Bleary-eyed, Judith watched Mal replace the handset on the cradle. ‘Who on earth was that ringing at this time?’ she snapped. ‘I’d hoped these sort of calls in the middle of the night would stop once you’d retired. Shouldn’t people be calling Sebastian if there’s a problem?’
‘It wasn’t business,’ Mal said gruffly, picking the phone back up and keying in the number that he knew off by heart – the number for the phone on what had, up until recently, been his desk at the Peacock. ‘It was the hospital.’
‘The hospital?’ Judith shrieked, scrambling to prop herself up on the pillows. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I don’t know exactly,’ Mal muttered. Come on Seb, pick up.
‘Who’s in hospital?’ Judith cried, pulling at Mal’s pyjama top.
Mal flapped his wife’s hand away, hearing his eldest son’s voice answer. ‘Sebastian? No, I’m fine.’ He glanced at Judith. ‘You need to get to the hospital, son. It’s Gary.’
‘Gary?’ Judith cried. ‘What’s happened to him?’
‘Shut up!’ Mal hissed. ‘It’s all right, it’s your mother. Yes, Gary’s in the QE. He got clumped… I don’t know, son… They’ve only just called…’ He looked at Judith, tears now streaming down her face. ‘Okay… yes, that’s probably best. Call me as soon as you know, okay?’
Putting the receiver back down, Mal sighed, feeling the familiar throbbing of adrenaline pounding in his veins. Was this it? Was whatever going on with Reynold now dragging them into it by association? Was his family the next target?
‘W-what’s going on, Mal?’ Judith sobbed. ‘Are you not going to tell me what’s happened to my baby?’
‘Gary’s hardly a baby! He’s thirty years old!’ Mal squeezed his wife’s hand. ‘Apparently, he was taken in via ambulance with a head injury.’
‘Head injury? What sort of head injury?’ Judith cried, launching herself out of bed and pulling her dressing gown on. ‘Come on! We have to go up there!’
‘Stop right there,’ Mal barked. ‘I know little myself, so there’s no point in us all traipsing up there. Seb will see what’s what. Stop panicking!’ He wasn’t about to tell Judith that her fear was very real and so would his be if he allowed her panic to infect him. And he couldn’t do that. It would help no one.
‘Why did they ring if it wasn’t serious? Oh God, Mal, what if Gary’s got brain damage or is in a coma? You hear all these things and…’
‘Judith!’ Mal yelled. ‘Stop it, will you? We’re down as Gary’s next of kin, so it’s standard procedure to call. Before you run around like a headless chicken, let Sebastian see what’s going on and then we’ll go from there, yes?’
He wanted to run around like a headless chicken himself, but if he did that he’d more than likely end up back in A&E, therefore he would sit it out and wait to see exactly what was reported back.
Even though it was 1 a.m. by the time Sam returned to her apartment, she didn’t rush straight to bed. There was little point. Although it was more than nice being back in her own space, there was no way she would sleep – at least not for a good while. Her mind was too busy processing not only everything she’d learned tonight, but also what had happened just before she’d left.
Kicking her heels from her aching feet, Sam allowed the black cocktail dress to fall to the floor. She’d pick it up in the morning. Right now, she needed to think.
Slipping an oversized T-shirt over her head, she padded along the hall to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She eyed a bottle of wine, knowing she probably shouldn’t have any more, but what did it matter? It was the only way she stood to get any sleep.
Pouring herself a large glass, she made to replace the remainder of the bottle back in the fridge, but thinking better of it, took it with her into the lounge. Flopping onto the sofa, she flicked the uplighter onto a low light position and sat back, gratefully sipping at the wine. What a bloody night!
Thanks to Seb Stoker, she now knew the extent of what her father had shielded her from. Although a lot of what she’d hadn’t been altogether surprising, it was still an eye opener. Her father supplied cocaine?
Sam frowned, suspecting that was only the tip of the iceberg, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered aside from sorting this out.
She swilled down most of her wine in one go, staring at the glass in the hope of an answer appearing. Of course, it was feasible Seb could have manufactured the whole thing to get a response from her that would work in his favour, but after everything tonight, she no longer thought that a credible option.
In contrast to what she’d expected, she believed him. Tonight had given her a glimpse of another facet to Seb’s usual façade. In addition to his fierce attractiveness and the brash over-confidence she’d initially classed as patronising, he’d patiently explained how everything worked and, surprisingly, he’d done it without an air of arrogance and without making her feel stupid. She’d appreciated that.
It had also underlined just how much John was withholding. However miffed he was about her being in charge, there had been ample opportunity for him to bring her up to speed, but he’d chosen not to and it was clear why.
Her cousin wanted her to fail. That’s what it was all about and that hurt.
‘Just like his father – loyal,’ her father had said on many occasions. Well, John hadn’t proved loyal to her.
Resentment simmered. They were family, for God’s sake, yet John was jealous of her and must always have been. He was jealous because she was the daughter of Len Reynold.
Sam’s unease grew. If she couldn’t trust John, then who could she trust to make sure the business that meant everything to her father wasn’t ruined by whatever was going on here?
As for the rest – why had her father not told her the truth about Uncle Jimmy? He may have wanted to protect her from the less than salubrious side of this world of his, but he should have told her. If not at the time, then at some point.
Did her mother know about what had really happened to Uncle Jimmy or was she in the dark too?
A knot formed in Sam’s stomach as she reached for the bottle of wine.
Seb’s theory that she’d first dismissed as ridiculous now held more validity. It was viable that the shot which killed Jimmy was meant for her father. Sam clearly remembered her dad’s possessiveness over that motor and it was true he never allowed anyone to drive his Daimler. Her eighteenth birthday was the first and last time anyone else had got behind the wheel…
Her eyes narrowed. There were many things she was determined to get to the bottom of. Although the last thing she’d initially wanted was to be involved in the running of her father’s business, now she was more determined than ever not to let it fail.
A steely determination throbbed in Sam’s veins. If Seb was right and her father’s death wasn’t an accident, then she would be avenging that too.
She tipped the last of her wine into her mouth, finding her thoughts returning once more to Seb Stoker.
She’d seen his face when he took the call that came in about his brother at midnight… Seb had reined in his panic and played down the worry and anger, but she’d seen it etched across his rugged feature for a split second; heard it in the tone of his voice.
He was worried. Very worried. And Sam couldn’t help but wonder whether the attack on Gary Stoker was linked to the threats or what had happened to her own father.
Had retaliation to Seb’s family begun now too? And if so, who could be behind it? It all seemed absurd, but something was happening. There were too many coincidences and she didn’t like it.
Dizzy from the incessant avalanche of unanswerable questions, Sam was glad to be interrupted by the phone ringing.
She snatched up the receiver. ‘Hello?’
‘Sam, it’s Liam.’
‘Why are you calling at this time of night?’ Sam asked, disappointed at the sound of Liam’s voice. She’d asked Seb to update her with news of his brother when he could, but it wasn’t him…
‘I just happened to be driving past and saw your lights on,’ Liam lied. ‘I thought I’d check you were okay.’
‘I’m fine,’ Sam frowned, anger simmering. Liam knew she was meeting Seb Stoker and he’d come to goddamn check on her. ‘I’m tired,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’