Hunted (10 page)

“Never mind the beard, we only have an hour before we have to pick the kids up from school.”

When he ran his lips down her neck she giggled. “It tickles.”

“Imagine what it’ll feel like in other places,” he said with a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows.

“That won’t work, not unless you want me to laugh.”

He looked offended. “That is not the reaction I will be expecting.”

“It’s the one you’re going to get, unless you shave it off.”

“Never.”

“Then sorry, it looks like we’re going to have to fill the hour doing something else.”

“Rachel, you can’t do this to me.”

“Shave it off then.”

His eyes hardened. “I will not be blackmailed.”

“Then take a cold shower,” she said, returning to sorting the laundry.

He stared at her in amazement. She’d never turned him down before.

“I’m not shaving it off.” When she looked up at him the mischief in her eyes only heightened his ardour.

“Then you’re going to have to go without until you do.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me.”

She gave him a sly smile.

“I never lose a challenge,” he said.

“There’s always a first time.”

“How about if you face away from me when we do it?”

“How romantic,” she said dryly. “When I want you Ryan I want all of you, not just one part of your anatomy. Get rid of the beard.”

“No,” he said indignantly.

“Your choice,” she said, leaving him to seethe with lust.

“You said once you always wanted me.”

“I did and I do, right now,” she said, licking her lips.

“Jesus Rachel, what are you doing to me?” he groaned.

“Shave it off.”

“No.”

“Sorry. I’m tired of having sore lips.”

“I will not give in,” he said grandly.

“Good for you,” she smirked.

When she bent over to retrieve the laundry basket and he found himself staring at her peachy round backside he said, “I’m just going for that shower.”

Rachel smiled at his retreating back then whirled around, convinced someone was standing at the window, watching them. The basket fell from her hands, spilling clean clothes everywhere as she was taken back to that warehouse in Manchester, Alex looming over her, the bloodied knife in his hand that was already red with her blood. He raised it, preparing to cut her throat.

“Go away,” she hissed to the air, to that hate-filled face.

It vanished and she staggered to a chair at the kitchen table and fell into it, her stomach churning. One day she hoped she would be free of Alex Maguire.

CHAPTER 12

Jules was curled up in a corner of the room with tears rolling down her face while Leighton groaned in agony, knotted into a tight little ball on the floor of his cell, arms wrapped firmly around his stomach.

How had she fucked this up again? If this had been an ordinary, run-of-the-mill hit her target would be dead by now. She would have got the quantity of poison perfect for a swift kill but, as usual when she tried to kill Leighton, she’d messed it up. Some sort of psychological block she’d thrown up against herself prevented her from going all the way. Yes she’d succeeded in poisoning him but it wasn’t enough to kill him. Now he was writhing in agony and she couldn’t bring herself to put him out of his misery.

“Jules, please…I need a hospital,” he begged for the tenth time. “I won’t tell them what you did…,” he gasped between agonised groans. “It hurts so bad…please…”

“I can’t,” she rasped, drawing her knees into her chest and rocking back and forth. “They’ll lock me up and I can’t be locked up ever again.”

“I won’t tell…promise…please…oh Jesus please help me,” he cried before throwing up a disgusting mixture of half-digested food and bile onto the floor of his cell. The room stank of vomit and pain and Jules wanted to run out screaming but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t leave until he was dead. It looked like she was never leaving.

“I helped you…when you bled out. I took you to hospital,” he said, voice shaking because his body was shivering so hard. “I saved your life…you owe me…oh God it hurts so bad.”

Jules furiously shook her head, her rocking growing more violent.

“My little girl…save me…please…I love you.”

“Shut up,” she screamed at him.

“Please Jules.”

“I knew it,” said a third voice.

Jules leapt to her feet, horrified to see Mikey Maguire standing at the top of the stairs. How had he got in? She’d locked the front door behind her. She realised how stupid that was. He was Mikey Maguire, closed doors didn’t exist for him. “Go away, this is nothing to do with you,” she told him.

Mikey descended the stairs, not knowing what to think as he studied the disturbing scene before him. “Jesus Christ Jules, what have you done? Have you any idea how messed up this is?”

“Course I fucking do,” she yelled back, angry and frustrated. “But I don’t know how to get myself out of it.”

“What have you done to him?”

“I poisoned his food. Normally I get the dose perfect but I messed it up…I don’t know why.”

“I do. Because you’re not committed to killing him.” He grimaced when Leighton vomited another disgusting mess onto the floor. “How long has he been down here?”

“Two years.”

