Stockholm Surrender (11 page)

Then he was gone. He slipped out the door and it was as if, yet again, he’d been just a figment of my way too overactive and way too horny imagination.

Chapter Nine

I wore a tight red pencil skirt and a white silk blouse to the meeting with the human rights lawyer now assigned to James’ case. I’d teamed the outfit with a string of pearls, my grandmother’s, and some killer heels. Shame about the baldy patch on my head, but the beret really didn’t suit this look so I just had to go with it and hope people thought it was a new style back in the UK.

I passed Dad a sugar cube for his tea, then added one to my own and glanced at the big clock in the embassy office. It was unusual for Dad to be kept waiting, even if it was just five minutes.

There was a loud rapping noise. Phil jumped up from his seat in the corner and opened the door. A tall, thin man in his early thirties strode in. “Sorry, sorry, Mr. Tipping. I cannot apologize enough. Got sent to the wrong room again and this place is such a rabbit warren.” He held out his hand. “Hans Richmond.”

Dad stood and took it. “No problem, we’ve only just arrived. Running a bit late ourselves this morning, jet lag and all that.”

I pushed up from my chair and smoothed my skirt down over my thighs.

“This is my daughter, Penelope,” Dad said, gesturing my way.

“Pleased to meet you, Penelope,” Hans said with a broad smile.

“You too.” I took his large, slim hand.

“And this,” Hans turned, “is Mr. Ty Winters. He was a travel companion of the defendant’s and has been helping with the case, particularly with evidence details since the two men had been together immediately before the arrest.”

I froze. It was as though all the blood in my body had turned to syrup. My eyesight blurred and my heart fluttered.

What the hell is he doing here?

Ty stepped forward, looking for all the world like a damn Gucci model showing off the latest cut of suits—all broad shoulders, long limbs and sporting his bad, surfer-boy hair.

I wished I wasn’t wearing such damn high heels. I felt dizzy, unstable.

“Mr. Winters,” Dad said, reaching around Hans and shaking Ty’s hand vigorously. “Good to meet you. The more people on board sorting out these damn messes the better. It’s great that you’re here.”

“Absolutely, Foreign Secretary, absolutely,” Ty said in a butter-soft voice, his accent a lulling rumble beneath the words.

I sat back down with a bump on my still tender ass, hiding a wince as Dad glanced at me, a frown plowing across his forehead at my lack of manners. Phil shot a look my way too.

“Miss Tipping,” Ty said, inclining his head and giving me the barest hint of a smile. “Good to meet you.”

I swallowed tightly.
Good to meet me, oh my bloody god.
Last night he’d fucked me against a wall, let me suck his damn cock and then shoved into my virginal ass as if he were a man possessed. Pleased to meet me. He’d been inside every orifice of mine that could be fucked.

And Dad thought it was great that he was here.

Hans sat down and began spreading a folder of detailed statements over the table. “This could be pretty straightforward. James Hill was in possession of such a tiny amount of cannabis that in the UK he wouldn’t have even been arrested for it.”

“Especially since he didn’t even know he was carrying,” Ty chipped in.

“Unfortunately Thai law has no interest in that fact—carrying is carrying,” Hans said. “But, Foreign Secretary, I do believe the small quantity is a fact you should hold on to.” He reached across the table and poured himself a cup of tea. “It’s great leverage. It was clearly for personal use, one spliff I believe.”

Ty nodded.

I took a sip of my own tea, willing my hand not to shake.

“How old is this young man?” Dad asked.

“Twenty-six,” Ty replied. “Too young to die, too young to be in prison for the rest of his life.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dad said with a worried shake of his head.

“This is what he looks like.” Ty reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. He set it on the table and we all looked at the picture of the smiling young man holding a surfboard on the beach. His dark hair was damp and slightly curled, his shoulders wide and tanned, and his eyes sparkled with a zest for life. Around his legs, a gaggle of children smiled and hung on to him.

