His First Mistake

His First Mistake ALEX HARPER BOOK TWO MARK AYRE Copyright © 2023 by Mark Ayre All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum Get a Free Thriller Novel FREE NOVEL: They’ve taken his daughter. To save her, Matt Monroe has 49 hours to kill one of the most dangerous men in the country. A man who also happens to be his father. Get your exclusive free copy of Forty-Nine Hours when you join Mark’s author newsletter at markayrewriting.com/forty-nine-hours Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 1 I. You Have Three Days to Comply Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 II. You Have Two Days to Comply Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 III. You Have One Day to Comply Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 1 Chapter One Happy but bone tired, Felicia Lorde breezed into the entrance hall of her beautiful home. The tick of an ornate clock and the bleep of the security box were the only sounds to greet her arrival. A code punched onto the pad dealt with the latter, and she made great pains to close the door noiselessly. An unnecessary precaution—Toby and Calvin were heavy sleepers, and at a little before 7 a.m. on Sunday, neither was likely to rise for at least another hour. Memories of an evening well spent staved off fatigue as Felicia forwent the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. The warm embrace of her plump pillows and fluffy duvet called to her, but Felicia needed something to eat. A quick snack before bed was just what the doctor ordered. A door to the right of the stairs led into a second hall, at the end of which stood the kitchen door. The room beyond boasted a larger footprint than many of the squalid flats she had shared with her mother and younger brother during her childhood. Its size no doubt explained why she did not at first realise she had company. “Good night, was it?” The voice was a hand on the shoulder, yanking her around. He sat in the corner, on one of the high stools at the small circular table. In front of him were his iPad and a steaming mug of coffee. “Calvin. You scared me.” “So it would seem. What’s got you so jumpy?” “Is that a joke? I thought I was alone.” “Ah, forgot you share the house, did you? Your son and husband slipped your mind.” “Don’t take the piss.” Felicia prepared a decaf tea. “When did you or Toby last drag yourself from bed before eight a.m.? You read that book about how successful men and women rise early and burst out laughing. You called them mugs.” “I can’t believe I was ever so rude.” This comment deserved no answer, and Felicia finished brewing her tea in silence. Once it was ready, Calvin gestured to the free stool opposite. “Have a seat.” “I planned to drink this in bed.” “Considering you thought I was up there sleeping, I doubt it. Sit down.” “Why?” “Odd question. You’re my wife. Should I not want to spend time with you?” “No, you should. That doesn’t mean you do.” This drew no comment from Calvin, and as she closed the gap between them, it occurred to her how peculiar his smile was. For one thing, Calvin rarely smiled if he had not recently closed a deal. For another, the grin looked unnatural, like a poorly made farmyard toy that did not quite resemble the animal it was supposed to. “Those chairs are uncomfortable,” she said. “As I’ve said for years, we should ditch them.” “I like the chairs.” Where was this going? What could make Calvin rise before the sun? Her absence could not have surprised him. He had known of her night out and had no reason to doubt her story as to where she had been. Unless he had spoken to someone she was supposed to have been with. He’d have to know their names first, and he had never bothered to ask. The heating was already on, the kitchen warm. Nonetheless, Felicity shivered. Cal gestured again to the vacant stool. Felicia placed her tea on the table but did not claim a seat. It was true that she hated them. Calvin did not seem to mind a little discomfort. Perhaps because he had not grown up mired in it. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He sipped his coffee. ‘Where are you going?” “To check on Toby.” “He’s sleeping.” “I know.” Disbelief did not crease Calvin’s features—he knew what she was like about her son—but he rolled his eyes. “The boy’s fifteen.” “So? He’s my little boy and always will be. You’d understand if you had kids.” He snorted. “I’ve seen what children can do to their parents. No, thank you. You scurry along and check. Make sure he hasn’t disintegrated overnight or overdosed on cocaine. It’s far easier to acquire drugs than it was in our day, or so I hear.” “Stop it.” The urge to throw her tea in Calvin’s face grabbed Felicia, but she pulled free of its grasp and hurried back into the hall and up the stairs where six bedrooms and two bathrooms waited, plus three en-suites. Before proceeding to her son’s door, she breathed the place in. It was the home of