Buying the Virgin

Chapter 105: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Twenty-One

CHARLOTTE

We tramp through the darkness, Michael with the axe slung over his shoulder. At first, we pause every

few hundred yards, listening for pursuit, but hear nothing. After the first mile or so, we simply walk at

the best pace we can.

I start off, feeling well enough, but after a while, the adrenaline high that supported me during our

escape, wears off, and in the intense cold, I feel dull and lethargic, my flesh chilling.

“You sure we’re going the right way?” I ask.

“Pretty sure. That phone of yours got GPS?”

How stupid can I be?

“Of course it has.”

I flick on the mapping app, then dim to night-mode as the screen dazzles me, knocking out my night

vision. Michael peers over my shoulder, as the screen centres and displays our position. “Yup. Two or

three miles that way.” he points. “Come on. We’re making good progress. If we walk quickly, we’ll stay

warm.”

Walking quickly is easier said than done. The tracks are rough and uneven, knotted with tree roots that

lie be-shadowed and waiting to trip the unwary. The last thing either of us needs is a sprained ankle.

We hear it before we see it, echoing through the pines; the wail of sirens. Then beyond the forest,

through the trees, the flashing blue lights of many, many cars, an ambulance, and seemingly crowds of

people; police, medics…. and finally, I see it, my Master’s car. He is there, standing, leaning against it,

his breath blowing blue clouds into the night air, scanning the tree-line.

Michael’s eyes, glinting with amusement, meet mine as we survey the hubbub. “Well, he did say he

was bringing help.” Then he yells, waving as we emerge from the trees. “James! Here…. James….”

My Master looks, trying to follow the sound, his gaze swinging before he sights us, then, his face

lighting up, he runs towards us. Flinging his arms around me, he pulls me to him, holding me tightly, too

tightly, until I have to pull away. “Master, I’m okay, really. Please, I need air…”

He breaks free, but holds me by the shoulders, looking into my face. “You’re alright? Really alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It was awful, but Michael.…”

“Tell me later. Come and get warmed up.”

He turns, slapping Michael’s shoulder, who slaps him back. The two don’t say anything, but men don’t,

do they?

Paramedics fuss around us with blankets and questions, apparently disappointed when we both insist

that we are not hurt. Hot soup is thrust into my hand, steaming, savoury and fragrant in the night air. It

is perfect, richly flavoured and herby, and just the right temperature for drinking. Warmth worms its way

back down my frozen toes.

Michael and I return to the city in my Master’s car, but we are flanked, front and rear, by a travelling

wall of blue flashing cars.

“Where are we going?” asks Michael.

“Haswell Building.” replies my Master. “We’re taking the Penthouse guest apartment.”

“That seems an odd place to go. You sent me away from there before.” I comment, through a semi-

stifled yawn. “Why there?”

My Master’s face swings around to me. “It’s defensible.”

*****

There is a moment of bare consciousness as my shoulder is shaken. “Charlotte, wake up. We’re here.”

“Mmmm?”

“We’re here.” It is my Master. “Get out of the car. You can sleep as soon as we’re in.”

I stagger out of the car, walking in a semi-doze to the elevator….

...

...

….. and light streams in, through the windows over the bed. Blinking into brilliant sunshine, I sit up,

trying to remember where I am.

Michael is lying beside me, still sound asleep, but I don’t recognise the room. Still a bit confused, my

only certainty is that my bladder is crying out for a bathroom.

My clothes are laid tidily on a chair next to the bed, along with a clean, white towelling robe, which I slip

on. Barefoot, I pad out of the room.

I step out into a large and very beautiful apartment. We are high, very high, with a view over the City

that ranges all the way to the mountains. Two figures, with their backs to me, are bending over a

tabletop, discussing some large map or plan laid out on the table.

A bit awkwardly, ”Ummm….”

The figures straighten up, turning to face me. It is my Master and Richard. My Master strides forward,

hugs me and kisses the top of my head. “Good afternoon, Charlotte.” Then he points. “Bathroom?” I

nod.

When I return to the room, my Master is pouring coffee. “You said ‘Afternoon’. What time is it?”

“About two pm,” says Richard. “We let you both sleep. How are you?”

“Um, fine. I just haven’t woken up properly yet.”

“You want to go back to bed? Sleep some more?” asks my Master.

“No. Coffee’s fine. Michael’s still asleep though…. He saved my life you know. He saved both of us.”

“We know,” says Richard. “When you rang James here, the Police went straight to your mountain

home, although they couldn’t search the area properly until daylight. They found the two men Michael

dealt with….”

“Are they alive?”

He sniffs. “Yes, but they’re going to be hospitalised for a long time. The one they found in the snow is

never going to be handsome again. His face is pretty much smashed up. What did Michael do to him?”

“They had guns. Michael caught the first one, who came into the bedroom, on his gun hand with the

butt of the axe-head. I think it must have smashed all the bones. The other one, who came after us out

in the snow, he caught in the face with the flat of the axe.”

“Handy that he had the axe on him?”

“He had it under the bed. I didn’t know about it until we heard noises. Then he used it to take out the

one who came into the bedroom…. There was no time for anything. We had to escape out into the

snow. All he had on was boots.”

“Only boots? It was well below zero last night…”

“We didn’t have any choice. There were at least two others. We just had to go. He had the axe, and I

carried his clothes and a blanket. He couldn’t get dressed until we reached the walkers’ shelter…. Did

the Police find the others? The ones he didn’t get?”

“No. They’d left by the time the Police arrived.”

“Will Michael have any trouble over….?”

“No. It was clearly self-defence, and defence of you. He’ll have no trouble at all.”

“Hello.”

We turn. Michael is standing in the bedroom door, in a bathrobe similar to mine. “I heard voices.” He

yawns. “Is that coffee?”

My Master strides over, slaps him on the shoulder. “Charlotte was just telling us how you saved the day

last night.” This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

“She wasn’t exactly helpless herself….”

*****

Cradling mugs, Michael and I start taking coffee on board. “Sorry,” he says, “but where are we exactly?

I’m a bit vague about what happened after we got into the car.”

“You’re in the top floor penthouse of my offices. Usually, it’s used as VIP accommodation for visitors,”

says Richard. “But it’s yours until the Police have the criminals who want Charlotte, safely locked up.

Michael casts around the room. “Pretty nice. I suppose there are worse places to be incarcerated.”

“Why should you be incarcerated?” I ask. “It’s not you they’re after.”

He looks me in the eye. “It’s not me I was talking about,” he says, his voice level.

“But…. it could take months to find them. I can’t stay here all that time.”

“I think you may have to,” says Richard. He raises a hand as he sees me start to protest. “Look at it this

way…. How did they know where to find you last night?”

“It’s my home.”

“It’s been your home for a couple of weeks. Who else knew?”

“Um…. You and Beth…. Oh!”

The reality sinks in. They have Beth, and Beth knows all about me. She surely wouldn’t betray me by

choice, but she’s not likely to be given choices by these men.

Richard shrugs, looking sick at heart. “I’m sorry Charlotte, but if it’s something that Beth knew about

you, then I think we can assume that they know it too.”

I want to protest, but even I know that I mustn’t inflict any more heartache on Richard. They have his

wife. and it’s because of me….

I’ll try to make the best of it….

I wander over to the windows. “It’s certainly a spectacular view….”

“Charlotte,” says Richard urgently. “come away from the windows.”

?

“They can easily afford to pay sharp-shooters. You mustn’t stand by the windows where they might see

you.”

“I can’t even look at the view?”

Richard stays silent for a moment then, “I’m going to leave you to it for a while. I don’t doubt that the

three of you want to talk. James, I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.”