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Jessica covered her mouth.
God, this was a nightmare.
“Hey,” Robin said brightly. “Didn’t think—”
“They took him, Robin. They took him.” The first sob broke Jessica. She slid off the bed to sit on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest. “They took him and it’s all my fault.”
“What? No. Jess? Jess, start at the beginning. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Jessica squeezed her eyes shut. They’d all tried to tell her. But she hadn’t listened.
God, what if something happened to Samuel? What then?
She would never forgive herself if something happened to him.
Chapter Eighteen
Tuesday. Unknown, London, UK.
Samuel didn’t try to stop his body from slumping over.
“He passed out,” one of the men said.
Another one muttered something, but their attention wasn’t on Samuel.
The adrenaline was fading, leaving him wiped out. Those two men had surprised him and he hadn’t recovered. They’d taken him down easily, which galled. At least no one had seen that.
Fucking hell, talk about timing.
There were five big guys total in the van. Way more than Samuel could have taken on even with Baruti and Kelsey. If these guys had shown up just a few minutes earlier, things could have gone differently. He was actually grateful it was just him.
Once Baruti and Kelsey dropped Jessica at the airport, they’d start looking for him. Which meant Samuel just needed to hang in here, pretend he was passed out, and bide his time.
There was no doubt in his mind these goons were related to Oliver and Maxwell Edward somehow. That, and the smaller one had demanded to know where Jessica was.
Samuel had taken perverse joy in telling them she was long gone.
With any luck, Jessica would be safe. By the time she got home and learned about all this, he hoped it was all taken care of. Otherwise, she’d blame herself.
Good people shouldn’t take ownership of the deeds sewn by bad actors.
He hoped she never changed.
Tuesday. Edward Residence, London, UK.
Maxwell picked up the phone. It was a night for delightful news, and here Oliver was with the cherry on top.
“Tell me something good,” Maxwell said.
“Mr. Edward. Sir.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Um, about the Jessica Chapin woman?”
“You have her?”
“No. Not exactly, sir. No.”
