Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4) by Helen Harper (read books for money TXT) 📕

‘There were six of you being nasty to one boy. Very nasty. How else would you define bullying?’

‘I…’ Her voice faltered. Sometimes you needed someone to put a mirror up to your actions to become aware of them. ‘Shit.’ She kicked at a small pebble. ‘He’s rich. Lives in that big house. Thinks he’s better than the rest of us because he’s got money. Little Lord Fauntleroy.’ She kicked another pebble. ‘He ain’t better than me.’

‘What’s your name?’ I asked gently.

‘I don’t have to tell you!’

‘No, you don’t.’ I put out my hand and she eyed it as if as it were a venomous snake. ‘I’m Emma.’

No Angel’s bottom lip jutted out. ‘Chloe,’ she muttered. She shook my hand limply.

I smiled. ‘Nice to meet you, Chloe.’

‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at my back and shifting the conversation away from herself.

‘A crossbow.’

‘Cool. Can I have a go with it?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

We both knew that I didn’t have to explain why I couldn’t hand over a lethal weapon to a teenager. ‘Let’s continue our chat about what happened yesterday instead,’ I said.

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Do we have to?’

‘We do.’ I paused. ‘Do you think that boy really believes he’s better than you? Because it seemed to me that he was just afraid. I’d be afraid if six people started taunting me.’

‘Albion’s not afraid. He’s just weird.’

I tried not to let my triumph show on my face. So I’d been right, he was Miranda James’s son. ‘From what I’ve heard, things are pretty tough for him. Having money doesn’t always make your life easier. I expect he probably thinks he’d rather not have money if it meant he could take a trip into London without worrying about who he was going to meet on the way home and what they were likely to do to him. It’s easy to think bad things of others. It’s much harder to put yourself in their shoes and realise that they’re only human too.’

Her face twisted into a snarl. ‘He doesn’t know what it’s like to have a hard life! He should put himself in my shoes!’

‘Maybe he should,’ I said, without altering either my tone or my expression. ‘Maybe we should all do that more.’

Chloe looked at me suspiciously, as if I were trying to trick her with clever words. ‘S’alright for you, innit? Bet you come from a nice family. Bet you had it easy growing up. Bet you’ve got it easy now.’

‘Everyone has their own darkness and difficulties, Chloe.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She looked away. Her expression didn’t yield much but I hoped I was getting through to her.

‘Did you know Patrick Lacey?’ I asked, changing tack.

Chloe looked away. ‘A bit. He wasn’t as bad as people said. My mum knew him a little.’ She sniffed. ‘And I saw him get into a fight once. He had a good right hook.’ She said the words as if she’d heard them from someone else but didn’t really understand what they meant. ‘My mum said he was all messed up ’cos one time he walked in on another murder. Two people dead in their house.’ She leaned forward on the balls of her feet. ‘The house is still there. It’s all locked up and you can’t get in, but I can show you where it is if you like.’

‘I know where it is. But,’ I added quickly when her face dropped, ‘thanks for the offer.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m busy anyway.’

‘Then I won’t keep you.’ I hesitated. ‘You obviously have a lot going on, Chloe, but you’re bright and quick-witted and you don’t let anyone walk over you. I bet that underneath that tough façade you’re a lot more sensitive than you pretend to be. You don’t have to attack everyone to win at life. You don’t have to put others down or bully them to make yourself feel better. It won’t make you feel good. Be the best version of yourself that you possibly can be, and there are no limits to what you can achieve.’

Chloe’s mouth turned down and she waved a derisive hand. ‘What if this is the best version of me already?’ The sudden vulnerability in her voice was heart-rending.

‘It’s not,’ I told her. ‘I know it’s not.’

Unfortunately, Chloe simply snorted and turned away.

Chapter Eleven

The bar in the Bird and Bush was surprisingly busy for a Monday. There were more people than there had been yesterday afternoon, and the hum of chatter combined with the aroma of hearty pub grub created a convivial atmosphere.

While the happy crowd might be good for the pub’s tills, I wasn’t convinced their presence would help my cause. I needed to speak to the manager without fear of interruption, and I suspected he’d be rather busy. As soon as I caught the barman’s eye, however, he nodded in understanding and called through to the back.

A moment later an unfamiliar man appeared wearing a short-sleeved shirt that was open at the neck just enough to display a veritable bush of curly hair. He didn’t smile. I dropped my gaze to his feet. He was wearing battered trainers, not heavy boots.

‘I’m the manager here. I heard you wanted to talk to me,’ he said. His eyes drifted to the crossbow strapped to my back. He was more nervous than he wanted me to realise.

If I was going to get anywhere with my questions, I’d have to find a way to put him at ease. ‘Yes!’ I beamed. ‘Thank you so much for taking the time. You’re obviously very busy.’

‘It’s summer.’ He scratched the back of his neck. ‘The schools might not be on holiday yet, but we still get a lot of visitors at this time of year.’

‘I can see why,’ I said warmly. ‘This is a lovely pub.’

He shot me a confused look. He’d been expecting a strongly voiced complaint rather than a compliment. He glanced round, checking that no other customers were in earshot. ‘There are police upstairs in your room. I believe you think someone