Shiver Sweet (8 page)

“Not now.  We don’t have time,” he said, suspicious undertones to his voice.

Hmmm...  “What are you hiding?” 

“Come on.”  He grabbed Nicola’s elbow, opened the door and poked his head out.  “All clear.”  He signalled Nicola and together, they dashed down the hall.

“We can’t open the front door without a key.” she whispered.

“And mine won’t work since Christa changed the lock.” 

The lock?  He knew that too?  It was starting to sound like he had been watching them on the website himself.

John hurried her into the downstairs toilet and slid the little bolt in place.  “I watched them look here a minute ago.  We should be safe for now.  There isn’t a camera in here.” 

Glad to hear it.

Nicola yanked free of his grip and backed up to the sink.  No doubt about it, there was something dark and dodgy about John being here tonight. 

Nicola bunched his sleeve in her fist, leaned forward and forced eye contact.  “How did you know that Christa changed the office entry code?  You’d better tell me what’s going on or I swear to God I’ll...”

“Jeez!  Do we have to discuss this now?”  He dug his teeth into his lip, then sighed.  “Okay.  If it’s the only way to shut you up...  This isn’t the first time I’ve been back inside this house since... the split.”

She frowned.  “I need more than that.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.  The low rumble of a voice came from upstairs.  When it ended, John whispered, “I’ve been trying to
persuade
Christa to move out.”  He held her gaze.  “There.  Happy now?  Can we leave?”

Small but unexplained events flashed through Nicola’s mind like a slide show, until her mouth fell open.  She leaned back and stared with a fresh, critical eye, stunned.  “More like
frighten
her into moving out, right?”

His face crumpled.

She shook her head in disgust.  “That disgusting smell, the strange noises... th-that was all you?”

He lowered his eyes.  “I’m not proud of myself.  And look what shit it’s landed me in.”

Huh?  Did he want her to feel some sort of sympathy for him?  “You do realise that you’ve committed illegal acts.  What about the break-in last night.  Was that you?”

John nodded then humphed, apparently amused.  “I can’t be convicted for entering or even vandalising my own house.”

Nicola hoped her stare would burn into him.  “Don’t get smart with me, pal!”

“Look, Christa hurt me, and yes, I’ve been an ass.”  John’s snide but whispered tone oozed jealousy.  After peeking through the window and muttering, “there’s no one on the driveway,” he glanced back at her.  “She never loved me.  It’s always been about
him
.”

His words moved through Nicola, chilling her.  Nicola knew he was referring to Brian and totally agreed.

A melody began playing from somewhere down the hall.

“What’s that?  A ring tone?”

He slid past Nicola to the window above the sink and fingered the catch to open it.  “Think you can squeeze through here?”

Nicola nodded.  “Asshole.” 
John won’t squeeze through there, surely.

John opened the window, and then turned and offered her his hand.  “I shouldn’t have done what I did, but right now,
this asshole
is your best shot of getting out of here alive.”

Nicola wanted to punch his lights out, but compared to the men who were hunting them, John was a pussycat who’d probably peed behind Christa’s radiators.  Vile man!  She clasped his hand.  “If we make it out of here, I-I’ll kill you myself.”

“Fine.”  John helped her lift her leg onto the sink.

When Nicola was half way through the window, someone ran down the hall.

“It’s in this cupboard,” a man yelled.  “But they’re not.”

“Hell.”  John gasped.  “That tune must be a locator or something on the tablet.”  He shoved Nicola’s bottom to push her through the window.

A moment later, the toilet door rattled.  “They’re in here,” a man shouted.  “Someone go outside, round the front in case they escape.”

“Hurry,” John said, shoving her again.

Nicola slithered through the window and landed hard on her hands on the icy concrete at the front of the house.  Despite pain shooting up from her wrists, she rolled over and scrambled to her feet.  For a split second, she considered leaving him, but then gratitude toward John washed through her and she stretched her arm through the window.  “Give me your hand.”

John reached up, but then someone kicked the toilet door open, knocking John against the wall.  “There you are,” a tall man in a ski mask and leather jacket said, then bellowed through the house, “The girl’s outside.  Hurry.”

A shock wave of panic tore through her.

“Run, Nicola!  Go!”  John grabbed the pot cistern lid off the toilet and raised it. 

