he didn’t go directly to her or Millie would see and know that Sonya was working with him. Vince angled around the green, heels clipping on the cobblestones that had been laid to give the old-world town an air of quaintness.
There were people out and about, but evidently none of them had been alerted to what had happened in Don Griffiths’ house. He kept his head down, hiding the claw marks on his face as he surreptitiously shoved the guitar string into his jacket pocket. He cursed under his breath. Normally Vince Everett strutted, but this time he was forced to slink away like a kicked dog, limping slightly on his twisted knee.
They’d parked their car in an alleyway between two stores.
Vince saw a handwritten note tacked to the windscreen by the wipers, a polite notice asking that he didn’t park there in future. He crumpled the note in his fist and dropped it on the ground just as Sonya caught up to him. Her mouth made a hollow ‘O’ as she stared at him.
‘Don’t start in on me,’ he warned.
‘Jesus, Vince, baby, your face is a mess.’
‘Fucking tell me about it,’ he groaned, testing the scratches with his fingertips. He winced, sucking in a breath. ‘No. On second thoughts, never mind. Tell me what the fuck we’re gonna tell the big man?’
Chapter 9
Don’s words about Adrian’s lack of a claim on the children had been heavy, but tinged with disappointment rather than anger. As I pushed the Audi along the blacktop, I studied the old man. His moustache was flecked with spittle. There was some tough thinking going on. I cleared my throat to get his attention. ‘So what’s Adrian’s problem?’
‘There won’t be a problem, Hunter . . . just expect him to be reticent in accepting your help.’
‘My help or yours, Don?’
‘That son of a bitch doesn’t deserve my help . . .’
I had got it then. In Don’s mind, Adrian had failed to keep Brook safe and it was highly likely that the recriminations had been flying back and forth between them. With Don bringing in outside assistance, it would only rub further salt in the rawest of wounds. What Don suggested was that Adrian might feel his manhood was being threatened. Well, this wasn’t a pissing contest; it was all about Millie and the kids and neither of the men should be allowed to compromise that.
‘I’ll step carefully around him, OK?’ I was no knight in shining armour, as Don had sarcastically put it, no paragon of virtue, but I still considered myself a man of morals and integrity. In my book that meant that Adrian had a huge say in his children’s welfare.
‘Treat him any way you please. He’s a gold-digging son of a bitch and he’d have nothing if it weren’t for marrying Brook,’ he said.
My grunt told Don how pathetic I found his aversion to his son-in-law, but to be sure, I reminded him, ‘Apart from two beautiful children, Don.’
‘Not if I get my way . . .’
Before I could tell him how pitiful he sounded, a trilling phone interrupted my thoughts.
I looked down at my phone cradled in the hands-free holder on the dashboard, but by the way Don scratched through his pockets he was the one who had an incoming call.
Don pulled out a Samsung that looked tiny in his thick fingers. He flipped it open and juggled it to his ear.
‘Millie? What’s happened?’
The tone of Don’s voice, the way his bottom lip hooked over his teeth, were enough for me to stop the car. I pulled in at the side of the road, in the shade of the fir trees towering over us. I tensed, ready to spin the car round if need be.
Don held out a hand, made waving motions. He quickly glanced across to make sure his instructions were clear: keep going.
I waited though. A bead of perspiration broke from Don’s hairline and trickled down his forehead. It shivered on his thick eyebrows. I didn’t need to hear Millie’s words to understand that something terrible had happened.
‘We’re going back,’ I said, thrusting the gearstick into
There were people out and about, but evidently none of them had been alerted to what had happened in Don Griffiths’ house. He kept his head down, hiding the claw marks on his face as he surreptitiously shoved the guitar string into his jacket pocket. He cursed under his breath. Normally Vince Everett strutted, but this time he was forced to slink away like a kicked dog, limping slightly on his twisted knee.
They’d parked their car in an alleyway between two stores.
Vince saw a handwritten note tacked to the windscreen by the wipers, a polite notice asking that he didn’t park there in future. He crumpled the note in his fist and dropped it on the ground just as Sonya caught up to him. Her mouth made a hollow ‘O’ as she stared at him.
‘Don’t start in on me,’ he warned.
‘Jesus, Vince, baby, your face is a mess.’
‘Fucking tell me about it,’ he groaned, testing the scratches with his fingertips. He winced, sucking in a breath. ‘No. On second thoughts, never mind. Tell me what the fuck we’re gonna tell the big man?’
Chapter 9
Don’s words about Adrian’s lack of a claim on the children had been heavy, but tinged with disappointment rather than anger. As I pushed the Audi along the blacktop, I studied the old man. His moustache was flecked with spittle. There was some tough thinking going on. I cleared my throat to get his attention. ‘So what’s Adrian’s problem?’
‘There won’t be a problem, Hunter . . . just expect him to be reticent in accepting your help.’
‘My help or yours, Don?’
‘That son of a bitch doesn’t deserve my help . . .’
I had got it then. In Don’s mind, Adrian had failed to keep Brook safe and it was highly likely that the recriminations had been flying back and forth between them. With Don bringing in outside assistance, it would only rub further salt in the rawest of wounds. What Don suggested was that Adrian might feel his manhood was being threatened. Well, this wasn’t a pissing contest; it was all about Millie and the kids and neither of the men should be allowed to compromise that.
‘I’ll step carefully around him, OK?’ I was no knight in shining armour, as Don had sarcastically put it, no paragon of virtue, but I still considered myself a man of morals and integrity. In my book that meant that Adrian had a huge say in his children’s welfare.
‘Treat him any way you please. He’s a gold-digging son of a bitch and he’d have nothing if it weren’t for marrying Brook,’ he said.
My grunt told Don how pathetic I found his aversion to his son-in-law, but to be sure, I reminded him, ‘Apart from two beautiful children, Don.’
‘Not if I get my way . . .’
Before I could tell him how pitiful he sounded, a trilling phone interrupted my thoughts.
I looked down at my phone cradled in the hands-free holder on the dashboard, but by the way Don scratched through his pockets he was the one who had an incoming call.
Don pulled out a Samsung that looked tiny in his thick fingers. He flipped it open and juggled it to his ear.
‘Millie? What’s happened?’
The tone of Don’s voice, the way his bottom lip hooked over his teeth, were enough for me to stop the car. I pulled in at the side of the road, in the shade of the fir trees towering over us. I tensed, ready to spin the car round if need be.
Don held out a hand, made waving motions. He quickly glanced across to make sure his instructions were clear: keep going.
I waited though. A bead of perspiration broke from Don’s hairline and trickled down his forehead. It shivered on his thick eyebrows. I didn’t need to hear Millie’s words to understand that something terrible had happened.
‘We’re going back,’ I said, thrusting the gearstick into
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