Thank you lovely people. Here's a little more.

Grainger clicked his tongue against his teeth as he took a step back across the office towards Lewis. "You steal two generous measures of Rickard's best scotch and you worry about me taking a smoke! Rickard smokes. He's not going to notice the difference."

Lewis wagged a finger in Grainger's direction. "He doesn't smoke that cheap crap that you do. If he says anything in the morning, then I'm not going to cover your ass."

Grainger glared at Lewis, but duly stubbed the cigarette out into the ashtray that sat on the table. "Satisfied?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Lewis replied, taking a gulp of the scotch. "Mr Rickard's not going to notice the sudden appearance of your cut price cigarette butt in his ashtray."

"Jeez," Grainger snatched at the offending cigarette butt. "You always such a pain in the ass?"

"Mr Rickard trusts me," Lewis replied defensively. "There's not a lot of people around here can claim that." He looked meaningfully over the top of his glass at Grainger. "I wasn't the one he sent out of town on some fool's errand."

Grainger squared up to Lewis, and immediately regretted doing so. Lewis towered over him.

Lewis was well aware of his physical advantage and flexed his muscles to emphasise the point.

Grainger thought it best not to dwell on the issue further. He sought a quick change of subject. "So what's the reception like? The room full of enough of old money to please him?"

Lewis shrugged his shoulders. "The whole thing is a waste of time if you ask me. All he's doing is playing up to these upper class stiffs. You can see them all there, noses in the trough, all desperate for a share of the money that they think he can make them. One sign of weakness and they'll drop him like a stone." Lewis paused and thought back to the conversation that he'd interrupted. "Mind you, there are some advantages to mixing with the rich folk. The scenery is certainly better."

Granger took a step towards the desk. "Did you get a chance to ask Rickard about the guy who's been following me around?"

"No," Lewis drawled sarcastically. "We stood there and discussed whether the Giants are going to get their act together or end the season bottom of the division!" He waited for the pout to appear on Grainger's face before continuing. "He wants it looked into. I'm gonna rattle a few cages; get a few more bodies out on the street tonight. I've also got a little trip to make myself. Walker's offering up some information on Thomas."

Grainger scowled at the mention of her name. "How long d'you think Rickard's going to put up with the way that Thomas has been carrying on?"

Lewis smiled. "I'm hoping not long." He took in the expression of confusion on Grainger's face. "If you have to ask the question, then you're not mature enough to know the answer."

Grainger raised an eyebrow. "You really think he'll let you take care of things in your own unique way? Would have thought that he'd want the matter handled in a more subtle fashion."

"Hey," Lewis protested. "I can do subtle."

"That's not what I heard," Grainger scoffed. "Just how many people did Rickard have to pay off after that little number you did on … what's her name …Melanie ….Melanie … something?" He clicked his fingers, trying to remember the girl's name. "Anyway, whatever the bitch's name, I seem to recall that Rickard had to dig deep into his pockets and call in a lot of favours on that one."

Lewis stretched out in the chair and after a few moments a slow smile spread across his face. "Ahh the lovely Melanie. I'd almost forgotten all about her. If only she'd learnt to be a little more accommodating, then there wouldn't have been any trouble; turned out to be quite the little firebrand in the end."

Grainger shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

"I enjoy my work," Lewis countered. "And when Rickard finally nails the location of the two broads that have been following Thomas around like a bad smell, then I may just get to nail them as well." He grinned wolfishly at Grainger, who just looked at him in disgust.

"You're an animal," Grainger made no attempt to hide his disgust. "Do you ever manage to get your thoughts above crotch level?"

Lewis straightened up in the chair, and Grainger was once again reminded of just how much more physically powerful Lewis was. He held his hands up. "I'm not looking for a fight," he back-tracked.

"Good," Lewis sneered. "You wouldn't be worth the effort of getting out of this seat. All you've got to remember is that we all bring something to this business. You're a greasy little shyster with a nose for a deal, but you've got no backbone for when things get physical." He tapped a finger against his own chest. "Me; I like the physical side of things. If things get to a state where someone needs to be shown a little discipline – well then that's my specialty."

Grainger stared wordlessly at Lewis. The man was a cold, unfeeling animal as far as he was concerned. He shook his head; there was no point in trying to explain morals to Lewis; the man obviously didn't have any. He sought to move the subject back to safer ground.

