Page 51 of Knot a Tie
“I don’t know, stall him somehow, I’m on my way.” I squash myself into the Merc, regretting the choice, but just needing to move.
“How long till you get here?” she whispers.
“I’ll try for ten minutes.” Placing the phone in the holder, I switch it to speaker. “Follow him if you have to. Stay on the phone.”
I fire up the engine and set off, immediately stalling it. The pedals are too close together for my big feet. “Fuck’s sake,” I mutter and try again.
Lurching off through the square, I head in the direction of Westminster. Cursing the traffic, I switch the Satnav on and get a faster route out of Chelsea.
“He’s leaving,” Willow says a few minutes later.
“Follow him.”
“He’ll see me!”
“He doesn’t even know who you are.”
“I can’t just leave.”
“Go!” I roar at her. I amnotlosing the one other thing that Rayne wants. I may be concerned about how things will work once he re-joins the pack, but I know she needs him. That’s all that matters.
“Okay, okay,” Willow grumbles and I wait as she shuffles about and then says, “He’s going down the lift.”
“Take the stairs, then.” I let out a noise of exasperation, but it’s not aimed at Willow. I’m just eager to get to Richard and bring him back to the pack and to Rayne.
I hear her panting as she races down the four flights of stairs. “I..see..him…” she rasps, “He’s going outside.”
“Stick with him. I’ll be a few minutes yet.”
Her breathing slows down and I hear outside noises.
“Which way are you going?”
“We came left out of Parliament.”
“Okay,” I murmur. That’s good. That means they are going with the flow of traffic.
A couple of minutes later, I see my sister’s bright blue dress, the one with the big pink flowers on it that I got her for her last birthday. “I’m right behind you. You can go now. Thanks, Willow. You’re amazing as always.”
“Ooh, compliments from the taciturn arsehole. Noice.”
“Fuck off,” I say gruffly.
She laughs and hangs up.
I push the button to slide the passenger window down and slow to a roll next to the scruffy looking man with the beat-up face. It has to be Richard.
Flicking the hazard lights on, I call out, “Richard?”
He turns his head to me, his eyes telling me he’s pissed off. “Oh, fuck off. I’m not getting into any more cars today or ever.”
Well, I don’t know what I was expecting, but his attitude is as rough as he currently looks.
“My name’s William St. Stevens. Will you get in now?”
He pauses and peers in the open window. I press the brake, coming to a stop by the curb.
“You’re part of his pack,” he sneers. “He couldn’t even be bothered coming to find me himself.”
