The Pleasures of Summer (42 page)

Flynn stood in the sitting room and stared at Adam Bayliss with the pitiless eyes of an executioner. Whatever he knew about Summer’s kidnapping, he would get out of him. But inside he wondered what Summer had ever seen in him.

Adam was tall and soft. There was no other word for it. His shoulders were broad enough, Flynn supposed, but the muscle was undefined. He moved like someone whose most energetic activity was dancing. Or making love. The thought of Adam making love to Summer caused a red mist to descend over Flynn’s eyes.

He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down, and caught a whiff of expensive cologne. Adam’s hair was cut in a style which vaguely reminded him of some pop star. His clothes were all designer, and all with logos of strange animals on them.

What the hell had Summer ever seen in this man milliner?

Adam shifted from foot to foot under Flynn’s relentless gaze, and then seemed to force himself to stay still. He couldn’t succeed in disguising his fear. ‘Look, whatever it is, I’ll be glad to help, but I don’t know anything,’ he said.

‘Then why are you sweating?’ Flynn asked. He had to force himself to keep his fists unclenched, but fury filled
him. The thought of Adam anywhere near Summer enraged him.

Adam wiped his temples with an embroidered linen handkerchief. ‘It’s been a hot day.’

‘And you’re in hot water, aren’t you, Bayliss?’

Adam failed to conceal a wince. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ he said unconvincingly.

Flynn produced a piece of paper from his pocket. There were a few scribbled phone numbers on it, but Bayliss had no way of knowing that. ‘You owe a lot of money. And not just to the banks.’ It was a safe bet, considering what Summer had told him about this weasel.

Bayliss swallowed. ‘I admit I may have over-stretched my credit limits recently but –’

‘And you wanted to get revenge on the O’Sullivans. They deserved it for the way they treated you, right?’

He nodded. ‘What sort of girl doesn’t trust her fiancé and demands a pre-nup? I knew she wasn’t the right girl for me when that happened.’

Bayliss kept going. ‘Do you know what O’Sullivan did to me when I said that a husband and wife should trust each other? He did his best to ruin me. Those jumped-up nouveau-riche paddies have no idea how to behave.’

Flynn held onto his temper with an effort. ‘And you decided to teach them a lesson.’

Adam moved a step closer to Flynn, apparently warming to his subject. ‘He should have been grateful that someone was willing to marry that frigid tart. She might look like she’s a goer, and she takes a good photo, but she’s a bloody icicle.’

Flynn had no idea how it happened. One moment he
was standing on the other side of the table, the next he was holding Bayliss by the neck. ‘You little prick,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I’m going to wring your fucking neck.’

Bayliss clawed frantically at Flynn’s hands, desperate to relieve the pressure on his throat, but Flynn wasn’t letting go. This worm was the one who had taken photos of Summer at her most vulnerable and posted them all over the internet. And who had almost broken her pride. His fingers tightened. He ignored the clawing, even when it drew blood, and enjoyed seeing his eyes bulge with terror.

What was he doing? The worm didn’t even know Summer was missing. Flynn dropped him in disgust.

Adam landed on the floor, panting for breath and scrabbling away frantically. His eyes were red and bloodshot and the marks of Flynn’s fingers showed clearly on his neck. ‘I’ll have you arrested. Who the hell are you anyway?’

‘Haven’t you guessed? I’m Summer’s husband.’ Well, he would be, if there was the slimmest chance that she would have him. As soon as he found his orchid girl safe and sound they would have to talk.

The smell alerted him. He looked down and saw that Adam Bayliss had pissed himself. The scent of urine pervaded the room and showed up clearly against his light coloured pants. Flynn couldn’t resist. He whipped out his camera and took several shots. ‘See you on YouTube,’ he told Bayliss before he left the room.

The noise level of the entire mansion rose as soon as Tim O’Sullivan walked in. Even though he was just off a long
flight from Atlanta, he radiated energy and temper. ‘Where the hell is my daughter?’ he roared as soon as he came in the front door. ‘What sort of an arse-feckin outfit are you running that you could lose her like that?’

Niall took a breath before he replied. ‘Summer deliberately gave her bodyguard the slip. She came home, spent the night here, phoned people, apparently had a romantic disappointment and drove herself away. She’s an adult; she can make her own decisions.’

‘Adult?’ Tim spat. ‘She’s an idiot. She needs someone to mind her. And that was supposed to be you.’

Flynn couldn’t take any more. ‘Summer is not an idiot,’ he said coldly. ‘Don’t speak of her like that.’

‘She’s my damned daughter; I can call her anything I like.’

The only thing which kept Flynn from throttling the bombastic little tyrant was the faint tremble in his hands and the pallor of his skin.

Tim demanded updates on all their efforts to find Summer, and occasionally put in a sharp, helpful comment. He looked up from sheets of computer printouts when Malcolm came in with an envelope on a silver salver. ‘Why are you interrupting me? Give that to Brian,’ he barked.

The high turnover of staff was no longer a mystery. Flynn wondered idly why Malcolm put up with Tim. He hoped he received a very high salary.

‘I’m sorry, sir. This was delivered with instructions to give it to you personally.’

It was a padded envelope, with no stamps. Tim ripped it open before anyone could stop him. The only content
was a cheap USB stick. Flynn stuck it into his laptop and Summer’s image flickered into life.

At the sight of her scared and dirty face, Flynn forgot to breathe. God no, his orchid girl was hurt. She was in danger. The fury that roared through him at the thought of anyone hurting her made it hard to hear what she was saying. He forced the rage and terror deep inside him, assuming an icy mantle so that he could concentrate on the details.

