Page 143 of Joker in the Pack

Tate sighed. “This is a difficult time for all of us. I wish things could have been different, really I do.”

When he headed for the drinks cabinet on the far side of the room, I leaned to one side, trying to wiggle my phone out of my pocket, but it snagged on the lining. Try as I might, I couldn’t get it free. Tate poured himself a generous measure of Scotch, and it sloshed over the sides of the glass as he resumed pacing.

A tear trickled down my cheek, followed by another and another. Right now, I should have been on my way to a restaurant with Nye. What would he think when I didn’t arrive home? Would he think I’d stood him up? That I didn’t love him? Because I did, and I’d never got the chance to say it. This should have been the best day of my life, and instead, it had turned into the worst.

Tate stalked back to me, red-faced. The glass only had a few dregs and an ice cube left in it.

“Why, Olivia? Why? Why did you have to be like that? We could have been so happy together. Once I show you what you’ve been missing, you’ll understand that.”

He grabbed my legs and pulled me flat on the sofa. I writhed like a demented caterpillar and tried to throw myself onto the floor, but he caught me and flipped my legs back onto the seat.

“Get off me!” I screamed.

“Shut up, Olivia, or I’ll have to gag you. And I have plans for your pretty mouth.”

So did I. I was going to bite the fucking thing off if it got that far.

“I hate you.”

He pressed a hand over my mouth, and in the moment of silence, I heard the sweetest sound in the world—a knock at the front door.

CHAPTER 42

TATE NARROWED HIS eyes at me. “Who’s at the door?”

“How should I know? It’s not my house.”

He bit his lip as he glanced towards the door.Go on, answer it.I just needed one more minute to get to my phone and call for help.

Another knock, louder this time, startled both of us, and Tate came to a decision.

“Don’t you move.”

“I’m tied up, Tate. I can’t go anywhere.”

He got halfway to the door before he stopped in his tracks, reaching out to tug a tasselled tie-back off one of the curtains.

“No, I just can’t trust you.”

He knotted one end of it around my ankle and tied the other to the leg of the couch, but that wasn’t the worst part. As he straightened, he spotted the bulge in my pocket.

“What’s this?” He pushed me sideways and delved in. “A phone? Tsk tsk tsk, Olivia. You weren’t thinking of calling the police, were you?”

“No. I honestly wasn’t.”

Tate threw my smartphone against the wall by the fireplace, and it smashed into smithereens. Dammit. I should have stuck with my old Nokia. That would have survived Armageddon.

Low voices came from the hallway, Tate’s and another man’s, but I couldn’t afford to waste time listening. Instead, I heaved the couch with all my might and managed to slide the tie-back off the leg. I wasn’t free, exactly, but at least I could hop. Somebody shouted my name, and I’d stumbled six feet when the sound of breaking glass stopped me in my tracks. A few groans, and then everything went quiet again. What had happened?

A scraping sound came from the passage outside, and Tate backed through the door dragging a body. Black leather boots, denim-clad legs. My heart leapt into my throat.Please, don’t let it be Nye.The rest of the visitor came into view, and I retched again, bringing up the last of a chocolate cookie.

Oh, hell.Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell.

“Is he dead? Tate, is he dead?”

Tate shrugged as he dropped Warren’s legs, and they hit the carpet with a hollowthud.

“I hope so.”

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