Page 71 of Payback

“M-maybe.”

“Where does he live?”

“New York, but they’re staying at Elfwynn House.”

He grabbed a handful of my hair. “You’d better not be fibbing, or I’ll keep you here and fuck that virgin hole till your insides fall out of your arse.”

My anus clenched with terror. “I wouldn’t lie about something so important.”

“Good.” He pulled out a hunting knife and slashed the ropes around my wrists. “You’re coming with me.”

My numb arms fell onto my belly with a thud. Unpleasant tingles ran up and down them as my empty veins filled with blood. With fingers I could no longer feel, I pulled my tank top down over my exposed breasts. I tried scrambling away, but he had lashed one of my ankles to a tree in a series of complicated knots.

“Run, and I’ll shoot you in the back.” Mr. Carbuncle fastened a bandolier belt around his hips, picked up his shotgun and reloaded it with ammunition. Memories of him bursting into Edward’s room resurfaced, and a tight fist of sorrow clenched at my heart.

Choking back a sob, I asked, “Sir?”

“What?” He adjusted his bandolier.

“Did you shoot Edward?”

“Shot at him, yeah.”

Tears filled my eyes, and pressure squeezed at my chest from where I forgot to breathe. Dwelling on Edward’s predicament would do me no good. I would only fall into grief, but I had to know. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on escaping if I kept speculating on his fate. “Did the bullet hit him?”

“I’ll be fucked if I know,” he muttered.

Disappointment mingled with relief as I blew out a breath through my nostrils. Edward might be unhurt, after all.

* * *

Mr. Carbuncle sped his pickup truck through winding country roads lit by the setting sun that led to a highway. Rolling hills stretched out on all sides, giving me the impression we were driving through the South Downs, a national park Edward had described as the size of London.

I looked out for signs of police and helicopters. A man had barged into a school, shot at the Viscount of Highdown, attacked two other boys, abducted a girl, and possibly killed a housemaster. Where were the search parties?

Cold despair seeped through my skin, penetrating me to the marrow. What was wrong with the British police? If this was New York, the whole place would be flooded with officers. But Mr. Carbuncle kept evading justice, only to keep striking back.

He threw my phone into my lap. “You’re going to call that cunt of a stepfather and tell him to meet me outside the hotel.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered.

I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen. “There’s no signal.”

“Wait, then,” he growled.

Muttering under his breath, Mr. Carbuncle took a swig from a stainless steel flask. I rubbed my sore wrists. Had he always been this insane or had recent events pushed him into this madness?

My mind raced through scenarios. The best case was that we hit a roadblock, and the police gunned him down in a rain of bullets. But he would probably use me as a shield. The most likely situation would be that Rudolph convinced him that he didn’t have old Mrs. Carbuncle, and he talked the former caretaker into taking me away with his blessing.

The text message alert indicated we were back within signal range. It was from Henry.

“There,” he growled. “You can call him now.”

“I have to look up the number for the Elfwynn House.”

“Call his fucking mobile!”

“He only gives out the numbers of his personal assistants. Please… you remember how long it took to contact him when Mr. Chaloner expelled me? I need to look up the number of Elfwynn House on the internet. It’s going to take much longer to go through a PA.”