His For A Price |z.h|

8

Niall would never forget his first glimpse of Bradford, looking down from the window of the Lear Jet - of course Zayn Malik would have to have a Lear Jet, he'd told himself bitterly - on what seemed little more than a splash of dark emerald in a restless azure land.

It looked so tranquil, Niall thought. As if nothing bad could happen there. Proving once again how deceptive appearances could be. 

Nor was it Niall's idea of an island. The place was more land than anything else, he thought with vague bewilderment. He'd imagined bleached rock, studded with the occasional ruined temple. Not all that - verdant.

Liam was now his sole escort, his companion having presumably gone back to the hotel to arrange kidnapping or whatever piece of criminality his boss had planned next. He'd informed the Irish beauty shortly after take off that they would be landing on the private property, then completing the journey by foot.

He had then gone to sleep, but Niall could not. He was too tense, his mind plodding in weary, hopeless circles. 

We must have been easy to track down, Dad and I, the blonde thought somberly, for someone who was rich enough - and angry enough. And it was the anger that was prying on his mind. The anger and the contempt that Zayn Malik had displayed towards Bobby and himself. The cold blooded resolution which had driven him on. 

And, worst of all, the desire for revenge which would use sex as a punishment, destroying Niall's self respect along with his innocence. 

They must all have been in on it, he thought with a pang.  All his friends helping him - believing the worst of me. Making quite sure the trap would close on his intended victim.  

But was it loyalty Zayn inspired or merely fear? Because Niall kept thinking of he other victim - the boy, his white face damp with sweat. His mouth twitching, his eyes flicking from side to side as he said, 'I'm a dead man.' 

Surely, he thought shivering, surely he couldn't have meant that. .It had to be a figure of speech. Didn't it?

Or was it possible that being so rich and powerful could set a man like that above the norms of human behavior? Make him believe he could take ruthlessness to its ultimate point? And make others believe it too ? 

And he wondered exactly what had happened to his wife. But stopped short, knowing that he was being absurd, because Zayn Malik was not a mass murderer.

For a moment he was assailed once more by the unwilling and disturbing memory of the first time he'd seen him, watching him with a lazy appreciation from his deck . Someone without an apparent care in the world, let alone dark thoughts of vengeance. 

But that, of course, was before he'd discovered who Niall was. Since then he'd been ahead of him every step of the way. Except now, when the blonde was going to his mansion alone - to wait for him. 

It occurred to Niall that he didn't even know where Bradford was. England was a big place and Niall had never been very brilliant in geography. 

Not that it mattered that much, he reminded himself flatly. It was rather like pondering whether you'd rather be hanging or beheaded. Because wherever this place might be, the nightmare he was due to face remained exactly the same. 

And, like a sentence of death, there was no way out. 

..

"See, Mr. Horan." Liam came to stand beside Niall once they had finally landed, the blonde's gaze fixed on the acres of property. "The Villa Kore."  

Niall looked in the direction indicated and saw a thickly wooded hill. Rising above the greenery at its crown was a large house, painted white with terracotta tiled roof.