Pitch Black: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 1) (15 page)

“Any ideas what they could have taken?” he asked, being more pragmatic.

“Probably ecstasy. Maybe coke. If it’s coke they’ll start coming down from it soon, but I think E’s more likely.”

“How do you know?” Luke asked.

“Reformed wild child.”

That was the truth, and now wasn’t the time to hide it. I could tell Luke wanted to ask more questions, but Portia chose that moment to puke. He turned his attention back to her.

Mark slammed his hand against the wall then winced. “I’m gonna find the little scroat who gave it to them and arrest him. I’ll put him in a cell with a bunch of guys that don’t take kindly to newcomers. I can have a squad car here in two minutes.”

Great, a cop. And I’d just spent the evening playing poker with him.

He turned to his sister. “Bella, who did this?”

She clapped his cheeks between her hands grinned. “I love you. Did I ever tell you that?” When he looked less than amused, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the nose.

“No, you never did, actually.”

I interrupted their family bonding time. “Look, far be it from me to tell you what to do, but it might be best if you took Arabella home and put her to bed. You can deal with the rest tomorrow.”

Mark sighed and some of the anger left him. “You’re right.”

“You don’t think we should take them to hospital? Won’t there be side effects?” Luke asked.

If it were my choice, I’d keep them on drugs all the time. They were both more pleasant that way. “No, just keep an eye on her and make sure she drinks plenty of water.”

“That’s it?”

“I’d also suggest not taking her home to your mother like that. And when she comes down from the high she’ll be a bitch. Even more than normal.”

Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have said that last part.

Luke didn’t seem to pick up on my insult. “You’re right. She’ll have to come home with me.”

He and Mark eventually managed to shovel them into their respective cars, and Portia turned the radio in Luke’s Porsche on and started singing along to Taylor Swift.

“I’ll see you later,” Luke muttered as he started the engine and roared up the drive.

“Good luck,” I said to the night. “You’re gonna need it.”

After they’d gone, I went off in search of Susie and Hayley, praying my two colleagues hadn’t chosen to pop pills as well.

They were sitting on the floor in the ballroom, asleep. Susie was still barefoot. The music had stopped and with the lights on, the mess was clear to see. I didn’t envy the hotel staff. I’d rather clean up after the horses than tackle the ballroom.

There were spilled drinks mushed up with streamers, looking like a rainbow had thrown up all over the floor. Stray corsages grew from the debris, their petals wilting. A sea of shoes, hair accessories and bow ties strewn across the dance floor provided evidence of just how much had been drunk that evening. The chances of finding Susie’s footwear in that lot were slim. Thankfully she wasn’t short of spares.

I stooped and shook the pair of them awake.

Hayley looked up at me. “Suze, look, there’s an angel. With a halo and everything.”

I glanced above my head. “That’s actually a disco ball, but hey, whatever.”

I hauled them to their feet and held them up as they stumbled through the hotel, praying some fresh air would sober them up a bit. When we got outside, our car was waiting, bang on time. I said a silent “thank you” to Susie’s father. Had she done this before?

As the car purred through the night, I wondered how Luke was getting on with Tia. I almost called him to check he was okay, but decided I didn’t know him well enough. Yet.

Back at Hazelwood Farm, the chauffeur and I half-carried, half-dragged the near-unconscious pair into the cottage.

“Thanks, buddy,” I told him.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. I’m quite used to it.”

Yup, she’d done it before.

I finally got to my bed with time for three hours sleep before it was time to wake up and face the horses.

Chapter 15

THE RAIN RETURNED to torment us the following week, which meant I had the constant joy of eight muddy horses.

By the time Friday evening arrived, I was dead on my feet, and I began to see the attraction of Susie’s spa. All I wanted was to sink into a hot bath with a glass of wine, but as I didn’t have a bath or any wine, that option was out. If yesterday and the day before’s showers were anything to go by, I didn’t have any hot water either.

So I did the next best thing. I changed into my newly acquired yoga pants, wrapped the duvet around myself, then settled onto the good end of the sofa to watch a movie about mutant guinea pigs. 

The opening credits were barely over when my phone rang on the other side of the room. Why do phones do that? It’s like they instinctively know when you’ve just got comfortable. With a sigh, I levered myself up and went to answer it. It was Luke.

“Are you still up for poker this evening?”

As I hadn’t heard from him, I’d assumed he’d changed his mind. “I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

“Of course I didn’t. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. Do you want me to pick you up?”

At least his memory was better than his communication skills. I almost wished it wasn’t. I could do without going outside in the rain again. Then I looked over at the TV—the guinea pigs were doing a hula-hula dance. Oh dear. Maybe going out was the lesser of two evils.

“A lift would be good if you don’t mind?”

“It’s no trouble. I can be there in ten minutes,” he said.

“Can you make it half an hour? I need to take a shower, but I’ve been putting it off due to a lack of hot water.”

“It’s broken?”

“Yup, for three days now. George said he’d look into it, but he has no sense of urgency when it comes to these things.” Although I imagined if it was him who had to take a cold shower, he’d get onto it pretty sharpish.

“Why don’t you bring your stuff with you? I can spare some hot water.”

“I’m not going to turn down that offer. Ten minutes then.”

