Watching with relief as her mother clambered into the taxi, Sam shut the door of the cab and waved it off. She moved back from the edge of the pavement and leant against the wall of the Orchid.
Sam had seen her mother starting to flag. The strain on her face was obvious and as she’d always struggled with crowds and people, let alone under these circumstances, she’d felt it only right her mother should be encouraged to go home.
Sam wished more than anything that she’d been able to escape too, but someone had to stay until the bitter end. It was only right and what her father would have expected.
Taking a deep breath, she resolutely walked back up the stairs to the casino, glancing at her diamond-encrusted Gucci bracelet watch and scowling as a man barged into her as he rounded the corner.
‘Sorry, love,’ the man muttered, continuing down the stairs.
Sam shook her head with irritation and weariness. There could only be an hour or so of this left now, surely?
‘Oh, thank God!’ Liam panted, appearing at the top of the stairs. ‘I thought something had happened.’
Sam shrugged Liam’s arm away, claustrophobia mounting. ‘Like what?’
‘I thought that Stoker bastard had collared you. I couldn’t see him and I couldn’t see you either, so I thought th…’
‘Are you obsessed with that man? You seem to be very concerned about what he’s doing!’ Sam snapped.
‘So would you be if you knew his plan was to bed you,’ Liam said, his hand moving to Sam’s cheek. ‘I can’t let him use you. I…’
‘I was seeing my mother into a cab, Liam. How silly of me not to check with you first to make sure you approved. But then again, I should be grateful I’ve got you looking out for me being as I clearly can’t make any kind of rational decision!’
Turning on her heel, Sam yanked open the door, ignoring Liam rushing up behind her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Liam begged. ‘I didn’t mean to make…’
‘Just leave me be, please,’ Sam said calmly. ‘I need some space.’ Striding through the casino, her eyes fixed firmly ahead, she passed straight into the staff corridor. Heart clamouring, she had to stop herself from breaking into a run to reach the sanctuary of her father’s, or rather, her office.
She had to get away from Liam; from everyone, even if just for a moment. All the people, all the questions, all the assumptions… She felt like she might scream.
Barging into her office, Sam slammed the door and fell against it. Her eyes shut, she breathed slowly in a race to control her escalating panic. Calm, Sam. Calm.
‘Looks like you had the same idea as me,’ a deep voice growled.
Sam all but collapsed with shock at the unexpected voice. Her eyes shot open to see Seb Stoker sitting at her desk. ‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’ she screamed, her eyes wild.
‘Oh, get off your high horse, Samantha,’ Seb sighed. ‘I needed some time away from the hordes, plus I thought I saw my brother heading this way. Clearly, I was wrong.’
Sam’s eyes narrowed. ‘That gives you the bloody right to trespass into private areas of my club, does it? I’ve heard you like looking for things you can use against me in your quest to gain control over everything!’
Seb stared in silence at Sam and continued casually drinking from his tumbler of whisky.
‘You don’t deny it, then?’ Sam spat, her eyes darting around, seeing if she could spot anything that had been moved. ‘The map! The one that was on my desk. It’s gone!’
Seb rolled his eyes. ‘If you’re referring to the map you copied from mine – that, according to you, was full of fake information, then why would I want that?’
Sam scowled. Why did he have to be in here making her angrier? It was only then she noticed how tired Seb looked, weariness replacing the usual brash arrogance on his handsome face.
‘Think what you like, Sam. I’m not in the mood for arguing with little girls,’ Seb muttered, placing his glass on the desk.
Sam moved forward, the intensifying irritation driving her. Is that how Seb Stoker saw her? A silly little girl? An inexperienced, pointless woman, only good for ridicule and the recipient of patronising comments?
A flush of disappointment replaced her annoyance and anger. Even though this man didn’t owe her anything – the opposite, in fact – she’d really thought, really believed by the end of the other night she had found an unexpected ally. To discover Seb might be working against her after all riled her more than it should. Plus, there was something about him that both excited and unnerved her. And that was heady.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she wanted him to see her as someone to take seriously. Someone who was capable.
