Millionaire's Secret Love

Chapter Four

A day later, George’s printer whirred next to him as he put a few more words to an open document on his computer. When he finished typing, he shuffled a few papers on the desk and searched for the USB he had had made for saving sensitive information about his company accounts.

“God, I can’t find anything beneath this mess,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue. “The work never bloody ends,” he griped.

His business partner met his gaze and shook her head. “You’re the one who wanted to own a company, remember?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Your sarcasm doesn’t help me, Evelyn.”

She rolled her eyes and reclined on the leather sofa across from his desk. “What else am I supposed to say? You knew what you were getting into. Plus, you like expensive things, I don’t hear you complaining when you’re spending the money.”

He leaned back in his armchair, and it squealed under his weight. “You have a point,” he agreed.

Taking his glasses off, he tossed them on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All this stuff is going to give me anxiety,” he muttered. “If it hasn’t already.”

Evelyn shook her head and smoothed down the teal pants suit she was wearing. “So, what’s going on with the investigation?”

He shook his head. “Everything is so slow. It’s been over three months.”

“These things take time, if they intend to catch the person behind it.”

Sitting upright, he met her gaze. “I could give a toss about the person behind it. All I want is to stop them from using my trucks to transport their illegal goods.”

Pulling out the papers from the printer, he stapled them together with more force than it was worth. “When we started this company, did we ever think this was going to be a problem?” he voiced his thoughts. “I can’t help but wonder why they chose our company?” We’re small by logistical standards,” he said. 

He placed the stapled paper on the tray next to the computer. “Do you know the worst part, it’s that the drugs they are bringing into the country have a bloody high, street value.”

“Are you angrier that you’re not getting a cut?”

He shook his head. “I’m angry because I see what this drug does to the young people. When was the last time you took a stroll around town? Do you see how many homeless people there are? A few years ago, when the borders were closed, we never had these problems in such numbers.”

“But this country has always had a drug problem, we’re much better at hiding it than the Americans,” Evelyn responded.

She crossed her legs and levelled a shrewd stare at him. “I get that you’re angry. I am too, but we can’t blame everything on the drug dealers,” she said. “As long as we do the right thing and get the ones who are using our trucks, we are doing our company and the country a favour.”

“Fine. I just wish it were over already.”

“I get that,” she agreed. Her eyes bored into him. “What are the next steps for us?”

His brows drew together. “Thank God, they have kept us out of the press. If the media gets wind of what is going on, I don’t think the company will recover.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and George wondered if the gravity of the situation they were in was just sinking in. He had not wanted to tell her the complete truth about what was going on, but the pressure had been too much for him to handle. How he wished he knew who was behind the drug smuggling gang which had targeted their trucks. He was no movie hero, but he had worked too hard to make the company successful.

“I think it’s getting late,” Evelyn said, when she opened her eyes. “Sarah is expecting me for supper.”

George watched her as she stood and wondered whether she felt the same way about the company that he did. He held more power, that was true. Still, he expected more of a response from her than silence.

“So, what do you think I should do about this, then?”

A flush crept up her cheek, and she pushed a few strands of hair from her round face. “George, I don’t have any answers for you,” she met his eyes. “I think we should carry on as normal and leave the work to the detectives. I know you want immediate results, but the nature of what’s going on takes time.”

“You think I should sit and be quiet. What about what happened in Jamaica, should I forget that too?”

“I’m not saying that!” she said. “I’m telling you as your friend to be mindful of what you do, drug dealers like these don’t just slap you on the wrist and let you off. Think, Pablo Escobar.”

He avoided her gaze. “This is England, not South America. And these smugglers deal with ice, not Cocaine.”

“Same difference,” she retorted.

What was he to say to her, he knew she was right? But he felt violated, he had never thought this was one of the things he would have to worry about. He knew migration was a problem and had had numerous lorries stopped in Calais and people stow away but he had truly never considered that European gangs would use his trucks to smuggle drugs into the country. Maybe he had been naïve, now he knew they had done it, it made him hyper aware that he would need to implement some sort of checks for his managers to prevent this from happening, but until this case was solve, he could do nothing yet.

 His hands were tied. There was a part of him that wished he could do more than sit in his office and wonder when the police were going to make arrests.

A phone vibrated, George picked up his phone, but it was not his. “Your phone is ringing.”

Evelyn rose to her feet. “I don’t need to check, it’s Sarah telling me to get my ass home.”

