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Calvin glared at him.
“Don’t worry, please. He’ll be looking after her.”
“If she has even been touched, I will not hesitate to report you to the police. We’ll track you down.”
“Okay, okay,” Gregory responded and turned to the men behind him, waving his hand and beckoning. One man started searching through the pockets on his biker jacket as he walked over. He pulled out a key card and offered it to Greg, who passed it to Cal. “She’s at the Metropolis, room 212.”
Cal took the card, turning it over in his hands, staring at it with unseeing eyes. They’d been holding her in a hotel. Fury was building up inside him, and it was only the presence of a passing group of school kids that stopped him pasting Greg against a nearby wall.
Gregory shuffled his feet. “She’ll be fine; you know I wouldn’t condone any harm. In any case, Foster wouldn’t have the guts to lay a finger on her.” He glanced back at the man who’d had the key. The man shrugged and dropped his gaze to the ground, eager to keep out of it.
“You’d better pray that’s the truth, or you’ll only live long enough to regret it.” Cal turned away and jogged rapidly downhill, waving at the first taxi he saw, leaving the three of them standing there with a complete loss of purpose after the unexpected turn of events.
“Who’d have believed Zoë would have had the guts to do that?” Gregory made the remark to no one in particular, shaking his head. “And what’s Foster up to -- do you think he caved and gave her the other key?”
They had argued over whether Foster was the right man for the job, earlier that day. Why hadn’t he answered the phone? Greg glanced at his companions sheepishly. They both shrugged, unwilling to comment. There was an awkward silence. “Have you ever have been to Edinburgh?” The two of them were Londoners. They both shook their heads.
Gregory flapped open his wallet with a deep sigh, remarking to himself that he’d been hoping to make a rather substantial financial gain from this expedition, not spend his own bloody cash. However, some major face-saving was in order, or these two would tell the whole paparazzi network what a balls-up he’d made of it. “Come on, then. You two may as well do the whisky tour while we’re here.”
* * * * *
The taxi ride took just over two minutes. For Cal, though, it seemed interminably long. He glared at the bustling streets and groups of tourists crossing their path. In his mind he’d been turning over the facts and the possible outcomes of the whole escapade. What a fine mess this had turned out to be. Georgie had offered support and tried to help them, and they had inadvertently put her in danger.
When the taxi finally pulled up at the Metropolis, he dropped three notes on the passenger seat and leapt out of the car, leaving the driver with a surprised but happy smile on his face as he counted the cash.
Inside the plush reception area, he darted toward the sign for the lifts and within seconds was upstairs and striding down the corridor in the direction of room 212.
The ornate brass numbers
on the door twinkled happily at him when he drew to a halt in front of the door. He put his ear close to the door, but it was solid and he couldn’t make out any noise from within. He wanted clues, clues as to what he would find inside. What sort of confrontation was about to transpire?
He wondered if the bloke holding her was still in there, or would his colleagues have notified him to get the hell out? Was Georgie even in there now? He strained his ears. Nothing. Except, maybe, very faintly in the distance ... a radio? Or was it the sound of a woman’s voice, singing? Georgie?
He slipped the card key into its niche and rapidly turned the handle when it clicked open, stepping into the room. The door swooshed shut behind him. His glance first took in the lunch tray sitting on a table near to the door. Beyond, he saw the strewn sheets on the empty bed, before his gaze found the man who was sitting on a heavy chair at the end of the bed, facing the headboard, as if he’d been watching over it. Cal’s eyebrows shot up when he realized that the man was naked, bound to the chair, and gagged with what looked like something you would tie the curtains back with. He stepped closer and saw that the man’s ankles were tied to the legs of the chair with bits of torn sheet, and his wrists were bound behind his back with what looked like the remains of Georgie’s leather belt. A towel had been thrown over his crotch, as if someone had found it an offensive sight.
The man turned his head slightly to look at Cal. He looked scared, shifty, and very ashamed of himself before he glanced away. Cal turned from the scene and followed the sound of humming that came from the bathroom.
He walked over to the doorway and there she was, standing at the washstand, wearing only a towel, her hair damp around her shoulders. She was casually applying her lipstick in the mirror. He watched silently, in awe, as she followed the outline of her full lips with the creamy red stick and then wound it closed and dropped it into her handbag, which was sitting on the washstand in front of her. She turned toward him, one hand resting on her hip, her long, tapered fingernails tapping gently at the curve of her hipbone.
His chest filled when her gaze locked with his.
“What perfect timing. I was just about to call you.” She walked toward him, smiling happily.
He watched, mesmerized, as she sidled across the space between them, the sight of her body making his hands tingle with the desire to grab her into his arms and stroke her every inch of flesh, reclaiming her.
Her lips were full and slightly open, the color in her cheeks warm and vibrant. She was rampant, a real hot-blooded siren, and he was madly in love with her.
She drew up in front of him and slid one hand round the back of his neck.
Relief began to flood over him. He gave a croaky laugh.
She arched one eyebrow quizzically.
He drew her in against him, sliding his hands in around her waist. “I’ve been out of my mind with worry.” His voice was hoarse. “I should’ve known that a woman like you could look after herself,” he added quickly, trying to cover the emotion in his voice.
“You’d better believe it.” She kissed him deeply.
Cal growled and grabbed her close into his arms, kissing her mouth hungrily, claiming her back.