And, squirming inwardly with embarrassment at her silent acknowledgement, she also wanted to know if he felt the same pull of attraction to her as she did for him… The one that grew in intensity each time she laid eyes on him.
Standing opposite, she glared at Seb; the strange desire to see how far she could push him glimmering stronger. ‘Being as you’re still sitting in my seat, I’ll just stand, shall I?’
Seb got up and, with a flourish, bowed towards the now empty chair. ‘My deepest apologies, Samantha.’
Pushing past, Sam sat down, the warmth from where Seb had been sitting seeping into the back of her thighs. She knew she was being pedantic, ridiculous even, but she felt unable to act rationally around this man who had the effect of jangling all her nerve endings at the same time. ‘Now if you don’t mind…?’
Shaking his head, Seb moved towards the door. ‘You really are a spoilt little girl, aren’t you, Samantha?’
Stinging tears burnt at the back of Sam’s eyes with the collective pent-up emotion of the day. Every insult, no matter how small, was accentuated. ‘Stop calling me a little girl! Save your insults for someone who cares,’ she spat, staring Seb squarely in the eyes.
‘Are you concerned that I might take Maynard out for setting up to filch my deal and attacking my brother?’ Seb said, his arrogance returning. Placing his hands on the desk, he leant closer. ‘Or have you worked out that I was right and you’re hoping I save you the trouble of firing him?’
Sam jumped up from her seat. ‘You’re that much of a prick to have ridiculous digs at me during my father’s funeral? Threatening to beat people up at a wake? Have you no shame?’
Seb shrugged. ‘Shame? No, not really. When I get proof it was Maynard, then it’s irrelevant where justice is done.’
Sam’s heart pounded. ‘Then that speaks volumes. I can see through you, Mr Stoker. You’re blaming John because you want no one to find out that your own brother nicked your bloody money.’
She laughed nastily. Giving this man the satisfaction of knowing she was leaning towards believing his words over those of her cousin was the last thing she wanted him to be aware of. ‘Everyone knowing you can’t trust your own must be embarrassing, but it won’t wash with me.’
‘I can’t imagine who informed you of that,’ Seb countered. He wouldn’t lose his temper. Not today. But he might kiss her to shut her up instead.
Sam walked away from the desk, exhilaration flooding her at the veiled anger brooding on Seb’s face. Didn’t like that, did he?
She snatched up the decanter and poured herself a large whisky. Sebastian Stoker thought he could intimidate her and make her out to be a fool? There may be countless unsavoury threads weaved against her or both of them, but if it wasn’t him all along, then he was still both the common denominator and the problem.
Let’s see how he liked stuff thrown back at him, because she’d had enough of his games. Seb would not get away with his underhand ways tonight.
Sam brought the glass up to her lips, a smile creeping over her face. ‘You’re very sure about everything being John’s fault, aren’t you?’
Seb raked his fingers through his hair and sighed loudly. ‘Believe what you want. I don’t care. I’ll leave you to it.’
Sam watched Seb move towards the door, obstinacy enveloping her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re unaware everyone knows what you’ve done? I can only guess that’s why you sloped off to hide like a coward, unless it was to go through my things? Possibly both…’
‘I ain’t no coward,’ Seb spat, swinging around, his eyes flashing dangerously. ‘I hide from no one.’
Bingo. Sam smiled. That hit a nerve. Here’s back at you, Sebastian Stoker. ‘If you say so…’
Backing Sam up against the desk, Seb tilted her face up to his. ‘You should learn when to stop winding people up.’
Wanting to yank Seb’s hand away from her face out of principle, Sam felt powerless to move under his strangely hypnotic and intense green gaze. Heart thundering, she felt like the world’s biggest traitor as she found her eyes moving to his mouth, his lips only inches from hers.
As Seb’s mouth crashed down onto hers, the indignant urge to push him away immediately dissolved as intense heat surged through Sam’s body.
