The black S Class Mercedes glided to a halt at one of the openings leading to the row of parking bays. Mike could see one empty space, guarded on either side by worn looking hatchbacks. He moved along to the next opening and spotted a vacant space close to the main entrance, next to a gleaming new BMW.
Through the corner of his eye he noticed a dishevelled saloon approaching from the other direction. Mike pressed against the accelerator to beat the incoming vehicle to the opening, causing it to brake sharply. Despite his best efforts he failed to prevent a smug grin enveloping his face as he manoeuvred into the space.
The driver with the ill-fitting suit leapt from his car and hurled an obscenity at Mike as he stepped into the open. His grin widened at the angry man, increasing the level of hostility spewing from the loser’s livid mouth. Mike turned his head in indifference and walked to the glass door entrance to the business centre.
He had considered re-locating once or twice before because of the free-for-all nature of the car park. It was never really a viable option compared to what he stood to lose. Not only was the location right the splendour of his vast office, complete with French windows that opened out onto the green outside, couldn’t be bettered in the locality. Image was everything after all and his offices impressed each and every visitor to the company. So he masked the minor irritation and made sure he was careful in his choice of bay.
The matter held little significance for him today, compared to everything else going on in his life. Not least this morning’s meeting with Ray Bridges, which was going to be a real challenge.
He’d barely made it to the porch entrance when he heard the sound of a fast revving engine and turned to see a white delivery van approaching. It screeched to an unlikely halt, inches away from the Mercedes. Mike feared for the safety of his car and grimaced in anticipation of a collision. The driver jumped from the van with a small package in one hand and a delivery schedule in the other.
“Is there a Michael Daniels here?” he asked.
“Me,” Mike answered.
“Talk about good timing,” said the smiling young man in the baseball cap, offering up the package. “Sign here please.”
Mike exchanged his signature for the small padded envelope and entered the building without any further acknowledgement. As he typed in the entrance security code he glanced sideways to watch the van depart. The driver jammed into reverse and the van rolled backwards. Then it shuddered forward and swung away. Somehow, it squeezed past the black car without making any contact. Seventy thousand pounds of pure engineering excellence parked in front of him, and the way the driver manoeuvred round it you’d think he was driving in a demolition derby.
Mike’s company, MDL, had made such good profits last year the accountant told him to invest in something expensive to avoid tax. He blew it on the car. Property might have been a better investment but he’d always wanted one, a black S-Class. There was no more obvious statement of business success in this neck of the woods then a near top-of-the-range Mercedes, replete with add-ons such as ‘night assist’ and xenon headlights.
With some relief, he passed through the second glass door and turned right past the unmanned reception area, through the fire door leading into the corridor. The office was a few yards further down to his left, and he opened the solid wooden door. The blinds were open, so he knew Tina was already in, and spotted the files laid neatly on the desk. He circled the meeting table and pulled open the central patio windows to let in the morning air. Rounding the other side of the oval table he took the leather seat behind the desk and switched the computer monitor into colourful life.
His interest was drawn to the small package. Mike pressed the contents with some care, in case it was fragile, to try and guess what was inside. He hadn’t been expecting anything to be delivered. Deciding it would have to wait, he carelessly tossed it into the in-tray while he watched the images form on his screen, mulling over how best to approach this morning’s meeting.
Amy had stayed the whole weekend. Partly because he wanted the company but also to make sure she didn’t do anything foolish, such as relapse back into her old habit to screen out the pressure. Mental strength was not an attribute that could be laid at her door. They had gone shopping on the Saturday, ostensibly so he could replace the dress she had ruined in the shower. He ended up paying for many more items, as he expected. At one point Amy insisted he had his photograph taken, in one of those claustrophobic passport booths, so she could keep pictures of him without his beard. They had already agreed to go their own ways once Mike had helped to resolve her immediate problem. At least, this is what she had said.
The knock at the door signalled the appearance of Tina’s friendly smile and she asked if there was anything else he needed.
“Morning, Tina. Coffee will be fine,” he responded with his naturally softly spoken voice. She disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, returning a few minutes later with the drink.
“Are you alright?” she asked, depositing the mug on the desk. “You look as though you have the worries of the world on your shoulders.”
“No, just the normal stuff,” he replied nonchalantly. “And the fact that I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he added, trying to stifle the unexpected yawn.
“Amy kept you up all weekend, then? I don’t know where you get the energy from,” she grinned.
