Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I look at the road, my focus set. Getting behind the wheel has always been dicey. The anger that churns up inside. The resentment that I’ve driven like a madman for years and am still breathing.
Carmichael was a good driver. It didn’t save them.
My knuckles become bloodless around the wheel, my foot heavier on the accelerator, and I drive like a complete arsehole all the way to the city. I call John back when I’m nearing Wimbledon. “Heading west,” he says flatly.
West? “Kensington, Holland Park, Notting Hill?”
“Could be any. I’m on Bayswater Road approaching Victoria Gate. Traffic’s shocking.”
I gage how far away I am from them as I hang up and dial Steve. “Matthew Turner. Is there an address you can give me?” If he talks about scratching backs again, I can’t promise I won’t turn psycho.
Because you’re not already?
“Ladbroke Crescent.”
“Where’s that?”
“W11.”
“Notting Hill.” I hang up and enter the street name into my Sat-Nav before calling John. “W11. Ladbroke Crescent.”
“You calmed down yet?”
“Nowhere close.”
* * *
I pull into the street and see John’s Range up ahead, as well as Kate’s van. Kate looks more than alarmed when I skid to a stop and get out, and John comes to me, hands up, pacifying. Nah. Not happening. “The fuck, Kate?” I yell. “You didn’t think to tell me?”
“Tell you?” She laughs, waving her hands up and down my raging frame. “No, I didn’t think to tell you. Didn’t even cross my fucking mind, because she’s just picking up her stuff.”
“I told her not to!”
“What’s your fucking problem, Jesse?”
I feel my nostrils flare, my hand going up and pointing at the row of houses. “My problem is the last time he saw her, he tried to get back in her knickers. My fucking problem is, Kate, he wants her back and he might convince her he’s worth a second chance.” I breathe out, exhausted, and stamp a few steps away, leaving Kate wide-eyed and wary. After all, Ava must have loved him. “Fuck!” I look at the houses. There’s only one with the front door open. Just one. If I go in there, it’ll be carnage.
I take a few deep breaths and scrutinize the street, seeing his white BMW. The sly fucker. I snarl, balling my fists, and stalk to the door, following my feet, instinct telling me where to find her. I take the stairs, yelling her name, feeling so fucking out of control. Panicked. Stressed.
I burst through the open door and find them standing close. Face to face. How cozy. I keep my eyes on Ava, truly afraid of what I might do if I look at Matt. She appears dazed. Worried? She should be. She’s completely disregarded my wishes. Came anyway, when I overtly told her not to. It’s a piss-take. I can’t imagine she’d be all too fond of me seeing an ex, lying to her, going behind her back.
I gulp back my anger. Not anger at Ava. Anger at myself. My nerve. My foolishness. My hypocrisy.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I shout, sounding unhinged. Feeling it. Totally out of control with no chance of getting it back.
She remains silent, unwilling to talk, unwilling to even try and pacify me. Explain. Reassure me. “Answer me!”
She jumps, and I wince, hating the sight of her wary expression. But can I help it? My heart is beating so fast it hurts. It’s a sign. It’s no longer dead. “I fucking told you,” I bellow. “Don’t ring him, don’t come here. I said John would do it. Go and get in the fucking car,” I order, pointing to the door.
The sound of a chuckle foils my plan to not kill Matt, and I look at him, astounded, as he tries to get his amusement under control. He’s blown it. Asked for it.
Ava hurries out with a box and I turn into him, flexing my fists.
“We kissed,” he says, looking really fucking pleased with himself.
They kissed? They fucking kissed? Any hope there was of me walking out of here without an assault charge filed against me is lost. I swing at him, delivering an accurate, powerful right hook to his face, sending him staggering back into a wall on a grunt. “You come near her or my manor again, I’ll fucking kill you, Turner.”
He blinks, part dazed, part surprised. And now I’m going before I end the bastard and am up for murder. I leave him behind, nursing a bloody nose and take the stairs fast, knowing Ava will be making her escape. I discover a peanut gallery of spectators outside, John looking exasperated, Sam looking pissed off, Kate looking wary.
“John!” My fucking hand is throbbing, the damn injury renewed. “Put her stuff in the Rover.”
“Leave it, John,” Ava yells. “I’m not going with him.” The big man stands in the middle of Kate’s van and my Aston, palms facing the sky. “Kate, come on.” Ava goes to the van and pulls the door open, looking back for her friend who’s currently being held back by Sam.