’

‘Never?’ She looked up at me, piteously.

‘Never, ever.’ I shook my head. What the fuck was she even thinking? She didn’t seem to have any grip on reality at all. ‘Is there anything you can do? Anything that might help Rick? Or me?’

She looked at me steadily for a moment, clearly thinking. Just as I thought she was going to laugh in my face, she nodded, briefly. ‘Yes,’ she said, dully. ‘There is something. Wait there.’

She closed the door, quietly, and I waited, as instructed. She was gone so long, I began to think she’d left me standing there on purpose. I wouldn’t have put it past her. I was about to give up and leave, when the door opened again.

I’d been looking up and down the street, and I turned as I heard her undoing the lock. As the door opened, I reeled back in horror. Her right eye was swollen and bloody, and one side of her lower lip hung fat and heavy, suffused almost mahogany with more blood. As I looked at her, she turned to the door frame and began to head butt it, slamming her left cheek into it, hard and often.

For a few seconds, I did nothing at all. I was utterly transfixed. Then, I stepped forward and, grabbing her by the tops of her arms, attempted to pull her out from the doorway.

As soon as my hands touched her, she began to scream. ‘Help!’ she yelled. ‘I’m being assaulted!’

I stepped back, taking my hands away from her and holding them up, looking up and down the road to see if anyone had heard.

Someone had or, rather, two people. Police officers, naturally. I’d have expected nothing less of Charlotte. I turned back to her. Those few minutes upstairs had given her just enough time to get them on their way.

‘What have you done?’

‘What have you done?’ she hissed. ‘How am I supposed to get by now?’

‘By screwing men for money,’ I said, coldly. ‘It’s what you’re best at.’

‘Screw you,’ she snarled, almost under her breath, before turning, all soft doe-eyes and innocence, to the hurrying police officers.

And she had, I thought to myself. She’d screwed me royally. I looked out the window and watched her disappear, as I disappeared myself, handcuffed and on my way to the local cop shop, in the back of a Black Maria.

    Seven

Her

Liv rang in her lunch hour. ‘Just checking in to make sure you’re okay,’ she said. Her voice was quiet, and she sounded anxious. ‘It’s the first chance I’ve got. Max is…well, Max – you know. I’m rushed off my feet.’

Just when I’d thought I couldn’t feel any more guilty. I knew it was my fault. I’d been off work all week, and Liv was having to do double-duty, and then some, knowing Max.

‘I’m sorry, Liv,’ I said. ‘I’ll sort the fireplace, and I’ll come into work tomorrow morning. I can’t make the afternoon, I’ve an…appointment.’ I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I was going to see Kitty’s agent. I still couldn’t believe he thought I was worth bothering with.

‘Forget the fireplace,’ Liv said. ‘And I can handle the Flintmeister – no worries. Listen, I’ve got another gig tonight, if you want to come along.’

‘Um…yeah,’ I said. ‘Maybe.’

‘Definitely.’ Liv’s tone was firm. ‘Just no…you know.’

‘No,’ I said, doubtfully. ‘Of course not.’

‘Good.’ She sounded satisfied. ‘See you tonight, then.’

She hung up, and I stood there, staring at my phone. Could I trust myself to go out again, after the last two disastrous attempts? I knew she was trying to make sure I wasn’t sitting in, brooding, but maybe I was safer indoors.

Even as the thought crossed my mind, I thought of Leo. He might come round again while Liv was out. In which case, I’d be safer out with other people. I couldn’t believe I had to think like this about a guy I’d shared my life with for the last seven years, but it did seem like it had come to this. I was going to have to go to Liv’s gig.

I still hadn’t even got dressed. I went upstairs to have a shower, but ended up lying down on the bed. I felt exhausted. Everything was getting on top of me, and I needed to escape – even if just for a few minutes. I pulled my PJ bottoms down and lay back, moving my fingers down and around my clit. As I began to massage it and to get turned on, I relaxed into it and slipped into my dream world.