Finding her lips yielding to his, his tongue igniting raging fire as he explored her mouth, her arms wound around his neck. Moving to press closer against him, his hand at the base of her spine holding her tightly, her longing exploded at the hardness she could feel pressing against her stomach.
As Seb’s other hand moved to her waist, his lips now tracing down the sensitive skin of her throat, Sam found her hand running down the lapel of his suit, her fingers tugging his shirt from his trousers.
Then she froze. What the hell was she doing?
Pulling away, Sam glared at Seb. ‘How dare you!’ she yelled, her face flushed with traitorous desire. ‘Don’t think I haven’t heard about your pathetic plan!’ She couldn’t allow herself to fall for this oldest trick in the book, no matter how much she wanted to.
Hiding the disappointment at losing the wave of raw longing he’d felt like never before, Seb laughed. ‘You want me as much as I want you, Samantha. Let’s just get it out of our system and then we can concentrate on everything else.’
Seb’s bright white smile made Sam burn even harder for him, but she couldn’t go back on what she’d said. She couldn’t back down now. No way.
Her eyes glinted. ‘I know your aim is to bed me and gain pillow-talk about my firm’s secrets, but you’ll have a long wait. I’d rather sleep with a corpse than jump in the sack with an arrogant, violent bastard like you!’
‘Is that your latest crazy idea?’ Seb said, his eyes dancing. ‘Or is that yet another conspiracy theory Maynard has convinced you of?’
Sam scowled, refusing to give Seb the satisfaction of being right. Again. ‘Not at all. It’s just people who attempt to kill their own brother don’t turn me on, that’s all.’
‘You what?’ Seb cried, rage overtaking his lust.
Sam fought the urge to step back and instead kept the sneer plastered on her face. Speak to me like shit, Stoker, and I’ll treat you like shit. ‘People know you found out your brother turned you over and lifted the money from your oh-so-important Irish deal. Well, that’s karma for you, isn’t it?’
‘You nasty lying piece of sh…’
‘Oh, how silly of me!’ Sam sniped, her eyes narrowing. ‘I forgot that wouldn’t count as killing family, being as Gary isn’t your brother!’
Colour flooded Seb’s face, a twitch under his eye evident. ‘You bitch!’ he spat. ‘How dare you say that!’
Sam faltered, shame tearing her insides. She shouldn’t have said that. It was out of order. She wasn’t like this, she wasn’t a bitch, yet she was behaving like a top-class one and she didn’t like it. This man made her behave out of character and it was unsettling, but the need to hurt Seb – for reasons she couldn’t quite justify to herself, was strong. And it still was. As well as the feel of his mouth on hers… Her fingers moved involuntarily to her lips, still swollen from his kisses.
She knew she was attacking him for having the power to make her succumb to desire when she should be able to remain in control of herself. She should be stronger than to muddy the already treacherous waters with even more fraught confusion.
Unable to help the venom from flowing from her mouth, Sam faced Seb without hesitation as he backed her into the large cupboard at the rear of the office. ‘Or is it you who’s not the true Stoker…?’
Seb couldn’t look more like a younger version of his father if he tried, but that wasn’t the point. She was on a roll – a nasty one. And she couldn’t get off it.
Sam raised her chin defiantly, looking Seb straight in the eyes as he loomed above her. She knew his fist was clenched and could almost hear the adrenaline pounding through his veins, the noise overshadowing the crashing of her own heart.
Was he going to kiss her again? Her breath hitched, wanting him to, despite what her brain was screaming.
Seb slammed Sam against the cupboard with a crash, his rage for this exquisite and dangerously beautiful woman at fever pitch. Despite her insolence, which he would usually take from no one, he still wanted to bury himself inside her, and it was suffocating. ‘There was me thinking you had a brain in your head! Do not speak of things you know nothing about!’
‘Get your hands off me!’ Sam yelled, pushing Seb away with all the force she could muster.
