Page 141 of Joker in the Pack

Oh, what the hell. If anything happened to Olivia, life wouldn’t be worth living, anyway. Drivers laid on their horns as he swerved around them, focused only on covering the distance to Belgravia as fast as possible. Brake lights glowed ahead, and he bumped the bike up onto the pavement to avoid the traffic jam. Pedestrians scattered as he twisted the throttle. Shit. He was either going to hell or jail.

The first sirens sounded as they shot down the street Emmy lived on, and she reached past him with the gate opener in her hand. The huge iron gates opened slowly, oh so slowly. He revved the engine and squeezed through the gap, hurtling past the corner of Albany House just as a police car flew past with its blue lights flashing. The gates closed silently, hiding them, and Emmy’s underground garage filled with the smell of burned rubber as he parked up next to the stairs in the far corner.

“Well, that was fun,” she said, hopping off the back. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Are you insane?”

“Certifiably.” She patted him on the ass as he climbed up to the ground floor next to her, two steps at a time. “Get what we need from the weapons locker, and I’ll meet you upstairs.”

CHAPTER 41

TATE LOOKED LIKE a broken man, just as anyone would if they’d found out their father killed their mother. Had Tate ever suspected she hadn’t run off with another man? Surely not—nobody would have kept quiet about something so serious, even a teenager. How old was he when it happened? Seventeen? Eighteen?

Beside me, he gripped the wheel, his gaze fixed on the tarmac as he sped along the winding lanes of Middleton Foxford.

“Where are we going?”

No answer.

“Tate, where are we going?”

He glanced over at me, and his eyes had an odd glint. Grief did funny things to people, I knew that, but he didn’t look as if he was all there.

“The house. We’re going to the house.”

“The house? Do you mean your cottage?”

Again, silence. I started to get a bad feeling about the whole plan.

“On second thoughts, it might be best if we met up another day. Maddie and Mickey are waiting to go back to London.”

“You said we could talk.”

“Yes, but I didn’t realise how late it’s got. Can you drop me back at the café? Please?”

“We’re going to talk.”

His mouth set in a thin line, and he gripped the wheel harder. We were travelling at almost seventy along narrow lanes. Did he have a death wish? A branch whacked the wing mirror, and I jumped, but Tate didn’t seem to notice.

“Please stop. I’ll get out here and make my own way back. It’s no problem.”

But he didn’t even slow. I considered making a grab for the wheel, but at the speed we were going, that would end in disaster. Whatever Tate had planned, I had no choice but to go along for the ride.

Ten minutes later, the car skidded sideways in a hail of gravel as we arrived at Prestwold Manor. Almost before we stopped, Tate leapt out. He pulled my door open, and not in his usual gentlemanly manner.

“Get out.”

“I think I’d rather stay here.”

I clung on to the sides of the seat, but he grabbed my arm and hauled me out. Blood blossomed on the knee of my jeans as I tripped over the doorsill and landed heavily on the ground.

Tate’s fingers bit into my wrist as he pulled me to my feet and across the drive, and I stumbled again. Thoughts jumbled together in my head as if I’d drunk one too many glasses of wine. Why was he being like this?

The stone facade of the old manor loomed in front of us. “Why are we here? This isn’t your home.”

“No, it’s my father’s. And it would have been mine one day if you’d managed to do what you were told.”

“What are you talking about?”

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