Page 45 of Strap In
‘All the more reason to get her home.’ Jean puts her iPhone on speaker. ‘Rhona, the car’s waiting downstairs – would you like to come with me?’
Leonides straightens, brows knitting together as he takes in the device. ‘What exactly are you accusing me of?’
‘I haven’t accused you of anything, Mr Leonides.’
‘Come on now, Jean. You’re a sensible woman – pragmatic. Are you really going to throw away your firm’s biggest client on the say-so of a jumpy little girl?’
Jean’s eyebrows climb. ‘I haven’t mentioned anything about terminating our contract with Hephaestia.’
‘We both know you’re the power behind the throne. You’re at the office every night long after Peter’s gone home.’ His voice is oily, wheedling. ‘Why not let me turn in for the night. And then tomorrow we can sit down together, discuss a personal retainer. There’s no need for hostility.’
Jean bites back a sigh. ‘You’re right – we can end this amicably. But you and I both know Rhona’s in there. So why not let m—’
He grabs Jean’s wrist in a vice grip without warning, tight enough that a whimper escapes her lips. They’re far enough away from the other hotel rooms that nobody would hear her scream. Their eyes lock and Leonides licks his lips, as if savouring the taste of her fear.
Jean stills. She’d read about trauma responses in the years after it all happened, when Henry had suggested therapy as a solution to the panic that remained with her long after Will left the firm. Fight or flight are the big ones, seized upon by evolutionary biologists, fawn and freeze the poor cousins. She’d despised her own weakness, locked in place like a fieldmouse before an adder – and dedicated herself to changing.
But all those courses on confidence, elocution, leadership – every rung of the ladder she has climbed over the years – dissipate into nothing as Leonides tightens his grip. Deep down, Jean’s the same now as she was then; the knowledge pains her more deeply than any wound this man is capable of inflicting.
But Hugo doesn’t fawn or freeze. And though he flies, it’s entirely in the aid of fight. He darts around the corner and, seizing upon Leonides’ shock, launches himself at the billionaire’s thickset waist. Leonides holds her wrist tighter still, yanking as Hugo tackles him to the ground. A cry rips from Jean’s throat, the pain blinding her as something delicate ruptures between bone and sinew.
‘Ms Howard.’ While Leonides is still winded, Hugo rolls him over, both arms pinned behind his back, a knee fixing him in place. ‘JEAN! Get Rhona.Now.’
Jolted into action, Jean hurries past the two men sprawled on the floor. With her left hand she knocks on the bathroom door.
‘You think you canattackme? That you will get away with it?’ Leonides spits with all the venom of a cobra, red-faced under Hugo’s muscular bulk. ‘I havedestroyedpeople for less.’
‘Rhona, it’s me. It’s Jean.’ Sweat beads on Jean’s forehead; she lifts the phone to her mouth, praying Rhona hears her above the litany of threats and curses and feet thumping against the floor. ‘Open the door and we’ll leave together. You can do it. I’m right here.’
The lock clicks and Rhona tumbles into her arms, red-faced and clinging to her torn blouse. A tide of acid bile rises in Jean’s throat as her wrist is wedged tight between their bodies. Jean pulls away, keeping her good arm wrapped around Rhona’s shoulder, propelling the girl past her captor.
Leonides is puce with the effort of squeezing words past the weight of Hugo’s knee. ‘I will burn your fucking firm to the ground, do you hear me? And you can kiss any chance of a career goodbye, you worthless little cocktease.’
‘Almost there, Rhona.’ Jean guides her out into the hallway.
‘I’ll call the police the second you release me. You really think they’ll just let you get away with this?’ Even with both arms pinned behind his back, he wears the grin of a man with the upper hand. ‘Andreas Leonides has friends in high places.’
Rhona pales, her breath coming in shallow rapid wheezes. Jean looks from her to Hugo; she can’t jettison one to save the other.Why couldn’t Peter have answered his fucking phone?
‘I’ll stay with him.’ Jean’s gaze darts around. ‘Tie his hands with the belt from that robe and I’ll stay.’
‘Respectfully, Ms Howard, I have a better idea.’ Hugo grunts with effort as he rolls Leonides over. ‘Time to put our heads together and find a solution.’
Hugo raises his head and brings it down hard, and Jean winces at the clash of bone against bone. Leonides sags on the floor, unresponsive as Hugo checks him over – only the slow rise and fall of his chest indicate that he’s anything other than a corpse.
‘Hugo, what did you do?’ Rhona’s breath comes in panting sobs. ‘You’ll go to jail and it’s all my fault. OhGod. I’m so sorry.’
Hugo clambers to his feet and dusts himself down, seemingly unhurt despite the welt forming on his forehead. ‘Leonides isn’t the only one with friends in high places. My sister’s in the Home Office – and she’s godmother to the foreign secretary’s son. Now let’s go.’
Hugo closes the door behind him and, demonstrating more tact than Jean had ever imagined him capable of, leaves Jean to help Rhona. The lift is waiting when they reach it, Hugo blocking the door sensors with his body, one foot on solid ground and the other inside.
As they descend, Jean shrugs off her jacket, purple spots blooming across her vision as a sleeve snags her wounded wrist. With her good hand Jean drapes the blazer over Rhona’s shoulders, tucking it to shield the rip in her blouse as the doors open. She and Hugo steer Rhona through the lobby, one on either side like sentries.
And relief soars in Jean’s chest as she spies the car; Bogdan, still waiting. Hugo opens the door, and Jean helps ease a sniffling Rhona inside. The girl tries to pull Jean in after her, relinquishing her grip only when Jean promises to return soon.
The second she lets go, Jean staggers round to the back of the car. With her good hand balanced against the boot Jean vomits into the gutter, ignoring the jeers of pedestrians.
Hugo’s eyes dart between the sweat pooling above her upper lip; the way Jean cradles her wrist against her chest. ‘You’re hurt! London Bridge Hospital’s not far – Bogdan can drop you off on the way to Rhona’s.’