He smiled in response to her mischievous prodding.
“Yeah, but not for the reason I was expecting this time around.”
“I daren’t even begin to imagine,” she said brightly. “Hey, you’ve lost the beard,” she added, finally noticing his change of appearance.
He chose not to extend the conversation, starting to thumb through the files she had left in a meticulous pile on his desk.
“I’ve got a visitor this morning you don’t know about. I arranged it over the weekend. Let me know when he arrives,” he said.
“Sure. Is there anything else?”
He shook his head dismissively to bring the exchange to an end. Tina reacted by shrugging her shoulders to his adopted indifference and left him to whatever he was now pretending to do.
The ringing of the desk phone prompted a glance at the watch. He was sure there were still a few minutes to go before the meeting.
“Mike,” said Tina, “John Hopper’s on the phone. He’d like to speak to you straight away. I told him you had a meeting starting soon ...”
“It’s okay. Put him through.”
John’s call was earlier than expected and he braced himself for the verbal onslaught sure to follow.
“Mike,” spoke the caller, “I’ve just received a fax from your solicitor, demanding immediate settlement of the account or you’ll take me to court. We talked about this a couple of days ago and you agreed to hold off.”
“Something’s come up, John and I need the money,” he replied coolly.
“It’s been two days! Things don’t change that quickly,” he blurted excitedly.
“A lot can happen in a couple of days,” said Mike coldly.
“You know how tough things are right now. For Christ’s sake, Mike, I thought we were friends.”
“I need the account to be settled.”
There was a brief lull in the conversation.
“Why the hell didn’t you talk to me about this first? The least I deserved was a phone call beforehand. That’s what I’d have done.”
“Needs must,” was all he could say in reply, and a further silence followed.
John was clearly on the edge. Mike was unmoved. His own needs were more important.
“What about instalments, as an option?” the caller asked.
“No. It’s got to be the full amount.”
“But this is going to push me under for Christ’s sake. Mike, please, people’s jobs are at stake here. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
He chose not to respond, adding fuel to his caller’s already incendiary mood.
“How long have you been running now, fi
ve years,” the line yelled. “You won’t last another five if this is how you’re going to treat people you two faced, devious bastard.”
And then the phone line went abruptly dead.
Mike considered the exchange could have been worse. It was tough on John, but there was no other choice.
His thoughts turned to the morning’s meeting, and he found it difficult to concentrate. For some reason Mike started to feel apprehensive and was beginning to regret his decision to get involved. At the time he’d felt comfortable enough, felt purposeful and confident he could handle it. Now, he wasn’t sure. Anxiety and nervousness had tightened their grip. He resorted to strolling outside onto the green to get some fresh air and compose his fraying nerves. He hadn’t been stood long when Tina’s voice sounded out from behind.
“Your visitors are here, Mike.”
He frowned with surprise at the knowledge there was to be more than one attendee.
“Okay, bring them down please.”
Re-entering the office, he shut the patio doors and took the seat at the meeting table furthest away from the door. Mike lifted the folded A4 sized brown envelope from his jacket pocket, and placed it on the table in front of him.
The next rap at the door signalled the visitors’ arrival.
First into view was a clean shaven bald headed man no bigger than Mike himself, only several years older. Casually dressed in black slacks, an expensive leather jacket covered the dark polo necked jumper which surrounded his skinny neck. Despite his age the man looked to be in the best of health and exuded extreme confidence. No doubt one of the benefits of a financially untroubled lifestyle, Mike concluded He was closely followed by two much bigger figures, dressed in matching attire, as if they were twinned. Mike’s unease turned into fearful trepidation.
“Can I get you a drink?” Tina asked the group.
“It’s okay,” interrupted Mike. “This won’t take long.”
She returned his cold look with a surprised expression, shocked by the lack of courtesy, but said nothing as she closed the door.
Mike pointed to the seat at the opposite end of the table and the first man carefully deposited himself in the chair without speaking. The two minders stood statue like, menacingly, on either side. The seated guest waited for the conversation to start without bothering to take in the surroundings or make any complementary remarks about the quality of the office, preferring to gaze dispassionately at the face seated opposite him.
Mike pushed the brown envelope forward and rested his arms on the table, hands tightly clasped.
“I thought this meeting was just between us,” said Mike.
“This is us,” said the man in a gravel tone. He looked Mike up and down before shifting his gaze temporarily to the envelope, and then returned a cold glare to his host.