As Luke swung left into his tree-lined drive, I got my first look at his house. It was hidden from the road, but as we rounded a curve, it came into view, lit up by spotlights at the front. The style was mock-Tudor—all exposed beams and imitation leaded light windows.

The impeccably decorated, chintzy interior wasn’t what I’d expected from a bachelor pad. Either Luke had been exploring his feminine side, or he’d had help with it.

My inspection didn’t escape his notice. “The decor isn’t exactly what I’d have chosen.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“When I moved out, mother got a little upset. The only way I could calm her down was to ask her to help with the furnishing. I think it made her feel wanted.”

“You live alone then?”

“Yes. Tia’s got a room here, but she doesn’t use it much.”

“How is she? After the ball, I mean?”

“She’s okay. Or at least as okay as Tia gets. You were right about her being in an awful mood the next day. She slept until one, and when I tried to bring up what happened, she stormed off and refused to speak to me for the rest of the afternoon. Mother picked her up in the evening and I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t know what to do with her.”

“I’m sure she’ll come round. Just give her time,” I suggested.

“You’re female. And didn’t you say you went through a wild phase? Any ideas what I can do to get her to behave?”

My wild phase lasted from the age of twelve until just after I turned fourteen. I was a proponent of starting things young. I knew about drugs not because I’d been educated in the dangers of them by a loving family, but because I’d tried most of them. What snapped me out of it was waking up in a dingy squat one morning to find a guy I’d been partying with the night before dead beside me. I heard later it was an overdose combined with malnutrition.

After that, I knew things needed to change, and it was at that point I met the man I considered to be my surrogate father. He and his wife took me in and smacked some sense into me. That was the start of my journey to the person I was today.

I didn’t think hearing about my early years would be particularly comforting to Luke, though. “How about a mentor? Someone she can look up to? If you’re not around and your mother isn’t up to the job, she needs someone else.”

“Where on earth do I find one?”

“Could her school help? They might have a mentoring program or something?”

“Good idea—I’ll try calling them on Monday,” Luke said, seeming relieved I’d suggested something. He turned and headed towards a door leading off the hallway. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is and leave you to shower while I finish dinner.”

“You’re cooking?”

“Don’t act so surprised.”

Luke gave me a quick tour. The formal lounge was decorated for show, fussy and uncomfortable with stiff-backed couches and tables full of nick-nacks. The dining room would easily seat twelve, but looked unused.

“Where do you live?”

“What?”

“Where do you spend your time?”

He led me to his den. “In here.”

That was more like the man-cave I’d been expecting. There was a messy desk at one end and at the other, a battered leather sofa faced a large screen TV. The dartboard on the wall had a photo pinned in the middle.

“Who’s that?” I asked, stepping closer.

He sighed. “A programmer at work. Usually I’m a firm believer in talk rather than action, but he made some really shitty comments to my secretary and frustration got the better of me.”

I’d have been throwing the darts at the programmer.

The surfboard propped up next to the TV and the snowboard hanging on the wall behind it hinted at Luke’s adventurous side. Maybe we had something in common?

“We’re playing in here?” I asked, spying the poker set on the coffee table.

“Yes, after we eat.”

He walked back along the hallway, and I trailed behind, enjoying the view. The house was quite nice too.

“The gym and pool are down there,” he pointed at a doorway. “But it’s getting late, so I’ll show you the shower. Will half an hour be long enough?”

“More than enough.”

I hadn’t taken a decent shower for a month, but I resisted the temptation to stand under the steaming water until I went pruney and got out after fifteen minutes. The house was blissfully warm, so I only needed to put on jeans and a T-shirt. I found a hairdryer in a drawer and sorted out my hair, and got downstairs before my time was up.

“How’s dinner? I’m starving.”

Luke jumped at the sound of my voice. “I was expecting you to be ages yet.”

I glanced down at my watch. “I said I’d be half an hour.”

“I know, but normally when a woman says that, she takes at least double. I’ll try to hurry the food along.”

“What are we having?”

“Cheese soufflé to start, then salmon asparagus gratin and steamed vegetables for the main course, with crème brûlée for dessert.”

“And you’re cooking all that?” Did he moonlight as a cordon bleu chef in his spare time, or was he cheating?

“Yes,” he answered.

“Really?”

“Well, I’m heating it up.” He looked a little sheepish. That was more like it.

“Hey, I’m impressed you’re doing that much and didn’t resort to hiring a chef and a butler.” I didn’t want to make him feel bad. It wasn’t like I could do any better.

“I did consider it,” he admitted. “But I decided I’d rather have you all to myself.”

I wasn’t sure quite what he was getting at with that last comment, so I let it slide. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Could you put the salad on the small plates?”

Between us we got the food dished up and carried it through to the dining room to eat. I’d suggested eating in the kitchen, but Luke said the dining room hardly got used and he had to justify having it somehow.

“You surf?” I asked, as I forked soufflé into my mouth.

“I used to, but since I took over the company, I’ve barely had time to use the gym let alone travel abroad.”

“Do you miss it?”

“More than anything. Before my father died, sport was my life. Skiing in the winter, surfing in the summer. I was working the ski season in Switzerland when mother phoned to tell me he’d died. When I flew home I thought I’d go back in a month or two but it never happened.”