Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
I go straight to Rose and disarm her.
“What are you doing?” she screams, getting up in my face.
“Taking control of this fucking madness.” I take her elbow and squeeze, fighting her fighting me, as James catches Anya, immobilizing her with an arm up her back, and Brad drags out a man from the driver’s seat of the van.
“Get the cars inside,” I yell. “And someone call the fucking gate company to repair them.” Again.
Tank walks through the debris of splintered and broken wood, his gun poised, his eyes crazy. So crazy, even I’m wary. “You stupid woman,” he yells, furious, going in on Rose.
“What’s going on, Tank?” I ask, breathless.
“I don’t fucking know,” he shouts. “But I do fucking know I gave her clear instructions to stay fucking put and she fucking didn’t!”
I swing an incensed look onto Rose. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Anya,” she says, her breathing labored. “Her name is Anya Dimitri.”
I feel like someone just pressed high voltage into my body. “What?”
“What?” Brad gasps.
Something in Rose shifts, adrenaline making way for emotion now. “Pearl,” she whispers, looking back toward the house.
Brad steps closer, dragging the man with him. “Rose?” he says, slowly, warily. “What about Pearl?”
“Anya ran her down.”
Brad’s gun hits the floor. “No.” He stands motionless for far too long, forcing Ringo to dive in and claim the man before he gets away. “No!” He sprints through the destroyed gates up the long driveway toward the house, and I follow, seeing Fury and Beau huddled around something. “God, no,” I breathe.
“Pearl!” Brad breaks through them and nearly coughs his heart up when he sees her on the ground.
Unmoving.
I cover my mouth with my hand as Brad slowly lowers to his knees next to her, taking her in. Pale. So fucking pale.
Then I see the pool of blood.
Fuck.
The dogs are sitting nearby, whimpering, their paws treading the ground as they watch Brad huddle round Pearl’s broken body. “Pearl?” he begs. “Pearl, wake up.” He looks up when he hears the crunching of shoes on the stones. His eyes are glazed. His face everything I don’t know on Brad. Agony. “Do something,” he whispers when Doc comes rushing out of the house. “Please, Doc, you have to do something.”
My heart, which only ever usually softens for my wife or kids, tears in two.
57
ROSE
* * *
I go straight to Maggie, scooping her out of Esther’s arms, checking every square inch of her. She’s crying. But she seems unharmed. I bury my face in her neck, hushing her, rocking her, trying to find my calm. Needing distraction from my rage. She eventually quietens down, and I stand at the kitchen window and watch the men drive all the cars in, including Tank’s mangled Mercedes and the van that tried to get away. Goldie has taken Anya and the man to Danny’s office. I’m itching to go there. Smash her to pieces. But they need information first. And I need this.
I take a seat at the table, and a cup of tea slides in front of me. I notice the ring on Esther’s finger. “Congrat . . .” I can’t get the word out, breaking down, my adrenaline drained.
“Oh, Rose.” She crouches, trying to hug us both. “She’s okay.”
“But Pearl isn’t,” I whisper, looking down at Maggie. She’s now calm, trying to focus on her arms flapping in front of her, mesmerized by the movement. But all I see is Pearl’s face. Her closed eyes.
“Mum, take Maggie.” Danny stands at the entrance to the kitchen looking like he could explode.
I don’t protest, giving our daughter up to her grandmother. “She probably needs her diaper changed,” I say, standing.
“I’ve got it.” Esther disappears, and I face my husband, bracing myself for the show. I’ve no doubt it’ll be epic.
He strolls across the kitchen and opens a cupboard, pulling down a bottle of Scotch. He pours two glasses. One for me? No. He necks both. Faces me. “I’m so fucking mad I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Then I will,” I say, sitting. “Ella seems okay, but she can’t remember much from the boatyard. She used her cell to see in the container because it was dark. She saw Nolan on the floor. And her ex. Why was her ex in the container?”
“He knocked Ella about. Brad brought him to the boatyard.” His nostrils flare. “A gift to his son.”
“Right,” I say, taking in more air, ready to go again. “That’s the last Ella remembers before she was struck. Pearl said it was a fist. I expect because she was victim to that fist a few times herself. I told her repeatedly things were going to be okay, and she didn’t look like she believed me, so I used my own history as a source of evidence that even in the darkest, worst times, you can find your way to the light.” I get up and go to the counter, pouring myself a glass, since my husband’s lost his manners. I down it, gasp, and slam the tumbler down, returning to the table. “I mentioned Dimitri. Pearl blanched. I pressed her and she told me Anya’s surname was Dimitri.” I show the ceiling my palms. “There’s foreign identification, apparently, and when I went to find Anya to question her, she had already left. I found her running to Tank’s car. With. Our. Baby. So if you’re mad, fine. I’ll happily bear the brunt of your rage.” I take a breath, trying to stabilize my voice. “Pearl got Maggie back.” His eyes widen. “Anya got in the car and tried to run me down. Pearl knocked me out of the way and took the force of the car.”