Shaking her head in anger, now mainly at herself, she stepped away from the cupboard and went to close the door which had come slightly open, finding something sticking and preventing it from shutting. She didn’t know what was kept in here, she hadn’t got round to sorting through half of what was in her father’s office, but if Seb had smashed or wrecked anything by what he’d done…
‘I suggest you leave now,’ she muttered, yanking open the door to free whatever was jamming it. ‘OH MY GOD!’ Shrieking, she jumped back in horror at the sight of a bloodied body wedged into the bottom of the cupboard.
Sam’s heart pounded in her chest so strongly she felt it might burst from her rib cage and jump onto the floor. Waves of light-headedness and nausea poured over her like a waterfall.
The trembling started in her toes before rapidly spreading up her legs, through her stomach, past her chest, branching out along her arms to the end of her fingertips. A buzzing electrical sensation then moved at lightning speed up her neck, over her face and then along each of the long, dark brown hairs of her head.
Her eyes fixed on the vacant gaze of the crumpled man in the cupboard, a stab wound with congealed purple blood around the small but fatal slit on his neck clear. Her eyes then moved to the thick and growing pool of blood drenching a tarpaulin lining the floor of the cabinet.
Nausea rose again, this time faster, and her hand flew to her mouth as her brain struggled to process the scene. She crouched down, unwilling to get close to the man, but knew she must. He was dead. Definitely dead.
A strange combination of fear and rage thundered through Sam like a freight train.
Not only had a man been murdered, but whoever had committed such a crime had the disrespect to do it during her father’s funeral. And what did it mean? This man had been dumped in her office. Was it a message?
Wait…
Gingerly peering further in order to see the man’s face, Sam froze as the enormity of the situation sunk in.
This was a Stoker. Gary Stoker. This was Seb’s brother…
Unable to make her brain function coherently, Sam’s trembling increased as the world around her moved in slow motion. Time and space ground to a halt. It had only been a few moments since she’d opened the cupboard and discovered this… this nightmare.
She heard Seb’s voice telling her to shut up. It sounded like it was underwater, yet he was moving back towards her…
Sam remained paralysed: unable to speak or react. He was almost behind her…
Seb Stoker had killed his brother and now he would kill her. Was that correct? Was what everyone said about him the truth after all?
Snapping herself back into action, Sam swung around as Seb loomed closer. ‘You murdering bastard!’ she screamed, launching herself towards him, her hands flailing towards his face. ‘You animal! You despicable fucking bas…’
‘Stop!’ Seb roared. Fending off having his eyes scratched out with Sam’s nails, he grabbed her arms and pinned them against her sides.
Holding her against the wall using his body, he glared into her wild eyes. ‘Fuck’s sake! What the hell’s wrong with you? First of all you start yelling at me and then you launch yourself at me like a mad woman! Do you want me to kiss you again? Is that it?’
Because he’d more than happily oblige. The feel of her soft lips on his had been exquisite, triggering something he’d never felt before and he was more than up for a repeat.
Grinning at Sam’s silence, he craned his neck to look into the cupboard. ‘What is it? A fucking spider or something? Oh, FUCK!’
Releasing Sam, all thoughts of kissing her again now extinguished, Seb rushed towards the cupboard. Ripping his suit jacket off, he squatted down onto his haunches and pressed his fingers against his brother’s neck, desperately feeling for a pulse. He tried to stem the bleeding until he realised it was pointless.
‘Shit. Shit!’ he hissed. ‘NO! Come on. Gary! Don’t do this to me!’
Flattening herself against the wall, Sam watched in detached fascination. ‘Oh my God,’ she muttered. ‘You seriously expect me to believe you didn’t know he was in there?’ She would have laughed if the situation had not been so desperately grave.
Seb turned to Sam, his eyes filled with terror and pain. ‘Help me help him, for fuck’s sake! Don’t just stand there!’
