Page 31 of Callous Shot

Before I could make my move, Jay stepped onto the terrace, leaning back against the wall like I was. I glanced over at him. “Everything okay, mate?”

He rolled his head to the side, meeting my gaze. “Yeah. But are you? Where are you going?”

“It’s cold.” I blew out a heavy breath, a cloud of condensation appearing in the air. “See?”

“It’s not that cold. I’m not wearing a coat, and I’m okay.”

“Yeah, but your hoodie’s thick.”

“Daniel.”

Well…it wouldn’t hurt to give him a hint about my plan. “Alright, fine. I’m going to tie up some loose ends, if you must know.”

He stared at me. “Loose ends?”

“Yeah. You know, in case Operation Foxglove decides they wanna investigate the clinic. I’m going to make sure they don’t.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I have my ways,” I said, then mimed zipping my lips shut. “Your family’s been through enough shit. You don’t need that stress on top of everything else.”

“Thanks, Dan.” Jay shot me a small, grateful smile, and I grimaced. My reasons weren’t entirely altruistic.

I scuffed the ground with the toe of my shoe. “Ah, uh, yeah. It’s for selfish reasons too, though. One goes down, we all go down. I’m not a saint or anything.”

“I know that. Still, thanks.”

“Yeah. I wonder if Bellingham will thank me when I’m through with him. I guess I’m gonna find out. See ya later, Banks.”

With that, I jogged away from the terrace.

It was time for a reckoning, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

15

DAN

Driving probably wasn’t a good idea when I was supposed to be on bed rest, but I felt mostly okay other than a slight headache and some bumps and bruises—nothing worse than I had after a game. So I gave myself medical clearance and got on with my mission. But after driving to Lincoln’s campus apartment and discovering he was out, I was at a loss. I texted Maisie, hoping she’d have some intel, but she just sent me a string of laughing emojis.

Okay then.

He wasn’t at his flat or Ashbrook House… That meant he was probably with a woman, buried balls-deep in her⁠—

“Shut up,” I snarled out loud, with no one else to hear me. I immediately hated myself for it.

Fuck it. I was all the way over here in Whelford, so why not check out his family estate on the off chance he’d gone there?

Gripping the wheel, my headlights cutting through the darkness, I headed away from Whelford, driving through the small town of Nottswood and on to the road in the middle of nowhere in the Cotswolds, where the Bellingham estate was. I bet Lincoln stayed there whenever he could. Rich, pampered bastard.

My teeth were still gritted when I reached the edge of the estate, making my headache even worse. Easing up on the accelerator, I spun the wheel, sending my Range Rover coasting down a small side road, where I pulled into a tiny lay-by in front of a farmer’s field. It was easy enough from there to scale the crumbling wall surrounding the estate—it was only about the same height as I was—and drop down between the trees on the other side.

Now, I had to make it to the mansion without either of the senior Bellinghams noticing me. Luckily, I was skilled in subterfuge, so I wasn’t too concerned. I kept to the trees, using the distant yellow glow as a guide.

Except the glow wasn’t coming from the mansion, as I discovered when I rounded a clump of trees and ended up in a clearing. I forgot all about the Bellinghams for a second, enraptured by the sight in front of me. A small cottage, all cosy honey-coloured bricks with ivy trailing up the walls, and smoke lazily curling from the chimney. The golden light spilling from the windows enticed me closer, crossing the gravel parking area until I was standing at the front door.

Maybe it was a real-life gingerbread house, and I was going to die.

“I’m not worth eating,” I said aloud.