"Thomas has a fan club, does she? Wondered why Rickard was so keen to get her out of town."

Lewis scratched at the stubble that was forming on his chin. "The little club's been growing as far as we can make out. First it was just Gage's men getting on her case, but in the last few days she's had these two women on her tail."

"Maybe Gage's just changing his angle?" Grainger suggested. "Like I said, I could swear that someone was following me around earlier."

"Maybe," Lewis didn't sound convinced. "From what I've heard these women are way out of Gage's league. Either way Mr Rickard wants them dealt with."

"And that's a task you've nobly taken on?"

Lewis flashed Grainger a smile. "You bet. I'm almost sorry that the business is nearly over."

From her place behind the cabinet Sabrina's blood ran cold as she listened to the conversation that was taking place. It looked as though her worst fears were confirmed; Rickard was onto Kelly and Kris. She had to get the two of them out of harm's way as quickly as possible. If Lewis was to get to them, she didn't want to think about what would happen. The causal way that he'd referred to this other woman had chilled her to the bone. She fleetingly wondered just how many people Lewis had killed. An image of Michael flashed into her mind, and she quashed it as quickly as she could. Now was not the time to be haunted by those kinds of memories.

The way that Lewis had casually discussed what he wanted to do to her two friends had made her feel sick. It had taken all her self-control not to break cover and confront the man then and there. She'd had to remind herself that she was unarmed, and on her own with no back-up. Leaping straight into a situation like that was only going to result in her own death – and mean that all the work she'd put in for the last eighteen months would amount to nothing. She bit down hard on her lip and remained where she was.

She forced herself to continue listening to the two men. Her knees were starting to protest as she stayed crouched out of view, but she couldn't afford to move a muscle. It was a minor miracle that Grainger hadn't stepped any closer to her hiding place. Every minute that they remained in the office only increased the likelihood that they would discover her, and she didn't want to dwell on what the consequences would be were that to happen. Trying to keep her breathing as shallow as possible she tried to take in everything that they were saying.

"What if Thomas does a disappearing act?' Grainger wanted to know. "What if she's working her own game and just playing us all? I told you how she bolted when we got back to the city."

"She won't get far if she does try to run," Lewis replied calmly. "There's a part of me that almost hopes that she does turn it into a hunt. Nothing quite as satisfying as cornering your prey on the run; the adrenaline rush makes the kill that much more enjoyable." He leant over and prodded Grainger hard in the chest. "I think Rickard's almost as pissed at you for losing Thomas as he is at her for running off like that."

"It wasn't my fault," Grainger whined. "She was out of that car before I could stop her."

Lewis rubbed his hands together. "I'd have stopped her. She wouldn't have gotten away from me like that."

"No," Grainger's voice was scathing. "What, so you'd have chased her down the street?"

"No. I'd have made sure that she wasn't in a position to run in the first place." He reached back and fished a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, allowing them to dangle from one finger before pushing one of the cuffs till it ratcheted shut and then popped back open again. "Be prepared," he grinned wolfishly at Grainger.

"You carry them all the time?" Grainger tried to hide his disbelief.

Lewis drained his glass before pushing the cuffs back into his trouser pocket. "Always be ready for a little bit of fun Grainger. You never know where you might find her!"

Winking at Grainger, Lewis pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door.

Grainger looked down at the two dirty tumblers. "And what about these?" he protested.

"If I were you, I'd make sure they were spotless and back where they belong before you leave," Lewis told him as he disappeared out into the corridor.

Grainger swore beneath his breath, and looked around for something to clean the glasses with. It was typical of Lewis to leave him with the dirty work. The nearest source of running water was a good walk away. Swearing again, Grainger delved into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He quickly wiped the inside of the glasses and then pulled open the screeching metal drawer and replaced the glasses inside.

Glancing around the office, checking that everything was back in its place, Grainger finally satisfied himself that all was as it should be and headed out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Sabrina sat motionless for a few minutes before she forced herself to move from her hiding place. Adrenaline was pumping through her system, her heart hammering inside her ribcage at the close call. She'd been close enough to Grainger to smell the cheap cologne that he wore. One wrong move and everything would have been over. Her fingers shook with the knowledge of the danger that she'd been in. She clenched her fists, trying to push the thoughts from her head, and tried to take deep, calming breaths. She had to get out of the building. Kelly and Kris were in very real danger. She had to persuade them to get out of the city; she had to prevent them from becoming another trophy kill for Lewis.

