Page 107 of The Devil's Pawn

I ignore him, taking the stairs down to the ground floor two at a time. The car rolls to a stop as we exit the house. After we climb in the back, Nicholas looks me square in the eye.

“You’ve chipped her, haven’t you?”

“And a good fucking thing I did, considering she has friends like Victoria, ” I growl. “Let’s go, Douglas.”

“Believe me,” Nicholas says as the car surges forward. “If Victoria were mine, I’d spank her until she couldn’t fucking sit down for a week.”

“Except she isn’t yours.”

“I might fucking do it anyway. She needs teaching a lesson. What thefuckwas she thinking taking a De Vil wife off the estate without protection?”

“She wasn’t thinking, neither was Imogen.”

“Now,her,you can spank.” He grins, and I know he’s trying to calm me down because he, like me, knows what the risks are.

No.

I can’t let my thoughts go there. The possibilities are too horrific.

“Do we know who’s got her?” Nicholas asks. “I’m not aware we have connections to Chalk Farm.”

“We don’t.” I use our secure platforms to search the address. Nothing of concern comes back. It’s a rental, and the guy who owns this and several other properties doesn’t show up as a red flag. “We’re going in blind.”

It should take about an hour and twenty to reach Chalk Farm, but Douglas makes it in under an hour. He stops the car outside the house. It’s a nondescript, small terrace on a normal street. Nothing out of the ordinary.

When Douglas cuts the engine, Steven twists in his seat. “What’s the plan, boss?”

Chapter Thirty-Six

IMOGEN

Consciousness slowly returns, the foggy haze clouding my thoughts finally dimming. My head pounds and throbs, tiny hammers sending shockwaves through my temples. I wince.

Where am I? What’s happened.Why does everything hurt?

Oh, God. Oh, God, no. No, no, no.

Will took me. He injected me with something and took me, and now I don’t know where I am.

Panic claws at my chest, my heart pounding wildly, my breath coming in painful gasps as my lungs work against me. I’m desperate to fill them to bursting, but I can only manage shallow sips of air. My limbs are heavy—a remnant of whatever drugs Will gave me.

My eyes struggle to adjust to the dim light, but as they do, I take in my surroundings. I’m in a living room, the couch I’m lying on is saggy, worn, and smells musty. There’s a small TV in the corner sitting on top of a cabinet filled with scratches. The closed drapes covering what I guess is a window are covered in stains.

Breathe, Imogen.

Staying calm is the only way out of this situation. Vicky has my phone, so there’s no way Alexander can track me. I’m alone, and if I’m to stand a chance of escaping, I have to save myself. No one is coming to rescue me.

Why would Will do this to me? What’s his end game? Is he after a ransom? Does he want to punish Alexander for firing him?

Someone clears their throat, and I slowly open my eyes and let my head roll to my left.

Will is sitting in a chair covered in the same faded brown fabric as the sofa, the arms worn from years of use. He smiles in the same way he did on the street, bright and brilliant, as though he hasn’t drugged me and brought me here against my will.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

My first thought is to run, but his chair is right next to the only door, and he’ll easily grab me. Besides, I’m still woozy from the drugs, and I doubt I’d get far before my legs gave way. TV shows always have kidnap victims befriend the kidnapper. Maybe I should try that.

“Where are we?”

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