Worlds Apart (19 page)

Sucking his cock.

Taylor’s dick stirred and he groaned.

Before he talked to Niall—though maybe they didn’t have to actually
talk
—Taylor needed to drive Roo to wherever it was she’d rented. He’d withdrawn a few hundred in cash to loan her. Taylor called the office number, got the answer phone and switched to the house line.

“Hello,” Niall said.

“Put Roo on.”

“It’s six thirty,” Niall pointed out. “She called a cab and left.”

“I thought she’d wait. She doesn’t even have any money.” Taylor sighed. “What’s the address of the place she’s renting?”

“17 Vermont Avenue, Guiseley.”

Damn and blast
. He’d driven through Guiseley, now he had to drive back.

“Want me to bring anything?” he asked Niall.

“Dessert?”

Taylor broke the connection with a gulp. He pulled off the road and sat for a minute wondering if Niall meant ice cream or…
Oh God.
Taylor didn’t want him to mean ice cream and the admission sent heat pooling low in his belly.

He entered Roo’s address into the sat nav and ten minutes later pulled up across the road from number seventeen. It was a rundown, post-war semidetached house with a front garden so overgrown the path was almost invisible. The house it adjoined was boarded up and the car parked outside looked held together with string.

As Taylor sat wondering about the wisdom of leaving his car unattended, a guy walking up the road stopped and faced the hedge in front of the house. Only when Taylor saw him shaking his dick, did he realize the guy had been taking a piss. It was a gloomy evening but still. Taylor got out of the car, locked it, begged it to stay safe, and headed to the door of number seventeen.

The young guy who opened it had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a belly hanging over the waist of his jeans.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at Taylor as though he was considering whether or not he could take him.
Dream on.

“I’ve come to see Roo.”

The guy moved back from the door. “You the one with the money? Upstairs, room on the left.”

The smell hit Taylor the moment he stepped into the hall and he breathed through his mouth. Old food, farts, feet—he didn’t want to think too hard about it. It was bad enough that he had to walk on the carpet. He didn’t think of himself as a snob, but this place was a shithole. What the hell had Roo been thinking?

He knocked on the bedroom door and then wiped his knuckles on his pants.

“Come in,” Roo said.

She was sitting slumped on the bed but straightened when she saw him and plastered a smile on her face. He wasn’t fooled. Taylor took in the suitcase still packed, the bags lying on top, the pillow and sleeping bag on top of that, as little as possible touching the heavily stained carpet and he sighed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Thinking.”

Taylor held back his smile. “What are you thinking about?”

“Whether to paint the walls yellow or white.”

He looked around. “Think it would make much difference?”

She sprang to her feet. “Course it would.”

Even Roo was having problems sounding convincing. Taylor took in the tatty, cheap wardrobe, lopsided chest of drawers, the curtain pole half attached to the wall, the ugly light fitting, and turned his gaze back on Roo.

“Why did you take this?” he asked. What the hell had she been thinking?

“It was the only place available and all I could afford.”

“Since I’m paying for it, I think you could have aimed a little higher.”

“Darn it, why didn’t you say? I quite fancy somewhere with a pool.”

There was a knock at the door and the guy with the belly walked in. “You can pay me now. I’m going out.”

“She’s not staying here,” Taylor said.

“What? Tay—” Roo began.

“We’re leaving. Pick up what you can carry. I’ll bring the rest.”

“Hey, she said she wanted the room. I had to turn people down today.”

Roo filled her arms with her belongings and left the case. Taylor was relieved she wasn’t arguing. He grabbed the case and followed her downstairs.

“You have to pay for the room,” the guy called as he clattered down the stairs after him.

“Fuck off,” Taylor muttered.

Roo opened the door and headed down the path, Taylor a few feet behind her.

“Mitch, Sanjit, get out here,” the guy shouted.

Taylor put the suitcase down and turned to face three guys. One of them taller than him, the other two smaller.

“Where’s she going?” one of the new guys asked.

Taylor smiled. “She’s leaving with me.”

“She should pay us for the inconvenience,” Beer Belly said. “You should pay us.”

“How much are you charging for that shit hole?” Taylor asked.

“Two fifty a month,” said the tall guy.

Taylor made a rapid calculation. “Eight-pounds-thirty a day. She’s been here what, two hours at the most, so she owes you sixty-eight pence.” He pulled a pound from his pocket and flipped it toward them. “Keep the change.”

He heard them coming as he stepped onto the pavement. Roo stood across the road by the rear of his car, alarm written all over her face. Taylor waited until the last moment and then swung her case backward. He heard the grunt of pain but didn’t linger. He pressed the remote, the trunk lifted and Roo tossed her things inside.

Taylor had almost made it to the vehicle when he was thumped in the kidney. He gasped, dropped the case, turned and swung. His fist made a satisfying connection with a nose, blood spurted and the two guys behind Beer Belly backed off. Taylor clenched his fists. He quite fancied a fight, particularly when he knew he’d win, but the guy turned and slunk away.

A tug at his arm and Taylor swung round again but it was Roo.

“Get in the car,” she said, worry all over her face.

She didn’t think he could take these guys? “Your case?”

“In the trunk.”

Taylor waited until she was inside before he got in, and then drove away. Too fast. Adrenaline still raced around his bloodstream.

“Slow down,” Roo whispered.

“I like driving fast. It’s exciting.” The BMW’s wheels squealed as he turned a corner.

“It’s even more exciting if you stick your head out of the window. Do it now. There’s a bus coming.”

