Free Quiver (a Suspenseful Romance Novel) by Emilia Beaumont Page B

everything go back to normal.
    He had to.
    My only other option would be to… I couldn’t think. There was no one else I could turn to. If I went to the police, I’d be deflecting the problem straight onto Max. I had no idea how long you got locked up for possessing a firearm. But then again, I tried to walk through my foggy thoughts: The gun was in my bag, not in his hands.
    It took a couple of rings before he picked up.
    “Hello, Kate, is that you?” he said with a yawning, thick, groggy voice.
    I paused, trying to decide. Was there any reason not to go to the police?
    “Kate? Are you there? Are you OK?” His voice was filled with worry. I couldn’t not talk to him.
    “Not really. I fucked up, Max. I don’t know what to do,” I blurted, choking on my words.
    “Breathe, Kate. Where are you?”
    “I’m not sure. Chinatown, I think,” I said, looking around, taking in the distinctive red archway for the first time.
    “You’re not far from the office then. Can you make it there? I can pick you up or meet you there.”
    I didn’t deserve a friend like Max, especially not after what I put him through earlier.
    “I can get to the office. I’ll be there soon. Thanks Max,” I sniffled.

----
    I turned into a familiar street and was able to get my bearings. Dawn was approaching and rosy streaks, the consistency of watercolours, blotted the misty blue-grey sky that I spied over dirty rooftops.
    It wasn’t long before I could see the office door in the distance. My pulse had calmed, and I’d managed to stop the torrent of tears.
    The door was unlocked, and the alarm stayed quiet as I walked past.
    “Max?” I called up the stairs, hearing no movement above.
    I took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as possible. I’d tell him everything: Meeting Eric, what he ultimately made me do. Max would forgive me. I’d give the gun back, hand over the ledger, and it would all be over.
    I would go back to being a simple, boring filing-clerk, but alive and happy. Working a 9-to-5 job, happy with an uncomplicated life. No more craziness, no more dangerous encounters with strange men, I promised myself. Simple and normal. Maybe I’d even try again with Max, if he’d have me…
    Out of courtesy, I knocked on Max’s office door and pushed it open.
    I smiled at my friend. Max sat in his tall-backed leather executive’s chair, but I knew something was wrong the moment I saw his cold eyes. They were avoiding me; there was no longer a warm, flickering flame. His face was like a mask, without emotion. My smile evaporated as I took in the rest of the room. It was as if a bucket of ice had been poured over me and then, just for good measure, I’d been chucked head-first into the river Tyne.
    The air had been swiftly sucked from the room, and I struggled to breathe.
    On either side of Max, flanking him, stood two men in the shadows. They walked in tandem, as if they’d rehearsed their steps. A bulky silhouette came out concealment and placed a hand possessively upon Max’s left shoulder. Terry.
    To Max’s right stood a statue of another man. His outline was skinnier than his bookend on the other side. I stared in horror; I realised I’d seen those wire-rimmed glasses before. I recognised his large, ogling, dull eyes magnified through the panes of his spectacles. It was only a few hours before that he’d skimmed my body with those eyes.
    “I hear you like to be watched, Kate.” Terry sneered, breaking the thick silence. A disgusting grin pinned his smile high up on his face, baring his crooked teeth, partially capped in gold, displaying them like trophies.
    “Max?” I croaked, pleading him to spring into to action, to say something - that it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding.
    But all I saw was betrayal. I was helpless and spent. There would be little point to running. I knew my legs wouldn’t get me far. I fell to the floor, crumpled in a pitiful heap, and gave up fighting.
    Max