Page 26 of Hard Lessons

She glanced around; the traffic was moving now, cars zipping past this way and that. These were unfamiliar surroundings, a part of London she didn’t venture into—Kensington, Chelsea, and Knightsbridge were her haunts.

“Tell me what on earth is going on.” She banged the seat. “Right now.”

“There is someone who wants to see you.”

“What?” It was as if a cloak of freezing ice had been set on her shoulders. The chill sliced down her back, around her ribs, and turned her stomach to lead. “Who?”

“We’re nearly there.”

Damn, his Italian accent, it isn’t coincidence.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, mate, but you need to take me to the airport. Have you any idea who—”

“Who you are, yes.”

“So you’ll also know who my brother is, and my boy—”

“Your boyfriend?” He turned, his dark eyes boring into her. “Yeah, I know Luca Morretti.”

Luca Morretti. Oh, fuck.

“He’ll hear of this.” She scrambled in her bag. Withdrew her cell then cursed when she recalled wrecking the sim card.

Damn idiot, Serena.

“Luca will hear of this... kidnapping, and then he’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” she said, her voice sharp and her throat tight.

“We’ll see.”

They were driving alongside a huge brick wall. Atop it was barbed wire curled into a long coil.

“Jesus help me,” she whispered. This was Wormwood Scrubs, Luca’s home for the last year.

“What was that?” the driver asked. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. Why the hell are we here?” She tried her best to sound steadfast, sure of herself, even though inside she was in full panic mode.

“Why do you think?”

“I have no bloody idea otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“So will you, find out how much it hurts to have your teeth smacked out and your body burned with a torch, that is. My boyfriend gets out next week, he’ll have something to say about you hijacking me like this. You really ought to just...”

The car drew to a stop outside an imposing turreted entrance. Huge doors with elaborate ironwork were set behind barriers with white sentry huts manned by what appeared to be police officers.

Serena swallowed down the taste of bile. Her skin had goose-bumped and her ears were whooshing with the sound of her pulse.

Walking past the barriers, holding a battered hold-all, was Luca Morretti.

HerLuca Morretti.

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