Taste of Fury M Comley (big ebook reader TXT) 📖

“Wow, you’ve hit the nail on the head at the first attempt. How did you manage that?” She glanced down at her cleavage and chuckled. “Oops, never mind, I think I can guess. And yes, I’m a certain type of model.”

He raised a finger. “No, don’t tell me. I’ll take a punt and say you model wellies and rainwear. How did I do?”

Megan laughed. “Appallingly, I model underwear, but you figured that out all by yourself, you were just pulling my… leg, weren’t you?”

He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. “I was. Hey, we’re getting on like a house on fire, aren’t we?”

“Why do you sound surprised when you say that?”

He shrugged. “To look at you, I’d say you were out of my class, just goes to show, doesn’t it?”

“Perceptions can be deceiving, as I know to my cost.”

He inclined his head. “What do you mean? Not trying to pry or anything.”

She waved away the suggestion. “It’s fine. Ignore me. The last thing I want to do is go all maudlin. I’m having a whale of a time, it would be a pity to spoil things now.”

“If you’re sure. Do you live around here?”

“Yes, not too far,” she replied, intentionally omitting the area she lived in just in case the barmaid was earwigging their conversation.

“This is my local. I’ve been coming here for years.”

“And your wife puts up with you spending a lot of time here?”

“Oh, I’m not married. Far from it, I love my freedom too much.”

Liar!

She glanced down at his hands to see his wedding ring slip off his finger and heard it clatter onto the bar under his palm. “Oh, my mistake. You,” she hitched up a shoulder, “seem the married type.”

“Nah, not me. What about you?”

She waved her ringless hand around. “Young, free and extremely single. Still waiting for my Prince Charming to arrive. They appear to be few and far between these days.”

“That’s a shame, I would’ve thought a pretty girl like you would have been snapped up long ago.”

“Flatterer. I had a ring on my finger once, when I was engaged to Tim…” her voice trailed off and her head dipped on purpose.

He covered her hand with his. “What happened? Go on, we’re friends, you can tell me.”

“He was killed in a crash. Joy riders with nothing better to do with their time.”

His hand slipped from hers and she distinctly heard him gulp. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

His words sounded genuine enough, but she was aware they were just that, words. Her story might have been made up, but there was a snippet of truth involved. Her mood had turned sour. She needed to cast the past aside and concentrate on the present.

Revenge! It was enticingly within her grasp now.

“See, I told you I didn’t want to get maudlin, ignore me. It happened years ago, I’m over it now.”

“You don’t seem over it. Mind you, how do you get over something as dreadful as that?” He twisted his glass on the bar.

“You have to. Life goes on. Anyway, tell me more about you. What do you like to do in your spare time when you’re not working as a painter and decorator?”

His head shot around to face her. “How do you know what I do?”

Shit! She was forced to think fast on her feet and ran a finger down the paint ingrained in his knuckles. “Umm… call it a lucky guess.”

He laughed. “Bloody gloss paint, it’s a devil to get out of the crevices sometimes.”

“I’m sure. Do you enjoy your work?” she asked, relief flooding through her.

“Mostly, it can get a little mundane; I suppose that’s true of any job, right?”

“Of course. I get bored with taking my clothes off and jutting my breasts out at the camera twelve hours a day most of the time.”

“Wow, I thought you’d love it. Don’t most models revel in all that attention from the camera?”

“It’s not as glamorous as most people think. I spend the majority of the day undressed, which is fine when we’re in the midst of a heatwave, not so good in the middle of December, I can tell you.”

“I never really thought about it. Poor you.”

“Never mind, at least the money is good. Want another?”

He downed his drink and rattled his glass on the bar to gain Tracey’s attention. “You’ve twisted my arm.”

They spent the next hour or so chatting. It was a comfortable encounter and one that made her hesitate for the slightest moment when it was time for her to leave.

“I have to go now. It was lovely meeting you. I’m afraid I have an early shoot in the morning.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe I can drop you home?”

“That would be wonderful. Hang on, how many have you had?”

“Three, maybe four. It’s fine. If you live locally, it shouldn’t take me long to drop you off.”

“Go on then. I’d like to spend more time with you. I’ve had a fun evening.”

He hopped off his stool and helped her off hers. “It’s been a fabulous evening.” He tucked her arm through his, waved at Tracey and they left the bar. He stopped at a Nissan Pathfinder and opened the passenger door.

“Why, thank you, kind sir. What a big… car you’ve got.”

He chuckled and ran around the front to jump in the driver’s side. “Where to, m’lady?”

“I’ll tell you the way.”

He drove out of the car park and followed her instructions. She led him to a bit of wasteland she knew down by the River Thames. He cut the engine and rubbed his hands together then turned in his seat to face her. His grin of expectation rankled her. She stabbed the needle into his leg and released the clear liquid before he had a chance to react. The serum rendered him incapable of either moving or saying anything.

Megan went to work. She tied his hands and his ankles, well-practiced in what knots to use for effectiveness. His eyes, wide with fear, followed