Her muscles protested at the demands that she made on them, but she shrugged off the pain and forced herself out of the office and down the corridor, expecting to bump into Lewis or Grainger at every step. She had to get to Kelly and Kris and get them out of the city; she had to persuade them somehow without tipping her hand. Things were going to be that much harder now that she had the police on her tail, but that was something that she'd just have to deal with.

She pulled open the rear door of the building and slipped back out into the freezing night air. She immediately discounted the idea of paying another visit to the hotel. If Rickard had people out on the street looking for her, the last thing she wanted to do was lead them straight to Kris and Kelly. She had to think before she acted. It felt as though the walls were beginning to close in; she had to find a way to get Rickard back on side; the man's patience wasn't infinite. Running out on Grainger was something that she still had to try and explain, and she knew that it was going to take some fast talking to accomplish that. Things were coming at her thick and fast now and she'd have to fight to stay on top of all of them.

Kelly felt as though the smile on her face was in danger of becoming fixed in place. She'd done her best to engage Rickard in conversation, but he seemed to deflect every question away from himself and turn it back towards her. Not for the first time that evening, she wished that she'd had longer to work on a cover. She was trying to keep things simple, trying not to over-embellish details that would only come back and trip her up later but he was making it difficult, seemingly wanting an entire life story from her. She forced the smile a little wider as he asked another question and let out a gentle laugh.

"Come now," she scolded him lightly. "You don't really expect me to give up all my business secrets in one night, do you?"

Rickard clasped a hand to his chest. "Please forgive me," he told her, a smile lighting up his features. "It's just that it's so much more pleasant talking to you than the normal dullards I have to deal with on a daily basis." He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I beg your forgiveness, but I really must go and..."

"... Mingle with the dullards?" Kelly finished the sentence for him. "I understand." She raised her eyebrows as she took in the time. "I'm sorry to have kept you from your guests for so long."

"No apology needed," Rickard told her honestly. "Perhaps we could meet again... in more agreeable surroundings?"

"That would be lovely," Kelly smiled back at him, once again wishing that she'd had the time to build a proper cover. "I'm a little busy with work. No real base so to speak..." She paused. "Could I perhaps call you?"

"Of course." Rickard dipped a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "Call me any time that you like."

Kelly reached for the card, her fingers catching the edge of the smooth surface. Rickard didn't release it immediately, waiting for her eyes to meet his before he reluctantly let go.

"Are you sure that I can't arrange a lift back to your hotel for you?"

He'd asked the question before and Kelly was finding it increasingly harder to keep her address a secret from him. The more she evaded his enquiries, the more suspicious he was likely to become. She made a show of examining the wording on the card.

"I'll be sure to call you," she told him smoothly. "And please, don't put yourself to any trouble. I have an account with a local car firm; they would be hurt if I didn't take them up on their kind offer of a free car."

Rickard smiled and nodded, as though accepting her at her word.

"You have made my evening unexpectedly brighter," he told her sincerely. "I hope it won't be too long before I hear from you again."

Kelly returned the smile. "I'll call," she promised him.

Rickard clicked his fingers in the direction of one of the waiters who were nervously hovering at the edges of the room. As soon as he had the man's attention, he ordered him to collect Kelly's coat and to show her to the front door; making it clear that he wasn't to leave her until she was safely in her car.

Kelly was beginning to find his attentiveness a little claustrophobic. She hoped that she'd be able to slow the relationship down before he got any ideas about wanting to surprise her by having flowers delivered to where she was staying. As she finally took her leave from him, she wondered if her trip to the reception had really been such a wise idea.

Harry Gage slammed the receiver back in its cradle with more force than was strictly necessary. Not for the first time that week he had cause to question the people he chose to surround himself with. His instructions had, to his mind, been crystal clear. A message needed to be sent to Rickard – a message of clear and precise intent. He'd crossed lines he had no business crossing and needed to be reminded of his place. The garbled message from Branning had told him that his subordinate had failed to understand the message correctly. He was not paying people to sit and watch the actions of Rickard's people; he wasn't interested in where they spent their days – he wasn't interested in them at all. All he wanted was them off of the street. He reiterated his earlier instruction. If it was necessary to have the streets of the city running with the blood of Rickard's employees, then that is what he expected them to do.