Page 65 of Fury

I hadn’t heard the door open behind me, but I glanced over my shoulder, anyway. She was there again, coming after me.

“Fury. My room….” Her voice was high-pitched. Frightened. “Someone’s been in. It’s ransacked.”

I should have told her to ring the police, let them deal with it. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I strode back towards her, the heaviness in my heart beating differently.

Chapter Thirty

I shouldn’t have been so utterly mean to the man who’d looked after me the last few days. The man I barely knew, but felt like I’d known all my life. He was a conflict, a contradiction. A complication I did not need in my life. But twice today my words had hurt him, and that big, muscular man looked at me like a puppy I’d just kicked into the gutter.

I hadn’t seen it at first as I opened the door to the lounge, my mind buried in thoughts and feelings and confliction. But something crunched under my feet. A broken ornament. I looked up, the image racing at me. The hotel ornaments were shattered and scattered; my papers pulled out of the files I’d taken home. The place had been turned over and Christ knew if the perpetrator was still there.

Racing to the door of my suite, I yanked it open, calling out to the shadow of the big man that slunk away in the dark.

“Fury. My room. It’s ransacked.”

He turned slowly, and for a moment I thought he would turn away again. He should have done that, for the way I’d just treated him. For the way I expected him to come and save me. But he strode towards me anyway, in long, hurried steps, rushing to my side. Just like a loyal dog. And that’s what this man was. Loyal. To his bike club brothers and to me. It shouldn’t matter that we were opposites, or that I lived in London. This man was salt, and he deserved much better than I could give him.

Fury followed me inside.

“Shit,” he breathed. “They’ve made a right mess. Fuck me.”

“They had to be looking for something.”

“Yeah, if I was gambling man, I’d bet that someone was looking for any copies of what you found in that office. If they haven’t found what they were looking for here, they’ll be coming straight after you next.”

I swallowed, my heart leaping into a hammering pace, thumping in my chest.

“You think so?” I said faintly.

“It’s what I would do.”

“I don’t know what you would do, Fury.”

We moved to the bedroom, the bedsheets and pillows ripped off the bed and thrown onto the floor. A folder of documents was scattered across the floor. Fury picked one up, looking at it and placing it back down, and then another. Then he looked at me, a darkness creeping across his eyes.

“Why have you got a folder on all our dead Kings, Heidi?”

“I took it from the Byker office when I started. When I was looking for the missing money. I thought Dave had something to do with it. I thought you had a hold over him. So, I pulled up all your details. You’ve had so many dead members, Fury. I thought there was a connection.”

He walked toward me, that same darkness on his face.

“And do you still think that?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because there is no evidence. There was evidence for Gordon.”

“And you still let me fuck you, even though you thought I maybe had something to do with all of this?”

If I’d hurt him earlier, then now I had really dug the knife in.

“I liked the danger. The risk. You are both.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he cursed, lunging at me and kissing me hard, ferociously, his tongue diving into my mouth, his hands gripping my face, and then he stopped as quickly as he started.

“What was that, Fury?”