City Of Need

39 ❤️‍🔥 Old School Criminal

London

Roxy gives me a sweet smile as the plane touches down in Edinburgh. I will never get enough of that beautiful mouth. She's calmer now she knows I'm here for her and that we're going to fight this thing together. That was what she needed to hear.

Stepping off the tiny plane, a man in black approaches us, 'Roxy Wilde?' he asks.

Immediately I stand in front of her. 'Who wants to know?'

'I'm with Robert McLaren's detail. I've come to see you through arrivals. Your car is waiting outside.'

'Fuck,' Roxy breathes behind me. 'I should've known.'

I turned back to her, 'How did he know? Did you call him already?'

'He always knows,' she mutters.

The man in black motions us to follow him. He's smaller than me but strong. Like a cube of muscle and his face has something of the Rottweiler about it.

We follow him - for now. If her father was going for the element of surprise, he's won the first round of this game.

At arrivals the man in black goes to lift Roxy's suitcase off the belt. I push past him and grab a hold of it. Almost putting my bloody back out in the process. What has she actually got in here? A fucking armoury?

The car is a black stretch limo. Of course it is. I guess McLaren is old school.

Driving through the Scottish countryside I feel like a bird under water. It's a long way from California, and London. This is a bleak kind of place. Grey skies, drizzling rain and thick dull green trees. Roxy fiddles with her seatbelt. Her leg is jumping again.

'How far is it to your father's house?' I ask.

She snorts, 'It's not exactly a house, London Ramona. I think even an actually very famous pop-star will be impressed. We'll be there in around two hours.

'Rockstar, actually,' I mutter under my breath, but she doesn't take the bait. She's already staring out of the window. Her head turned away from me.

'What's your plan?' I ask.

'Plan?'

'Yeah, like what do you want from this negotiation. Me and Jamie, whenever we're meeting our record execs, we always have a plan.'

'Your record execs?' She looks incredulous. 'This is not a negotiation. This is a job interview. To see if he'll let me back in. If he lets me back in, I can protect Lilah.'

'You want to work for him? I thought you hated him?'

She sighs deeply. There is no sign of the brat I adore. This is a sigh of resignation, of defeat.

'I do hate him. But that doesn't figure into the equation. This is not about finding my life's purpose. This is just what has to be done. Pandora's box has been blown wide open. God knows what will be unleashed. I need to protect everyone. And to do that I need my father.'

She leans her head back and closes her eyes. I desperately want to tell her that after all the evil things are out of the box there will still be Hope. But it's not the time. We need to get into that meeting. She needs to tell her dad that she needs a bodyguard for her and Lilah. He'll have the kind of guards that don't protect pop stars. The kind that will do what they have to do to keep my girl safe. We can be on a flight back to London by tomorrow morning if we're lucky, at the very latest by tomorrow afternoon.

Once we're back in London we'll find a way to stay under the radar. I can move apartments. She can live with me. I'll make sure there's a back door to smuggle her in and out of. She can do the criminal stuff she needs to do for her dad. No-one will ever know. It'll be fine. Absolutely fine.

An hour later, we pull off the motorway and drive down a series of ever smaller out lanes with high hedges, until finally we come to a stop outside a set of huge iron gates.

'This is it,' she says, as the gates open silently.

We drive down a mile long drive. At the end of the drive in front of us is what I can only describe as a castle. It even has a flag pole with a tartan flag.

'Jesus,' I whistle. 'A little warning would've been nice.'

She grins and rolls her eyes and I see her there – the glinting goddess of a brat that I have completely fallen in love with. I grin back and she takes my hand.

'Is that your family tartan?' I say gesturing to the flag pole.

Her eyes follow mine. Landing on the flag all the colour drains from her face. She squeezes my hand tighter, leans into me and says, 'I love you, London Ramona. Never forget that.' Then she turns opens the car door and steps outside.

I pull the door handle to open my door, but it's jammed. 'Roxy... Wait...' I call. But she's already walking away. I bang the window to get her attention, twist to see out of the back window. Where's the driver? He'll get me out. The boot is open and obscuring my view. Then it closes and I see the driver carrying Roxy's suitcase. But not mine. Why hasn't he taken mine out?

I swivel forward bang on the window, grab for the handle again. I can't make it work. I'm trapped. 'Roxy!' I yell. 'Roxy, I can't get out... Wait.... Roxy...'

She keeps walking. Why isn't she waiting for me? As she climbs the stairs to the castle the front door opens. She falters on the top step. Is she talking to someone on the inside? What the fuck is going on? Her foot is on the doorstep now. She's about to walk in there alone. Unprotected.

At the last minute she turns. She'll see now that I'm stuck here, she'll come back, we'll go in there together. Her eyes meet mine as I frantically pull at the door handle but she doesn't move.

'I'm sorry,' she mouths, and then she disappears through the front door as three huge guys appear beside the car from nowhere. Two get in the back with me and one gets in the passenger seat.

The one to my left is carrying a knife, all my senses sharpen to take in the glint of its blade. 'Just relax,' he says as if calming a flighty horse.

The driver gets in and closes the door with a clunk, sealing the car into silence.

Without turning around the guy in the passenger seat says, 'We're here to escort you back to the airport Mr Ramona.'

'What the hell is going on?' I say finding my voice again.

The guy with the knife taps it against the side of my face and I freeze. Then in a thick Scottish accent he says, 'Your girl just saved your life, Pal. Now, sit tight. We'll get you onto the next plane out of here. You'll be back in London before midnight. And when you do, there will be no glass slippers, no fucking about. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.' He runs the knife down the side of my neck. 'That way your vocal cords will remain in tact and you'll keep the ability to sing for your supper.'
——-
Hey Wild Ones,
What just happened!!! Oh my God!

Honestly when I sit down to write London and Roxy I have a rough outline in my mind about where I want the story to go - but damn - these characters shock me every time!

I can't wait to see what's going to happen next 🤣🤣🤣

I hope you are enjoying reading it even half as much as I am enjoying writing it. This book is a wild ride indeed 💋

Please vote for my story, it helps get my books in front of more people. Right now, with the world the way it is, we all need a little escapism and a whole lot of love.

With Love Always,
Violet 💋💜💫