Page 76 of Forbidden Bond

What did that mean? Nicole? If the cops knew the victim… Was there a victim? That hadn’t been made clear. And now she was scared to use her phone. Not that she had it, Daly never gave it back. Didn’t matter when she couldn’t use the thing.

At the mansion, she got out as soon as the gravel stopped crunching. Running up the stairs, she didn’t wait for security. This was about as safe as she’d ever get.

Office was empty, bedroom, closet. Damnit. Thinking Strat might have something to share, she went into his bedroom. Empty.

That set her fists on her hips. Both men were leading her a merry dance. Shit.

Going back downstairs, her guys were still loitering in the foyer.

“What’s the plan?” Hock asked.

Without answering, she went to the dining room to stick her head around the door. “Anyone who—” And she noticed Strat, right there in the middle of the damn room, no shame. “You, Patient, get your ass out here.”

Backing up, she waited there, just a few feet from the door until he came out to join her.

“You’re pissed,” Strat said, and spotted the guys somewhere in the background. “You ordered to keep her here tonight?”

She glanced back, then at her friend. “Don’t talk to—” she spun to them, “did he order you to keep me here all night?”

“No!” Daly said. Hock and Snuff weren’t so good at hiding their guilt. “Just until your drinks thing.”

“Hear about what happened at the Grand?” Strat asked.

That brought her blinking attention back to him. “You knew about this? Oh my God…” She growled at the ceiling, then grabbed her friend’s tee-shirt to drag him upstairs. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I got handed a phone to call Immie, then it was taken away. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Striding into the office, she continued into the bedroom. “Thank me by telling me what the fuck is going on.”

“Don’t know. No one knows. It’s a blackout though, so it’s something.”

“What the hell does that even—why are you out of bed anyway? I told you to rest, recuperate, you can’t get better in one day.”

“Think I never took a beating before, Scamp? No one pulled my fingernails out with pliers. This is fists and feet, standard stuff.”

So it was okay providing no weapons were used? She could argue the men who attacked her didn’t have weapons either and everyone went crazy about that. In contrast to Strat though, she’d never taken a beating before that night.

Forgetting the past, she went into the closet and flicked on a light. “Sit down.” She kicked off her shoes and untucked her top, calling out to her friend in the bedroom as she got undressed. “How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?”

“Nothing permanent. Looks worse than it is.”

“Did you calm Imogen down? She was worried today.”

“About her brother too.”

She stuck her head out. “Did you speak to him?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Being looked after by all accounts.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Yeah.”

Huh, so her friend was allowed—obviously, that was his son. “I didn’t know Ford was involved in any of this.” Tossing her things in the hamper, she put on a robe. “How is he involved?”

She turned on the shower, then came out of the bathroom. Her friend was perched on the edge of the ottoman at the end of the bed. Feet wide apart, elbows on knees. Not the most comfortable spot.

“You can sit on the bed,” she said, and gestured to the wingback seats by the window. “Or over there.”

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