Nicola turned and ran down the drive, sticking to the side to avoid triggering the security light. 

A man bombed through the side gate, chasing her. 

Oh, shit.
  “Heeelp!”

He hooked her arm, jolting her to a stop and turning her to face him in the moonlight.  “Going somewhere?” he asked, one hand on her, the other holding a cigarette.

Full of rage, Nicola clawed his face and his ski mask tore open on one side, revealing stubble and a glistening face of sweat.

He tightened his hold until she cried in pain, and then shook her hard.  “Guess you’re stuck with me.”  He drew on his cigarette.  Smoke-heavy breath puffed her way, and the orange glow of a cigarette bobbed between his lips.  A light came on inside the house illuminating him.

Nicola’s pulse quickened to about forty miles an hour.  She gasped.  “I know you!”  It was the guy who’d crashed his car into a wall near the pub.  “I helped you.  How can you do this to me?” 

He shrugged, showing he didn’t give a damn.  “It’s business.  Nothing personal.”

Unable to escape his grasp to run away, she raised her free hand, whipped the cigarette out of his mouth and rammed the lit end up his right nostril. 

His eyes bugged out and his grip on her slackened.  “Bitch!” 

Nicola planted the heel of her foot into his groin with all she had.

He howled and doubled over, cupping his privates.

She turned and ran flat out along the drive, hair flapping, tears streaming down her face, eyes fixed on the street ahead.  “Someone help me!” 

Heavy feet thumped along behind her.  “Get back here and shut your mouth.” 

It took barely ten seconds for Nicola to reach the road, but the man was fast.  Too damn fast.  Tight hands gripped her shoulders, yanking her back.

He wrenched her around in the snow.  “You’ve done it now, bitch.” 

Nicola saw the raw anger in his eyes.  Blood dripped down his right eyebrow; the cut from the crash.  She tried to duck as he raised a hand and whacked her across the face.

CHAPTER 11

NICOLA

Nicola raised her thumping head off the cold kitchen floor and opened her eyes on hearing a voice.

“Dale, you’re an idiot!” a man snarled distantly.  “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Rick,” another man replied.  “Shut up and let’s deal with it.  I say we off her right now.”

“No.  The girl lives, so keep your masks on.  Looks like she’s been thrown a lifeline.”

“Why?”

“Henry thinks she can be of use, doing the uploads.  Now keep your temper in check before you mess anything else up.”

“He’s making a mistake, but... okay.  Let me think about this.”

God knew how long Nicola had been knocked out.  Every muscle ached.  She ran one hand down her shivering frame. 
What happened?
  Her shoes were missing, her top torn to reveal her bra, and something sticky had matted the ends of her hair.  She fingered her jaw.  It throbbed so much she could barely part her lips to draw breath.

The nauseating air reeked of sweat and smoke.  A long, hard object sat tight within her fist, but her clouded eyes were yet to focus.  Seconds passed in a blur. 

Her elbow touched something large as she staggered to her feet.  She blinked and shook herself out of her whirlpool of confusion, stared around and screamed.  Shock punctured her soul.  Death.  A sobering, terrifying sight.  She burst into tears.  Her hand fell open and a bloody knife clattered to the floor and skidded away.  A knife?  Wha-t? 

“Welcome back,” said a bulky man in a padded jacket as he stepped into the kitchen.

Her stomach blazed like liquid fire seeing John heaped by her bare feet; motionless, head turned to one side, belly down in a pool of blood over white tiles. 

In her panic to stand and distance herself from his body, she fell against the kitchen cabinets and slapped a bloodied handprint onto the worktop.

“Grab hold of her,” he said.

Footsteps tapping the tiled floor behind her cut through the relative silence.  Nicola jumped and spun around.  Raw panic gripped her as another man approached, wearing spectacles beneath his mask.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said.  “How’s your head?”

A cold breeze blew in from the patio doors behind her.  Nicola’s torn top flapped as she backed up to the doors.  “Who... who are you?  What do you want?”  She checked over her shoulder, ready to split.

But the man who’d captured her on the drive came out of the heavy snowfall into the kitchen, barring her exit.  “Yep.  He’s still out cold, but breathing.  Think she hit him on the head with a roof slate.  He’s gonna need a doctor.”  His knuckles drained white as he cracked them.  He glared through his torn mask, and then cupped his nostril where she’d burned him with the cigarette.

