Betrayed (Powell Book 4) (13 page)

Powell made slow progress because he avoided the path around the wall, preferring instead to keep out of sight within the trees. Every so often he stopped and listened for any sounds of pursuit or danger but everything was quiet. Hattie made no attempt to pull her arm free. She seemed to have accepted the situation and was easily keeping up with the pace he was setting.

Finally, Powell was within fifty metres of the gate. He had pulled Hattie down beside him on the ground and he could see a couple of figures moving around in the dark. He hoped Afina was safe and she wouldn’t be much longer getting hold of a phone. How she would get one, he wasn’t sure but he knew she was resourceful and he trusted her to find a way.

Powell was thinking about Afina and how lucky he was to have her as a friend. Afina had none of the privileges of birth given to Hattie and had survived being trafficked into the country as a sex slave, yet she was willing to put herself in danger to help her friends. Hattie, by comparison, seemed intent on wasting her life. She seemed the epitome of a spoilt child. Perhaps that was the problem. Hattie had always been given anything she wanted. Afina had worked hard for everything.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching sirens. He smiled, knowing his confidence in Afina hadn’t been misplaced. As the sirens came nearer, he could see the two figures near the gate looking out in the direction from where the vehicles were approaching, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on.

Powell stood up and pulled Hattie to her feet. He would have liked to take her with him but it wasn’t possible. That left the tricky problem of what to do with her, now he no longer needed a hostage. He was going to have to improvise.

“Take off your jeans and be quick,” he demanded.

Hattie was slow to react, giving him a questioning look, as if she hadn’t heard him properly.

“I said, take off your jeans. If you don’t immediately do as I ask, I’m going to have to knock you out with this gun, which is going to leave you with a very sore head.”

Hattie removed her jeans and handed them to Powell. She was now left standing in just her underwear and she shivered from the cold. He pulled her to a nearby tree and wrapped the jeans around her waist, tying them behind the tree so she couldn’t move.

He reached behind her back and undid her bra. There was no doubt she was extremely attractive but he didn’t dwell on the image of her naked breasts. He pulled her hands behind the tree and tied them together with the bra. They weren’t the most secure bindings but would hold her in place long enough for him to get away. Finally, he slid her knickers down but looked sideways as he removed them, not really wanting to view her nakedness.

“Sorry about this,” he apologised and stuffed the knickers into her mouth. She resisted at first but he pushed his gun into her ribs and she acquiesced. Her eyes burned with hatred and he couldn’t resist adding, “I thought you wanted to get naked for me.”

Powell turned back towards the gate to see a fire engine come to a stop, quickly followed by shouting from someone leaning out of the engine window, demanding the gate be opened. Powell watched as an ambulance pulled up behind the fire engine, quickly followed by a further fire engine.

Powell could hear Scott telling the men in the fire engine there was no fire but he was told in no uncertain terms to open the gate. They needed to check for themselves that everything was all right at the house.

Scott conceded and opened the gate. The vehicles accelerated through and were soon joined by two police cars. Powell watched as Scott started hurrying back towards the house but the other man remained behind.

Powell had hoped his way would be completely clear but it wasn’t. The gate was open but he had to walk down twenty five metres of driveway in full view of the person standing beside the gate, who Powell had decided from his silhouette was probably Roger.

Powell could wait for the fire engines to return, which would afford him some cover to walk towards the gate but that was still risky. Scott and Tommy could return to the gate at any time. The odds were currently one against one and Powell had to believe Roger wouldn’t dare shoot him, not having seen the police cars go past. What Roger didn’t know was that Powell had no such reservations about shooting him, if he got in the way. Powell was intent on getting through those gates, whatever the consequences.

Powell broke cover and started walking towards the gate at a steady pace, deciding not to attract additional attention by running, especially as he couldn’t actually run very fast. He hoped it might take a moment or two for Roger to realise who was headed in his direction but knew it wouldn’t take too long. There was no hiding his limp. Powell had his hand down by his side, clutching his gun and was fully intending to shoot his way out if necessary.

Powell noticed the figure emerge from the darkness on the other side of the gate and call out to Roger. Powell immediately accelerated his pace while Roger was distracted. He hadn’t been spotted and he could see the two figures engaged in conversation.

Powell’s foot was dragging on the driveway gravel and Roger turned in time to see Powell raise his arm. Roger’s hand reached under his jacket but before he knew what had happened, Afina had cracked him over the skull with the large piece of wood she had been using as a makeshift walking stick. Roger sank to his knees and fell forward onto the ground. Powell hurried forward, covering Roger with his gun but there was no sign of movement.

“I told you to get as far away from here as possible,” Powell reminded Afina.

“I thought you might need my help,” Afina answered with a mischievous smile. “You usually do.”

“Help me move Roger,” Powell said, grabbing him under the arms.

They pulled him to the side of the driveway and left him in the bushes where he wouldn’t be easily spotted, at least not by the returning vehicles.

“We need to get as far away from here, as quickly as possible,” Powell suggested. “They still might come looking for us and it’s a fair old walk to town.” 

“It’s okay, I have a taxi waiting,” Afina answered. “I didn’t just call the emergency services. He’s waiting down the road.”

“I hope he’s still there,” Powell said, doubtfully.

“He will be. I already gave him a big tip and promised him an even bigger one when we get to Brighton.”

Powell was relieved at the thought of not having to walk much further. His leg was aching and needed some treatment.

“You really are amazing,” he said, putting his arm around Afina’s waist and using her for support as he hobbled towards the waiting taxi. “I don’t suppose you’ve also managed to organise a stiff drink waiting for me in the car?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to wait until we get you home.”

