Then it dawned on me that he wasn't speaking to Mark, but to Fergus. I listened to a very one sided conversation, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Then Angus looked up and saw me watching him, and he told his brother he'd call him back and then he hung up. He looked at me with haunted eyes.
"Mark's not answering his phone. I'm tracking it while it's still on, and he's heading north again. I think he's been abducted. Possibly by Anne."
I felt sick.
"This is my fault," I said.
"It's Anne's fault," he said sternly. "If you want to blame anyone else, blame me. I should have foreseen this."
"How could anyone foresee something like this?" I asked incredulously.
"Exactly," he said meaningfully, and I knew he meant that I couldn't be held responsible either. I was deeply grateful to him.
"Can we get him back?"
Angus smiled coldly, and I could almost feel the rage emanating from him.
"Absolutely," he said. "Fergus is coming to fetch you tonight to take you back to Russia. I can't risk leaving you undefended, my love."
"You can't do this alone, Angus. Please don't do this alone. Let me come with you," I begged, almost frantic at the idea of losing him.
"I won't be going alone," he said softly, noting my distress. He enveloped me in his arms and whispered in my ear. "Oliver will be coming with me. He's flying over with Fergus."
I sighed with relief. I'd seen Oliver fight a couple of days ago, and he was, no exaggeration, a complete and utter maniac. He'd fought with terrifying hunger and killed with disturbing proficiency. Fergus and Marcus had maintained, though, that he was almost as deadly as Angus. I almost felt sorry for Mark's abductors. They were so screwed.
I just hoped Angus and Oliver found them in time.
Mark
The woman in the driver's seat eventually introduced herself as Anne, and I realised the significance of this abduction. We'd decapitated her lover, her partner and she was out for revenge. Bummer. For a few seconds I wondered how I was going to die.
Then I decided that there was no point in dwelling on that kind of thing while I was still alive, and there was still time. I thought about bailing out of the car, but Anne was doing eighty miles per hour down the motorway and the goon next to me had his steroid enhanced fingers wrapped around my upper arm. Plus there was the man with the snake eyes, who stared at me like he was trying to see out the back of my head.