Page 155 of Knights Game

“Oh, that’s a blinding idea, let’s send the evidence outlining a decade, if not longer, of corruption to another politician,” Isla says.

“He’s different,” I reply.

“Wait, the guy you met in Wandsworth prison?” Henry asks.

“Prison? A politician. Really?” Bennett says looking hesitant.

“You were cellmates, right?” Isla adds, remembering conversations.

“He’s a good guy, I trust him. Apart from going to the press, this is the only real choice we have.” I rub my eyes wearily, my head pounding. “Besides, I’ve been financially backing him for the past four years. It’s funded through the legal side of the business, the profits from the spa and the restaurants, before you get on your soap box Isla about ruining his career.” She snaps her mouth shut and stares at me.

Yeah, yeah, I know I’m a bastard, but I haven’t got the brain power for a lecture, and she knows nothing of mine and King's relationship.

Don’t you ever want more?

Her fucking innocent question washes over me. But whilst we have that hard drive we have targets on our back. Always will do.

Don’t you ever want more?

I do.

I want so much.

More than I thought I ever wanted. But right now, the only thing I want is her.

Asher's phone rings and he picks it up.

“This is Whi-.” He stumbles, pauses, and I stare frozen at the back of his head. His body tenses. I wait silently, patiently for him to finish his call. “I understand, see you soon.”

He turns around and smiles, but it’s too fake, too strained, there’s too much stress in his body. Tension builds in the room, but my team don’t know what I’ve just heard, they haven’t put two and two together.

“Anything important?” I raise my eyebrow, and he shakes his head whilst the wordswe have a molescream in my head like a siren.

“I need to go to my father. I’ll see you back here in about an hour.” He doesn’t wait for my permission, or response, he just leaves me, staring daggers at his retreating form.

I reach to the cannula in my hand and rip it out, throwing the covers off me, and stand.

My stomach is uncomfortable, but the pain is manageable.

“What are you doing?” Fletcher asks, standing with me

“I’m going to find my fucking woman.

54

Layla

“What did your parentsleave you, Layla?” Terry crouches down, his expression menacing, or at least trying to be. John, the wanker, is sitting off to the side watching.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

John sighs and stands. Bored of someone else doing his dirty work maybe.

“We know your parents left you something. We know you went to a safety deposit box. You have something from them. What did they leave you?”

I gasp as John’s balled fist hits me square in the jaw. For a big man he moves quickly.

Pain splinters across my cheek and my whole-body flinches as it absorbs the force of the hit. My teeth bite down and pierce my tongue; I spit out blood.

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