Page 20 of Savage Redemption

“Your daughter? Ah, you must mean Rosie’s little one.” Her gaze lands on her husband. “Was that truly necessary, Baz?”

“Business is business, my darling. You know that.”

“Even so…”

“I am glad we understand one another.” He smiles at me. “More potatoes,señor?”

I exitthe main doors of the hacienda just after nine o’clock the following morning, to be met by a car and driver, as promised, waiting to take me to the airport. I fling the holdall containing my few possessions into the boot, then climb into the rear seat. The sleek vehicle purrs into life, and the graceful elegance of the Bartosz home recedes behind us.

The drive to the airport takes no more than thirty minutes. Nowhere is very far on this island. I’m deposited at the huge plate-glass doors leading to the departure lounge, so I make my way inside.

My first stop is the looming departures board where all flights for the next several hours are listed. Naturally, my preferred destination is already decided. I need to settle, at least for now, in a global financial hub. London and New York don’t appeal, which leaves Hong Kong, Singapore, and San Francisco. I find there’s an Iberia flight to Madrid leaving in just under two hours, and from there I can pick up Air China flights to Beijing then finally on to Hong Kong. That’ll do me. I head for the Iberia booking kiosk and ask if they have any spare single seats.

I leave armed with a ticket for Madrid and details of the flights for my onward journey. I head for check-in. The passage through border control and security is remarkably smooth, andI find myself ensconced in a nice window seat, ready to enjoy my flight to the capital.

I have plenty of homework to do, tracking down Rosa — or Rosie — but there’s no hurry. I have much to accomplish before I can even think about contacting her, and in any case I can’t get started until after we land at the other end. Flight mode doesn’t allow for internet browsing, so I have to content myself by thumbing through the in-flight magazine. I briefly flirt with the notion of buying a gift for Rosie, when I eventually see her. Erin, too. But I decide not to.

First things first.

CHAPTER 5

Rosie

“Hush, baby. Mummy’s here…”I hold Erin’s tiny body to my chest, rub soothing circles on her back, and pace the room in my quest to get her to sleep. She’s normally sweet-tempered and contented, but something seems to have unsettled her, and she’s been restless for the last couple of nights. Teething, probably, according to the baby clinic. Possibly a touch of croup.

Sleep deprivation is beginning to get to me, but I press on regardless. It’s a phase, right? It’s always a phase.

The door opens. I glance across and smile when I see my dad. He sets a cup of tea down on the low table in front of me, nudging aside the faded photograph in a wooden frame to make room for it.

“It’s okay, you can put that in the drawer,” I tell him.

He picks up the photo, wipes a smudge of dust from it with his sleeve, and places it on the mantelpiece. “She can keep an eye on things from there,” he replies. “I was just going out. Is there anything you need?”

“A full nine hours’ sleep would be nice,” I mutter.

He pauses. “I’m only driving over to the office to pick up some files. I could take Erin with me. She’ll probably fall asleep in the car, and you can get some rest yourself.”

I jump at the offer. “Are you sure?” I can’t remember when I last had a break. I dream of a long, leisurely bath, drowning in bubbles and breathing in the heady scent of aromatic oils. I might even run to a pedicure, now that I can see my feet again.

“Of course. I’d enjoy the company.” My dad has a way with Erin. He only has to look at her and she’s gurgling like a drain. She calms instantly and nestles in his arms when he wraps her in a soft shawl to go downstairs.

“She’s been fed. And changed,” I assure him.

“Don’t worry about us.” He scoops her up and exits with a cheery wave, leaving me to enjoy my tea in peace.

It’s like a slice of Heaven. I take my tea into the bathroom and sip it while the tub fills. I tip in oils, lotions, foaming liquid, and a sprinkle of scented crystals. I even light a candle or two before sinking into the depths with a soft sigh.

I lose track of time, or maybe I nod off. The next thing I know, my dad’s footsteps clatter up the stairs. “Rosie. We’re back.”

“Won’t be a sec,” I reply. “Just getting dressed.”

“No sweat. We’ll be downstairs.” His footsteps recede.

I’m tempted to slide further into the foaming water, but it’s starting to cool, and Mama guilt is setting in. I really should go down and relieve him. He’s done so much for me already…

Twenty minutes later, I present myself, dressed and hair sort of dried, in the kitchen. Erin is strapped into in her little baby seat, chuntering to herself and examining her tiny toes while my dad sits at the table with his tablet and a black coffee.

“Was she all right?” I ask.

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