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Leo already knows that it’s going to take more than putting the phone down on me to stop me from pushing until he gives me what I want. When I’m done getting ready, I head downstairs and down a short coffee before clearing up the glass I left on the coffee table last night and pack my laptop away, all while trying to ignore the silence that follows me from room to room. I need to get out of here, clear my head and figure shit out.
* * *
It’s late by the time I leave the interrogation room. The corridor is dim with only the fire safety lights brightening up the solid concrete walls. Wiping the blood from my hands, I pause in front of the lift, making sure I won’t leave a mess on the keypad.
While I’m heading back up to the offices, I slip my rings back on my fingers and roll the bloodied cuffs of my sleeves up to my elbows. It’s getting harder to be creative with the torture. After so many hours in that room, it all becomes repetitive and predictable, down to the exact moment that the bastard begs me to stop. He does it because he knows it’ll only make me draw more blood. Clearly, he’s still living in the hope that I get bored and snap his neck or put a bullet through his head.
Bullets in brains don’t do it for me though. That’s Casper. He aims. He shoots. He kills. I take my time. My mother always used to say, All things come in good time.
Alice may have been a liar, but she was right about that.
The lift doors open, and instantly the silence is broken by the voices coming from the boardroom at the end of the corridor that we’re using as the operations room. I still think that this is a bad idea, but the girls are in imminent danger, and as much as I don’t want to put another worry on Christopher’s shoulders, Leo is right. He needs to be fully aware of what’s going on.
The moment I walk into the room, it falls quiet. Casper takes a long gulp of his drink, and Christopher sits back in his chair, clearly waiting for someone to say something while Leo carries on typing away on his laptop.
“Anything new?” Christopher asks as I grab a glass and pour myself a straight vodka from the wet bar.
“No.”
“Do you think you’re going to get anything?”
“No.”
Casper finally looks up at me, an angry glower clenching his jaw. Pissed or not, he doesn’t want to fuck with me right now. I’ll add his blood to the one already staining my hands and my shirt.
“So why is he still alive?” he spits.
“Because I’m not done with him.” It’s as simple as that. I’m not going to be done with him until the bastard’s thoroughly crushed from head to toe. We both know that, and if he wasn’t being so much of a prissy little bitch about Georgina’s feelings, he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about it.
“He needs to die.”
Pulling my chair out, I take a sip of my drink as I nod. The bastard will die. “He’ll die when I’m ready to kill him. Until then, I’m going to keep crushing him, limb by limb, and if you have a problem with that, feel free to go down there and shoot him yourself.”
“Fred—” Christopher starts trying to mediate this shit, but no. Not today.
Putting my glass down, I lean back in my chair, levelling Casper’s glare with my scowl. “But you put a bullet through his head and you’ll take his place.” Sucking in a deep breath, I focus on Leo. “Now, are we getting down to business or what?”
Before Casper can say anything else, Leo switches the large screen on to share whatever he’s been working on this entire time.
“Freddie traced the reg numbers that were pulled from the footage to a couple of off-shore companies. I’ve looked into them, and there’s nothing on them. The most I got was that they trade between themselves which is normal for when a larger company gets greedy and wants to fuck with their tax bill.”
“You said you found something this morning.” I look between him and the screen because there’s a tonne of other shit that I can’t make heads or tails of.
“The smaller companies are a bust in a way, but I use this guy to do thorough checks on investment potentials.”
“How thorough is thorough?” Christopher asks.
“Enough that it’s led us to a bigger company. The same company that owns the addresses I got from the ledgers.”
“What addresses?” Casper looks between him and me, and it’s more than obvious that he’s going to blow a fuse.
He’s waiting on any excuse, and although we’ve already done this shit at the meeting with Francis and in spite of things being fine when we brought in the bastard downstairs …he’s all touchy again.
“I was going through the ledgers again, and Cassie pointed out that a few of the numbers on there looked like the coordinates on the invites we were looking at. It was a great observation, but I’ve tried all my usual sources, and I can’t get anywhere. The minute something seems of use, the trail disappears.”
“Story of our fucking lives,” Christopher mutters.
“The only thing I’ve been able to find using it were a handful of other places dotted in and around the city. A couple are close to two private runways—one is just outside the M25 in Tilbury, and the other two are in town.”
