Angel of Death

She looked away, very conscious of his long fingers only inches from her cheek. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I do. You would have refused.’

‘I wanted to find somewhere safe, to hide from the Finnigans. Now I know you own this hotel I know I’m not safe here. I shall have to leave.’

‘No! You can’t go. You’ve signed a contract, promised to do this job, I won’t let you leave!’

Terror leapt inside her, she felt all the colour rush out of her face and was suddenly very cold, despite the increasing heat of noon.

‘You can’t force me to stay!’

‘You have a legal obligation to stay for three months – that was the term specified in the contract, wasn’t it?’

She couldn’t even remember. She had signed the contract after one brief glance at the terms.

‘You already owe us a considerable amount,’ he added.

She was shaken by that, her voice thready and weak. ‘Owe you? What do you mean? I don’t owe you anything.’

‘Did you read that contract you signed? If you leave before the three months is up you must refund the cost of your fare out here.’

‘I don’t remember that.’

‘Well, check your own copy of the contract.’

She looked down, her breathing fast and uneven, trying to think, to work out what to do. ‘Have you told Terry I’m here?’

‘No.’

Her eyes lifted incredulously, stared into his dark ones. They had midnight’s blackness, the round pupils like dangerous mirrors, reflecting her own face, very small. ‘But you are going to tell him?’

He shrugged those wide shoulders, his face impassive. ‘No, why should I? I’m one of Terry Finnigan’s clients, I’m not a friend of his. I won’t speak to him again for months, unless there’s a problem with the shipment he’ll be sending me shortly.’

She searched his eyes. ‘You know about the murder, though, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said flatly.

‘You know he sacked me for telling the police I overheard his son with the girl?’

He nodded. ‘And I know about the hit and run driver who ran you down in the street. I have talked to the police, I was one of the witnesses who was interviewed after your accident. I saw what happened.’

‘Oh.’ That astonished her. ‘You were really there?’ She had not imagined that she saw him among the crowd surrounding her while she lay on the road.

One of his

black brows lifted in sardonic mockery. ‘Did you think you were seeing things?’

‘I suppose I was concussed. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.’ She caught sight of his gold watch, realised time had flashed past. ‘Oh, I must go, it’s lunchtime.’

‘No, come in and eat with me,’ he ordered in an autocratic tone that she resented.

‘Don’t order me around!’

‘We have a lot to talk about, don’t we? I’ve only heard the police version of what happened. I haven’t discussed it with Terry. I’d like to hear the story from you.’

His face was sober, his gaze direct; she stared back at him uncertainly, biting her inner lip. Could she believe him? Did she dare trust him, this man who had haunted her nightmares for years?

Chapter Nine