Page 316 of The Black Trilogy

“How am I supposed to fit in there?” I asked. “What do you think I am? A freaking contortionist?”

Dan shrugged. “Everything else was blocked in. The cops turned up, then the fire brigade, the FBI, several ambulances, a carload of people from the DEA, some of Jed’s buddies from the CIA, and even a couple of guys from the NSA as well. I don’t think they wanted to be left out. It’s like a circus.”

“Well, make sure they don’t poke around in my house.”

“Don’t worry. Your legal team’s there too, snarling at anyone who comes close. Oliver’s been guarding the front door like Cerberus. The acronyms are hanging around outside, arguing over who’s got the biggest equipment.”

Good. As long as they were chasing their own tails, they wouldn’t be bothering us. Not that I was particularly worried. We’d defended ourselves against an armed gang who’d tried to kill us all, and that was clear-cut. But in the meantime, I didn’t want to get stuck in endless rounds of questioning over who shot at who first. I’d arranged to meet with Stone tomorrow—well, later today—to give a full statement, and he’d agreed to deal with the locals for me.

That gave me time to get Blackwood’s own investigation started. I hoped that having lost his entire team last night, Blanco needed some time to regroup, which would give us a clear run at him for the next week or so. I didn’t want to waste a second of it.

With that in mind, I made sure Nick took the driver’s seat then limbered up and squashed myself into the tiny space in the front of the Porsche.

Revenge, sweet revenge, here we come.

CHAPTER 7

AN UNDERGROUND GARAGE lay beneath the old stable yard at Riverley Hall, and it was into there that Nick drove the Porsche. As soon as he popped the trunk lid up, I unfolded myself, grateful to be standing up again as I cursed the ridiculously stiff suspension on Nate’s car. I tried to rub some feeling back into my arms and legs while Dan got out of the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“I’ll live.”

A short tunnel led from the garage to Black’s basement, and we took that. It wasn’t a good idea to show my face above ground tonight seeing as the people hanging around hopefully thought I was dead by now. Although “Ghost sighting at local mansion” could have made an interesting headline.

I considered going up to Black’s house for the evening, but my heart lurched when I took a step in that direction. Too many reminders of him still lurked upstairs. I needed to keep my emotions firmly in check right then, so I headed for the longer tunnel leading to my own basement instead. When I reached the control room, Mack, Luke, and Bradley were frantically typing and clicking away while Alex calmly cleaned his gun. Seemed they’d been down there the whole time, which made sense. There was no point in giving the cops more people to get their claws into.

Had they found anything? I stepped closer, reading over their shoulders. Mack and Luke were researching the Colombian drug scene while Bradley looked at new dining tables.

“What happened in the dining room?”

“You don’t want to know,” he said.

“It was just a few bullet holes,” Alex tried to reassure me.

Oh, that’s okay then. As long as it was only a few. If Alex had been involved, then Bradley was right; I probably didn’t want to know.

“Bradley, you understand you can’t redecorate the house yet? The bodies are still warm.”

“That doesn’t stop me from planning.” He pointed at the bank of monitors, where half of the screens still showed grim pictures. “The place is a disaster.”

“The place is a crime scene. It’ll be weeks before you’re allowed back inside.”

“Which is about how long the Italian marble for your new kitchen will take to arrive. What do you think of Makassar Ebony for the units?”

“We’re in the middle of a murder investigation here. Do you think you could at least hold off on the renovations until we neutralise the guy who destroyed my house?”

“But—”

“What if the son of a female dog comes back and has another go? All your hard work would be wasted.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

“How about you find me a coffee instead? Two sugars. Thanks.”

“Fine.” He huffed, but at least he went to hunt for caffeine.

As Bradley stomped off into the tunnels, Nate appeared, having escaped the clutches of the hordes upstairs. I watched them on the monitors, hanging around like vultures.

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