Sam paused as she took in the raw pain in Seb’s face and realisation whacked her between the eyes. No one was that good an actor…
The combination of fear and rage reared up again, as well a bubbling guilt at her earlier accusatory words. Seb hadn’t done this – Seb hadn’t killed his brother.
‘Fucking help me!’ Seb roared, then turned back to his brother. ‘Gary! Come on!’
‘He’s dead,’ Sam said quietly, suddenly experiencing a crushing sadness for this big powerful man in front of her on his knees, disintegrating before her very eyes, and a steely resolve grew in her mind.
‘NO’ Seb roared. ‘He can’t be! I won’t allow it!’ Dragging Gary from the cupboard, he cradled him in his arms, the front of his white shirt thick with his brother’s blood.
Sam moved towards Seb. ‘I’ll call the police,’ she said softly, daring to lay a hand on his shoulder.
‘No!’ Seb grabbed Sam’s hand, the pain in his eyes now replaced with manic rage. ‘You can’t!’
Startled, Sam frowned. ‘But…’
‘You need to help me sort this, Sam,’ Seb said. ‘And we need to sort it now! My parents must not find out about this just now. Christ! It will finish them! I need time to think about what to do.’
‘You want me to help you conceal your brother’s body?’ Sam spluttered. Was Seb insane?
‘That’s exactly what I want you to do. I’d do anything for my parents, Samantha. As would you with yours, I don’t doubt.’ He looked back to the tarpaulin and what it contained. ‘I don’t want to hide it from them and I will tell them, but not yet. My father’s just out of hospital and my mother’s in enough of a state about everything as it is.’ Seb’s lips tightened. ‘It won’t be for long, but I really can’t tell them that… that one of their sons has been murdered whilst they’ve been chatting on the floor above. I can’t tell them that now. Not here. Not like this…’
Sam nodded mutely. She understood that much.
Seb’s eyes locked onto Sam’s. ‘Then I’m going to find whoever’s done this.’
And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew there could only be two rational choices: Maynard or one of his own brothers.
Seb watched Sam lift his brother’s legs whilst he took the shoulders, betting lifting bodies onto tarpaulins wasn’t anything she’d ever done before. In fact, he’d always imagined she hadn’t even had cause to wash up a plate, but he’d take his hat off to her – she’d got on with what he’d asked and he was grateful for that. Grateful and impressed. And that alone helped divert from his pounding grief.
Keeping busy whilst they fetched another tarpaulin from the stores and scrubbed the inside of the cabinet had also helped. They’d cleaned the arc of blood from the corridor ceiling that he hadn’t noticed until Sam insisted they looked for more traces. ‘You can’t get stabbed in the neck without it being messy,’ she’d said bluntly. And she’d been right.
But it was strange there wasn’t more blood. Whoever had done this had done it in the corridor, then rapidly dragged Gary through the office into the cupboard. They’d either cleaned the majority of the mess up themselves afterwards or laid a tarpaulin beforehand.
Seb’s pulse rate increased. When he got his hands on who had done this…
Averting his eyes as best he could, he covered Gary’s face with the rest of the tarpaulin. Pretend it’s someone else, he told himself. Anyone else. Just someone. It doesn’t matter who. It’s not your brother lying here…
Flinching as fingers touched his, Seb’s head snapped up, pulling him from his thoughts.
‘I’ll do that,’ Sam said softly.
Nodding, Seb turned away and grabbed the cloth. Turning his back, he continued scrubbing at an already clean piece of floor so that Sam couldn’t see the unfamiliar tears forming in his eyes. Clenching his teeth, he willed for self-control before he turned around. He couldn’t have anyone seeing how gutted he was. Gary may have been an irritating twat and a bit of a wet lettuce, but Gary was his brother. He didn’t care what anyone else said, this should not have happened.
Forcing the lump from his throat, a steely cold stare replaced the pain in his green eyes. This was Len Reynold’s wake. There were no members of the public present tonight, and that meant Gary’s killer was someone he knew. Or who Sam knew.
