Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
‘You’re pushing it, princess.’
Lucy remains quiet, aware of the sudden elevated animosity, and I look back, cringing when I realise her silence is more likely because she’s looking a little green. I pray to every Greek god that she holds her nausea in check. Her eyes begin to roll. Then she slumps back in the seat.
Becker looks up to his rear-view mirror and shakes his head. ‘I’m going to thrash your arse, Eleanor,’ he promises quietly, spinning the wheel as he slams on the brakes, making a quick about-turn in the road. ‘So, so fucking hard.’ The tyres screech, the BMW turning smoothly, before we’re racing off in the other direction.
Jesus Christ, if he ever fancies getting out of the art world, then he could head straight to Hollywood where I’m certain he’d make a killing as a stunt driver. I grab my seat and hold on. ‘Looking forward to it,’ I fire back impertinently, turning in my seat. I find Lucy sprawled across the back, front down, her face squished in the leather. I frown at her sorry state. ‘She’s passed out.’
Becker grunts, putting his foot down when a traffic light up ahead turns to amber. He whips his phone out and slams his thumbs across the screen, bringing up a map. I crane my head to see it, spotting a red blinking light in the centre. He mutters under his breath and rids the screen of the map before dialling and taking the phone to his ear. ‘Percy, the CCTV footage I told you to get from the bar,’ he begins, piquing my interest. ‘There’s a bag containing Eleanor’s iPhone, her keys, and purse.’
He pauses, and I hear the muffled voice of Percy down the line. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Yes,’ Becker chucks me a glare. ‘Don’t fuck about. Stan Price is keeping close company.’ He hangs up and drops his phone into his lap.
The mention of Price brings back my suspicions. And since Lucy is now sparko . . . ‘Stan Price can’t just let himself into The Haven without a reason,’ I point out.
‘Stan Price has never needed a reason for anything, Eleanor. He doesn’t exactly play by the rules. I’m not taking any chances. The last thing I need . . .’ He tails off and looks up to the rear-view mirror again to check Lucy’s still out for the count.
‘Are you saying Price is corrupt?’
‘He’s old-school. Doesn’t like all the red tape, so tends to ignore it.’
My heart thrums a little harder. ‘And what does he hope to find at The Haven?’
‘Who the fuck knows. All I know is some of my clients pay good money to maintain anonymity. The police sniffing around won’t be good for business.’
‘And what if my bag isn’t in the bar?’ I ask. Will he have to change all the locks?
‘Don’t wor . . .’ Becker fades off, glimpsing at me briefly, nervously. What was that? ‘I’m sure it’s there.’
I sit back in my seat, studying him. Then I rewind to a few moments ago. The map on his screen. The red blinking dot. The fact that he turned up at the bar out of the blue and I never once mentioned where I would be. ‘You’re tracking my phone,’ I blurt out, outraged.
‘Good fucking job, too,’ he spits in return, no guilt or embarrassment evident.
How dare he. ‘You can’t keep tabs on my every movement.’
‘I can, I am, and I always fucking will.’
The arrogant bastard. ‘I’ll get my own phone,’ I declare, before he can hit me with it being a work phone, so technically he can do what he likes. He might own the phone, but he doesn’t own me.
‘Shhhh,’ Becker hushes me, and I look moodily out the corner of my eye to see him holding a finger to his lush lips. ‘It’s standard GPS tracking, princess.’
I scoff. ‘Sure it is.’ Standard my arse. I’ll be taking my phone to pieces at the first opportunity. I signed up for corruption. Not being tailed.
We zoom through the lights, just as they turn red.
‘Careful,’ I mutter, looking out of the passenger window. ‘Don’t want to give the police a reason to pull you over.’
I hear him laugh under his breath. ‘Careful,’ he counters, reaching over and squeezing my bare knee. The skin on skin contact nearly has me bursting into flames, damn him. ‘Don’t want to give me reason to slap your arse silly.’ Smoky eyes, hooded and filled with sinful promises, hold me still in my seat.
I’ve given him plenty of excuses to slap my arse silly in the past hour. What’s another transgression between me and my gorgeous sinner?
Chapter 20
Becker isn’t taking any chances. We don’t enter The Haven via the factory units; we pull up to the kerb outside the alleyway on the street instead. Apparently, he’s not risking taking the back entrance in case Lucy wakes up. I don’t think he has anything to fear. She’s totally sparko on the back seat.