Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Ollie stared at me a second too long to be casual, and then cupped his hands and blew into them as if staving off the chill. “It’s bloody cold out here. Shall we take our conversation inside?”
Ollie nudged his head at the men who had taken us from the church. One grabbed my arm. “Don’t fucking hurt her,” Ollie warned them, and the man slackened his grip. “Don’t want my girl in any pain.”
His girl.
He was delusional.
Ollie Lawson was fucking bonkers.
My mind reeled with the knowledge that it had been him in Marbella. He had set up an attack just so he could appear like a white knight and “save” me. So that I would see him, notice him … want him.
I had gone for lunch with him the next day. Shivers ran down my spine when I remembered him pushing me to see if I was okay. Constantly asking. He’d been fishing for answers. Trying to piece together what had gone wrong.
And exactly who had got in his way.
I felt even more nauseous as that information circled my head. Then, the revelation that he was a trafficker. His underground organisation, the masses of money it brought in, was built on the loss and vulnerability of humans. People sold into slavery and sex work. I shuddered. Because he wasn’t some ugly monster, some wicked man whose very demeanour kept you at bay. He was an ordinary man; his father had been a seemingly ordinary, good man. Self-made … but they stood on an invisible empire built on broken dreams and victims’ unheard cries.
Gene and I were led into the old garage Freddie had disappeared into. It looked as though it had dilapidated offices at the back, but Ollie led us to the opposite side of the building, ordering us to sit on the floor in a larger room that I assumed must have once been a waiting room of sorts.
Old, frayed and faded furniture was dotted about the room. A fire in an empty oil can blazed in the centre, and Ollie moved beside it, holding out his palms to the roaring flames. I watched him like a hawk, covertly edging closer to Gene, needing to keep him safe until Arthur could get to us.
“That’s better,” Ollie said after a few minutes. He smiled at me as if his men hadn’t just kidnapped us, murdered Alfie Adley and left carnage in their wake.
When he was apparently suitably warmed, he pulled an old cushioned chair toward us and sat casually down. Freddie stood in the corner of the room, watching me and Gene like we were nothing, not even worth being alive. I sensed that if he’d had the choice, we would have already been worm food.
“So, you killed my friends and family?” I finally said to Ollie. “Just to get me back for your messed-up plan in Marbella. Another staged ‘attack’?” I laughed cruelly at his patheticness. “And what? You were going to swoop in and save me again? I’d fall at your feet and we’d fall madly in love?” Ollie’s cheek twitched, and I knew I had pissed him off. “And you killed my father and Hugo in the process?”
Ollie tipped his head to one side. “Your father and Hugo defaulted on their payments.” He leaned forward. “Did you know the trouble your old man’s company was in? The great and iconic Harlow Biscuits. Did you know it was about to go into administration, and that you, your daddy and fiancé were about to be ruined? They had no money left to their name, not even a bloody penny.”
My pulse raced, but I kept my face neutral. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t known any of it. “Your old man had already given us the deeds to your house. Hugo’s fancy fucking flat in Chelsea. They’d already signed over their cars.” His eyebrows danced. “Heirlooms.”
“You bled them dry. And when they couldn’t pay any more money, they paid in blood.”
Ollie’s jaw clenched, then his nonchalant façade dropped. “Why do you have to ruin EVERY-FUCKING-THING?!” he screamed.
I flinched at his sudden vehemence. The cool persona he wore was shattering and revealing the true evil monster underneath. He got up from his chair and kneeled before me, voice calm and soft once again. “I wanted you by my side. I wanted you to want me back.”
“I could never want you. You killed my family. My friends. You drained my father and Hugo of their assets, of their dignity,” I hissed.
“Dignity?” he said, affronted. “What dignity?”
“You killed them. Tied them to chairs and shot them in their heads as they begged you for forgiveness. For mercy. I saw the video. You sent it to me. You wanted me to see it so when you saved me, you would look the hero.”
Ollie reached out and ran his hands down my face. I tried to pull away, wrenching my head back. He struck out and grabbed my jaw, yanking me close as he sank his nails into my skin. I cried out at the pain, unable to hold it back. Ollie got in my face. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.” I froze, and Gene’s breathing changed. He was angry. I wanted to beg him not to try anything. To not get himself hurt.