Page 23 of Savage Protector
The fucking community again. There are times when I think God has a lot to answer for, but I leave that conversation for another time.
“There is another reason why it might be better to let us handle this our way.”
“Oh? What’s that then?”
“The police won’t get your stolen college fund back for you.”
“Maybe they could…”
I shake my head. “Abdul is a thief. He conned that money out of your dad, and he intends to hang on to it. He’d deny it was yours. He’d swear it was gift from your father, and if your dad is so much under his thumb, he’d not contradict that. Would he?”
She drops her gaze. “I suppose not.”
“He’d swear you had no claim on that money, and you’d never see a penny of it.”
“And you could do better?” She glares at me, bristling. “Why would he listen to you?”
Well, I can think of several reasons, but I don’t elaborate. “I’ve no intention of asking him.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
We round a bend in the gravelled path, and the castle itself comes into view.
Leila would probably have more to say, but she pauses, eyes wide. “Oh, wow. What is that place?”
“It’s a castle,” I reply, rather unnecessarily. “Fourteenth century. It’s been restored, made into apartments and offices for our…organisation.”
“What organisation is that?”
“We run a number of businesses,” is all I say by way of explanation. I don’t imagine she’ll be here very long, so the less she knows, the better.
“We’re in the Outer Hebrides, right?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Isn’t that a bit remote for a business headquarters?”
“Not really. We have phones, the internet. And transport.” I wave my arm in the direction of the two helicopters in a corner of the cobbled courtyard. “It suits us fine.”
She falls silent and trots along beside me. This gives me the opportunity to study her profile as we approach the castle entrance. Despite the belligerent set of her jaw, she’s a pretty little thing. More than pretty, really. I’d say she was stunning. Tall for a girl, and slim. Her waist-length, dark-brown hair is arranged into a loose plait, with tendrils left to frame her oval face. Dark eyes, a small, straight nose, and a tempting mouth that I wouldn’t object to kissing.
I give myself a mental shake. She’s not for me. Too young, for a start. Just eighteen. And she’s been traumatised enough already.
We mount the half dozen or so steps up to the main doors and run into Ethan and Jack on their way out. They step to one side to let us pass.
“Miss Mansour. It’s good to see you up and about again.” Ethan is polite, as always, though his raised eyebrow directed at me expresses his surprise.
“Leila, this is Ethan Savage, and Jack Morgan. They helped to get you out of the water.”
“Thank you, Mr Savage, Mr Morgan. I think I owe you my life.”
Ethan returns her smile. “It was Zee who was the first to dive in after you, and he was the one who got you to the surface. The rest of us just helped out a bit at the end.”
Not entirely true. I may have been to one to save her, but Ethan definitely saved me. Still, I don’t suppose she wants to hear more details of her recent brush with death.
“We were just on our way up to see Frankie, boss.”
