“Walk,” he says, jerking the tip towards the gate. “The boss wants to see you.”
Sophia still clings to my leg and, when I bend to ease her away from me, she throws her arms around my neck, her legs clamping around my waist. With my hands behind my back, I can’t support her at all. Something the smaller guard realises long enough to un-cuff my wrists. I would thank him but before I can, he re-cuffs them in front.
Great. Now I’m restrained and have a child’s weight to support. I stagger-limp along in front of Brick Wall while the other guard remains behind.
The gate is still shut tight but there’s a doorway in the shadows—presumably where the pair originally sprang from without me seeing. Once I walk through, I’m on a stone path leading towards a hill. As I ascend, the mansion behind comes into view.
“Is that your home?” I whisper to the girl, who checks over her shoulder before nodding. Belatedly, I wonder whether I should bow or curtsey to her. Judging from the size of the property, she must be the New Zealand equivalent of royalty.
And not the second-tier ones, either. We’re talking main family, baby.
“So, what’s your father’s name, then?”
If she hears me, she doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t know. Thinking back, I can’t remember when I became aware my parents answered to something other than Mum and Dad.
And it’s not like right now is a great time for mental clarity.
“Do you need the rifle?” I ask Brick Wall as we draw nearer.
I’m terrified of what might lie on the other side of the double height entrance doors. This doesn’t look like a nice country cottage tucked into a forest for privacy. More like a fortress, sheltered by trees, because the owner has a beef with everybody outside its walls.
Losing the gun might go a long way towards settling my heart rate down to something approaching normal.
But he keeps hold of it. At least he let me keep Sophia. Hate to use a child as a human shield but given the circumstances, I’m not above it. I kind of feel like she owes me at this point. Not that I’m going to collect off a little girl, don’t get me wrong, but still…
“Nice night we’re having, isn’t it?” I say the words just to stop the silence pressing in on my eardrums, but it turns out I’m correct.
The forest here must do something to the chill that has settled over the main city. It’s warmer. The coating of needles on the ground also softens all the sounds. If I’m ever in the market for a gigantic retreat, I’ll have to bear that in mind.
Brick Wall presses a button to the right of the entrance doors with one hand and clutches my arm with his left. At least the rifle is now slung across his back rather than shoved in my face.
If my outlook keeps improving like this, pretty soon someone might treat me with actual dignity.
The doors swing open, and a man stands behind them. Size-wise he could give Brick Wall a run for his money but he’s not so broad. Litheness and lean muscle tucked into an expensive suit.
A businessman.
I relax and Sophia turns, her expression brightening. “Daddy!”
“Hey, Poppet,” he says, his features crinkling into warmth. “Good to have you home.” He rests a hand briefly on her head, stroking back her blonde curls while giving me the side eye. The moment he steps back, his face reverts to blankness.
“Take Sophia,” he orders the guard and I lift my arms so he can pull her free. Except she doesn’t want to go, shouting her favourite word repeatedly.
“Sorry” I say, smiling an apology to her father as though this is somehow my fault. “She’s had a nasty scare.”
Haven’t we all?
“Sophia,” I whisper to the girl who stops wriggling while keeping her grip. “Is that your daddy?”
She nods but her face is stricken. I wonder why she’s now more scared of going with the bodyguard than the stranger who sliced open a man’s throat right before her eyes.
As the horror of what I did flashes into my mind, my knees give a wobble. I redirect my attention on the man in front of me, but his aura of quiet menace doesn’t help one bit.
“You’re going to have to let go, honey,” I tell the girl. “I need to sit down.”
Something I immediately demonstrate when my legs concertina under me like the world’s worst accordion. The hard tiles lend enough support that I don’t collapse further than my knees, but I don’t know how long my faltering consciousness is going to last.
Images from the night pulse in tandem with my quickened heartbeat. Sophia’s frightened stare. The man’s blood. Sergio’s betrayal. The car chase. The crash.
