Chapter Seven
Taylor Greig
After Kim’s outburst, nobody had anything to offer, so Taylor murmured into his mobile he’d speak to his brother later, then hung up. The silence remained for the entirety of the car journey, right up to the point when Chastain pulled his front door closed behind the four of them and switched off the burglar alarm. “I’ll put the kettle on,” he said wearily, “then head for a quick shower.” He lifted an arm and bent to sniff his armpit, then pulled a face. “I f*****g stink.”
“No,” Smith interjected, pointing to one of the deep, brown leather armchairs angled towards the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, “you’re going to get your arse over there so I can check you out first.” He glanced at Taylor with a silent plea in his eyes. “Taylor can get the kettle on.”
