The Honey Trap. Mary Baker Jayne

Christ! What the hell have you taken?’ Angel hurled herself forward and shook the lifeless figure. A stab of fear slammed through her as Carole’s head lolled on her shoulders.

      She moved her face to the actress’s mouth and felt hot, shallow breaths against her cheek. Once again, she heard the strangulated sound gurgling from the back of Carole’s throat.

      She needed an ambulance. Right now. Angel turned to the mirror, which flashed her own frantic, horror-struck face back to her. Where the hell was her handbag? Did she leave it back in Seb’s booth?

      Then she spotted it, under the sink where she’d dropped it when she first came in. Snatching it up, she fumbled for her mobile. Oh God, what if the ambulance didn’t get there in time? This woman needed medical attention right away!

      Should she run outside, call for help? Someone there would be bound to know first aid. But there was also the room full of press just behind the velvet rope, all on the lookout for fresh scandal. In her mind she could already see Carole Beaumont’s blood-caked face on every front page…

      Seb. He’d know what to do. Surely he must have dealt with something like this before. But how could she fetch him without drawing attention to them both? And she didn’t want to leave Carole alone.

      With a sudden thought, she rifled through the contents of her bag. She’d given herself a mental slap at the time for being weak enough to hold on to it, but yes, there it was still, tucked into her purse behind her Visa card. The note from Seb telling her what a great time he’d had with her that night at the hotel. The one with his mobile number scrawled underneath.

      Thank God she’d kept it! She tapped out the digits, hoping to heaven he’d answer. He certainly wouldn’t if he knew it was her, but of course he didn’t have her number.

      She listened to the phone ring, once, twice… come on, come on! Finally she heard it click as Seb picked up, answering with a crisp ‘Yes?’.

      ‘It’s Angel. Listen, you have to get to the ladies’ loos behind the champagne bar right now. I’m with Carole. Jesus, Seb, hurry, can you? It’s an emergency.’

      Without waiting for an answer, she hung up and threw the phone back into her bag.

      She shot a panicked look at Carole, wondering if she should put her in the recovery position and then what the recovery position was. She had a vague idea tongues were important and stopping unconscious people from choking on them, but that was about the sum total of her first-aid knowledge.