kinda naked chef, so you can cook us all dinner!’
Liam rubbed his hands together, beaming. ‘Yep, ol’ Gordon Ramsay has nothing on me.’
Ricky laughed and shook his head. He enjoyed Liam’s sunny personality. He was always so upbeat and funny. In fact, he laughed at everything, including himself, sadly.
As they all sat around the fire, drinking beers, Liam, the joker, dressed in just an apron, came into the lounge holding a frying pan. ‘So, how d’ya like ya steaks?’
They all fell about laughing as he turned around to show his bare backside. Poppy winked and laughed along. ‘If I could get to my feet quick enough, I think I’d slap that arse of yours.’
Her sudden change to a cockney accent made everyone roar, including Liam, who was loving the attention, especially from, as he saw her, the prettiest girl in Spain.
Ricky threw him a tracksuit. ‘Get dressed, or the sight of your two cheeks will put me off me steak.’
Liam dodged the tracksuit as it flew past him and landed in the kitchen. Laughing away, he returned to cook the steaks.
Poppy had stopped shivering and was now curled up sipping her beer, while Arty flicked through the TV channels.
Ricky laid his head back and closed his eyes. With tiredness sweeping over him, perhaps he too had overdone the playtime in the pool.
Brooke chatted away to Arty about the best Marvel movie she’d watched, which impressed Arty because he had a liking for the same film.
After a few minutes, Arty called out to Liam, ‘Oi, chef, are you fucking milking that cow or cooking it? I want mine rare, mate.’ He chuckled, but there was only silence.
Suddenly, the room went quiet. Ricky opened his eyes and held his breath. Brooke looked at Poppy with tremendous fear on her face. Arty silently got up and put his finger to his mouth, telling the others to be quiet. He backed away from the lounge, hurried to the games room, and returned with a gun in his hand. ‘Liam!’
Ricky was now on his feet and behind Arty as they crept towards the kitchen. As they reached the door, Arty cocked the gun and peered in, but the kitchen was empty. The frying pan was sizzling away, but the tracksuit was on the floor, and Liam was gone.
‘What the fuck?’
The side door slammed shut. Arty ran across the marble floor and ripped the door open. Outside, there was no sign of movement, and the air was still, with no obvious sound whatsoever. And no lights could be seen. It was baffling. Liam had seemingly vanished into thin air.
‘Liam!’ screamed Arty.
Ricky ran back to the lounge to check the girls were still there. ‘Liam’s gone. Stay there. Don’t move.’
Poppy grabbed Brooke’s hands, and, instantly, they both held each other. This was so terrifying, like one of those slasher movies.
Ricky ran into the games room and pulled one of the shotguns from its case. He then dashed to the pool, where, immediately, the floodlights came on, lighting up the complete back area. ‘Liam!’ he screamed. But all he could hear was an echo of his own voice.
Arty ran from the side of the villa around to the back where Ricky was standing, now totally flummoxed.
‘Christ, what if they’ve got him? I mean, how the fuck did it happen?’ asked Arty, whose face was deathly white.
‘Are the two cars still there? Maybe, he left to go to the shop to get other stuff for dinner.’
Arty shook his head and peered at the innocent expression on Ricky’s face. ‘The cars are both there, and he wouldn’t go out in just that fucking stupid apron. Ricky, someone’s got to him. Oh, Jesus Christ, they’ve got him …’ He suddenly ripped at his hair and tears filled his eyes. ‘Oh no, no, no!’ he cried.
Ricky could feel his mate’s pain as Arty slumped to the floor, banging his fist like a silverback gorilla.
‘Wait, Arty. We don’t know for sure. Come on back inside. Let’s think.’
Arty allowed Ricky to pull him to his feet as he sniffed back a tear. ‘Christ, Ricky, if they have him, it’s my fault. I said he should cook dinner. Fuck. If only I was in the kitchen, not Liam.’
Ricky put his arm around Arty’s shoulder. ‘Listen, we need to think straight, right? Call his phone.’
Arty snapped out of his grief and worry and started to head back inside the villa. He looked at the girls, who had now come outside to see what was going on.
Poppy was as white as a sheet, too afraid to actually know the truth. Brooke could tell it was serious by the look in Arty’s eyes. ‘Someone’s taken him, haven’t they, Arty?’
Arty was too upset to reply. His deflated expression spoke volumes about what he felt inside. He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her look of concern.
Ricky knew that Arty was going down the road of resignation and needed geeing up to get his act together. ‘Arty, call his number, will ya?’
As soon as Arty dialled the number, a phone began ringing in the kitchen. Liam had gone. They all looked at each other as if an ominous entity had entered the room. ‘He never went anywhere without his phone.’
‘Call Terrence.’
Arty did as Ricky ordered, letting him take the lead. He was in too much of a state to focus properly.
‘Terrence, Liam’s gone. I mean, one minute he was cooking dinner, and then the next, he just vanished. The side door was open, the cars are still here. He ain’t even got clothes on, and his phone’s still on the side.’
There was silence as all three stared at Arty’s expression, praying that Terrence would have some answers, yet the pause was very long.
They couldn’t hear what Terrence was saying, but they got the impression that whatever it was it had knocked the stuffing right out of him.
‘Yeah, will do, mate,’ was all Arty said before he finished the call. ‘He’s coming to get us now. He told us to close the shutters. He’ll ring when he’s outside.’
Poppy felt her breathing quicken. It was instantly noticed by Brooke. ‘Pops, it’s okay. Take deep breaths. Slowly does it,’ she said, as she gripped Poppy’s shoulders.
‘Hey, is she having a panic attack? Because, to be honest, girls, we really need to pull ourselves together.’
Ricky’s tone was gentle, but, nevertheless, the point was a good one. In a flash, he ran up the stairs and snapped into action, and within a few seconds, all the shutters were hitting the floor like guillotines. The only light in the lounge was coming from the fire and the TV.
Brooke decided she needed to join in because sitting around huddled in a terrified state wouldn’t help them one bit. She turned on the lights and went into the kitchen to ensure the shutters were down. Then she noticed on the floor, just abutting the kitchen unit nearest the doorframe, there was a syringe.
‘Arty, come here!’ she yelled.