“I don’t even have to open it to know it’s not all there,” the man said.
“Ten,” replied Mike, studiously looking at the man’s face.
He tried hard not to blink in response to the icy, withering, stare. It was only now, as the sun beat down on the man’s taut expression through the patio windows, Mike was able to see the long thin scar on his guest’s left cheek; the rites of passage mark he had heard about.
“At current interest rates on a seven grand loan, I reckon you’ve still made a healthy profit,” said Mike.
The two figures locked their unyielding gazes upon each other. Mike was determined to hide his rising inner fear from the threatening eyes of the seated visitor, only too conscious of the two heavyweights in close attendance, not daring to glance up in their direction.
Neither man spoke for several moments.
“Were Amy to go to the law about your rates ...” said Mike, hunching his shoulders.
“Go to the law?”
“So I thought it better if we could come to an agreement of some sort.”
“I don’t do negotiation.”
Mike blinked involuntarily and the man instantly noticed. He was expert in spotting fear in other people, and now he’d seen it in Mike. The man rose from the chair and moved into the seat next to his host, motioning his two colleagues into movement with a simple shift of his eyes. One of the big beasts moved to stand by the door, the other moved to cover the patio windows. Mike tried to conceal the gulp of air he quickly breathed in. The man relaxed into his new chair and smirked widely.
“You seem to have the mistaken impression you’re talking to a reasonable man,” said the confident voice. “If there is one thing I’m not, it’s your friendly bank manager.”
“Bank managers are nowhere near as convivial as they used to be a year or more ago,” replied Mike lightly.
Within the blink of an eye Mike was shown the folly at this attempt at humour. The seated man lurched forward, sweeping down his right hand to violently deposit the long cosh across both of Mike’s forearms.
It was the unexpectedness that stunned him into silence first. Then the pain began. A pulsating, throbbing ache entered Mike’s consciousness and he struggled to control the anguished cry his mind urged him to release. Somehow he managed to hold the scream inside, probably because he was now paralysed with fear.
A sharp nod followed and the minders moved quickly to stand astride their victim. The one to his left pinned Mike’s wrists to the surface of the table while the other circled his powerful forearm around Mike’s neck, almost choking off the air from his windpipe. The first beast forced the prisoner’s left hand down so the palm pressed to the table, despite his futile attempts to resist. Mike refused to utter any sound that might reveal signs of physical discomfort. The brute leant forward and raised the fingers of Mike’s trapped hand so they were vertical to the table.
Slowly, painfully, he felt the massive strength of the minder being gradually applied. He tensed the muscles of his face in preparation for the agony that would follow. All the while the seated man grinned with sickening pleasure as the enforced pressure mounted.
“That has to hurt,” he growled.
Mike refused to respond, concentrating his thoughts on preventing cries of pain escaping his lips. His adversary knew he was suffering and chose to examine the clenched muscles in the younger man’s face with an amused smirk.
More pressure was applied. Mike closed his eyes tightly and braced for the horrible sound of his knuckles snapping under the sheer weight of brute force. He heard the sound of the seated man leaning forward. His head so close Mike could smell and feel the fresh peppermint breath blowing into his face.
“Squeal,” he heard the man command. “Beg me for mercy and they might let go.”
Mike knew he was being toyed with. He also knew if he tried to talk then his pain would show, which was exactly what the man wanted. He was singularly determined not to give him that pleasure. In open defiance he snapped open his eyes and looked into the vicious stare which hardened, and then narrowed, seemingly both annoyed and frustrated by his victim’s failure to comply.
And then the pressure suddenly, unexpectedly, eased. The man fell back in his chair and gazed at Mike in grudging admiration. The surge of relief caught Mike by surprise and he almost released the painful yell he had tried hard to suppress. Instead, he resorted to grinding his teeth to try and maintain the attempted deception.
“You’ve got some grit, boy. I’ll give you that. Just like your old man.”
“You never knew my father,” blurted Mike.
The man smirked again with smug satisfaction.
“You forget. Jack and I were in the same industry.”
He meant crime. But whereas Dad had been on the right side of the line, a career copper, this bastard was a violent thug. Mike’s first instinct was to lunge forward and rip the grin from the man’s face for daring to mention his father’s name. His mind fought against the impulse. Mike was no match for the giants that surrounded him and entirely at the seated man’s mercy. He despised this wretched feeling of total helplessness.