Leaning down, she picked up her large tote and slung it over her shoulder. “You know what happened in Jamaica just proves that these people mean business,” she said, coming to stand before his desk. “Why do you think they hurt you?”

He waved his hand. “I don’t believe it was intentional. I caught the person going through my stuff. The man took my laptop but dropped it when I turned up. I had the gun with me.”

“You never said you had a gun before?”

George leaned forward. “I was there for a gun club showcase and the wedding. The gun had no live rounds. When I left Jamaica, I returned it to the gun club.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” she intoned. “And what about the nurse who helped you?”

For the first time, George grinned. His earlier melancholy disappeared as he thought of Elizabeth. “Lizzie? she uh, she’s the one we hired to help Christine.”

“I see…” she said, her voice suggesting she saw what he was not telling her. “Therefore, your brush with your attacker helped you with your crush?”

He tilted his head at an angle and contemplated her words. “Don’t you think I’m a little too old to have a crush on someone?”

“You sound as if you’re a hundred. You are not old by today’s standards. And what’s wrong with having a crush on someone at your age?”

 Did he have a crush or was it something more? Whatever it was, he wanted to see how far things would go between them. But he knew he had his work cut out for him; Elizabeth was not easy to read at the best of times.

Maybe if he were lucky, she would let her guard down and he could see how she felt about him. Deep down he had a feeling that her hostility could not only be because of some whimsical dislike. He would have to find out.

Resting back on his chair, he closed his eyes for a few moments, then opened them and levelled a calm stare at his friend. “I’ve known this girl since high school, and believe me when I tell you, she hates me. Sometimes she gets all huffy and turns up her nose when she talks to me. Other times she ignores me. It drives me blooming crazy when she does that.”

Evelyn grinned at his words, and he wondered what he said that she found so funny. “It sounds to me like this woman has you all twisted up in knots.”

“I’m not twisted up in knots over her,” he rebutted. “I’m puzzled, that’s all.”

“About what?”

He shrugged his large shoulders. “I’m confused why a person would dislike someone when they don’t know them,” he said, a frown creasing his brows. “I mean, she has spent no period with me where she hasn’t treated me as if I have leprosy.”

Over the years Elizabeth had got on his nerves more than once, and it was not for the reasons everyone thought. He was man enough to admit he liked her, but she gave him nothing but grief. Every time she saw him, she avoided him as if he was the plague.

“Did you find the USB?”

“Yeah, it was here.” George pulled USB from the computer’s hard drive and showed it to her.

She shifted from foot to foot and rolled her eyes. “It was there all along, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I guess it was.” His voice was sheepish as he saved the work he was doing on the USB, then took it out of the hard drive and placed it next to his phone, making a mental note to place it in his safe.

 Exiting the accounts, he had open, wondered if he should take another trip to inspect the warehouses. It would set his mind at ease.

He gave Evelyn a smile. “I think I’m going to go look at the distribution centre in Milton Keynes. It will set my mind at ease.”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Whatever you feel will make you rest a bit easier,” she told him. “Although, it looks as if you haven’t been sleeping well, maybe you should take some time off?”

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

The last time he took time off, he ended up getting slashed by some unknown person. If taking time off meant that he was going to end up injured, then it was better to stay and work. It was less draining.

George shook his head. “With everything that is going on with the company right now, how can I take time off again?” he answered.

“I could take care of things here.”

Frowning, he considered her words for a while. Could he leave the reins to her? Not that he did not trust her, but there was something within him which could not allow him to hand his responsibilities over to someone else. “I think it’s for the best if I c***k on with everything myself.”

Evelyn shoved her hands in her pocket. “Do you know you’re a workaholic?”

“That’s what my mum says all the time.”

“It’s true, you are.”

“I love what I do,” he said. “I’ve built this company from the ground up, I can’t just let some person who makes easy money come along and take all the hard work I put in all for nothing,” he added.

His friend eyed him with a frown. “I don’t want to be all in your private life, but I got to tell you that if you don’t take some time to breathe, you will burn yourself out with worry.”

George pulled a face. “The trouble with me, is that I can’t let things go,” he said. “This, it means too much to me.” 

Restless, George walked around his desk and leaned his hip on its edge and gave Evelyn a grateful smile. “Thanks for the concern, I will think about what you just said.”