Taylor let out a snort of laughter. And slowed.

Roo gasped. “Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, find somewhere to pull over.”

“What?”

“Now,” she shouted.

He turned into a side street and Roo leapt from the car and raced off toward the main road.
What the hell?
Taylor locked the car and followed.

When he turned the corner, he groaned. Roo was heading for a man walking a large black dog on a lead.

“Roo!” Taylor shouted and ran after her.

“Arthur?” Roo called and the dog turned.

Taylor almost tripped over his own feet.
No way.

“Excuse me,” Roo shouted. “Could I have a word?”

The guy stopped and glanced from her to Taylor. Big guy, thick, muscular arms. A man Taylor didn’t want to tangle with. This had to be done carefully, tactfully.

“That dog doesn’t belong to you,” Roo snapped.

Oh shit.

“What are you talking about?” The man scowled.

“How long have you had him?” Taylor asked before Roo wrenched the lead from the guy’s hand.

“A few days.”

Roo exhaled noisily. “He went missing in Ilkley a few days ago.”

“I bought him in Skipton. I paid good money for him. How do you know he’s the dog you’re looking for?” The man’s voice sounded belligerent. “There are lots of black dogs around.”

“He’s a pedigree,” Roo said. “A flat-coated retriever. Arthur’s been micro-chipped. The boy he belongs to has put notices on lampposts and hired me—us—to look for him.”

“His name’s Riley, not Arthur.” But the guy sounded less sure of himself.

“Arthur?” Roo said and the dog wagged his tail. “See?”

“Riley?” said the guy and the dog wagged his tail harder.

Bugger.

Roo pointed two fingers at the dog and said, “Bang, bang.”

The dog dropped, rolled over and put his feet in the air.

She smiled and turned to Taylor. “Jason told me he’d do that. This
is
Arthur.”

The guy clung tighter to the lead. “I bought him fair and square. I paid five hundred pounds.”

Taylor stared at him.

“Okay, two hundred. I knocked the price down from five hundred.”

Taylor took out his wallet and peeled off four fifty pound notes.

“I’d rather have the dog,” the guy said.

Roo was crouched down, tickling Arthur’s ears. “Give me your number and if Jason says it’s not Arthur, we’ll bring him back to you.”

“If I call the police, and it’s proved he’s Arthur, you won’t get anything,” Taylor said.

The lead was thrust into his hand together with a scribbled number.

“One last thing,” Taylor said. “Describe the guy who sold the dog to you.”

“Wasn’t a guy, it was a woman. Medium height, frizzy brown hair, pale face.”

Christ, Jason’s mother.
The guy stroked Arthur’s head, sighed and walked off.

Roo stood up. “It might not be her.”

“You don’t think mothers can do bad things?”

The look of sadness that flashed over Roo’s face almost felled Taylor.

“If I’ve just paid two hundred quid for a dog that Jason’s mother wanted to get rid of…”

“But she won’t be able to say that, will she?” She tugged the lead from Taylor’s hand and led the dog back toward the car.

Taylor didn’t bother parking on Steadman Road, but drove down into the cul-de-sac and parked outside number seventeen.

“I can’t believe we found him,” Roo said. “If I hadn’t taken that room, if you hadn’t come, if—”

“Life’s all about ifs,” Taylor interrupted before she went back to “if he hadn’t been born” but she was so excited and pleased, he didn’t want to burst the bubble. “You did well to spot him.”

Roo pulled the dog out of the car. “Jason is going to be so happy.”

Taylor followed her to the front door. It was part-opened by Mrs. Farrant who, the moment she set eyes on the dog, looked far from happy. Arthur woofed and strained at his lead. He jerked out of Roo’s grip, collided with the front door, pushing it fully open, and jumped at Jason who screamed with joy. The hall was full of suitcases and bags.

“You found him, you found him,” Jason shouted. “Arthur, you good boy. Where’ve you been? I was so worried.”

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Roo smiled at the boy’s mother.

“Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.” Jason wrapped his arms around the dog’s head.

“Going away?” Taylor asked. Something was off here.

“Holiday,” she snapped. “Though now I have to find someone to look after the dog. Perhaps you’d like him.”

“We can take him, can’t we, Mum?”

Jason was joined by a girl a couple of years younger and she hugged the dog too.

“I think being honest with your kids is very important,” Taylor said in a quiet voice. “You can’t protect them from everything. You owe me two hundred pounds.”

The woman blanched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.”

“Wait,” Jason said, and fiddled in a backpack that lay with the bags. He walked over to Roo and offered her a handful of coins and notes. “I said twenty pounds, right?”

“No, it’s—” Roo began.

“Take it,” Taylor said.

Roo glanced at him and then put the money in her purse. “Thank you, Jason.”

The woman scribbled a check and thrust it at Taylor.

“You have any more problems with Arthur, give us a call,” Taylor said to the boy and then glared at his mother before tugging Roo back to the car.

She was still grumbling about taking the money when they got in the vehicle.

“It’s a lesson to both of you,” Taylor said.

“Phone the police.”

He gaped at her. “What?”

“Stop when we’ve turned the corner and call the police.”

Once they were out of sight of the house, Taylor pulled up. “Now what?”

Roo winced. “Don’t be cross.”

“Tell me what you’ve done.”

Roo blurted out what she’d discovered at Dorsey’s and Taylor felt his jaw drop.

“You need to phone the police. She’s obviously running.”

“Obviously.”

Roo glared. “No need for sarcasm.”

“So what do you think’s happening?”
This should be good.