The man’s cold stare continued to
dispassionately fix itself upon Mike. He didn’t speak for several moments. And then he unexpectedly rose from his chair.
“I’ll give her another forty eight hours. If she hasn’t got it all by then don’t even bother to get in touch, I’ll find her,” he spat, signalling the two henchmen to follow his lead.
Trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his limbs, Mike tried to reason with the thug.
“You took advantage of Amy when she was at her most vulnerable. Now she’s trying to get back on her feet the least you could do is back off and give her some space.”
The thug smiled, unmoved by the plea. Mike despised the man’s self satisfied smirk, his arrogance. He wished there was a way of fighting back, wished the two minders would suddenly evaporate into the atmosphere. Then he might have had a chance.
“There has to be some room for negotiation,” Mike almost begged.
Bridges face gleamed in evil satisfaction at a job well and truly done.
“Until Wednesday then,” he said coldly. “Tell her not to do a runner. I’ve got contacts, inside the local police, and she’d be tracked down in an instant.”
Mike nodded in depressing agreement. The man didn’t bother to signify his intention to leave. He smirked one last time and contemptuously threw the stuffed brown envelope back into Mike’s face, revelling in the power. Once the door had closed Mike finally allowed a painful curse to slip from his lips.
Tina reappeared seconds later.
“Mike. Joanne says that was Ray Bridges, the Ray Bridges. What is going on?”
“Nothing,” he replied sharply, unable to move his aching limbs and not daring to reveal the level of numbing pain he was experiencing.
“The man is an animal. Please tell me you don’t owe him any money.”
“I told you it’s nothing. Now get out and go back to work,” he yelled, unthinkingly.
Tina’s worried face searched for a meaningful response, but it escaped her. She stood in motionless, horrified silence at his harsh rejection.
“I thought I told you to get out,” he shouted again, and she answered him by slamming the door behind her.
After she had gone, Mike cursed himself for the aggressive tone of voice. Normally he was softly spoken by nature but when he yelled, it was like a vicious bark. Tina didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. None of this was her fault. He briefly considered making an immediate apology. Instead he sat quietly and still for minutes on end while his thoughts searched for some sort of solution; a depressingly pointless exercise. His mind refused to co-operate, insisting instead his body ached, and ached a lot.
“Thought you could handle it, thought you were being clever. What a prick,” he murmured.
Mike recalled the previous night, lying in bed with Amy, her trembling frame practically glued to his body as she endlessly repeated she had never intended for Mike to find out about Bridges. He still harboured some doubts. The only thing Mike could be sure of was that Amy needed help. She didn’t have the capacity to face this alone. Believing she had made a serious effort to get back to some sort of equilibrium, restore some balance to her life, he had reasoned she deserved a little extra support.
He wished he’d contacted the police. Then again, he sighed, Bridges said he had men on the inside. Mike would have no idea if he was talking to a friend or foe.
“Jesus, what on earth have I got myself into?”
Now he was drawn into something that could only end badly. He shook his head in resignation, knowing full well that John Hopper would never be able to stump up the cash. He didn’t have it. All Mike had achieved with the misjudged solicitor’s letter was to bring a good man crashing to the ground, like a fallen warrior. Mike seemed to be making a series of poor judgements of late, one after the other.
He decided Amy would have to leave the area, at least for a while, and under a different name so Bridges couldn’t trail her. He winced on lifting his arms from the table and returned gingerly to his desk. Picking up the phone with his good hand, he dialled the number for the Passport Agency. Eventually he was put through to Amy.
“Mike? How did it go?”
“Not as well as I’d have liked,” he said. “Look, I know you’ve just returned to work, but is there any chance you can take some time off over the next week or so?”
“Probably, I’m not exactly pushed at the moment. Was it that bad?”
He paused to consider how much to relate of the morning’s events.
“I thought it would be better to get you away from all this pressure, and give me some time to sort it out properly. That’s all.”
“Okay,” she replied, “I’ll go down to London and see my sister for a few days ...”
“No,” he said urgently. “I mean ... it’s probably better ... if you go somewhere unfamiliar, where you can’t be traced.”
Now it was Amy’s turn to pause.
“It really did go badly, didn’t it?”
“No, don’t worry,” he tried to say calmly. “It’s probably going to take a little longer than I’d originally planned. Meet me for lunch at the usual place and I’ll tell you all about it then,” he ended.
