Read Online Burning Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 4 by Nicole Hamilton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nicole Hamilton
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was everything, like nothing else mattered, just as in her favourite John Donne poem. He was being a fool by even thinking there was a choice to be made. Of course there wasn’t. But he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news just yet, and so he turned his phone onto airplane mode to stop any more texts, and started using his time more productively. He would have to save Ashley’s brother, and then he would be honest with Ashley.
He had two questions.
Where would someone like Brandon choose to hide in a town he didn’t know?
What sort of accommodation could you use to keep a prisoner?
He chewed over these questions while he made a Nescafé from the powdered sachets left in the hotel room. The coffee was essential to combat the booze and keep him productive. After the first cup went down it didn’t take too long to come up with some provisional answers.
Brandon Lynes didn’t know anyone well enough in Ashley’s home town to stay as a friend, and so the idea of using someone’s house to keep a prisoner was absurd. Besides, if Brandon had known someone in town, Ashley would have already known about it. So that was ruled out. Which meant Brandon would have had to organise accommodation, probably at short notice. Booking somewhere at short notice left only the usual public options. Hotels. Hostels. Bed and Breakfasts. Holiday parks, whatever. One by one Cody dismissed each of these as inappropriate for the purpose of holding a hostage. Ridiculous as it sounded, this was the problem they faced. Kidnapped, held hostage, whatever, Regan Pearson was missing because of Brandon. Finally, as he scoured the internet for local accommodation Cody found a website that gave him a new insight. The kind of insight you get when you know you’re on the right track. Holiday Home Rentals was a site enabling holiday makers to find their own holiday chalets, houses, apartments and villas and rent direct from the owners. He used the site and honed in his holiday search to Essex, and then to the Estuary coast. It turned out that just two places were on offer in the locality. Cody had scoured everywhere else. Now he was almost certain that Brandon Lynes was occupying one of these two houses. Cody noted down the two addresses, memorised the appearance of the houses, and then finally shut down his laptop. At midnight, with the trail to Brandon Lynes whereabouts just getting warm, Cody decided to try for some sleep. If he was right about the accommodation, then tomorrow he would have a fight on his hands. A fight he had lost once before, and could never ever risk losing again.
Nine
He skipped breakfast and walked along the seafront at seven forty five am. He kept walking right on past the town’s pier, past the silent and unlit arcade buildings in the early morning light, and walked on until the seafront attractions thinned out and the beach grew wide and natural with grasses pushing through the sand and shingle. Cody preferred this area to the rest of the town. The expanse of water and beach would have ordinarily given him room to think and breathe and write, but right now, it only gave him a moment’s respite from the tension he felt inside. He was close, very close, to finding Brandon’s hideaway. The houses opposite the beach across the street looked like old fisherman’s cottages, terraces of small houses all painted in different pastille colours, facing out to sea. Some were lacklustre and dirty. Others were painted as if for a postcard. Cody imagined the holiday home Brandon had rented looked something like these ones. But the door numbers revealed he had a way to go yet.
He had just passed the marine activity centre, a low white building huddled on the side of the beach when he saw the house numbers change in his favour. 175 appeared so quickly it felt like the house had jumped out into the street to hail his attention. The house looked like the images on the Holiday Home Rentals
He had two questions.
Where would someone like Brandon choose to hide in a town he didn’t know?
What sort of accommodation could you use to keep a prisoner?
He chewed over these questions while he made a Nescafé from the powdered sachets left in the hotel room. The coffee was essential to combat the booze and keep him productive. After the first cup went down it didn’t take too long to come up with some provisional answers.
Brandon Lynes didn’t know anyone well enough in Ashley’s home town to stay as a friend, and so the idea of using someone’s house to keep a prisoner was absurd. Besides, if Brandon had known someone in town, Ashley would have already known about it. So that was ruled out. Which meant Brandon would have had to organise accommodation, probably at short notice. Booking somewhere at short notice left only the usual public options. Hotels. Hostels. Bed and Breakfasts. Holiday parks, whatever. One by one Cody dismissed each of these as inappropriate for the purpose of holding a hostage. Ridiculous as it sounded, this was the problem they faced. Kidnapped, held hostage, whatever, Regan Pearson was missing because of Brandon. Finally, as he scoured the internet for local accommodation Cody found a website that gave him a new insight. The kind of insight you get when you know you’re on the right track. Holiday Home Rentals was a site enabling holiday makers to find their own holiday chalets, houses, apartments and villas and rent direct from the owners. He used the site and honed in his holiday search to Essex, and then to the Estuary coast. It turned out that just two places were on offer in the locality. Cody had scoured everywhere else. Now he was almost certain that Brandon Lynes was occupying one of these two houses. Cody noted down the two addresses, memorised the appearance of the houses, and then finally shut down his laptop. At midnight, with the trail to Brandon Lynes whereabouts just getting warm, Cody decided to try for some sleep. If he was right about the accommodation, then tomorrow he would have a fight on his hands. A fight he had lost once before, and could never ever risk losing again.
Nine
He skipped breakfast and walked along the seafront at seven forty five am. He kept walking right on past the town’s pier, past the silent and unlit arcade buildings in the early morning light, and walked on until the seafront attractions thinned out and the beach grew wide and natural with grasses pushing through the sand and shingle. Cody preferred this area to the rest of the town. The expanse of water and beach would have ordinarily given him room to think and breathe and write, but right now, it only gave him a moment’s respite from the tension he felt inside. He was close, very close, to finding Brandon’s hideaway. The houses opposite the beach across the street looked like old fisherman’s cottages, terraces of small houses all painted in different pastille colours, facing out to sea. Some were lacklustre and dirty. Others were painted as if for a postcard. Cody imagined the holiday home Brandon had rented looked something like these ones. But the door numbers revealed he had a way to go yet.
He had just passed the marine activity centre, a low white building huddled on the side of the beach when he saw the house numbers change in his favour. 175 appeared so quickly it felt like the house had jumped out into the street to hail his attention. The house looked like the images on the Holiday Home Rentals
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