Try as he might, Seb couldn’t shake his original suspicion. His gut was telling him this was Maynard’s doing. The man had already organised Gary to get jumped so he could lift that money, but he lacked the proof. Now the bastard had killed his brother?
His fist clenched, crushing the floor cloth in his hand. Maynard was desperate to set the Stokers up. What better way to do that by knocking the family off kilter? By killing one of them? And picking the one least likely to offer resistance?
Seb risked a glance at Sam, seeing her head bowed over Gary’s body, now completely wrapped in the tarpaulin, concentration on her face as she deftly stitched the sides with a large upholstery needle and thick twine, reserved for invisible repairs to the casino seating.
Admiration for the woman crushed his chest. She may not be used to dealing with this sort of thing, but she was doing a damn fine job and had shied away from nothing.
Sam Reynold was nothing to do with this. He’d seen her reaction. Seb’s brow furrowed. He also knew that initially she’d thought it was him. She thought he’d done this. But then, guessing the sort of things Maynard had been cramming her head with recently, that wasn’t too much of a surprise.
His jaw tightened. He may be a lot of things, but he wouldn’t kill his own bloody brother.
Sweat beaded on Seb’s brow as he slowly realised that if it turned out to be Andrew and Neil responsible for this and not Maynard, then he’d have no choice in breaking that cardinal rule. And that he dreaded.
It had to be Maynard.
But both Maynard and his brothers had motives. They were all here tonight and, furthermore, he didn’t recall seeing any of them present at the wake when he’d come down here on the lookout for Gary.
‘I think I’m done now,’ Sam said, her voice unnaturally loud in the silent room. She got to her feet, using the table to pull herself upright, her knees stiff from the length of time kneeling on the hard wooden floor of her office. She saw Seb studying her. ‘What?’ she frowned.
Seb shook his head absentmindedly. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking…’
Sam’s face softened. ‘Are you all right?’
Seb shrugged. ‘You thought I’d done this, didn’t you?’
Heat flooded Sam’s cheeks at the truth of Seb’s words. She had indeed initially thought that. What was wrong with her? Would she ever get it right? She smiled weakly. ‘Okay, I admit it. I did and I’m sorry, I really am. I know from your reaction that you didn’t, but either way, I should never have thought it, let alone said it.’
‘How do you know I’m not just a good actor?’
Sam sighed. ‘I’m not arguing about this again.’
‘For the record, I didn’t do it. But I think I know who did…’
Sam stiffened, guessing what Seb would say and she didn’t want to hear it. ‘I’m presuming you’re blaming my cousin again?’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘For God’s sake, Seb. John wouldn’t do this.’
‘Oh, yes, he would. He had the motive. If it wasn’t by his own hands, then he was behind it. And he was here, but then…’ Seb’s eyes narrowed. ‘So were my brothers…’
Sam gasped. ‘You suspect your brothers could have done this?’
Seb raked his bloodstained fingers through his hair. ‘Christ, I don’t know! It has to be one of them.’
Andrew’s actions over Phil Blunt paled into insignificance compared with the prospect of one or both of his brothers being linked to Gary’s murder. And he silently prayed he was correct with the suspicion in the forefront of his mind about Maynard because he would need his brothers’ help with keeping this from his parents. Even though it would only be for the short term, he couldn’t do that alone.
But if Gary’s death had been at the hands of Andrew, Neil or both of them, it would kill their father and their mother would never get over it. Ever.
And neither would he.
Sam placed her hands on the desk and stared at the tarpaulin-covered body. ‘We haven’t got time to analyse it now. They’ll be missing us upstairs. Or me, at least. We’ve been gone ages. Do you know what you’re going to do with… with…’ She indicated at the tarpaulin.
Seb nodded. ‘I know a place.’ Not that he’d ever forgive himself for storing his brother’s body in the only place he had quick access to. But he had to do something whilst getting things back on track.
