Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
I sit down, drink my coffee, too embarrassed to thank Andy for clearing it up.
“Want some breakfast?” Andy offers, hovering by the fridge. “Or should I say lunch.”
“God no.” My stomach enters my throat just thinking about it. Lunch. “What time is it?”
“After one.”
Oh. “And you’re still here?”
He joins me at the island, sitting opposite. “You’re welcome.”
I offer a guilt-ridden smile in way of an apology. He’ll understand that. “Have you seen my phone?”
Andy reaches into his pocket, removes my phone and slides it across the island. “Found it in the bathroom. It hasn’t made any noise.”
My shoulders sag. “I suppose I should’ve known his wife knows him as well as I do.” I wonder, briefly, if anyone actually knows William Walker. He doesn’t even know himself. “Shit, she didnae even know he was fucking gay.”
“So, you’re giving up. Again. That’s your plan.”
“Come off it, Andy. I cannae take much more of this.”
Andy sits straight and casual, one arm folded on the counter. He’s very calm and righteous, like a cheap movie villain, while my life is falling apart. “Well, I’m afraid this is all you’ve got until you face him. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“He can tell me tae get fucked.”
Andy shrugs, sips his coffee. “And then you’ll know. This limbo will be over.” There he goes again. Talking sense.
Twinges of hope threaten to stir again, but I think I’m too scared to acknowledge them, allow them to blossom. “I’ve tried.”
“You sent him a text. What are you, fourteen? Get off your arse and go and see the man so I can get back to running a goddamn business.”
“I don’t know where he lives.”
“I can get his address. Next excuse?”
“I…” Shit. I don’t have any. I don’t want any. “I’m still a tad pished, I think.”
“Look, kid—”
“No, no it’s not an excuse. You’re right. I need to see him, Andy. Even if it’s…” The words stick to the tip of my tongue, cause a pull in my chest. I take a deep breath. “Even if it’s to say goodbye.”
Andy smiles uncharacteristically wide, almost proudly. It fills me with courage. Ignites that spark of hope, sets it ablaze. “Good lad.”
“I just need to ride out that Scotch. Get rid of this headache.” My head nods, approving every stage of my newest plan. “Tonight. I’ll go tonight.”
Whatever it takes, I will see William’s eyes again, hear his voice, even if it is for one last time.
I may suffer from the occasional aggressive urge to deck Andy between the eyes, but I’m not a violent man. Tonight, though, I fear I could be pushed into it if Ned doesn’t get the hell out of my way.
“I already told Andy I don’t want anyone with me,” I bark as I pull the zip closed around my overnight bag.
“You’ll be in an unfamiliar area. It’s my job to keep you safe.”
With the holdall on my shoulder, I stand up straight, make a conscious effort not to huff. “It’s ten o’clock at night, Ned. I’ll be driving through the night and going straight to a hotel. I won’t stop. Naebody’s gonnae see me. And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call you when I arrive.”
I give Ned a moment to remove his large body from the doorway. When he doesn’t, I barge past him.
“This isn’t negotiable, Laurie,” he says, his heavy boots following my every step as I advance to the front door.
While grabbing my keys from the hook, I silently try to work out how I’m going to be able to get in the car and lock the door before Ned can slip in beside me. He’s no fool. Asking him to fetch me something will never work. Punching him might be the only option left at this rate.
I open the door, click the key fob and open the car. “You’re right,” I say, tossing my bag onto the back seat. “This isn’t negotia… Ned, get out.”
“What?”
“I said go,” I repeat, my eyes trained on the shadow standing on the other side of my gate. “Now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
William
I don’t know how much longer I can stand out here before someone calls the police. I doubt the residents of a street like this, lined with houses worth millions of pounds, take kindly to lone men dressed in dark hoodies and jeans loitering outside their gates late at night. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and check the address Becca gave me for probably the fifteenth time since I arrived. I’m in the right place, I’m certain. I’m standing right by the buzzer, too.
So, why can’t I press it?
I can’t convince myself Laurence isn’t here because there are two cars on the drive. Lights are on inside the house. No, the only reason I haven’t pressed the damn button is because I’m a wimp. I’m fucking terrified, in fact.