Then my foot hit the metal doorframe—Goon had taken my boots—and the pain that rocketed from my toes to my hip was unbelievable.
My groan this time was real, and my assailant shook me, standing me up, and slapping my face a few times. “Listen, mate. You’ve gotta pull yourself together before the coppers get here. Get yourself home and lay low.”
“Wha—?”
The face of the man holding me up came closer, slipping under the mist I couldn’t seem to shift. His bone structure was familiar, the jet black hair with the tell-tale orange tint of Just for Men, but I couldn’t focus, dammit, and his words made even less sense than his face.
Another slap, harder this time. “Comeon,” the man said. “Get moving.”
And suddenly Iwasmoving, and bright daylight hit my eyes. Jesus, where the fuck had I been all this time? In a fucking dungeon?
The black-haired man dragged me along a few steps, then pushed me towards a wooden gate. “Through there,” he said. “Let yourself out and run. And don’t tell no one what happened here, or Goon will shoot your pretty little boyfriend for real next time.”
I turned to stare at him, filing the gravity of his warning away for when I could truly comprehend it. Only one word stood out.Boyfriend.Fuck. If only he knew.
Somehow, I managed to get it together enough to stagger to the gate and let myself out. Beyond it, I found myself on land I recognised. Ahead of me were the lookout points I’d stalked with Rae and Fletch, and the dugout I’d holed up in with Rae that crisp winter dawn.
It was colder than that now. I rubbed my arms and started forward, but my legs were weak, and my foot hurt, and I couldn’t seem to make myself move. My knees buckled. I stumbled, barely keeping myself upright before I reached the treeline.
The woods seemed to cocoon me. Distantly, I thought I heard sirens, but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the ringing in my ears gone rogue. I staggered into a tree, sharp bark scraping another layer of skin off my cheek, and fell to my knees. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me. Where was I even trying to go? To my car that I didn’t have the keys to? To Rae who was apparently more like my ex than my worst nightmares?
Fuck it. Maybe I would go to sleep after all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rae
I’d never seen so many police around here, even when they’d raided us a few months back. Apparently they came in droves when someone like Dom called them. Or maybe it was Isha. I was struggling to keep up.
An officer cornered me by Fletch’s barbecue. I sat on a soggy deck chair, my knees pulled up to my chest. Lucky stood behind me, his thin fingers digging into my shoulders.
“When did you last see Ciaran?”
“Cash,” I corrected for the third time. “He doesn’t go by his real name.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
The officer’s eyebrow twitched. He made a note, and tried again. “When did you last see Cash?”
“Yesterday. He was standing with Sprig when the hunt ended. Your lot kept me behind, and when I came back here, he was gone.”
“Gone where?”
“He told Sprig he was going home.”
“And that’s in London?”
“Yes,” Lucky said. “We share a house in Tottenham.”
“And you’re sure he hasn’t been home?”
“Yes. A mate of ours is there now in case he shows up.”
The officer’s gaze flickered to Dom and back, and I could almost see him putting the pieces together. Remembering media coverage of the gay footballer who’d given up the premiership highlife to be with his boyfriend.
Fury rippled through me. Seriously? This was going to be about that? The hell Lucky and Dom had been through was going to be the only thing that made the coppers believe Cash was in danger?