Evelyn glanced at the expensive gold watch on her wrist, then looked at him. “You will not listen to my sage advice. So, I think it’s my cue to leave.”

On the one hand, he was glad she cared about his wellbeing, but on the other, he felt that she did not quite grasp the gravity of what was happening with the company.

His worry was not for himself; it was about the twelve hundred people he employed. If his company lost its contracts with the European companies who outsourced their warehousing and land transportation of goods with his company, then he would have to fire his staff and he did not want that to happen.

It was his flaw; he cared too much about his staff. If he didn’t, he would have sold the company two years before when a larger European conglomerate had wanted to buy it.

George shoved a strand of hair that had escaped the usual bun he wore away from his face and released a breath, which relaxed him. “I know I’m stubborn, I will think about what you said.”

She gave him a smile. “See you then,” she said with a wave before leaving.

Once the door closed behind her, he shoved away from the desk and picked up the USB.

 He walked across the room to the sofa. Next to it there was a well-fed Yucca in a pot. Behind the pot there was a painting which covered a small safe he kept a few files and other important personal documents in. He keyed in the code and the door popped open.

Just as the safe door opened, he heard a soft click behind him.

 Startled, he spun around to see who it was and was unprepared when someone charged at him, slamming his body into the wall next to the safe.

“Give me the Logistics Report.”

Pinned with his cheek pressed against the wall, he breathed hard. The man twisted one of his arms up his back. He felt powerless to move.

His attacker was steady on his feet. He held a knife with steady hands next to side of his neck.  Breathing hard, George focused on the face and came to the realisation that the man was familiar. It was the same person who attacked him before. Though his complete face was covered, the eyes were the same as before.

George felt vulnerable as he kicked the back of his legs and he dropped to his knees, he knew that at any moment the man could harm him. He had to act. He had to do it, his life was on the line.

Before his brain could process it, he lunged up at the man, taking him by surprise.

The man took unsteady steps backwards, but he was upon him before he could jump to his feet and put distance between them.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” his attacker growled, his voice held an accent which he catalogued immediately.  

Lunging at him, the attacker was forceful like a tornado ready to kill him.

His animal instincts took over as he dodged the weapon and came to his feet. Unsteady on his feet, he reared back, trying to avoid the slashing blade. His eyes fixated on the weapon as it came towards him a few times until the back of his legs touched his desk.  His hands searched the desk for a weapon but there was none except the tray with files. He grabbed the tray and flung it at the man.

His assailant dodged it.

 “Give me the USB, and I’ll leave.” The man said.

He should just give it to him, but the thought of all the sensitive information on there about his business would cause quite a stir if it got in the wrong hands. He could not just give it up without a fight.

He pushed fear to the back of his psyche.

Now there was only anger at what was happening to him.

He had not had time to place the USB in the safe. George had dropped the small device somewhere next to the sofa.

“Why do you want it?” he said, stalling for time.

He knew the security guard did their rounds around this time, and he hoped that the guard on duty would find him before the attacker escaped.

The man gave him a pointed stare. “Don’t bother waiting for the guard, he won’t come to rescue you,” he said, killing any hope George had of being rescued by someone. Like always, his survival would depend on his own wit.

His option now was to escape.

 George’s eyes strayed to the door. It was closed.

The other option left to him was crazy, but the second he considered it, he was charging at his attacker before rationality took over.

George ran at him hard, taking the man off his feet.

They grappled with each other, as George tried to knock the knife out of his opponent’s hand. He was unsuccessful.

The man was stronger than he looked, and it took him only microseconds to gain the upper hand. 

The knife sliced into Georges’ flesh, and he stared at his shoulder with confusion.

 As he fell to the ground, the man tugged the knife from his shoulder and his blood spurted out, soaking his white dress shirt.

He felt paralysed.

The adrenaline which drove him towards the man, flatlined and he stared at the scarlet stains.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you gave me USB.”

He looked towards the safe.

He was Incapacitated.

The man walked to the safe and rummaged in it but could not find it. George prayed he would not get his hands on the device, but his hope was short-lived when the man’s military style boot kicked the USB, and it went spinning towards the middle of the floor.

He picked up the device.

 “You could make this easy peasy,” he said before turning and slipping out the door as fast as he had appeared.

Long moments passed; he could feel his blood pressure dropping.

He yelled for help, hoping someone would hear him.

As his eyes closed, he wondered if he was going to die.

He was not afraid he thought, and he was surprised by this.