He grimaced with pain as the phone dropped back into place and wondered where he should go for treatment. Dismissing the idea of visiting hospital, which would require him to explain how he had sustained the injuries, he settled upon the idea of visiting the washroom located near the main entrance.
Mike eased his forearms into the basin of cold water, hoping no-one working in the building needed a call of nature.
“If you were really smart, you’d drown your stupid bloody self in this sink,” he lamented.
Hearing the door ease open, he was startled by the sharp, high pitched exclamation.
“Oh my God!” said the woman’s animated voice.
“This is the gents, Tina. Women are not supposed to be in here.”
Refusing to leave, she hurried to his side to inspect the extent of the injuries to his bruised arms and hand. She made an instant decision and rushed back outside, returning a few moments later with a damp soft towel.
“Keep still,” she ordered.
“Leave it,” he complained.
“Mike, for once in your life just shut up,” she demanded, and carefully eased his left arm out of the sink to wrap the towel around the darkened skin on his forearms.
“I told you I’m fine,” he argued impatiently.
“Will you please shut up,” Tina repeated authoritatively. “If men were always right then God wouldn’t have bothered to invent women.”
He found himself being able to do little more than allow her to set about nursing his wounds. Tina gasped at the extent of his injuries while she tenderly set about easing the wet towel into place, soothing the bruising around his damaged flesh.
“Christ that’s cold,” he complained.
“Of course it is. I’ve wrapped some ice inside.”
She said nothing for some time, continuing to apply her treatment while Mike winced in discomfort.
He finally plucked up the courage to look into her face. Tina glanced towards him with her tear filled large brown eyes, clearly upset to see him hurt this way and fighting to suppress her obvious emotion.
“Are you in trouble?”
“No... Yes... not really,” he replied.
“That’s pretty clear then,” she answered.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
“It’s Amy, isn’t it?” she insisted.
He didn’t have to explain, but decided to say something.
“Amy has unwittingly got herself into a little difficulty. I offered to help.”
“I don’t know what you see in that girl,” remarked Tina, shaking her head in disapproval.
“Apart from the fact that she’s blonde, stunningly beautiful and has a figure to die for you mean?” he countered.
Tina pressed firmly against one of the bruises on his arm, making him yelp with pain.
“There’s much mor
e to life than good looking women and expensive cars. One day, you’ll come to realise that.”
“Maybe ... one day,” he joked.
She had said this to him many times before. Tina’s moist gaze kept flicking between tending Mike’s wounds to his own light brown, suffering eyes.
“How much does she owe?” she asked.
“Twenty five,” replied Mike.
“Thousand!”
“Yup”
“Jesus Christ, Mike. You can get better looking prostitutes cheaper than that.”
“I had to help,” he said, defensively, “I can’t leave her to the mercy of Bridges and his crew, not after the incredible effort she’s made to get herself back on her feet.”
“Sod that! If you feel the need to help some of the women in your life start with those you employ, they are far more worthy. I know her sort. She’s only interested in you for your money.”
“Amy’s not like that,” he protested.
“Oh yes she is. Amy has more of a reputation than you think. Sometimes I really do despair at what goes on in that head of yours. If you took the time to get to know people properly you wouldn’t get yourself into this kind of mess.”
He’d never considered Amy as having a dark side, until he discovered her habit. Dumb, really.
“Is this why you pulled the rug from John Hopper?” said Tina decisively.
“How could you know about that?”
“Like he wasn’t going to say anything before I put the call through. I’ve never heard John so angry. Keep going like this and you’ll run out of friends completely.”
He said nothing and Tina fell quiet for a time.
“I assumed you’d dumped her some time ago.”
“I did.”
“So why get involved now?”
“White knight syndrome,” he shrugged. “I had this daft notion I was brave and fearless, forgot I needed armour though.”
She shook her head in exasperation.
“Sort it out, ditch her once and for all and then never go back again, for all our sakes. We don’t want the likes of Ray Bridges in our lives.”
He decided against prolonging this topic of conversation.
“What did you want anyway?”
“Apart from being your mother, indispensable business deputy and now personal nurse, I was worried about you. That and the fact that I’ve taken a call from a man called Dave Laverick. He sent you a package.”
“Yes, something was delivered this morning.”
“He sounded worried, said he had to see you urgently today. He said there was an address in the package.”
Mike was curious. It had been years since he had heard from Dave, an old friend from his schooldays.
“Under the circumstances, you might want to give this guy a wide berth. Focus on getting the Bridges problem sorted out first,” she added.
