Page 59 of Brutal Savior

“Right, I’m beat. You should go to sleep too.” His voice drops as if he doesn’t want to be overheard. Probably because his grandad isn’t far away. “No touching yourself before sleep, remember. I’m sure you must be dying to by now, but you know what’ll happen.”

Shit. I hadn’t been thinking about it, but now he’s put the idea in my head, and he’s right. It’s been too long already. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He smiles. “No problem. Happy to help. And just so you know, tomorrow, I’m fucking that tight little pussy of yours, whatever happens. Sleep well.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jacob

“This fuckin’ tosspot ain’tstopping me going to bingo.”

My head aches, and I count down from twenty in my head to find a spot of calm. Arguing with Grandad never usually ends in my favor.

“Look, we’ll catch the bloke soon, but till then, you need to stay put. I’ve got security on the house, and they’ll take you to the hospital to see Ruth when she gets here, but they’re not going to watch you play fucking bingo.”

Grandad stares at me the same way he did when I was twelve and he caught me smoking. The old bastard made me smoke a whole pack, one after the other, not letting me stop even when I puked. Just the smell of it still makes me want to throw up.

His eyes are red-rimmed, whether from whiskey or tears, I’m not sure. He’d die before he let me see him cry. Even at mum’s funeral, he never shed a single tear in front of me, though I once heard him bawling when I bunked off school and came home early. I never let on that I’d heard.

“I could drop dead next week, my boy. Gotta make the most of each day till then. I’m going, and that’s the fuckin’ end of it.”

Short of locking him up, there’s no way for me to stop him. Under any normal circumstance, I’d just stay here with him, but I can’t leave Quinn alone for another day. The timing of all this couldn’t be worse. Was it deliberate? Is someone in the Compound in contact with this guy, slipping him info about Quinn?

It’s not a good thought. I need to spend more time with Hadrian and see what he’s learned, but I can’t do anything if I’m worried sick about Grandad. I clench my fists, searching for an answer that isn’t there.

Grandad decides the conversation is over and potters into the kitchen to cook up a feast. As a widower who found himself in charge of two tiny kids, he had to learn how to do everything his wife used to do very quickly.

I never met my nan—she died before I was born—and Grandad went to work on the oil rigs right after she passed. He didn’t realize how bad things were at home until he got a long-distance call from social services telling him Ruth and I had been taken into care.

I was four and still remember eating fish and chips from the paper in his living room the day he brought us home.

He went from barely being able to fry an egg to feeding a whole family. He made sure Ruth and I learned, too, and it’s one of the many things I’m grateful to him for. With a sigh, I push down my frustration and go to help the stubborn old fucker out.

After a mountain of bacon, eggs, black pudding, and toast, things feel better. So what if the Gilda have to take the old man to bingo? He’s as safe at the pub as he is in the house. I’ll make Brackis double the security, and it’ll be fine.

I promise Grandad I’ll call him as soon as I have news on Ruth and say my goodbyes. I’m twitchy and anxious to get back toQuinn. We spoke briefly when I woke up, and she looked bored. I need to get her training back on track.

I drive myself back to the Compound. My car is one of the few really expensive things I’ve bought since money stopped being an issue, and I drive it every excuse I get. It’s a classic 1960s Aston Martin in British Racing Green, with the insides all redone to modern high-performance standards. I wish I could take Quinn out for a drive in it.

Just as I hit the winding forest road that leads to the Compound, my phone rings. It’s an unfamiliar number, and I answer it warily. “Hello?”

“Jacob? It’s Hadrian.” He sounds as jumpy on the phone as he does in real life.

“Great. I’m just on my way back. Do you have news?”

A woman’s voice interrupts. “Is that Jacob? I want to talk to him!”

“Candice. No. Behave.”

The CI lets out a grouchy huff worthy of Quinn, and it sounds so human it sets my skin tingling. Hadrian sighs. “Sorry about that.”

“Uh. No problem.” I’m way out of my bloody depth here. “So. Any news?”

“Nothing too substantive, but I wanted to flag an oddity. We’ve been tracking all the posts made by your attacker’s bots, and we’d narrowed down the age to thirties or forties and the location to Britain.”

“Yep. I remember.” Get to the fucking point, I know all this. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

“I hadn’t thought to ask about sex until Candice pointed it out. Your assailant is most likely a female, based on the tone and word choice. Candice has the probability at eighty-five percent. I just thought it might help you narrow the field.”

---