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‘Alfie, duck!’ Came an angry voice from behind us. Turning, I was staring directly down the business end of a shotgun.
I held my hands up in front of me. ‘Grieves, it’s okay.’
‘You’ve been missing for two fucking months.’ The pain was palpable as he spoke. Warmth filled me.
Harriet made to move beside me, but I stopped her with a hand. ‘Don’t you fucking dare. He’s one of mine.’
Grieves lowered the barrel half an inch, his sparse hair dishevelled. I don’t think I’d ever seen him in any state of anything less than perfection. Pushing the gun down, I threw my arms around his neck. He still smelled like Old Spice, and the scent threw me right back into childhood. Into him patching scraped knees and telling me off for stealing cakes from the kitchen before a party. Into him teaching me how to shave and wear a suit correctly.
‘God, I’ve missed you,’ I whispered against his ear. When he pulled back to scrutinise me, I was glad I’d taken the time to shave.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘A little tied up,’ I said with a smile, shrugging a shoulder. Petros snorted again.
‘Did they take you?’ he asked.
‘You know me, forever unreliable Alfie.’
Grieves’ eyebrows lowered. ‘Not with me. You’ve never been unreliable with me. We’ve had the McGowans hunting for you, the police searching everywhere that had even a tenuous link to you. You disappeared without a trace.’
I held his upper arms lightly with my hands. ‘I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m helping these friends of mine with something, but I need to ask a huge favour of you. I need you not to tell a single soul that you saw me. I’m still missing, okay? Only for a little while longer, and then I’ll be back.’
I daren’t look at Petros as I said it lest I saw any hurt in his face.
‘I need the key to Dad’s old office, and an hour or two.’
It was a lot to ask of an ageing friend. His eyes darted between Harriet, who continued to look like she might stab him if he merely breathed at her wrong, and Petros who towered behind me. They definitely didn’t look like my usual rich trust fund and mafia friends.
‘Promise me you’ll come back.’ Grieves’ voice trembled with emotion. ‘Promise it.’
‘I promise.’
‘You,’ Grieves said to Harriet. ‘You promise. Promise me you’ll bring him back very soon.’
Harriet looked almost surprised to be addressed by the shotgun-wielding butler. For sure, I thought she’d refuse, but something in her eyes softened just a fraction.
‘I promise.’
Grieves stared at us for another minute, his mouth drawing into a thin line. ‘I’ll be back with the key.’
THIRTY
HARRIET
We continued on towards the office, passing room after room. Turning near the top of another staircase, we walked through an open space with vaulted ceilings. Throughout the space, opulent couches were interspersed with antique tables. One particular table stood out, its edges inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
A wave of nausea washed over me as I stood rooted to the spot, the table launching me into a torrent of pain.
They’d pinned me to that table. After Alfie had used me and stumbled off without another care. My thighs tensed at the memory of their hands forcing my thighs wide, at the decorative table cold beneath my slippery tears. At begging for them to stop. To let me go.
Their laughter as one removed his belt and whipped my thighs while another forced himself into my mouth. A knife at my throat in case I dared fight back.
‘Harriet.’ Petros’ soft voice broke through my reverie, stealing me from the pain long enough for me to take a shaky breath in.
A body shifted near the archway at the far end of the room, Alfie’s pale face watched me, and I hated that he saw how much being there affected me. He and Grieves left the room after passing a look towards Petros.
The rug beneath the table was different. Had they changed it when I had bled too much?
