Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (25 page)

“What happened?”

That was a nice evasive question. I described the dinner table cash-banquet.

Elana sighed. “If I’d told you, you might not have taken Treanna on as your Little Sister, and you two are such a perfect match.”

“Cut the puffery!” I looked at Tre’s school picture and felt my heart breaking.

“It’s no big deal,” she said. “It’s not like it’s drugs or something dangerous. Matty operates a little bolita business from her house. That’s how she supports Treanna. The bets are a dollar or two or less… chump change.”

“There was more than chump change on that table.” Child Protective Services could take Treanna from Matty and put her in foster care. I’d lose my love bug.

“You know Matty can’t hold a job with her narcolepsy disability. She’s too proud to file for assistance so she runs numbers… bolita.”

“What
is
that?”

“Neighbors make their bets then a runner collects the money from Matty. She’s not hurting anybody.”

“I walked in on a lot more than small change.”

“For Treanna’s sake, please don’t say anything. I’m not telling you what to do… but I’m begging you not to do anything to hurt Treanna.”

Once again, I was in the middle of something I hadn’t counted on. My teeth were grinding as I spoke, “Is Treanna in any danger?”

She continued, “I’ll tell you. But you can’t say anything. Matty’s nephew Leon took quite a bit of the betting money and ran off with it.”

“So it’s not small change.”

“Matty’s not a big-time operator. But she’s going to be hard put to return the money.”

“You could have told me last week. I just promised an important client I’d be in London tomorrow. He’s counting on me. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. This is a nightmare. How can I leave that child alone?” I hung up.

Roger needed me and maybe, just maybe, I needed him.

Chapter 4

G
atwick was a beehive, even late on a Sunday night, but it was good to be back in England again. Things had changed a lot in five years. There was a tension… a standoff in the air. Security was beefed up. It was a shame in such a civilized country that our every move was monitored.

My nose itched. Conscious of the cameras mounted in the ceiling, I avoided scratching and wiggled instead. What if it looked as if I were picking it? Only you, Wendy.

I made my way through customs with a black wheelie bag full of my sharpest St. John knits and designer shoes. Best to look classy, since I would be spending a few days inserting myself into the life of the mysterious and wealthy Benny Hannah.

A reed-thin man with dark skin and oily black hair wiggled his fingers at me. He wore a high-collared, thigh-length jacket with a row of tiny buttons down the front. I guessed him to be the chauffeur. I eased up to “fingers,” in case we were being watched by someone besides the five hundred cameras and three hundred security guards. “Are you from Benny?” I whispered out the side of my mouth.

“My name is Samuel, miss. Yes, I’m taking you to Mr. Hannah’s home.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d like to go to my hotel first and check in. It’s rather late.” I looked at my watch. It was after ten, London time.

“Mr. Hannah’s instructions were quite clear. I am to bring you to his home.” He reached for my bag and gently yanked it from my hands.

I felt the power slipping from my control. I had to convert my cash in case I needed it to pay for a cab or fund my escape. “Follow me. I’m going to change my dollars to British currency,” I said.

Samuel bowed from the waist and swept his arm, indicating which way I was to walk. “Mr. Hannah’s instructions are that you not bother converting your money. He said to tell you he will provide for all your needs.”

What did Roger get me into? Once more by my quick jump into an adventure, I’d put myself in jeopardy. I could start a rumble with Samuel, or I could take a leap of faith. Whenever I’m faced with a life-changing decision, I’ve found I will always take the wrong path. I followed Samuel through the airport and to the car.

As far as limos go… it was tastefully compact. Black, shiny, with heavily tinted windows. Samuel leaned in as he held the door. “Please help yourself to the bar. Should you prefer the champagne, there’s a chilled bottle of Dom. I’d be pleased to open it for you.”

He slipped behind the wheel and pulled into the warm London night. “Mr. Hannah’s home is near Westminster Bridge. It will take us a bit of time to get there.”

“I do want to check into my hotel.”

Samuel the chauffeur ignored me. I knew enough about London to know we were not going to be anywhere near the Hyde Park Hotel. After you’ve been kidnapped once, you get to know the drill. This felt like another abduction. I’d only just recovered from being Charlie Hook’s hostage, and here we go again.

As Westminster Bridge came into view, Samuel slammed on the brakes, and I was thrown sideways banging my head on the window. A small yellow cab bounced off the side of the limo and sped off into the night.

“What happened?” I yelled. The limo made a U-turn and headed in the opposite direction.

“Aggressive taxi drivers. Not to worry!”

On the next block the yellow cab came at us again… an angry bee. “Hold on, miss!”

I grabbed the strap above the door and swayed as the cab rebounded from our bumper, spun in traffic, and slammed into a streetlight. And again, we did a U-turn; this time we sped off. A squeamish feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

~

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