Page 22 of Tell No One
“Something wrong?” Hassan asked.
“I thought tyre looked little flat, but fine.”
“Open the boot and I’ll put my bag in.”
“My golf clubs in there. Throw on back seat with mine.”
Delaney took off his mask and put it in the console. He could hardly do otherwise, but it meant Hassan did the same, stuffing his in his pocket. All Delaney needed now was for Tag to keep still and quiet until he dropped Hassan off, and to find out who the fuck Hassan really was.
The first thing Tag had done when he got into the boot was remove the straps that were around his head. It was too difficult to get at the other fastenings on his back, and he was worried about making the car rock if he struggled, because if the vehicle had locked itself, rocking might set off an alarm. He kept still even though his legs were twisted uncomfortably beneath him.
What a fucking mess!Tag had no keys to the house and his room. Everything he’d arrived with was still in that box, along with his phone and wallet and his favourite jacket. Thank God he’d had the foresight to leave his debit card and cash back at the house. Though the Master knew where he lived and so did whoever Vadim was working for.Shit.Tag definitely needed to move out. A decision already made, but now he needed to leave today.
The thousand pounds he’d counted on had gone, just like that, after all he’d put up with. He wasn’t too sure he’d get the other three thousand either, even though he’d done what he’d been told to do. Mostly.
He was deep in something he didn’t understand. Had anything illegal happened? Weird yes, but illegal? Giving them Viagra, or whatever the fuck had been in that orange drink, without their consent, had to be against the law. But maybe the drug would be out of his system before he went to the police.
And no way was he going to the police. He had no idea who any of the others were. He knew where Billy had been picked up, but that was all. Tag wouldn’t come out as the winner against men who paid thousands to buy a human pony. When it came down to it, he had no proof about any of what had happened. He also had the sneaking suspicion that opening his mouth could be a fatal mistake.
It was pitch black and hot and he was dripping with sweat. Tag heard movement around the car and tensed, then there were voices. Where would they think he’d gone when he was as good as naked and had no shoes? The muffled conversation was very close to the car. His heart went bananas. If they found him, he’d claim it was a joke, that Vadim had paid him to hide. Or he could say he’d found this car unlocked and then been trapped. Tag recognised Vadim’s voice. He was talking to the Middle-Eastern bidder who’d wanted to buy time with him. A moment later, there was a click as the doors unlocked, then a couple of thumps. The car rocked and he knew they’d both got inside. When the engine started, he acknowledged there’d be no stopping a little way down the road to let him out.
Tag swallowed to try and bring moisture to his dry mouth. Were the pair in league? What if they were taking him somewhere to…really fuck him up? To kill him?He pressed his mouth into the side of his hand. He had to stop thinking like that or he’d panic.
The constant jolting and bumping made him feel sick. Bad enough that the boot lid was just above his head because it was making the space he was in feel very small. It was having his face covered that Tag couldn’t cope with, more than confined spaces, but his heart was beating way too fast and he had to fight off the urge to scream.
Don’t freak out. Stay calm.He counted backwards in his head, concentrated on his breathing, and pulled away from the edge. He was really thirsty, and it was hard to think of anything but the predicament he was in, scrunched up, unable to stretch out, his mouth getting drier and drier. If the car went into a river or a quarry, he’d drown. Plenty of water then. What if Vadim had an accident? Tag was outside of the safe area of the car. Boots were meant to crumple, weren’t they? There was most likely an emergency release for the boot but he’d not found it. Now he tried to. And found nothing.
His heart rate shot up again. Tag tried to brace himself so he didn’t get thrown around so much, but he felt increasingly as if he was going to throw up. He had virtually nothing in his stomach, but his stomach didn’t seem to know that. It felt as if he was running out of air, but he knew that wasn’t true. Cars weren’t airtight. He just needed to stay calm.
A couple of times, when his head hit the roof, the pain was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He was bruised and aching now as well as hot and sweaty.Every time the car stopped, Tag hoped it was the Arab getting out, but the muffled conversation told him it wasn’t.
Finally, the engine went off and the boot opened. So much for his plans to spring out and run away because Tag couldn’t move. Vadim looked down at him and tossed him a shirt. Tag should be furious with him and he was, but he still half-fancied him.Only because I’m an idiot.Vadim hadn’t been at Harborne House for pleasure, but work. Everything he’d said and done had been his job. Some spy shit. Tag painfully levered himself into a sitting position and pulled on the shirt. It was crisp from being ironed and smelt of a lemony fabric softener. Tag had never worn an ironed shirt.
“Hand over the disruptor.”
Tag passed it to him.
“You can get in the front now.”
He didn’t even help Tag out of the car, and Tag almost fell when he put his feet on the ground. And where was his Russian accent? They were in some sort of industrial estate. It appeared to be early morning. No one was around. At least the shirt was long enough to hide his bare arse.
Tag staggered to the front, got in, then fastened the seat belt. “Do you have any water?” he croaked and hardly recognised his own voice.
“No.”
Oh God.He turned his head to the window and closed his eyes. He was so tired physically, and mentally exhausted, and he couldn’t even go to sleep when he got home. He’d have to find a way into his room, pack up his stuff and get out of there.Don’t fucking cry, you big baby.He bit his lip. He’d made lots of mistakes in his life, and this was up there with the big ones. All because he’d let the Master think he had a big cock. And it wasn’tthatbig.
When Vadim’s phone rang, Tag didn’t stir.
“I can’t talk now,” Vadim said.
That Russian accent had definitely gone.
“You’re late checking in. There better not be a problem.”
“Trying to insult me?”
“The other job has been moved up to tomorrow morning.”
