The train journey seemed more and more pointless, the longer it went on. What was I going to say to Ben? I hadn't seen him for years. A thought occurred to me as I sat there. What I needed wasn't on the train. I could only get it once we got off.
He slept most of the way, only waking up once. I let him sleep, he clearly needed to. I sat thinking hard about my future. How long could I keep ahead of the men who were chasing after me? I'd almost been kidnapped twice, it was only Jake that had stopped them from succeeding.
How far was Tony willing to go to get me back? Did he really want someone to marry his son who might run away at the first opportunity? I could only guess that he thought he'd be able to persuade me to stay, using either money or threats.
Should I just give up and go back? But if I did, there was no guarantee Jake would be safe. It was awful to think of him getting hurt because of me. Would he have to go on the run? How would he survive?
One question after another ran through my mind until I felt dizzy. I didn't want to have to come up with the answers myself. What I wanted was what had happened in the dressing room. I wanted someone to just tell me what to do, take all the questions away so I didn't have to worry anymore.
I had to wake him up when we got to Gladwell, shaking his shoulder lightly. His eyes opened instantly. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting bolt upright and immediately alert.
"We're here," I said. "We're at Gladwell."
We stepped off the train and joined the other passengers heading for the exit. "Can I borrow a fiver?" I asked as we passed a newsagent's in the main entrance hall. He gave it to me without asking why and I dipped into the shop, coming out a minute later with a carrier bag in my hand.
"Where does Ben live?" he asked, stepping out onto the pavement and waving his arm at a passing taxi.
"Samson Avenue," I replied as a cab swung in to stop next to us.
"How far's that?"
"No idea."
"About five miles," the taxi driver told us when we gave him the address.
Once we'd set off, I dug into the carrier bag and brought out my purchases.
"What's that for?" Jake asked, nodding down at my lap.
"For me to write on," I replied, opening the notebook. I spent the rest of the journey writing, crossing out and restarting countless times before finally getting somewhere just as the taxi stopped. "Samson Avenue," he said. "That'll be eleven fifty."
Jake paid from his pool winnings before we climbed out. I looked up and down the tree lined street. "It's number nine," I said. "That way."
We walked up the street and then I saw the house on the other side of the road. It felt so strange to think that Ben was inside there. "Wait there," I said to Jake, pointing at a bench. "I won't be long."
"I should go," he replied. "You don't need me here for this."
"Please, just wait there for one minute."
"Why?"
"Please."
He nodded. "All right. One minute."
He sat on the bench as I crossed the road. I stopped at the gate and looked up at the house for a moment, looking for any hint of movement inside. Once I was sure no one was watching, I unlatched the gate, walked through and then up to the front door. There was a doormat with ‘Welcome' stamped on it in thick letters. I took the letter I'd written out of my pocket. Bending down, I wedged it under the edge of the doormat before muttering, "Bye, Ben," and turning back to the street.
Jake was still waiting on the bench. "You didn't knock," he said when I reached him. "Why didn't you knock?"
"I did what I had to do. Shall we go?"
"But what the hell, Izzy? Don't you want to talk to him? Find out how he feels about you?"
"I've said goodbye," I said, turning and beginning to walk down the street. "That's enough. Are you coming?"
"You wrote him a letter didn't you?" Jake shouted after me, getting to his feet. "What did you put in the letter?"
I was about to reply when a car suddenly screeched around the corner and raced towards us. "They've found us," Jake said, running towards me. The car was already on us, the doors opening as it spun and stopped, separating me from Jake. A pair of hands reached out and grabbed me as I began to scream.
I was yanked into the car, my feet dragging on the ground as we were already moving away, Jake running after me. "Get off me!" I screamed as a pair of hands pulled me further in, far enough for the door to be slammed shut. A bag was shoved over my head, everything going dark as I felt something being tied round my wrists at the same time.
"You should have found a better bodyguard," a man's voice said, ignoring my writhing body as I fought to free myself from his grip. "Someone who knows that phones are trackable even if they're switched off."
"Fuck you," I spat.
"Temper, temper," the voice replied.
"Let me out!"
"Shut up or we'll have to gag you."
"Let me go!"
"Right," he snapped. "Don't say I didn't give you a chance."
The bag was lifted off my head just long enough for a strip of foul tasting cloth to be wrapped round my face, the largest part stuffed into my mouth. Then the bag descended again and my screams faded into muffled nothing when the man next to me elbowed me in the side. "Sit still or you'll get hurt. It'd be awful if the blushing bride was covered in bruises on her wedding night."
TWENTY-EIGHT
JAKE
"Jake," Tony said, his voice making me all the angrier. It was the lightness of it, as if he thought it was funny that I was calling him. "I thought you might ring me. How are you?"
"Let her go," I replied, my voice cold in comparison to his. I didn't let my emotions out. They were locked down where they belonged. This was about work now. I had a job to do. Get her back. Everything else was extraneous.
"You let me down, Jake," he said, the humour slipping briefly. "I trusted you to get this done."
"Let her go."
"You don't get to give me orders, Jake, remember? I'm your boss, or have you forgotten?"
"Let her go."
"You've lost it, it's over. And I'll tell you something for free, Jake. You better run far and fast if you want any chance of being alive this time next week."
"I'm not running," I said, gripping the phone so tightly it creaked in my hand.
He laughed, a barking laugh that dripped with sarcasm. "Is that supposed to frighten me, Jake?"
I hung up, dropping the phone to the floor and stamping on it, hard. A car was coming past me. Perfect.
I stepped in front of the car, looking directly at the driver as he hit the brakes, coming to a stop with the bumper just touching my legs. "Out," I said, moving round to the side of the car and wrenching his door open.
"What the fuck?" he asked as I grabbed his shoulders, wrenching him out of the car.
"Out."
He took one look at my face and realised it wasn't worth the fight. With a click of his seatbelt, he was on the street, watching me climb in and put my foot to the floor, tearing off down the road. Tony didn't know me, not really. I might have worked for him, I might have done some bad things for him, but that didn't mean he knew me.
He didn't know what I was capable of. If he did, he wouldn't have laughed at me down the phone like that. He'd have been the one who was running.
Every doubt I'd ever had about my choices had gone. I'd been worried he might chase me for protecting Isabel. But now he'd taken her and all worries had gone except one. Could I get to her in time?
I threw the question away as I drove. It was time to concentrate, it was time to do what I did best, to get the job done. It wouldn't be the first time I'd watched a man die. I had to get to him before he got to her. Once he found out what I'd done to her he'd know he could use her to punish me. He cared more about his reputation than about his son. He'd kill her to prove a point to me and I had to stop him before that happened.
As I drove, my mind went back to the last time I felt this cold. I was reading my mother's note to me, tears rolling down my cheeks as I did so. My father appeared in the bedroom doorway, swaying slightly in place. "Stop being such a pussy," he said. "She's not worth crying over."
"Fuck you," I replied, my voice quiet.
"What did you say to me?"
"I said fuck you."
"You little shit. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
He ran across the room, grabbing me and throwing me over to the doorway. As drunk as he was, he was still far stronger than me. I slammed into the door and slid down to the torn carpet. I staggered upright as he got hold of me again, his fist slamming into my stomach. I folded over and he shoved me down. "Man up," he hissed. "Hit me back. For once in your life, hit me back."