The picture was shaky, probably taken with the camera on a phone. He focused on the silent, unsmiling girl sitting on a mattress in a bare room. Beside her was a copy of the
Financial Times
, ironically featuring news of Tim O’Sullivan’s latest multimillion-dollar deal.

The muscles in Flynn’s stomach clenched when he saw the bruise on her left temple.

Summer raised her eyes to the camera, as if waiting for instructions. Then she read an extract from the stock exchange prices for the day before picking up a piece of notepaper. ‘If you want me returned, the price is one million pounds in diamonds, payable tomorrow. If you don’t pay, I will die. You will receive instructions about payment. Follow them exactly. If you don’t, I will die. Do not contact the police, or I will die.’

Her voice faltered over the last words, but then she raised her chin and stared at the camera. She seemed to be looking at him. He resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her face. She was trying her best to be brave but he could tell that it was hard for her.

Tim groaned.

Beside him, Sinead whimpered. ‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered as she sagged against him.

Flynn squeezed her hand. ‘We will get her back. I promise you.’

While Andy took her to the kitchen and made some tea, Flynn sat in front of the laptop and watched the brief clip half a dozen times. Scanning the room for any clues to her whereabouts, listening for background noises, watching Summer’s face for every minute change. Before she started reading, she glanced in one direction, obviously at the camera man and then a little to the right? Was there more than one man? It seemed likely.

Tim stood up. ‘Where are you going?’ Niall asked.

‘To get the money. You heard them. They said a million pounds in diamonds. I need to get that from the bank. No matter what it costs, I’m going to get my little girl back.’

Despite the weight of the quilt, she couldn’t seem to keep warm. Summer reached for the water bottle and then remembered that it was empty. Voices outside made her sit upright. Gypsy was back. Maybe they were going to let her go. She rolled out of bed and hurried to the door. With as much force as she could muster she banged on the wood with her fists, throwing in a few kicks for good measure. She wouldn’t stop until someone came.

The lock clicked open. Summer stepped away from the door as Gypsy pushed his way inside. A string of words, which Summer guessed were curses, streamed from his mouth when he saw her shivering in the darkened room.

‘We need another picture. The negotiator has demanded further proof that you are still alive.’

A picture? He hadn’t come to set her free. She could
just imagine what she looked like by now. Her dad would be worried sick. ‘Alive? I won’t be alive for long without food or water.’

Gypsy’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have had nothing since I left?’

‘A small bottle of water,’ Summer grudgingly admitted.

He looked around the room, noting the crumpled quilt and the bucket in the corner and she caught a little flicker of sympathy in his expression. He wasn’t the worst of them. Well, he wasn’t as bad as Andrei.

‘You wash now.’

His words were a demand rather than a request. She was tempted to refuse, but the prospect of warm water was too appealing. Summer followed him along the corridor to the tiny bathroom and closed the door behind her.

The image in the mirror was worse than she had expected. Her hair hung in lank clumps around her face and her pale skin contrasted with the dark circles beneath her eyes. Even in the awful days after Adam’s betrayal, she hadn’t looked this bad.

Outside, the shouting began again. English mixed with whatever godforsaken language they usually spoke. Summer opened the door a crack and peeked out. The kitchen door was closed and the corridor was clear. Dare she?

Summer slipped out and hurried along the corridor, holding her breath as she passed the kitchen door. Her bare feet were silent. The men were still arguing. She pushed open a door at the end and hurried up the narrow staircase, until she reached the landing. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered that she was gone. Another door
beckoned and she stepped into a marble-floored hallway. She caught her breath.

She knew this house. She had attended a cocktail party here several years before. The family were in the Far East now. What was their name? Roxton? Floxton? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was that she knew where she was. She couldn’t be more than ten miles from home.

Summer hurried to the front door. It was locked. Too much to hope it would be open. She had a vague memory that the dining room had French doors which led out to the garden. She would break out of here if she had to.

The furniture was covered in dust cloths and the curtains were drawn but the room was still the same as she remembered. Summer jerked on the handle. The door was also locked. There must be a spare key around here somewhere. She reached for the ledge above the door and ran her fingers along the dusty edge. Yes. She breathed silent thanks.

Her fingers curled around the key. Trembling, she pushed it into the lock and turned. The door opened with a protesting creak. She was free. Now, all she had to do was make it to the road and flag down a car. She closed the door behind her. The longer she could delay her pursuers the better.

Heart pounding, Summer raced to the front of the house and down the driveway. She winced as her feet found every tiny stone along the way. Behind her, she heard a roar. Gypsy or Andrei was following her.

She could hear a car. Yes! She’d be rescued. She increased her speed. Almost there. Ignoring the thudding
footfalls closing behind, Summer clambered over the gate and stepped out onto the road, waving her arms at the oncoming vehicle.

Relief washed over her when a dark blue BMW screeched to a halt. ‘Thank you. Oh thank you.’

She hurried to the driver’s side of the car. ‘You have to help me. I’ve –’

Summer stopped in mid-sentence. It was Uri. The car door opened and he climbed out. His face was a model of cold fury.

‘What are you doing out here?’

This couldn’t be happening. Not when she had come so close. She backed away, desperate to get free. A breathless Andrei vaulted the gate and cursed when he saw who she was with.

‘Take her back to the house. Now,’ Uri shouted.

‘No!’ she screamed. She kicked out as Andrei tried to grab her. It was useless in her bare feet, but she’d try anything to stop him. Surely another car would come. Summer landed a punch on his nose and was rewarded with a grunt of pain.

‘
Pizdǎ
.’ Andrei’s mouth curled in a vicious snarl and the last thing she remembered was his fist flying towards her face.