Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) by Carole Williams (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

hollow.  “That’s rich.  You, who are taking risks all the time.  You forget, Benny.  In those few weeks we were together I saw and heard a few things I am sure the authorities would be very interested in.  I’ve written down everything I know and left it in my hotel room so … if you don’t play ball or try to hurt me in any way, the nice big white envelope I have left by my bed will wend its way to Scotland Yard pretty damned quickly in the morning.”

He stared at her for a moment, wondering whether she was bluffing and trying desperately to think what it was she could have seen or heard but all he could remember were the antics in the bedroom.  She had been a tremendous lay, one of the best and he had been quite sorry when she ended it but even so, he didn’t discuss business with his women so what she knew, if anything, was a mystery.  However, he couldn’t take the risk.  If the law discovered how deeply he was involved in one or two things he could go down for a hell of a long time.

He stood up and took some keys out of his jacket pocket.  “Okay, okay.  You win … but Christ, Delia, you’ve changed,” he said.  “Guns don’t come cheap though,” he warned.  “It’s going to cost.”

“I don’t think so,” said Delia firmly.  “Think of it as a departing present.  Just remember I could destroy your little empire in a flash and I really don’t want to do that … and while you’re at it, throw in at least four bullets and enough cocaine and marijuana to keep someone happy for a couple of days.”

Without another word Benny left the room, leaving Delia to glance at her hands which were shaking.  She had been so frightened he wouldn’t buckle under and had no idea what she would have done if he hadn’t.  She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself before he re-entered the room carrying a handgun.

He passed it to her.  “You’re in luck.  This is a Smith and Wesson.  A popular little gun.  It’s been around since the 1950’s and used all over the world.  The serial number has been erased and it hasn’t been used for around five years so it should be okay and not linked to other crimes.  It takes five bullets so I’ve given you that amount … and here are the drugs … but I tell you this, if you ever breathe a word to anyone that I provided this little lot for you, you will deeply regret ever crossing my path.”

Delia took the gun, bullets and drugs he handed her and placed them deep into the pocket of her duffle coat, covering them over with tissues and her purse.

“Thanks, Benny.  I’m sorry I had to do this and although you’ll soon hear what I’m going to use the gun for I promise I’ll never mention you were involved.”

“That’s a promise you better keep, my girl,” he warned.  “Have you ever used a gun before?”

“Don’t worry about that.  Let’s just say I’ve had a bit of practice.”  With the addiction to guns in the States, it was easy to find a shooting range and Delia had perfected her shot during the few afternoons it was possible to escape from the claustrophobia of Rocky’s ghastly house.  There was no way she was going to miss her intended targets.

She planted a kiss on Benny’s nose and smiled.  He had helped her more than he could ever know, both when they first met when he gave her body and mind release from the pain she was enduring from all the rejection from Philip and her family and now, when he had given her the very tool she needed to secure her future.  Although it wouldn’t have been so easy to get the gun if her time hadn’t been well spent on their sojourns, when she had kept her eyes and ears open and learned a great deal about his dealings in drugs, his call girl racket and involvement in hard porn.  He’d not risk her spilling the beans.

Pulling the hood of the duffle coat back over the wig, she left the club, ignoring the two bouncers outside, and hurried into the brightly lit, buzzing streets of Piccadilly to melt into the crowds for a little while.  She didn’t think Benny would send anyone to follow her but she wanted to make sure before she jumped into a taxi and headed back to the hotel.

Rocky was snoring heavily so Delia left him to it, leaving a note by his side to tell him which room she was in and that she had a present for him.  That should keep him sane if he should wake up before her.

Surprisingly, Delia slept well for a few hours.  With such a lot on her mind, she had expected to stay awake but her eyes didn’t open until the dreary November daylight at seven thirty.  She showered and dressed carefully in a smart black two-piece suit, a pale pink blouse, and black court shoes.  Just a light dusting of powder, a touch of brown eyeshadow and mascara along with a rose-pink lipstick completed the impression she wanted to make that she was a respectable, law-abiding woman.  It would look good when she was arrested later.  She removed the gun and the drugs from the pocket of the duffle coat and along with the wig she had worn the night before, placed them deep down in her cavernous leather handbag, hiding their presence with her make-up bag, purse and tissues.  The dreadful glasses which made her look like a school teacher, according to Benny, were washed carefully, wrapped in tissue paper to avoid leaving fingerprints and joined the rest of the illicit items.  The duffle coat was placed in her suitcase.

Satisfied she was able