Discarded M. Hunter (the snowy day read aloud TXT) 📖

brother, who can you ask, right? It’s okay. Come on, let’s get the cleaning up finished and then we’ll get you changed into something more appropriate for travelling.’

She dropped the towel on the table beside the plates. ‘Travelling?’

He withdrew the cutlery from the plastic bowl, rinsed the suds from them with the tap, and placed them on the drainer. ‘Of course. We have to go and meet up with the others. You do want to meet them, don’t you?’

Her eyes flew to the door. He hadn’t locked it, but he was taller and quicker than her, so she’d never get away without distracting him. Unless…

Hurrying over, she gently wrapped her fingers around his upper arm. ‘Chez, can I ask you one more question?’

He emptied the bowl of water, dried his hands on his trousers, and faced her. ‘Go on then, but then we must get changed. I need a shower before we leave.’

Leading him to the cushioned bench, she pulled out the stool and sat. ‘I want to go home,’ she said, as her lip began to tremble. ‘I didn’t ask for any of this, and I really don’t want to be a model or an actress. I want to help people, not perform. Will you help me get home?’

He frowned at the suggestion, looking as though she’d just asked him to voluntarily lop off one of his limbs. ‘I understand your worry,’ he said quietly. ‘I was the same at first; terrified about what life would be like, but then I gave it a chance and it really isn’t all that bad. You’ll see.’

‘But I don’t want to see, Chez. Please, tell me what I have to do to get home.’

She dropped her eyes in what she believed was her most pitiful puppy-dog routine. She half-expected him to shout or grab her, but instead he pressed a warm and clammy hand to her cheek and just held it there until she met his stare.

‘Don’t be silly, Kylie. You are home.’

He wasn’t listening, and this was how she’d feared he would react. But sitting on the cushioned bench, he now had the table between him and her, which could buy her valuable seconds. There was no time to think about it, and she slipped off the stool, and charged towards the unlocked door, bursting through it and leaping off the three steps without even thinking. But impatience wasn’t her friend this time, and she landed in the surprised arms of Grey, whose surprise quickly darkened and he forced her back inside the caravan.

‘What the fuck, Chez?’ he glowered, as the boy fiddled to close and lock the door, with a hundred apologies spilling from his lips.

She rocked and squirmed, determined not to give in, fighting for her freedom with all her might, summoning the rage that had been building in her gut since the argument with her sister. But just as she seemed to be breaking free of Grey’s grip, Chez was at her feet, hoisting up her legs, and leading them through to the back bedroom.

‘Hold her still,’ Grey ordered with a growl, as they forced her onto the bed.

Still she continued to struggle, even more so as Grey placed his forearm across the top of her ribcage, so that he could reach for something inside the pocket of his suit jacket. His hand emerged a moment later and at first she couldn’t tell what he was holding, but then she saw him squeeze off the top of the syringe with his teeth, and before she could resist, the point of the cold needle was in her neck, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from closing as the cool liquid entered her system.

Chapter Fourteen Now

Portland, Dorset

Jack’s denials about sleeping with this woman are all that fill my mind from the moment I lay eyes on her, and it’s all I can do to choke the words.

‘Wait, how come you’re here?’ is the best I can manage to mask the burning rage in the pit of my stomach. ‘Are you based in Portland now, instead of Poole?’

She smirks at the preposterousness of the suggestion. ‘They’ve drafted in detectives from neighbouring stations to join the hunt. Given my own extensive experience in this area, they’ve asked me to head up the investigation.’

I’m certain there’s an edge of excitement to her voice, like this is just a game to her, but I’m also sure that isn’t the case, and it’s just my feelings of resentment towards her that are colouring this whole experience. And I hope the ‘extensive experience’ she’s referring to has nothing to do with our last encounter; although she was SIO into the sudden emergence of Aurélie Lebrun, it was Rachel and I who stumbled upon the den where she’d been held, and it was my interviews with Aurélie that revealed the true extent of the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her captor, Jasper Derwent. I’m not usually one to blow my own trumpet but I resent anyone taking credit for my work, especially someone who tried to drive a wedge between me and Jack, and lived to tell the tale.

She stands, feet apart and shoulders as fixed as ever, and despite her small frame, she edges me by an inch or two. Her hair is shorter than I remember, but although it has been shaved at the back, her fringe hangs low over one eye. I hate how self-assured she seems when all I want to do is pull the rug from beneath her feet.

‘Is Jack around here too?’ she says casually, studying my face for any sign of reaction.

I do my best to hide my annoyance. ‘Jack’s working with the National Crime Agency now. In fact, they’ve taken over the project he and I were working on so that they can give it the necessary resource and support.’

I hate myself for stooping to her level of cockiness.

‘That’s a shame; it would have been good to catch up with him again.’ The