“This is James in Hawaii,” Ty said. “He volunteered while he was there, at an orphanage, giving the kids swimming and surfing lessons. As you can see, they adored him. And this picture.” He dropped another photograph next to the first one. “This is him in Kenya. He spent six months there using the electrical skills he picked up at college to singlehandedly rewire a hospital in one of the poorest areas.”

I studied the picture. A smiling James stood in front of a low white building with a red cross over the door. A short man with a white coat and a gappy smile stood at his side.

“Very impressive,” Dad said, nodding sagely. “May I borrow these pictures?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Ty shoved them across the table and Dad pocketed them in his own suit jacket.

“So basically,” Hans said, “as far as Thai law goes, James has received the correct punishment for his crime. Only sometimes they choose to retrial, as in this case, and that’s when a sentence can go from life imprisonment to the death penalty.”

“Can they really do that?” I asked. Seeing the pictures of James so full of life and contributing so much to the world made it hard to believe a system could see fit to kill him.

“I’m afraid so,” Hans said with a frown. “Though of course I will do everything to stop it reaching that stage.”

“He needs to get out of that place altogether,” Ty said firmly. “It’s a hellhole. It must be breaching human rights the way he’s being kept in there. No sanitation, food which makes you ill, no medical access.” He settled his eyes on Dad. “He looks very different now. I hardly recognized him last time I saw him.”

Dad tapped his fingers on the desk, a frown creasing his forehead. “Mmm, I can well imagine. It’s certainly not pleasant in these places from what I’ve heard.”

“So you will look into his case, sir?” Ty asked.

Dad nodded. “Yes, I will discuss it personally with Kasit Yong, who,” he paused and glanced at his watch, “I am supposed to be meeting in twenty minutes.”

He stood and Hans, Ty and Phil also got to their feet. I remained seated. I didn’t trust myself to talk, let alone move.

“Thank you, thank you very much, sir,” Ty said in earnest. “It would mean a lot to his family to get James back home.”

“It would mean a lot to me too.” Dad rested his hand on my shoulder. “But for different reasons.” He paused. “Actually you might be able to shed some light on something for me.”

“Yes sir.”

“Is anyone in James’ family called Peter—anyone he knows?”

Ty shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Mmm.” Dad rubbed his temple with his index finger. “Maybe he’s not called Peter, but he’s an older man, forties with gray hair, English accent. Does that ring a bell?”

Ty glanced at the floor. “No sir.”

“Someone you both met perhaps, on your travels?”

“I really can’t recall anyone who fits that description, sir. Most of the guys we hung out with were our age, taking gap years, just bumming around. No one older and of that description.”

Dad sighed. “Okay, it was worth checking.”

I rubbed the pearls on my necklace and tore my gaze from Ty.

“Do you want any of these statements or evidence reports for your meeting?” Hans asked.

“Sure, they could come in handy.”

Hans stacked them neatly and pushed the folder toward Dad. “Good luck. Mr. Yong isn’t renowned for giving away favors.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Dad said. “Thanks for all you’re doing though, Mr. Richmond.”

“My pleasure. I’ll wait to hear from you. Any snippet of leniency could be all it takes for us to make headway.”

“Yes, yes of course.”

The two men shook hands then Hans left the room, his leather shoes clacking on the tiled floor.

Dad turned to Ty and extended his hand. “Mr. Winters, thanks for the extra information and the photographs. It makes dealing with these cases more personal. I’m sure they’ll come in useful.”

“Sir, with all due respect, behind each one of these cases is a person.” Ty took Dad’s hand and shook it.

I couldn’t drag my gaze away from his neat nails and long fingers. Fingers that knew just how and where to touch me and make me beg for more. I suppressed a shiver of longing. If only we could be together again, just once. But whatever Ty was doing in this room with Dad and Phil, it was one foolish game. Why couldn’t he have just left this bit to me? One wrong word, one slip-up and this could all explode in our faces.

