Craving (12 page)

And there was my gear, neatly piled on the floor. I was out of here.

Moments later I sat astride Bonnie.
Sanctuary
.

The devil rode me as I roared out of the kitchen yard and aimed at the two men in suits standing next to the gray BMW. They stared open mouthed as I veered away at the last moment, spraying gravel across the car and flicking them the bird on the way past. Fuck Kitten. Fuck the lot of ‘em.

I
stared into the mug of tepid tea as though trying to divine the future. The remnants of my half-eaten bacon sandwich lay congealed on the plate, just inches from the latest spirit to lock onto me. It was two hours since I’d left Kitten. I still felt confused and pissed off. Something just didn’t add up about her, and I couldn’t shake my conviction it was linked to Ingrid and Simeon treating me like a bad smell. Shaking my head, I got up and headed out of the roadside café. I had business to attend to.

Ash’s tattoo parlor,
Ink City
, occupied a prime position on one of the main roads out of Manchester and I’d spent so much time there over the past few years, I almost qualified as staff. Rezzie, on the front desk, greeted me with a cheery wave, and Giant bumped fists with me as I walked past his stool. There was no sign of Ash in the main areas so I headed to his miniscule office, finding Nan there instead.

“
Dante
.” She flashed me a feline smile as she uncurled her ankles from the stool and sashayed toward me. “How are you?” Without waiting for my response she wound her arms around my neck and squeezed hard.

“Thought you were staying in Cornwall.” I stepped back, easing out of her embrace, but she hung on with grim determination. “I need to speak to Ash,” I said.

Releasing me, she eased back and sat on the edge of the desk, a move fleetingly reminiscent of Ingrid. Nan pouted her full, pink glossy lips. “He’s not here. Can I help you instead?”

Ash’s office looked different, tidier than I’d ever seen it. The teetering piles of paper had vanished along with the clutter that normally covered every surface. “Where is he, Nan?”

“Told you. Not here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and studied me. “He’s gone to visit his sister for a few days, and I’m in charge while he’s away. So whatever it is, you can ask me.”

I mooched around the room, flicking at one of the designs pinned on the wallboard. Something else new to me. “He won’t be happy when he sees what you’ve done in here.”

“Chuckles…”

I peered at a postcard. The beach scene looked familiar. “I want a card game. Tonight. D’you know of any?”

“Of course.”

I spun around to look at her.

Her lips curled upward, white teeth flashing. “I’m hosting one tonight. I can get you a seat—if you ask me nicely.”

I dredged up a smile. “Please Nan, I’d like to join your game tonight.”

The air hung heavy between us. Nan eventually slid down from the desk and walked the three steps to close the office door, then turned to face me. “Come on, Chuckles. You can do better than that.” Her voice a sensuous whisper, while her eyes gleamed. When she kissed me this time, there should have been no reason to refuse, but I still ducked out of the way.

6.2 Katherine

Oh God
. I had to make this look convincing. Back in the kitchen, I grabbed the first large envelope I saw and shoved a handful of papers inside. A couple of deep breaths and I was ready. When my father and George stomped through the front door moments later, I gave them an innocent look and a vague greeting as I pretended to read a text on my phone.

“Katherine,” barked my father. “Who was that hooligan on the motorcycle?”

“Motorcycle? Do you mean the courier? I just had some research notes delivered.”

George stood patiently, the perfect second-in-command for the family empire. My father was not appeased. “I want to know which courier company to make a formal complaint to. I have the bastard’s registration number.”

My heart sank. What the hell had Dante done?

I raised my eyebrows in an enquiring gesture I’d learned from my stepmother “Is there a problem?”

“
Problem
?” He spluttered over the word. “He tried to run me over. I’d class
that
as a problem.” My heart plummeted further. I tried to laugh, but it came out more as a croak.

“Daddy, I’m sure there’s been a mistake. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention and you startled him. It seems hardly worth making a fuss over.” I stepped forward and gave George a polite kiss on the cheek. “How lovely to see you, can I get you a drink? I’m glad you’re here, we can talk some more about the wedding.”

Dispensing glasses of single malt whisky went some way to soothing my father’s ruffled feathers. I also had to chatter inanely about guest lists and wedding planners, and whether or not we should hold the reception here or hire a venue. My jaw ached from the fake smiles. I operated on two entirely separate levels: the dutiful daughter acting as hostess while at the same time, my brain spun in circles, searching for an escape route. And all the time, I was thinking of Dante.

George stayed all afternoon. Somehow, God only knows how, I’d managed to hold myself together. The bedroom door clicked behind me, and I sagged against it and slumped gracelessly to the floor.
Dante
. What had he thought? Would he ever speak to me again? Shivers racked my body, and I wrapped my arms around my knees, curling in a fetal position.
Dante
.

When I next looked up, it’d gone dark, and my back ached from lying too long on the floor. I couldn’t stay on the carpet all night. I crawled to the bed to hug my pillow and try Dante’s number. It dropped to voicemail—as it had earlier. I stared at the ceiling. Dante was proud, I could see that. And just maybe, his pride would prevent him from seeing me again. I rubbed dry eyes. No tears. Not here.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the landing, followed by a solid thump on my door. I couldn’t summon the energy to get up. I sighed and then called out. “What is it?”

“Downstairs in two minutes, Katherine. We need to talk.”
My father.

I walked into the library and produced a reasonably convincing yawn while checking out who already sat there. My father stood by the fireplace, arm across the mantel and his fingers tapping against the edge. Marina claimed an armchair while Olga, the Polish housekeeper stood by the door. Marina looked blank as usual. Olga’s hands twisted, her lined face miserable. I felt the first glimmer of anxiety.

