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Perhaps it will be okay. I don’t think anyone knows I was there tonight. If they did, they’d have chased after me, wouldn’t they? There’s no way they’d let a potential witness get away.
Then again, if they did hear something when I ran out, and went to investigate, they might have found my things in the office. If they put two and two together, they’ll realize I was at the club. Fuck, this is a mess.
I can’t risk them seeing me as a threat to them. I’ll have to lie low until I can speak to Libby. She’ll help me smooth things over with the Donovans. At least, I hope she will, because there is no way I can hide from these people. I don’t possess the necessary skills to evade them.
By the time we get to the street, where I pay an exorbitant rent for a 1980s terraced monstrosity, I’ve made up my mind what to do. I’ll go and stay with my mother for a few days. I’ll ask the cab driver to wait while I run into the house and pack a few things. Then I’ll get him to take me to the railway station. There won’t be a train to Canterbury, where my mother lives, until morning, but hopefully I’ll be able to get a room at the hotel next to the station to wait it out.
As we pull up at the house, I scan the surrounding area in case there’s anyone lurking in the bushes waiting to snatch me. I shake my head. I’m being ridiculous.
“Can you wait for me?” I ask the driver. “I need to grab a couple of things and then go back to the city.”
“Yeah, alright, love,” the gray-haired man replies. “Take as long as you need.”
I’m sure he’s saying that because the meter is running and not because he has infinite patience. I jump out of the cab and hurry to my front door. My hands shake as I try to enter the combination to open the lockbox.
It takes a couple of attempts before I’m able to retrieve the key. I also have some trouble slotting it into the lock, but eventually, I manage to get into the house.
Once inside, I close the door, lean back against it, and take a few deep breaths. I really need to calm down.
After a minute, I feel suitably composed. I go to my bedroom and grab my leather weekend bag from the top of the wardrobe. I stuff a few sets of clean underwear in it, along with a couple of pairs of jeans and some tops. Then I get my toothbrush and some other essentials from the bathroom. Although my mother always has plenty of toiletries on hand, I prefer my own shampoo to the cheaper brand she buys.
As soon as I’m packed, I take the money and my emergencies only credit card from the drawer in the nightstand. I hate to rack up debt, but if this doesn’t qualify as an emergency, I don’t know what would.
When I get back outside, I lock the door and turn to find the cab has gone. In its place, beneath the streetlight, is a black Range Rover. My heart lurches. Rory Donovan is leaning against its passenger door. Arms folded across his chest, he looks livid. He’s dressed more casually than usual, in dark blue jeans and a black sweater. His hair is messy and, given the time of night, I think it’s because he actually has just rolled out of bed. I didn’t see him at the club, so someone must have called him.
He doesn’t say a word, but opens the passenger door and tilts his head in a gesture for me to get into the car. I freeze, trying to decide what to do. There’s no way I’d be able to unlock my front door and get back into the house. Rory would be on me before I can slot the key into the lock.
I could yell for help, but I don’t know what good that would do. People around here mind their own business even if it sounds like someone is in trouble. Perhaps I could brazen it out and try to walk right past him.
Rory makes my mind up for me. He angles his body slightly and lifts up his sweater, revealing there’s a gun tucked into his jeans. Shit. I might be able to outrun Rory, especially if his leg is hurting him tonight, but I’m definitely not faster than a bullet.
Holding my head high and trying not to look as terrified as I feel, I walk toward him. In an almost chivalrous gesture, he takes my bag from me and waits until I’m settled in my seat before shutting the car door. He puts my bag onto the back seat and gets into the driver’s side.
“Seatbelt,” he instructs as he turns the key in the ignition. He taps out a quick message on his cellphone, no doubt letting his brother know he’s got me, and puts it in the pocket at the side of the door.
I fasten my seatbelt and clasp my hands together on my lap to stop them shaking as Rory pulls away from the curb.
“Are you not going to try to sell me some bullshit story about what you’re doing sneaking about at this time of night?”
I shake my head. There is no explanation for Rory being at my home, other than that Aidan knows I was at the club. If I’m already caught, trying to deny that I was there is only going to make him angry.
“You going to tell me you didn’t see anything?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I saw plenty.”
“Well, that’s refreshing,” Rory says. “I can’t stand liars.”
I’ll need to bear that in mind. Perhaps if I’m honest and open with him, I can find a way out of this situation. As I try to think what to say to break the heavy silence between us, I realize he’s heading for the motorway, leading out of the city.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere quiet.”
I swallow hard. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Not tonight.”
That’s far from reassuring but, when he sees me shiver and leans over to put the heating on, I see a glimmer of hope. If he didn’t care about me, at least in some small way, he wouldn’t worry about my comfort, would he?
