“You are done?” His deep voice sounded as tight as the knot.
She had to swallow her constricted throat before she was capable of answering. “Yes. But you really need to get that seen to.”
“We will be out of London soon. I’ll get the satnav to direct us to a pharmacy.”
“That needs more than what we’ll get in a pharmacy.”
“We’ll make do.”
“Can’t we get you seen at a hospital once we’ve left London?”
His sigh contained a touch of impatience. “Why the hell do you think the Espositos are so powerful? They have contacts everywhere. I will not feel safe until we get to the house.”
“What house?”
“It belongs to an old university friend. He couldn’t make the wedding as he’d already committed to a fortnight in the Maldives for his mother’s sixtieth birthday celebrations. His name was never on the guest list. We’ll have a few days before the Espositos link him to me and think to search his properties for us.”
“And then what happens?”
“One step at a time. Right now, my focus is on getting us to safety. We can discuss what comes next then.”
They joined a motorway heading south-west of the country. Only when London was a gleam of nighttime light in the car’s mirrors did either of them breathe properly.
Except Georgia’s easy breaths lasted only the one breath before her lungs tightened back up.
She was on the run from Italian gangsters with the man who’d broken her heart, a man suffering a major injury that she’d inflicted and which he refused to seek proper medical attention for.
Oh, and he was also the father of the child nestled in her belly. A child he knew nothing about.
What her future held, she didn’t dare contemplate.
Chapter Three
It was stillpitch dark when Niccolo pulled up outside Benjamin’s manor house. He’d first been there five years earlier for Benjamin’s thirtieth birthday party, a raucous affair that had gone on for the whole weekend. Niccolo’s hangover had taken him through to the following weekend. Dante hadn’t fared much better. All Niccolo’s subsequent visits had entailed monster hangovers too, mostly on account of Benjamin’s excellent wine cellar and whisky collection.
Georgia, who’d fallen into a doze, must have sensed they’d arrived for she sat up, yawning widely. “We’re here?”
“Yes.”
“How are we getting in?”
“The spare key.”
“You have one?”
“No, but I know the code to access it.” During his last visit, they’d been due to go out for dinner with the old university gang when an emergency had come up at the company Benjamin owned. He’d told Niccolo to go to the dinner without him and given him the codes for the key and internal security in case he wasn’t back before the meal ended. Niccolo didn’t want to think about what he’d do if the codes had been changed.
“Does your friend know we’re here?”
“No.”
“You haven’t asked him?”
“I’ve no way to – I’ve binned my phone. It was being tracked.” And all his calls and messages had been monitored, which in itself would have made it foolhardy beyond belief to call an old friend and ask for the use of his home.
A hint of alarm entered her voice. “What about this car? Is it being tracked, too?”
“It’s a hire car. I left mine at the airport in Naples when I dumped my phone. I hired this one in France.” No doubt the Espositos were already aware of this and had put out an alert for the registration.
