I pull her in, losing myself in the sweetness of her mouth, pouring everything I feel into the melding of our lips, when something barrels right through our legs, knocking me backwards.
Half-stunned, half-miffed, I turn to figure out what the hell happened, only to see Maggie crouching to pet a massive English Sheepdog.
‘Oh my God, Roman! Look at this baby.’
Baby, my arse. If the dog stood up, he’d be my height. I glance over to our bench, not wanting to lose momentum. I want to tell Maggie how much she means to me. To get this ring on her finger, and promise to love her to immortality.
But she’s up to the elbow in fur and slobber and loving every minute. So I smile and join her in petting the rather adorable beast, and chat to the owner who fills us in on just about every detail of her pet.
Eventually, they continue on. Right as I’m about to pull Maggie to our bench, her phone rings.
‘Eliza,’ she says.
The family member we see most often, as she’s occasionally in London. I never ask why. I don’t want to know. I wait as Maggie listens, frowning.
‘She’s nearby,’ Maggie adds. ‘And it’s urgent.’
Oh fuck. What in fresh hell does she want withus?
‘Can it wait?’ I ask, my fingers grazing the velvet box in my pocket.
Maggie bites her lip. She left her family business, but she didn’t leave her family. And this is Eliza. Since when did Eliza ever need help with anything?
She looks up at me, apologetic already.
‘She wouldn’t say urgent if it wasn’t. You know what she’s like.’
‘I know.’ I soften. ‘Of course we can go.’
What the hell are we getting ourselves into?
Eliza sends us coordinates through the secure app the Hamiltons have on their phones. And tells us to take the back lane behind a disused-looking factory to avoid the cameras.
That alone makes me want to vomit.
Nothing good can come of it.
Maggie’s grip tightens around my wrist. ‘You don’t have to come in. I don’t know what she’s doing, but I don’t want you to ever have to lie for me.’
Running is tempting, but I know who Maggie’s family are. And promising myself to her means I’ll always be embroiled with them by extension. Her family will be my family. In for a penny.
‘I’m all in, Princess. If you’re going in, I’m coming.’
The smell hits us as soon as we enter through a broken back door, clocking the rusting van parked outside. That hot, coppery tang that coats the back of your throat. A scent that throws me right back to the wedding night in Scotland.
Floodlights flicker overhead as we head deeper into the bowels of the old building. I’m amazed there’s even power. The weak, milky light highlights the damp, moulding walls and the wet patches that mark the concrete.
We round a corner and walk into an open space.
And there she is.
Eliza Hamilton.
Looking like a blood-coated angel, and smiling like we’ve just walked into the pub, and not a crime scene.
The body on the floor is unmissable. Extremely large, and not exactly intact. The head has been rolled off to the left, resting next to a scarlet-edged chainsaw. Battery powered.How efficient.
The arms and legs are severed too, into chunks. Vomit hits the back of my throat, bitter and stinging.
