The Redeemer (4 page)

She opened her mailbox and deleted the dozen or so messages from Xander without opening them, but not before adding his email address to her blocked senders list. She replied to a few work emails and then took the lift up to the first floor and let herself into a room that overlooked the car park.

Walking over to the window, she allowed her eyes to stray outside of the grounds and on to the road outside. Her stomach flipped when she saw Xander leaning against the front wing of his nondescript hatchback, facing the hotel. She stepped back from the window, lest he see her.

But what does it matter? I should stand with my nose almost pressed against the glass. Let him see me gloating. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for his despicable treatment of me. I should fling open the window and shout, ‘Go back to your pregnant wife!’ along with some scathing insults.

But her heart was hammering just from the sight of him. She knew she couldn’t face him. It was just like when she’d found out that Jamie had cheated on her. Seeing Jamie had made her skin crawl so badly that she wanted to shrug it off and smother him with it. She recalled how another part of her had wanted to turn the clock back and stop it all going wrong, before something perfect had turned into something tainted and worthless. She couldn’t say that about Xander . . . her time with him had never been perfect. He’d been married all along so she could only wish to turn the clock back to the day she’d met him, give herself a stern talking to and tell herself what a cheating bastard he was. Then she’d never have got involved with him. Never fallen for his dirty mouth, his filthy sex, his intelligent mind that was such a turn on, his abrasive arrogance that made her pussy tingle, his—

No. No! NO!

Thankfully, something caught her eye. It was her delivery! She almost clapped her hands in glee. She saw Smith walk over to the tow truck and speak with the driver. Then she saw another movement.

Oh my God!

Xander was marching forward. She saw Smith spin around and then Jones appeared from nowhere and stood next to him. They stood like a solid six-feet-something wall as Xander reached the boundary. She could see him begin to gesticulate and could tell he was mouthing off but she couldn’t hear, only guess, what he was saying.

She saw Smith turn his head slightly and then the device in her hand beeped and she heard his voice loud and clear.

‘Miss Hamilton, there’s a delivery for you. The delivery guy is insisting that you sign the paperwork but it isn’t a good idea for you to come out front right now. I recommend that I escort him into reception. Could you meet us there in five minutes please? I don’t want to be inside any longer than necessary.’

She could hear Xander’s voice in the background. She couldn’t make out most of it but she heard him say, ‘That’s my fucking car,’ as Smith finished speaking. She realised that she didn’t know how to reply but a quick look at the device sorted that. She pressed a button and spoke into the top of it.

‘No problem, Smith. I’m upstairs and can see what’s going on. Please don’t allow Mr Rhodes to get near my new car. I went to great lengths to get hold of it. It means so much to me.’

She watched as the driver lowered the Holden to the ground and then drove it to the space next to the entrance.
Xander’s space.

Even from the window upstairs, Isla could see Xander’s face was red with rage. She smiled and nodded.
Oh yeah, Xander ‘Can’t Keep It In Your Married Pants’ Rhodes, you picked the wrong girl to fuck about with this time. Let this be a lesson to you.

She grinned all the way back down to the ground floor until she found herself confronted by Dean.

‘What the hell’s going on out there now? Do you know how this will look to our residents? What’s he up to? Why’s his car being brought here?’

‘I ordered it to be brought here. It was paid for by hotel funds so it belongs to the hotel,’ she replied.

At least that part’s true . . . albeit a twisted truth.

Dean sighed heavily. ‘You’re playing with fire, you do know that, don’t you? Why don’t you just let the police handle everything? I’ve never seen you like this. You seem to be taking the whole thing way too personally.’

‘I have a mortgage I can barely afford. I need this job, Dean. And that deceitful bastard with his cheating, lying and manipulating is not going to take it away from me,’ she hissed.

His mouth formed a line in acceptance of her words until a sudden frown crossed his face. ‘So how did you afford to buy this place?’

Fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuuuuck!

Dean mistook her look of extreme discomfort as a sign that he’d overstepped the mark with his very personal question. ‘I’m sorry, Isla. I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’d better get back to the bar. I’ll see you later for that well-earned drink, yes?’

Phew!

She grinned with relief. ‘You sure will, Dean.’

He nodded and stalked off, back into the bar. Her smile grew further as Smith ushered the delivery guy in through the revolving door. She walked over to the reception desk where Belinda was studiously attempting to ignore them, presumably a demonstration of her new-found professionalism, Isla mused. She took the paperwork proffered by a bemused-looking delivery guy as Smith guarded the revolving door. Jones remained outside, halfway between the Holden and the door. Isla quickly scrawled her signature and took possession of the keys and vehicle documents. But not quickly enough. Shouting was immediately followed by a thud. All eyes turned to the revolving door.

Xander had somehow evaded Jones and had reached the door with Jones in pursuit. Xander was attempting to push the door to get into the lobby but Smith was pushing the door back the other way, trapping Xander in his compartment. Once Jones got in the open one behind him and began to push the other way with Smith, they began to force him backwards. He fought valiantly but he was slowly but surely being pushed back towards a waiting Jones.

Suddenly, he looked up and saw Isla standing in front of the reception desk, watching him. He began to shout and threw himself forward, redoubling his efforts. His muffled cries reached the ears of the small group inside.

‘Isla . . . for fuck’s sake . . . hear me out. End . . . this . . . this madness . . . you stubborn bitch,’ he roared as he pushed for all he was worth, yet was forced backwards.

Stubborn bitch? He’s got a fucking nerve.
She managed to bite her tongue and resist the temptation to shout back, ‘Cheating bastard,’ and that was only because both Barbies were watching intently.

