Page 122 of Hold On

Tengiz chuckled. “Someone wants to see you.”

Oh fuck…fuck…fuck.Ren’s stomach changed places with his heart.Levan’s here? Oh God.This might be the last time he saw Dominic and he wanted to say he was sorry and… Ren was dragged backwards down two sets of carpeted stairs, his heels bumping on each step, and into a well-equipped modern kitchen-living room—no knife block—with a flat roof and two skylights. He took in everything he could because anything might be useful.

Levan wasn’t in there but Herb and Irma were.Well fuck me.

“Surprise!” Irma smirked at him.

At least there was no sign of Levan. Maybe he’d survive a little longer. He was shoved down onto a chair at a farmhouse table and would have fallen off if someone hadn’t hauled him upright.

Tengiz pulled out a chair and sat at his side. “Expensive Airbnb. Crap Wi-Fi upstairs.” He spoke in Georgian.

A few moments later, Ren was looking into the face of Levan Surmanidze. He tried to squint at the WhatsApp screen for a location, but wherever Levan was, wasn’t clear.Fucking psycho.Forty years old, his short hair peppered with silver, and a familiar menacing glower in those brown eyes. He wore one of his ubiquitous Savile Row grey suits and a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck exposing thick dark hair—he was a hirsute guy.

“It’s a miracle.” Levan smiled, not in a nice way. “Show me his chest, just to be sure there’s not some identical twin I wasn’t aware of.”

Tengiz used his gun to lift Ren’s T-shirt, revealed the scars and let the material drop again.

“How the fuck did you survive?” Levan shook his head and chuckled, as if he still couldn’t believe it.

“Turns out I bounce.”

Levan laughed.

“How did you find me?”

“I might tell you if you give me the answers to my questions. I’m on my way to see you, you shitty little miracle. We can have some fun. Well, I can have fun.” He put out his tongue and fluttered it. Ren fought not to shudder. “Take care of him, Tengiz. Water and food. Don’t be mean. No playing games, especially not with your gun or knife. I don’t want to find him damaged when I arrive. Understand?”

“Diakh.”Yes.

“I need my tablets,” Ren said.

“What tablets?” Levan asked.

“In my wallet. Antibiotics and blood thinners. I had a blood clot in my lungs when I was in hospital. It nearly did the job you failed to do.”

“Is there anything useful in the wallet?” Levan asked.

“My Tesco Clubcard,” Ren said. “I don’t want to lose that. I’m in line for a five quid voucher soon.”

Levan chuckled. “No photo of me?”

“You don’t look good in a swimsuit.”Like a gorilla.

Levan gave a loud laugh. “Still that mouth amuses me.”

The gorilla comment wouldn’t have.

“Bank and credit card. He lied about his surname.” Tengiz looked through it. “Driver’s licence. Forty pounds. And his tablets. An antibiotic and something called Lixiana.”

“Check the name.”

Herb tapped into his phone.“Used in treatment of deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary embolism, and for the prevention of recurrent DVT and PE in adults.”

“Let him have them. What a shame if he died before I got there. Let him have the wallet. Give him his tablets first.”

Levan’s image disappeared as the call ended.

Tengiz pushed pills out of the blister packs and pressed them between Ren’s lips. Herb brought over a glass of water and Ren gulped it down.

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