He knew she was probably right. That’s why he found Tina so indispensable. There was no better example of an earth mother, practical and realistic.
Although he was the head of the business Tina was the real glue that held this small company together. She organised his workload and managed the office, making sure all of the gaps were covered. This allowed him to focus on charming the customers into parting with their cash with his deceptive reserve and dry humour, without getting close to anyone in particular. Tina, on the other hand, naturally attracted loyalty from people. That’s why he employed her.
“I’ll go and see him,” he said. “Give me some time to think.”
“Yeah, that’ll work. You run off and play in your big boy’s toys, while I stay here and keep the ship afloat.”
“Tina, he’s an old mate.”
“Probably the only one now,” she said sharply. “I don’t know why I bother to hang around here.”
“Because you like looking after me,” he replied boyishly and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
Mike’s relationship with Tina was more like that of brother and sister, with her taking the role of the elder sibling. That’s why he believed she would never leave. He liked her a lot, as a friend and valued employee, but their dispositions were miles apart. Tina was a homemaker by nature, a family and commitment type. Mike wasn’t into domestic bliss. He looked into her eyes and gave her that winning smile he knew he possessed.
“You’ll always be here,” he said dryly.
She reacted by pressing the damp towel hard down onto his forearm.
“Ouch! That hurt,” he objected.
“One day, Michael Daniels, you’ll come into the office in the morning and find me long gone,” she scolded.
“Oh, we’re a long way from that day,” he answered coyly, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly on the cheek, and she blushed again.
“Thanks, Tina. That’ll do for now,” he said. “Come on, there’s something I have to give you before I meet up with Dave after lunch.”
Back in his office, Mike pulled out nearly six thousand pounds of the money from the brown envelope he had tried to get Bridges to accept.
“Use that for salaries and update the payroll.”
“This isn’t enough for us all.”
“I’ll do without. There’s enough for everyone else.”
“Are we really in that much trouble?”
“No, no. Don’t worry. There’s money on its way. It will take a while to get here, that’s all. I’ll wait and draw mine once the bank has cleared the cheque.”
Mike sounded so confident he half believed it himself. At least Tina appeared content with the explanation, preparing to leave.
“Tina,” he called after her. “Give John Hopper a ring and tell him you’ve persuaded me not to proceed with the legal infantry. Tell him I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” Her smile widened as she left the office.
After she’d gone Mike flipped open the package delivered earlier and pulled out the contents, a memory stick with a note attached.
Lodge thirty one, Leaplish.
Amy was waiting patiently at the door when Mike arrived at the bistro. He ushered her inside, to a table in the darkest corner of the circular eating area, away from the window. Within a few minutes their order had been taken. She spotted the bruising to the knuckles of his left hand.
“Oh, Mike. Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he replied lightly. “Caught it in the door this morning, wasn’t paying attention.”
Her eyes gave him a piercing, horrified stare before settling back into normality.
“I’ve got a present for you,” she beamed and pushed a small brown envelope towards him, across the table.
Lifting the flap he pulled out the hard document inside.
“I already have a passport.”
“Not one like that you haven’t. I’ve got one too. I gave you the best name I could think of, but the same date and place of birth. Those photos you had taken on Saturday came in really useful.”
He gasped in surprise, and horror.
“Amy, this is illegal. You could get sacked, possibly jailed for this.”
“Better than the alternative,” she said. “At least with these we can both slip out of the country, undetected.”
Mike was stunned.
“How could you even manage to do this without getting caught? Besides, I can’t just up and leave.”
“Well I’m not going anywhere on my own, not without you. If necessary I’ll stay here and work the debt off at one of Bridges’ clubs, but I won’t leave without you.”
He exhaled deeply, feeling cornered and desperately ill-at-ease with her recklessly considered plan of action. Fleetingly, he considered getting up and walking away. It was never much of an option. He could never be that cold.
Crazy thoughts began to occupy his mind. Tina had suggested he took a break from the office for a few days. This would give him time to think, and Amy would at least be temporarily clear of Bridges’ clutches. Working at one of the thug’s clubs would mean a lifetime sentence, until her looks and fig
ure eventually deserted her or until the drugs took their toll.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Take this key and use my apartment until I get back later tonight. No matter what else, stay away from your own place for the time being.”
Mike had never, ever, given anyone a spare key to his apartment.
Chapter Four
Rendezvous