After a few further steps, Powell turned to Afina and said, “You know, you saved my life back in the basement. That’s the second time you’ve come to my rescue.”

“You would have done the same for me. If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead.”

“But you shouldn’t take such risks,” Powell cautioned. “I would be devastated if something happened to you. I would ask you to promise not to put yourself at risk for me ever again but I think it’s pointless.”

“Would you make the same promise?” Afina asked, with a smile, knowing full well if he did make such a promise, it would be a lie.

Powell returned the smile but said nothing. A strange and cruel twist of fate had brought their lives into collision and they had a bond that might be stretched at times but would never be broken.

After a few more steps, Afina asked, “By the way, what did you do with Hattie?”

Powell smiled at the memory. “She’s going to be tied up for a while.”

Powell carried his jacket down by his side as he approached the taxi, covering the blood stained jeans. He was no longer bleeding but certainly looked a mess with Hattie’s t-shirt as a makeshift bandage. Fortunately it was dark and he also suspected the driver would only have eyes for Afina.

Powell slid in the back of the car and informed the driver there was a change of plans. He asked for them to be taken to Three Bridges station, rather than Brighton. He didn’t feel it was safe to return to Brighton as it was the first place the police would be looking. He knew trains ran through the night from Three Bridges to London and it would be easier to disappear in the busy capital.

It was fifteen minutes after midnight when the taxi deposited them at Three Bridges station. They only had to wait twenty minutes for the next train to Victoria but it was a cold night and neither of them were dressed appropriately for the weather. The time passed slowly and there was nowhere to escape the cold so they held each other close to keep warm.

Powell wondered why he had resisted the idea of a relationship with Afina, for so long. It certainly wasn’t because he didn’t find her attractive. She felt so good pressed against his body. In fact, she melted into the contours of his body. She relaxed against him in the way only a lover normally would. There was no shyness on her part. She hugged him close to make him warm as their bodies met but she had no ulterior motive.

He leaned down towards her face and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her green eyes showed surprise but she immediately kissed him back, flicking her tongue between his lips, asking them to open and invite her in for a deeper kiss.

He wanted to smother her with kisses and was about to do so when the train finally pulled into the platform. Fate had once again intervened and the moment was gone. Perhaps it was for the best. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to make rational decisions.

The train journey took less than an hour and with the adrenaline having subsided, Powell fell asleep for most of the journey, with his head leaning on Afina’s shoulder.

From Victoria station, it was only a five minute walk to the four star hotel Powell had booked while sitting on the platform at Three Bridges. The night porter checked them in, showing no surprise at their lack of bags and the late arrival. Powell again hid his damaged leg. He paid for the room with cash and gave a false name and address.

He reasoned the porter probably suspected he was a married man, who had got lucky with his secretary or similar, and now needed somewhere to consummate their new relationship. It was probably a common occurrence in London hotels.

Safely in their room, Powell immediately raided the mini bar. He had a whisky and Afina the white wine.

“I need to shower and clean this wound,” Powell said after quickly downing his drink.

“I’ll help,” Afina offered.

“Thanks but I can cope. I’ll shout if I need you.”

Powell closed the bathroom door but didn’t lock it just in case he did need Afina’s help. He decided a bath was probably a better idea than a shower and turned on the taps. As he undressed, he realised he was going to have to send Afina out to buy him some new trousers in the morning, as his jeans were past saving.

He sank into the warm bath and the stinging jolt of pain from his wound reminded him of its presence. He started by washing everywhere except the bullet wound then concentrated on cleaning the wound. Satisfied he had done the best job possible in the circumstances, he towelled himself dry. He returned to the room with the towel tied around his waist. He took two miniature bottles of brandy from the mini bar and lay down on the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Afina asked.

“Better. Can you get me another one of the hand towels, please.”

Afina fetched a towel from the bathroom and handed it to him. He placed it under his damaged thigh and opened the two bottles of brandy. He gulped down the contents of one bottle and then immediately poured the second bottle of brandy over his wound. It felt like someone had put a sizzling, hot poker into his bullet wound and he clenched his fists with all his strength to stop himself from screaming.

“In the morning you can get me a bandage from the chemist at Victoria station,” Powell said, once the pain had subsided. “For now, I’ll bandage it with this towel. And you need to buy me some trousers and a shirt as well.”

“I hope you like bright colours,” Afina teased.

“We don’t want anything that draws attention to us,” Powell replied. “Now we need to get some sleep.”

Powell stood up and pulled back the quilt. He had never slept in the same bed as Afina and the idea seemed strange but she would have to be a miracle worker and capable of raising the dead, if she had any amorous intentions. The kiss on the platform had been very much a spur of the moment act and the result of extraordinary circumstances. Why was he always confused about his feelings for Afina? 

Afina took off her jeans and top without any shyness and climbed in the bed next to Powell.

“You can hold on to me, if it helps you sleep,” Afina offered.

“Thanks but I think I’ll stay on my side of the bed as I don’t like the idea of anything touching my thigh.” He hoped she didn’t think him ungrateful. Had his kissing her raised expectations on her part? Was she expecting him to kiss her again? He wasn’t sure kissing her had been such a good idea.

“As you wish,” Afina answered, reaching to turn off the bed side light. “Good night.”

“Good night and thanks again, Afina. When this is all over, let’s go on holiday together, somewhere hot and exotic. The Bahamas are lovely at this time of year. We deserve a holiday.”

“That would be nice,” Afina agreed. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.