Father stared at me, his eyes cold. “Tell me again about the
courier
that was here this afternoon.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why you were kissing him in the kitchen?” Father strode toward me and stopped a foot away, hands clenched at his sides.

Holy crap
. A cold ball of panic slammed inside my stomach.

Olga refused to meet my eyes. “Kissing?” I managed, before my voice deserted me.

Father came a step closer, tightly bound anger pouring off him in waves. His words flayed into my skin. “Am I expected to believe this is a last fling before you settle down?”

A last fling? We hadn’t even managed a first one yet.
I felt like a raw teenager again. I shook my head and tried to speak calmly. “It was nothing. Just a—”

My skin crawled at the look of icy satisfaction that swept over his face. “He means nothing to you?”

“That’s right.” Under no circumstances could I even
hint
at what Dante had started to mean to me.

“You won’t be upset then, when I file charges.”

“Huh?”

His eyes reminded me of a cruel winter sea. “Your friend is a thief. I’m just about to call the Police.”

I couldn’t speak. My eyes darted from Olga to Marina and back to Father as I swallowed and tried to come up with something—anything. Dante a thief?
No
. I managed a whisper. “What is he supposed to have stolen?”

“Your grandfather’s medals. Olga left them in the kitchen while she cleaned the contents of the valuables dresser.” He advanced until his nose almost touched mine. His voice a low growl. “Not only do they hold immense sentimental value, they are also worth a hell of a lot of money.”

“He hasn’t taken them.”

“And you can prove it?”

Of course I couldn’t, but that wasn’t the point. Living with my father had taught me a few tricks, however. Deflection first. “They could have been taken at the party.”

“They were locked in my safe until this morning.”

“Who says it was him?”

“Olga saw them in the kitchen minutes before he left.”

“And you believe her?”

“Olga has been a part of my household for longer than you, Katherine. She has earned my trust.”

Distraction came next. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and tried to match his angry expression. “You don’t believe me?”

“When I look at you, I see the spitting image of your mother. It disgusts me that you also behave the same way she did.”

I drew myself up, straightened my back, and stuck out my chin. “I think this is something you’ve done. He’s no thief. I’d stake my reputation on it.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Marina cleared her throat and fiddled with her shoe while Father crossed his arms. “Until I took you in, you had no reputation. Your
reputation
, as you put it, only exists while you live under my roof.” I tightened my jaw and prepared to retaliate, but he hadn’t finished. His voice silky smooth. “I’m a generous man, I’ll give you a choice. Turn him in, and I’ll turn a blind eye to your less than stellar behavior. You can rest assured that George doesn’t ever find out, and everything will go on as normal.”

I had to ask. “Or what?”

“Or you follow in your mother’s footsteps. It’s a simple choice, Katherine. Me. Or him.”

6.3 Josh

Suki and I were debating how to spend our evening, whether to go out for dinner or have room service. The movers were due in the morning, and we’d have a busy day ahead. The Cottons Hotel had a luxurious Spa attached, and I’d called them earlier about booking for a massage. When my phone rang, Dante’s cocky voice took me by surprise. “Raphael? Or should I call you Josh?”

“I’m not fussed either way, thanks for calling me.” I mouthed
Dante
to Suki, and she sat down beside me, picking up my free hand and playing with my fingers. I gave her a grateful smile and tried to focus on Dante. Despite me wanting to ask him a whole bunch of questions, I’d wait to see why he’d rung. Above all, I wanted to get some dialogue going between us.

“Katherine tells me you’re some kind of private investigator.” A question.

“Yes, I am. Kind of.” I pressed a silent kiss on the back of Suki’s hand. “Let’s meet up and talk properly. When are you free?”

“I want you to do something first.” My eyebrows rose at his arrogant tone, but I stayed quiet. “Can we meet in Salford again? There’s something I need investigating, and then we can talk.”

I glanced outside. It was a gray and damp Sunday afternoon, and the sun would be setting in a couple of hours. The sooner the better. “Sure. See you there in half an hour.”

* * * *

I arrived early and leaned against my car, impatient to get back to Suki. It gnawed at me that she’d been having nightmares about Gabriel—and had only just told me. Minutes later, he arrived on his bike. Leaving it running, he removed his helmet and stared at me. “On your own?”

“Yeah.” I’d persuaded Suki to stay in the hotel and keep our massage appointment. Hopefully she’d be relaxed enough to sleep properly tonight. “What do you want, Dante?”

He hesitated a moment, then reached forward and cut the engine. “What kind of investigator are you?”

“Surveillance, mostly. I get a lot of work from disgruntled husbands, checking if their wives are having affairs.” Keeping a casual stance, I knew I radiated confidence.

He gazed into the distance for a long moment before replying. “How well do you know Katherine?”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

He shrugged, his curious silver eyes never leaving my face. “Okay then. Her father is a business associate of Suki, and I met him, and Katherine, for the first time yesterday.”

A flicker of interest darted across his face, immediately chased away by his blank arrogance again.

“Thing is,” he spoke slowly. “There’s something I don’t trust about Katherine. I think she’s playing me, and I don’t like that.”

“You want me to dig up some background on her?”

He hesitated. “Yeah, and ask some questions. Her mother died here, in Salford, on this scummy street, and it just doesn’t make sense. Man, she lives in this freakin’ huge palace in Wilmslow. There’s no reason why she’d ever be here.”

“Visiting someone?”

“I dunno.” He looked down and picked at his fingernails. “Let me show you where it happened.”

It was easier to ride on his bike, rather than follow him, and I borrowed his spare helmet and prepared to perch on the seat behind him. It’d been years since I’d ridden a motorcycle, I’d almost forgotten how much fun it was. “Nice wheels, Dante.” This drew a friendly smile, the first since I’d met him.