Private Princess

Chapter 97

“Don’t do it,” a strange voice had said from outside of Peter Knight’s car, seeing his finger moving to redial. “I’ll put one in your head before your call goes through.”

Slowly, Knight had turned his head. He had not been surprised by what he’d seen, and had found himself looking into the barrel of a pistol. It was held by an ugly man in a dark hoody.

“You fuckin’ amateur,” the man had sneered. “Maybe you want to turn down the brightness of your phone next time you call in a sighting. Get out the car.”

Knight had obliged, furious with himself. The man was right — Knight had acted like an amateur. Thoughts of his children had clouded his mind, and on seeing Flex he had acted quickly, without thinking. Now that impulse would probably mean he would never see Luke or Isabel again.

“Flex is the only one who’s killed someone. You can get out of this if you turn him in.”

The ugly man had half smiled, as if he’d felt sorry for the Private agent in front of him. “You really should have stayed in the amateur leagues.”

Knight had heard a sound behind him. Then had come darkness.

He regained consciousness in the back of a van. His head covered, he had no concept of where he was or for how long he’d been unconscious. All he knew for certain was that he’d been abducted, and that he was in serious trouble.

The van stopped, and he felt the suspension move as a significant weight departed, opened the door and climbed into the rear. A second later, what must have been a meaty hand swiped Knight’s hooded head, sending it bouncing off the wooden floorboard.

“Are you awake?” Flex asked.

Knight said nothing. Flex hit him again. Already bruised from the hit he had taken in Mayoor Patel’s home, Knight gritted his teeth against the pain.

“I said, are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” Knight replied, tasting blood on his teeth. The hessian sacking of his hood smelled rank and musty as it pressed against his face.

“Morgan’s on the phone,” Flex told him. “Say hello.”

“Morgan?” Knight asked, raising his voice so that it would carry, “I—”

Flex finished the conversation for him, savagely punching Knight so that the man’s groans carried all the message needed. Then Flex stepped from the van’s rear doors and shut Knight alone in the confines of his misery.