Page 4 of A Lethal Game of Trust
DO NOT ANSWER: We both know that’s why you’re posting so much. To show me what I’m missing.
DO NOT ANSWER: And I am. Missing you, I mean.
I groaned, staring at Jared’s texts. Yes, I may have reverted back to a sixteen-year-old when my emotions hit their peak and saved his name as that, but I didn’t regret it.
It was a warning from my past self.Do not answer.
But he was right. I needed to keep some form of communication with him.
I was checking that he saw my Instagram stories.
He was a means to an end. His father was a great and somewhat corrupt officer with strong links to the prison where my father’s murderer was jailed.
I needed Jared on my side for a little bit longer. In case Firdman was going to be released… and I needed an unfortunate prison attack to take his life.
He was a last resort, but a necessary link.
ISSY: We’re coming back to ours. We can order for the three of us?
The three of us. Her brother was coming here. To our flat. And on one of the worst nights of my life.
I would have to play nice.
2
An Unwelcome Visitor
Leonie
Issy’s dad bought us our flat four years ago. Dom hadn’t stepped a foot inside. The only thing he had done was get a couple of guys from his security company to install some cameras and an alarm system.
The way he had called his sister two hours ago wasn’t normal, but coming over to ours was far, far stranger.
I’d gotten through more wine than I’d thought this week. And I’d become slovenly. The corner of the kitchen counter had become a recycling centre because the green box was full of bottles and cans, the odd cardboard slip of a microwave meal.
The bottle before me on the coffee table was nearly finished.
I couldn’t let Dom see our house like this. For his sister’s sake.
I stood, ignoring the faint rush of my head and ran to pile up the bottles in my arms before shoving them under my bed. Thepizza box from a couple of nights ago — gosh, okay, slovenly might be an understatement — had to be crammed into the bin.
And then there was me.
It wasn’t like I would dress up for him, but he was so judgemental I couldn’t bear for him to see me in this state.
His brows would lower, his top lip would lift slightly at the corner as he looked me up and down with disgust—every time. I had no idea how Mia, his girlfriend of a year and Issy’s employee at the bakery, put up with him. How she loved him so much that she had moved into his house after only six months.
The big pool, hot tub and movie room definitely sweetened the deal.
His security business had taken South West England by storm, apparently. Though Issy and I had completely isolated ourselves from our parents’ world, Dom had and hadn’t.
He mostly worked in the legal businesses, but the odd cut lip, black eye or gunshot wound over the last few years told me he hadn’t fully departed.
Despite our history, when he first joined the military, I’d worried. I’d had nightmares of him over there, alone and dying.
Those nightmares often merged to the ones of my father bleeding on the floor.
Just because I’d managed to get out, didn’t mean I wasn’t petrified for my adoptive family who were still involved. They were far less involved than when my dad was alive, now building more reputable businesses, but that didn’t stop the risk, nor the enemies they created.