The well-built guy in front clicked his fingers.  “Nicola.  Look at me.” 

He knows my name?
  Confused and sobbing, she whipped around.

He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and stepped closer to her.  “I know you’re scared right now, but you have to listen and do exactly as I say.”

“Why the fuck did you have to come back home?” the man beside him spat.  “And why did he?”  He pointed down at John.  “Rachel cocked up.”

“Enough!”  The well-built guy ran a hand over his masked head.  “Cool down.  It’s all gone wrong, but we have to focus and clear this mess up.”

Clear it up?
 
And me?
  Holy crap.  “Please.  Don’t hurt me.”  Her begging eyes darted between the three men surrounding her, and then across to the house phone.

“No point,” he said.  “We already cut the line.” 

From behind, a man shoved her closer to John’s body.

The bulkiest man took a photo of her.  “Stand still.  No need to smile.”

Nicola blinked as the man hunkered down to photograph her again, closer.  Crouching, she tried to shield her face.  “Stop it!  What are you doing?”

“That should be enough.  A camera never lies.”  After taking another photo, he pocketed the mobile.

She spread her arms out to keep the men away, but her legs wobbled and she tumbled to her bottom.  “What do you want from me?”

The man who’d photographed her glanced up at the corner of the room, a place where Nicola recalled there to be a spy camera from when John showed her what was on the tablet’s screen.  Nicola wondered if they’d turned it off.  She hoped not.  John’s murder could be live on the internet.  Surely some sick voyeur would have a conscience and phone the police.

“I wonder what the cops will make of you offing your friend’s husband for a cut of the life insurance, house and business?” he said.

What?  Nicola’s mouth gaped, too dazzled to respond while his words crackled in her head like static.  These guy’s sure knew a lot about them, well, Christa at least.

“Bloody knife in your hand.  Photos.  Hmmm... tricky.”  He walked around John, studying his lifeless form, totally undisturbed by the sickening sight.  Keeping his shoes out of the blood pool, he crouched down next to John within striking distance of Nicola.  “I am not a forensic investigator, but I’d say it doesn’t look all that good for you right now.”  An unmistakeable menace shone in his eyes.  “I can offer you a way out.”

Tears dripped as Nicola stared down at John’s blood smeared all over her hands.  “The cops will wonder who took the photos and why I’ve been beaten up.” 

He laughed.  “He fought you off, then you stabbed him and took photos as a trophy.  Simple.”

She shifted focus to John’s body.  Scratch marks running down the side of his neck caught her eye, and her stomach clenched.  Nicola would bet her life that these men had dragged her fingernails across John’s skin while she lay unconscious.  Skin cells, sweat, tears, her DNA probably coated every inch of his dead body.  “Hold on a minute.  I-I couldn’t have taken the photos because I’m in them.  The cops will wonder why...” 

“They’ll think you had an accomplice.  Perhaps a boyfriend who regretted helping you and decided to dump you in it.” 

Nicola opened her mouth to speak, but the bulky man raised a palm to silence her.  “I need you to be calm, and focus on what I’m about to say.  Can you do that?”

The blood pool, John’s guts, her torn stained clothes...  It all made her brain slosh.  Knowing these men had set her up cranked up her anger.  Against her better judgement she blurted, “You bastards!”

The man stepped forward and, after bunching what remained of her top in his fist, he pulled her up and jammed her against the wall.  “You’ll thank me in a moment.  It’s your lucky day,” he said, winking while running the back of his hand down her cheek. 

She turned her head away.  “Don’t touch me!”

“You’ve really coined it in for us lately.  It seems you’ve not just caught the eye of, never mind, but you have several other fans too.  Isn’t that right?”  He glanced back at his companions. 

“Something like that,” one replied, eyeing her exposed chest.  “Loved watching you in the tub the other night.”

A vulgar grin stretched his lips.  He released her top and stepped back.  “I’ll keep this simple.  You have three choices, Nicola.  We can kill you now, you can get locked up for murder, or...”

“Or what?” Nicola’s faint voice sounded fairly calm as she took everything in, but inside her head was a fuzzy-darkness. 
Call those choices!