Grabbing his suit jacket, Seb moved towards the door. ‘I’d best get going. I’ll need a van.’ He glanced at Sam. ‘And I need to know the best way out. A way that no one is likely to be hanging around. No bar staff – nothing. A fire escape?’
‘You can’t go like that!’ Sam cried, staring at Seb’s blood-soaked shirt.
Seb shrugged. ‘What choice do I have? Don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but it’s not like I have a wardrobe here with plenty of choices!’ He numbly began putting on his jacket. ‘I’ll have to take my chances.’ He held out his hand. ‘Keys? Van keys?’
Sam opened a drawer at her desk. Rummaging in a tray, she picked out several keys and checked the key fobs. ‘Take this one. It’s a white Transit. It’s one of the pool vans used for the drops.’ Although she still had a lot to learn, she was now glad she’d made it her business to find out how some of the other parts of the business went down, otherwise she’d be completely blind to everything.
Seb took the keys. ‘I’ll get it back to you as soon as, or if not, I’ll replace it. Now, what’s the best route out?’
‘Wait!’ Sam moved to another cupboard, only slightly hesitating before opening it. She pulled out a pair of dark green overalls. ‘I noticed these the other day. Think they must have been my father’s. Put them on.’
Seb shrugged off his suit jacket once more and began unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers fumbling over the buttons.
‘We need to hurry.’ Sam stepped forward. ‘Come on, let me help.’ She quickly unbuttoned Seb’s shirt, her fingers surprisingly steady.
Seb found himself staring at the top of Sam’s head as she made easy work of undoing his shirt, taking note of the glossiness of her hair and getting the urge to run his fingers through it. Feeling his groin throb with the beginnings of arousal, he berated himself for allowing his thoughts to wander at a time like this.
Sam knew she was transfixed by Seb’s hard muscular chest as he shrugged off his undone shirt and heat rushed to her cheeks once more. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she stepped backwards. ‘Give me your clothes,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll get rid of them.’
The spell broken, Seb slipped off his trousers and stepped into the overalls, zipping them up. He handed his clothes to Sam. ‘What you going to do with them? Burn them?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Leave me to worry about that. Come on, you need to go.’ She looked at the bulky tarpaulin on the floor. ‘There’s a trolley down the corridor,’ she said. ‘Put him on that. If we’re quick we can…’
‘I’ll carry him,’ Seb said coldly. Bending down, with a grunt he hoisted the heavy tarpaulin onto his shoulder. ‘My brother ain’t going in a trolley.’
Sam moved to unlock the door. ‘The last door on the left is a fire escape. It’s the nearest one.’
Her hand was on the handle when banging on the door made her jump back, both her and Seb freezing in their tracks. She looked at Seb and then back at the door. ‘I won’t be long,’ she called.
‘Is Seb in there with you?’ a voice called. ‘It’s Andrew, his brother. It’s important.’
Eyes narrowing, Seb threw Sam’s arm off as she attempted to restrain him and he yanked the door open.
‘Seb?’ Andrew’s eyes moved over the green overalls and then to the tarpaulin on his shoulder. He cast a disapproving stare at Sam before turning back to Seb questioningly.
Seb’s eyes blazed. If Andrew had done this, he’d rip him limb from limb with his bare hands. ‘Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of her,’ he growled.
Andrew scowled but decided he should placate the bad feeling between them. ‘I’m not here to argue. Me and Neil have come from the Aurora. We thought it wise to form our own opinion about whether there was anything worth seeing and guess who we saw?’
Seb swallowed his rising impatience. Gary’s body was bloody heavy and Andrew wanted to play guessing games? ‘Get on with it!’
Andrew’s eyes were stone cold. ‘John-fucking-Maynard!’
Seb frowned, a sinking feeling growing.
‘By the way, what the fuck is that?’ Andrew asked, nodding at the large tarpaulin draped over Seb shoulder.
‘You’d best come in,’ Seb muttered, not noticing Liam peering from behind the jutting wall at the end of the corridor.