Page 121 of Freckles

“Sure.” I replace it on the fridge. “I was just going to say, I’d kill you along with everyone you ever cared about.” I cock my head at the sound of an approaching motor, but the vehicle continues along the street. “And wouldn’t it be an awful thing to die knowing once you’re gone, I’ll hurt this woman and her lovely little boy?”

“And how do I know you won’t do that, anyway?”

“Because if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. I’m only making this offer as a courtesy to your daughter, who still retains some affection for you, beyond all reason.”

Her chin resumes its stubborn pose. “I don’t have a daughter.”

My teeth grind together, then I force a smile. “See now? That’s the spirit. Wasn’t hard at all, was it?”

She looks less sure of herself for a moment, then opens her mouth.

I touch her lips with my finger. “Hold that thought, would you? I just need to fetch something from the car.”

I go straight for the boot, withdrawing a prepacked duffel bag full of cash. The hardest part of this was buying enough Australian currency without raising alarm bells.

When I reach the front door again, it’s locked. I knock and step to the side window, cupping my hand to reduce glare as I peer through the net curtains. “Please let me in, Lisa. I don’t plan to hurt you, but if you upset me, that’s an entirely different story.”

She makes me wait so long, I’ve put down the bag again, taking out my lockpicking set before it opens. I replace the kit in my inside pocket and raise the bag, unzipping it just enough to show the contents. “Your payment.”

The door cautiously swings open, and I don’t bother entering, just tossing the bag into the hallway.

“Now I’ve confirmed you’re the right person; men will be assigned to keep tabs on you.” Her eyes widen and I hold up my hand. “They won’t act without my say-so, but wherever you go, I’ll have eyes. A year or maybe a decade from now, you might miss your daughter. You might run out of cash and think I’m an easy target. Be assured, if you ever try to contact us, in any way, you and everyone you love will be killed, and nobody will wait to see what it is you wanted. Understand?”

She glances at the cash, licking her lips, the knife still held tight in her hand. Then she nods and I don’t wait for anything further. The front door slams again when I’m halfway back to the car.

I need to return to my hotel and wash away the entire visit, then get on a plane home to my love.

* * *

FRANCESCA

The clip of my high heels echoes across the concrete expanse of the warehouse, the sound ricocheting off the large pallets stacked floor to ceiling. I glance at my phone, frowning when I see there are no bars for reception. Even when I hold it above my head, twirling in a slow circle, it doesn’t connect, and I tuck it back into my pocket.

“Kincaid?”

I hear his footsteps coming from the opposite side, and walk along the rows, peeking through the gaps to try to catch sight of him.

When I find the right corridor between pallets, it’s not Kincaid walking towards me.

It’s Lance.

“You look concerned, my dear.”

No kidding. “Where’s Kincaid?” I waggle my useless phone. “He sent me a message.”

“Ah.” Lance places his palm flat on his chest. “Full disclosure, that was me. Tyson is very good at cloning devices, although he suggested you already knew that.”

My polite smile falters. Even after Kincaid’s repeated reassurances his uncle won’t hurt me, I still find Lance Tana terrifying.

Kincaid is fully aware of the fact, sometimes jokingly using it to get his way. Our ideas of what constitutes a joke are wildly different.

“I have someone out the back I thought you might like to meet.”

He turns, walking a few metres before he glances back, frowning. “Are you not going to follow me?”

“Could you tell me the surprise, here?”

“Not without spoiling it altogether. Come on.” He nods at my heels. “Take those off if your feet are hurting. The sweepers have removed anything sharp from the floors.”

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