“Of course, I understand that,” Dad was saying. “And if this all goes well, who knows, perhaps I could get more involved with other cases. It could be the start of something big between Kasit Yong and I.”

Ty grinned. “That would indeed be amazing. There are lots of people who could do with high-level help. Thai law is antiquated when it comes to Class C drugs and holding foreign nationals.”

Dad studied Ty for a minute. “Are you in law yourself, son?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Oh, I just wondered. You sound pretty knowledgeable, doesn’t he, Penny?” Dad looked down at me. “Penny here is studying law at Oxford.”

Ty connected his gaze with mine and smiled politely. “Very impressive, Miss Tipping. I wish you luck.”

“Thank you.” I knotted my fingers in my lap and drifted into his hypnotic gaze.

Oh, he was good all right, good at pretending he hadn’t been to Oxford, sliced off my hair and tortured my pussy with his tongue.

“Yes, she’s in her first year, romping ahead with her studies,” Dad said, puffing up his chest proudly. “So what is it you do for bread and butter, Mr. Winters?”

“I have a degree in sport science. I intend to do my teacher training qualification so I can work in senior schools and colleges.”

“Excellent, that sounds just excellent.”

Ty pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants and took a step toward the door. There was a little glow of perspiration on his temple.

“Are you holidaying here with friends or family?” Dad asked.

“Neither, I’m alone, just passing through on my way home, but I wanted to help James’ case so I arranged to meet up with Mr. Richmond today.” He smiled, and because I knew some of his smiles now I knew this to be a smug one. “And I have to say it’s a very fortuitous coincidence that you’re here today too, Mr. Foreign Secretary. The fact that we’ve managed to meet is hopefully advantageous to the situation.”

“Yes, absolutely, couldn’t agree more. The extra bit of information you gave me will be invaluable in negotiations, especially when the dreaded interpreter is involved.”

Ty pursed his lips and nodded.

Dad glanced down at me. “I don’t suppose.” He looked back at Ty. “That perhaps Mr. Winters—”

“Ty. Please, call me Ty.”

“That perhaps, Ty, you would like to join me and my family for dinner tonight. If, of course, you don’t have other arrangements. That would be okay, wouldn’t it, Penny?”

“I, er, well.” Oh my god. I couldn’t take much more. My heart was about to give out. Ty, joining us for dinner. Ty, my kidnapper, my secret lover, sitting at a table eating a meal with my parents as though everything was normal in my life.

“Penny?” Dad said, a slight tightness in his tone.

“Well, yes, of course it would be okay, but we are only eating in the hotel tonight. We have an early flight to Beijing, remember?”

“Yes, I know, but it is the Mandarin, darling, and I’m sure the food will be quite palatable.”

“I would love to join you,” Ty said, his eyes not leaving mine. “It’s very kind of you to invite me.”

“Great, do you know where the Mandarin Oriental is?” Dad asked.

Ty nodded. “Yes, I think I’ve wandered past it when I’ve been out and about. What time are you eating?”

Dad looked at me again.

“Eight,” I said, folding my arms and setting Ty with a bemused stare. “We are eating at eight in Le Normandie.”

Ty nodded. “It’s been lovely to meet you, Miss Tipping, and I look forward to hearing all about Oxford and law school this evening.” He nodded at Dad. “Sir.” Then he slipped from the room, leaving behind the slight scent of citrus and sea breeze.

“What a charming young fellow,” Dad said, pushing his chair in beneath the table. “Really got his head screwed on and obviously a good friend to have around in a crisis.”

* * * * *

The trip to the Emerald Buddha temple was excruciating. The sun glared down and the crowded walkways were oppressive. The Buddha himself was much smaller than I anticipated although the actual temple was enormous. All I could think of was Ty. Ty touching me, kissing me, being inside me. My mind whirred with thoughts of the evening ahead. How could I possibly be expected to sit and eat a meal with him and my parents and act as though he didn’t know the intimate details of my body? How would I be able to be near him and not touch him, not melt into his arms? Not let the world see that I was in love with him.