She couldn’t bear to watch once Jones grabbed the edge of the door behind Xander and began to pull it closer. Before she turned away, she noticed Derek standing outside, a look of utter horror and helplessness on his face.

This isn’t fair to the staff. I must find a way to end this madness and still teach him a lesson. But how the fuck do I do that?

For the rest of the afternoon, she locked herself in her office, ordering cabs for the staff for when they finished their shifts, and attempting to focus on her work. She was determined to continue to improve the hotel’s performance – not least because she’d just splashed out for the Holden using hotel funds. It was an impulsive act that wasn’t really necessary but, from seeing Xander’s reaction, she’d hit a nerve and that made it worthwhile. He’d said he was going to buy it back once he was able.

Well, good luck with that, fuck face! Go spend your money on your unborn child instead.

Just as she was thinking of calling it a day, Jones tapped on her door and requested to speak with her. After filling him in on her plan to stay at the hotel overnight, he informed her that he and Smith would be relieved by two other experienced security guys. He also insisted that in order to keep such a determined man off the premises, she needed a security dog to patrol at night, especially since the premises didn’t have CCTV covering the grounds. He reassured her that the dog would be kept outside the building and that its handler would keep a low profile.

She authorised it and then realised that she now had the Holden standing in the car park and it was uninsured.

Great! So far, this is inconveniencing me more than Xander . . . well, at least he can’t get his hands on any of the cash . . . oh my God . . . if he’s got his company credit card or cheque book then of course he can.

She hastily placed calls to the bank and, through yet more lies, managed to get his company credit card and cheque book cancelled with immediate effect. Then she used a price comparison site to insure the car. Well, she attempted to – because it was an import, it wasn’t straightforward. Several telephone conversations later and it was finally insured. Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on the desk and began to massage her temples. She had the beginnings of an annoying, tension-induced headache. She was tired. She was stressed.

And you’re hurting.

‘No, I’m not,’ she snapped, standing up abruptly and heading over to pour a gin and tonic. She screwed her face up when she reached the cupboard and grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay instead, not able to bring herself to pour
their
drink. She downed a glass in one swift movement but restrained herself from pouring another. She knew it wasn’t a good idea; she needed to keep her wits about her. And wine . . . well, how many times had she vowed never to drink it again?

Smith dropped by, bringing with him the two night guards, Davies and Brown, to make the introductions. He informed her that a full handover had taken place and that the canine unit was en route to the hotel. Once they’d departed, she remembered that she’d agreed to see Dean for a drink. Yeah, she definitely needed another drink. This whole ‘teaching Xander a lesson’ mission was emotionally draining, not least since she’d been informed that he was still sitting in his car outside.

Oh crap. I haven’t any clean clothes for the morning. What the hell am I going to do? Ooh online shopping . . . there’s a certain retailer who will deliver next day, even at this time of night. Yeah, I’ll do that then I’m definitely going for that drink.

Half an hour later and Isla was ready to punch the screen of her computer. That particular retailer would only deliver to her home address and it was too late to order from any other retailer.

Bugger. I’m going to have to go home . . .

She used her walkie-talkie device and Brown replied, identifying himself. She told him of her predicament and he suggested calling a friend to bring her some clothes. Frowning, she was forced to admit that she had no friends who could oblige. He asked her to give him five minutes and he’d try to hatch a plan that wouldn’t compromise their objective.

When he called back, he began with an apology. There was no way that her request could be conducted safely. If one guard took her and Xander followed, one guard could not be guaranteed to keep Xander away from her. But if two guards were taken, that would leave only one at the hotel – what if Xander didn’t follow her?

Resentment began to kick in. She was a prisoner. What if she was stuck at the hotel for days? She’d need to pack a suitcase . . . oh and clear out any perishables from her fridge. Why didn’t she have a friend or at least someone who held a spare key?

Jamie! Did he still have a key? I remember kicking myself for not taking it from him when he took his stuff but I could barely stand to look at him and my heart was breaking when he walked away. Didn’t I text him and ask him to post it but he didn’t? I was going to have the lock changed but then, once I started here I was so busy that it slipped my mind. I bet he’s thrown it away by now anyway. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask . . .

No way! There is no way I’m asking Jamie for any favours . . . or explaining any of this to him.

Try as she might, she couldn’t think of any other way out of the situation. It seemed that asking Jamie was the only option.

But I don’t want to have to go crawling to him for help. Oh God . . . is that any worse a prospect than having no clean clothes to wear? And why care what he thinks? I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for him . . . if he hadn’t cheated on me I wouldn’t be here . . . and I wouldn’t have had the misfortune of meeting Xander Rhodes.

Isla poured herself another glass of wine and sipped it as she pondered her difficult decision. She got as far as turning on her phone that had been switched off since the morning. She had a whole heap of voicemail messages and texts from Xander. She deleted them without a second thought, noticing the content of one text because it was short and in capitals: ‘YOU FUCKING BITCH’.

Nice!

Then she noticed the timing of the message . . . it was sent as the Holden was delivered. She chuckled. Oh yeah, she’d got to him all right.

Then she spotted a text from Jamie, apologising for dropping the bombshell that Xander was married like that. He said he thought she knew.

Yeah you should be sorry – this is all your fault.

Anger surged through her and before she could stop it, her finger clicked on the icon to call him. In her race to cancel it using clumsy fingers, she dropped the phone. When she picked it up, she could hear Jamie’s disembodied voice asking if she was there.

‘No,’ she muttered, as she moved it closer to kill the call.

‘I heard that, Isla. What are you playing at? Aren’t you a little old for prank calls? Is this your retaliation for what I told you this morning?’