“Hey, what’s up, man? You’re late,” Dalton said when I walked into the busy kitchen at Rose Cottage.
“What? Nothing.” I frowned.
“He’s got a new woman,” Phil said. He glanced away from the security screens to study me. “Probably brooding that he’s not deep in her pussy right now.”
I frowned at him. “I already told you. Don’t fucking speak about Amy that way.”
Cillian grinned and passed me a Union Jack bandana. “She’s nice, and ’bout time after Sarah. I’m pleased for you, mate.”
“Yeah, Amy is nice,” Finn added. He checked the barrel of a handgun and then shoved it into the waistband of his black jeans.
I took a gun from the table. “She is, really nice.”
“Yeah, well, forget about her now.” Andrew slurped from a mug of coffee. “We need our wits about us. These are big players, and fuck knows how many women he’s got stashed away.”
“Or how many heavies and damn Rottweilers are lurking around,” Cillian added. “He said, dogs, right?”
“Yep.” Phil nodded.
“Did we get an address yet?” I turned to Jamie. “For this White Rabbit location?”
“He just messaged me three words. Rambler. Kite. Condensation.”
“Okay, and where is that?”
“South of here, near a sewage works.” Jamie wrinkled his nose. “Pleasant.”
“We’ve been on Google Earth,” Grant said, his face lifting from his phone.
I hadn’t noticed him sitting in the corner.
“Oh, and?” I asked.
“Same shit as usual. Very isolated house, a few outbuildings, long drive. Some of the barns appear more like shipping containers.”
“Ready-made prison cells.” Finn clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Asshole. I’ll grab some bolt cutters. I’ve got a feeling we might need them.”
“Good idea.” Cillian tied his bandana around his neck.
“You sure you’re okay with staying here, Phil?” Andrew asked.
“Yeah, someone has to, but I’ll be on standby if you need anything. Girls have full client lists tonight. We can’t leave them alone.”
“Mmm, we should have planned this better.” I rubbed on my bottom lip. “They’re vulnerable as fuck. I swear the weirdo level is going up in Oxford lately.”
“Better they’re in here than on the streets.” Dalton yanked the sleeves of his black sweater down to his wrists. “Want me to drive?”
“Sure,” Andrew said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
We headed south. The commuter traffic had eased, and we were soon out into the countryside. My belly was taut, anda knot in my shoulder was growing with the anticipation of the contact. I watched the hedgerow slide past in a blur and listened to the conversations of the five men around me.
But my concentration wasn’t there. My mind kept drifting to Amy and her trusting blue eyes and quick smile. I couldn’t understand why no one had been close to her before when I found being close to her the most natural thing in the world. She really must have hooked up with a bunch of emotionally stunted twats; that was the only explanation.
Her childhood still tormented me, but when Jamie and I had visited the commune there’d been nothing to suggest foul play. Just a group of hippies living sustainably. I’d be keeping an eye on them for sure, dropping in from time to time, and I had a few buddies up north who would do the same.
We passed an industrial estate then took a left onto a smaller road with just a smattering of houses behind high fences and big gates.
Millionaires most likely.