This time, my thoughts were less focused than usual, and they drifted between two different scenarios, each involving one of my previous nights out. In the first, I was being used in a hotel room by the guys from the F Bar. In the other, I was in the backpacker’s bar again, sitting on Chris’s lap, with the Australians gathered all around me. I had Stef’s cock in my mouth, and Chris was toying with my nipples, tweaking and twisting them until they became hard and tight through my jersey. He put his hands to the bottom of it, pulling it up and up until they sprang free of the fabric. Immediately, a couple of the other Aussies moved in on me, sucking at my breasts, as I continued to suck on the firm warmth of Stef’s cock.

Chris had lost out on my breasts now, so eagerly were the other guys devouring them. His hands slid around, instead, to the front of my jeans, popping open the button, before unzipping the fly all the way down. He began to push them down towards his legs, exposing my bare ass cheeks. Then he lifted me up, so the two guys sucking on my nipples could pull them down across my hips, my knees and, finally, my ankles.

At the same time, Stef bent over and lifted up the bunched fabric of my jersey, before yanking it forcefully up over my head. He dragged it from my arms, throwing it into the sawdust, strewn across the floor. I had no underwear on, and I was now naked in the middle of a pack of aroused Aussies. Those remaining pressed in around me, pulling at my breasts and running their beer-soaked hands all over my bare skin, sending shivers of anticipation through every nerve in my body.

Instead of being content to ravage me there and then, Stef pulled me to my feet, and I was dragged over to the stage. It was empty, with only spotlights shining down upon it, and the guys picked me up bodily and passed me to others, already clambering up into the lights. The bar was crowded, and people stood all around, witnesses to my public degradation. No one tried to stop them. Rather, they applauded as I was laid down on the cold, hard boards of the stage, and my legs spread wide, an open invitation for anyone to take me.

It wasn’t until the first guy loomed above me, unbuttoning his fly ready to begin my disgrace, that I became some other, faceless woman, and the guy above me turned into Leo.

I sat bolt upright, panting not with excitement, but with shock and disappointment. I felt humiliated, just not in the way I wanted. Leo had disgraced me in quite another way and, even though we were no longer together, he owned my fantasies now. I felt like crying all over again.

I took a shower, scrubbing at myself as if trying to wash away my misery. By the time I finally opened the door of the shower cubicle, I knew I wasn’t going to Liv’s gig that night. I was too angry and, worse, too frustrated. I couldn’t trust myself to behave, any more than Liv could.

I stood there, dripping wet and naked, looking at my body in the mirror. I knew that, given half the chance, I’d have men’s hands running all over it, their tongues and cocks pushing into it wherever and however they desired. It was partly to get back at Leo, I realised, but more so because I honestly believed I’d enjoy it. I’d spent years being a good girl, and it had got me nowhere. I was all too ready to surrender to my fantasies.

But what if it went wrong? I remembered Mr Arrogant’s words. Don’t end up dead in some gutter. I knew he was right. I was almost suicidally reckless at the moment, and it was a very real possibility. Even if everything went well, I could end up with some horrible disease, or worse…splashed across the tabloids again. As if I hadn’t been humiliated enough, I’d feel suicidal if my dirty desires became public knowledge.

Smug and self-assured as he was, Mr Arrogant was right and – thank God – he had my back or, at least, he’d thrown me a lifeline. I grabbed a towel from the radiator and went into the bedroom to find my phone.

    Eight

Him

‘How much longer are you planning on keeping me here?’ I asked, as I sat in the interview room. It was soulless, with blank grey walls and no outside light. A large desk in the middle, flanked on both sides with hard, uncomfortable chairs, was the only furniture. An officer stood by the door, his arms folded and an equally blank stare on his face. Another – a woman in a plain shirt and tight-fitting grey suit, complete with pencil skirt – sat opposite me, cold and unsmiling. The whole effect was as bleak as I felt.

‘Mr Flint is out of the country,’ she said, in clipped tones.

She’d introduced herself, earlier in the afternoon, as Detective Inspector Amber Brown. She was young, for someone of her rank – she could only have been in her mid-twenties – and tight-lipped. She’d probably have been attractive, if she hadn’t looked so stern.

The grin I hadn’t quite been able to suppress at her name hadn’t gone down well. I couldn’t help it, though – it suited her so perfectly. Her hair, while not exactly red, had definite tones of copper running through it, and her eyes could only be described as amber.

