Red for Revenge: A Romantic Suspense Novel (The Northern Sins Saga Book 1) by Terry Nik

Author:Terry, Nik
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Nine

‘Gateshead Inferno’ the caption blazoned in red across the bottom of the television screen as I sipped my coffee the next morning. The cameras zoomed in on the building, which was almost entirely destroyed. Only bits of blackened, twisted metal were left and randomly, a roller shutter security door hanging at the front.

“Jeez,” Kerry commented from next to me, buttoning up her white blouse as she watched, “that’s a mess.”

“Must have been a big fire.”

“Yeah, it’s taken out the building next to it as well,” she commented, “anyway, gotta go. Are you actually coming home tonight?”

Kerry flashed me a wide smile.

“Yeah, probably. Not making any promises, though.”

She laughed, flicked her blonde hair over her shoulders, and grabbed her coat.

“See you later, Princess,” she mocked, leaving the apartment.

I’d been in the office an hour before Harry turned up. He was red faced and flustered, I assumed because he was late. He peeled off his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair and stooped over the keyboard.

“Morning, Harry. You, OK?”

“Why do you even care?” he shot, his words harsh in the air between us.

“I, err….”

His shirt was crinkled, un-ironed and his tie was lop-sided as if he hadn’t looked in the mirror yet this morning. He turned towards me, his eyes red and bloodshot.

“Seriously, Harry. You look terrible. Maybe you should have called in sick?”

“I’m fine, Ava. Haven’t you got a report to do for me today?” his voice was sharper still and I could feel the heat flooding to my cheeks, “go do what you’re paid to do.”

I nodded silently and wandered back to my desk, a knot tightening in my chest.

Harry looked flustered all day, his face changing through various shades of red and purple occasionally diluting to a sickly pale pink, but as the day progressed, he looked more and more pale. He never moved from his desk, not for lunch, a coffee, and I don’t think I saw him get up to go to the toilet.

By mid-afternoon, I tried another peace offering and brought him a mug of coffee, setting it down quietly beside him. Turning to walk away, his hand grasped mine, warm and clammy.

“Thank you, Ava. I’m sorry about earlier,” his voice was faint, defeated.

“Hey, it’s OK,” I answered quietly, “but my offer still stands, if you need any help with anything?”

“Actually, there is something. I need to write a report for Martin for tomorrow, and this job today is just not playing by the rules.” He waved his hand over the computer screen and I glanced at the document that was open, row upon row of numbers.

“Harry, I’ll sort it. When do you need it for?”

He grimaced, swallowing hard before answering.

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

“That’s OK. I’ll stay late, but will you please take a break or go home or something?”

He shook his head.

“Harry,” I continued, “think of it as a condition of me helping you. You look ill. I’ll sort it only of you go home.”

He looked up at me from where I stood over him, light blue eyes framed with red.

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