To Catch a RAT: A techno thriller (Darknet series Book 1) by SJ Grey

Author:SJ Grey [Grey, SJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Acelette Press
Published: 2020-03-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Well?” asked Geoff, standing in the motion-activated spotlight on the front doorstep. “Which part of you’re not welcome here are you struggling with?” His grip was steady on the shotgun, and that was a relief. Mark didn’t fancy another trip to hospital today.

Mark lifted his hands, palms open. “Come on, Geoff. You’re not really going to fire that thing, are you?”

“This is my property, and you’re trespassing. I’m well within my rights.”

Mark sighed and drooped his shoulders. “Please, Geoff. I’m desperate to see Em, and”—he swallowed—“I’ve nowhere else to go. Please, may I come in?”

“You got this far. Call your taxi back.”

“It wasn’t a taxi. It was one of the hospital staff, who was heading this way and offered me a ride. I’m throwing myself on your mercy, Geoff. Please, let me stay tonight. I’ll figure something else out in the morning.”

“You upset my daughter, boy. You broke her heart.”

Mark didn’t need to act any more. He felt like shit at those words. “I never meant to hurt Em. I love her, Mr. Blackthorne. Whatever it is she thinks about me, she’s wrong. Someone’s fed her a bullshit story, and it’s wrecking me that she believes it. I need to put things right between us. Please, Geoff. Please let me talk to her. I can stand here. I don’t even need to come inside.”

“She isn’t here.”

Was that true? What about her phone? Mark groaned and shifted his feet, before dropping the duffel to the ground. He leaned forward, one hand cupped protectively around the wound. “I shouldn’t even be here. I was supposed to stay in hospital, but I couldn’t stand the idea of Emma hating me. I’ve done nothing wrong, Mr. Blackthorne.”

“I’ll call you a taxi, and you can fuck off back to wherever you like.”

This was hopeless. Time for Plan B.

Mark took a half step backwards, crumpled at the knees, and slumped to the gravel path. The shockwave that blasted through his thigh hurt like a bitch on steroids, and this time, his groan was genuine.

“Oh, bollocks.” Geoff finally gave in.

Through half-closed eyes, Mark saw him break the shotgun and hook it over his elbow.

“Sandra,” Geoff shouted. “I need a hand.”

Mark allowed himself to be helped into the house, apologising profusely along the way. “So embarrassed. Really sorry. I lost a lot of blood. Couldn’t stay away from Em any longer.” They settled him on a sofa in the lounge and lifted his feet onto a stool. Sandra fussed over him with gentle hands and a soft voice. Did he need a doctor? An ambulance?

“I just need to rest,” he whispered, the image of an exhausted man. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

He accepted the hot, sweet tea, and with a pang, thought of his grandmother. She dispensed tea at the drop of a hat. No matter the scale of injury or disaster, tea was the cure, and preferably Earl Grey with a dash of milk. He’d be incensed if someone tried to deceive his gran, and some part of him twisted inside, at the way he was fooling Geoff and Sandra.

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