I got the feeling she’d said her first name by mistake. It wasn’t as if police officers usually volunteered any more personal information than they had to, and she’d seemed pissed off at the time, as if it were my fault it had slipped out.

Things had only grown worse when I’d asked her to contact Giles, confident he’d be able to ensure my speedy release. She’d left me in the room with the other officer, while she’d made the necessary calls, before returning, a satisfied look on her face.

‘Your lot always think they’re going to get special treatment,’ she said, leaning back in her chair, her fingers knit together across her stomach. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. Anyone who beats up a defenceless woman on my patch is going to get the same short shrift in this station.’

I could’ve kicked myself. I’d known Giles wasn’t due back yet. Even Max wasn’t due back until the next day. Giles had told me as much. I’d just forgotten, with everything that had happened.

‘But I have to get out,’ I said. ‘There’s somewhere important I need to be.’

‘Oh?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘So this isn’t important?’

‘No, I didn’t mean…’ I tailed off. ‘Look, it’s urgent that I get somewhere, and it has to be before five.’

‘And where’s that, then?’ Her amber eyes narrowed. ‘Is it connected to the assault?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Look, there was no assault. She did it herself.’

Her reaction was hardly unexpected. She gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Of course she did.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Look, is there no way…?’

I left the question hanging, hoping she might see fit to work some kind of deal. I had to get the money for Rick…had to. It was of paramount importance. Far more important than the trumped-up charge they were holding me under.

‘Well, suppose you tell me where you need to be, and why?’

I was about to explain that I needed to get to the bank. I even opened my mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut again. I could explain where, but I couldn’t explain why. At least, I could…I could make something up but, if they checked and caught me out, I’d be in even worse trouble.

I scowled and said nothing.

‘I see,’ she said, knowingly. The triumph in her voice irritated me beyond belief. I was trying to save a girl’s reputation. She had no idea what she was doing, keeping me there.

She looked at her watch. ‘Look, I can’t question you without your lawyer present,’ she said, sounding irritated herself. ‘And you won’t stoop to using one of ours, so…’

She stared at me, meaningfully. I slumped in my chair. There was no way I was trusting anyone with this except Lionel. If there was anyone who could turn this whole thing inside-out and effect me a swift release, it was him.

‘When’s he likely to arrive?’ I’d lost all track of time, by then. The interview room had no windows, so I couldn’t even use the quality of daylight for an approximate estimation. There was no quality of light in this room. It was fluorescent – as harsh and unforgiving as the sour-mouthed woman sitting in front of me.

She was still leaning back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other and regarding me thoughtfully. She shrugged. ‘He’s in court, apparently.’ She stood up. ‘So it could be anytime.’

‘What time is it now?’

She looked at her watch. ‘A quarter to four.’

She must have noticed me shift in agitation at this, because she seemed to relent, and her face softened slightly. ‘Look, the courts shut at four thirty. He’ll be out of there soon, if he’s not already.’

‘You think?’ I could feel my heart racing. It was cutting it so fine.

‘He’s probably on his way already.’ The officer standing at the door opened it, stepping back slightly so that she could leave. ‘I’m confident enough that I’m leaving you here. It’s not worth taking you back to the cells.’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Someone will be with you shortly.’

With that, she turned and left the room, the other officer following her and locking the door behind him. The screech of the lock hitting home set off an immediate fluttering behind my breastbone. I’d already had palpitations earlier, when I’d been slammed into a cell. I’d been okay since I’d been in the interview room because I hadn’t been alone, but now I could feel the panic rising up inside me again.

Fucking Max. He’d locked me in a cupboard at school, once, and got caught out of bed. He’d ended up in isolation, locked in a tiny bedroom on his own, and I’d been left there all night, cramped and cold. When I’d finally been let out, hunched over and hyperventilating, I’d ended up in isolation, too. I’d had a fear of confined spaces ever since. Glass lifts, I could cope with, but the steel ones…well, it was the first thing I’d changed in all our hotels and clubs.

Any time I was shut in anywhere, I was the same. There was nothing I could do about it, though. I just had to sit there, coughing occasionally to relieve the palpitations, and hoping that Lionel wasn’t going to take much longer.