Mikey hissed out a breath. Not even Alex would have been mental enough to do something like this. It finally hit home exactly who and what he’d introduced into his own family. Maybe Ryan had been right after all and they should have buried her while they’d had the chance? “He needs finishing Jules. You can’t leave him like that.”

“I can’t do it,” she yelled in frustration and pain.

“But I can.”

Jules turned white. “No.”

“You can’t keep him here. What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t.”

“I did. It’s too dangerous to keep him alive.” He glanced at Leighton as he spoke but he didn’t seem to be listening, too overcome by pain to hear.

“You can’t kill him,” she said.

“Why not, especially after what he did to you as well as all those other girls?”

“Because he’s my dad.”

“No he’s not. Your dad’s dead, you killed him very successfully with no mess-ups, so why can’t you do this?”

“Don’t you think I’ve wondered that so many times? I don’t fucking know,” she exclaimed, bristling with aggression.

“Open the cage.”

“No.”

His face turned to stone. “Open the fucking cage. Don’t make me take the key from you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’re out and we’re fucking done. Already I’m regretting stopping Ryan from killing you.”

“Jules please…help me,” whimpered Leighton.

Furious, she snatched up the cattle prod and raked it against the bars, sending sparks flying. Leighton shrieked, pressed his face to the floor and wrapped his arms around his head. “I said shut the fuck up,” she screamed at him.

It took a lot to unnerve Mikey but he was seriously unsettled now. The demented cow was now armed with a cattle prod. Not good.

“Open the cage door,” he repeated.

She turned to face him, the weapon clutched tightly in one hand, glowering at him with her grey eyes, which suddenly looked a lot darker. Her teeth were gritted together, her breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. She looked fucking scary but Mikey tried to keep in mind the damage the creature in the cage had done to her. This was that bastard’s fault. Who knew what she would have become if he hadn’t subjected her to such horrific abuse. Leighton Parker had created his own personal monster and it had turned on him.

“Listen Jules, you want him gone, I know you do. I can make that happen for you but only if you put the cattle prod down.”

Her grip on it only tightened, knuckles turning white. Leighton, overwhelmed with pain, had resumed his distressed whimpers, the agony he was in isolating him from their discussion about his fate.

“Jules, listen to me. You can have a good life, finally, but that won’t happen until he’s gone. He’s dragging you down. Dump him before he destroys you.”

Jules screwed her eyes tight shut and shook her head as she wrestled with herself. While she wasn’t looking Mikey took a couple of steps forward. Her eyes flew open and she held out the cattle prod in warning. He stopped in his tracks and kicked himself for coming here alone. She’d only known him a couple of weeks while Leighton had been part of her life since the day she was born.

“Jules, please listen. You want rid of him, don’t you?”

She nodded grimly.

“Then let me do this for you. Finally you’ll be free.”

He held his hand out to her, half-expecting to be knocked off his feet by the cattle prod. Instead she sighed, reached into her jacket pocket and dumped a large silver key in his hand.

“That too,” he said, indicating the cattle prod.

She relinquished it and he threw it clear across the room, out of reach. As he unlocked the cage door and stepped inside Jules dropped to the floor, as though someone had hit a switch and her legs had suddenly stopped working. She sat with her legs curled beneath her, crying softly as Mikey snatched the pillow from the bed, flipped Leighton onto his back and used it to smother his face.

Leighton released a grunt of surprise, his hands flailing but he was too weak to put up any kind of fight and it was over quickly.

When he went still Mikey removed the pillow and checked his pulse. Nothing. Leighton’s jaw hung open in a silent scream, tongue lolling grotesquely, eyes bulging.

“It’s done,” he said quietly.

He got to his feet, turned to Jules and was appalled by what he saw. She was staring at him in horror, as though she was revolted by what he’d done. But the most disturbing thing was that she wasn’t looking at him with Jules’s eyes. She was looking at him with the eyes of a child, innocent, disbelieving, sickened.

“Daddy?” she whispered, her eyes riveted to Leighton’s body.

Oh Christ,
thought Mikey. What had he done? “Jules, it’s okay…,” he began, stepping out of the cage.

She shot to her feet and raced for the door.

“Jules,” he called, going after her.

But she was too fast and made it up the stairs before he could reach her. She burst through the door at the top and made for the front door, looking terrified, terrified of him. He came to a halt at the front door, not wanting anyone to see him.

“Shit. Well done genius,” he muttered to himself. He took out his phone out to call Grant. Time to clean up this mess once and for all.

“Mikey, what the hell have you done?” said Jez solemnly as they stared at the remains of Leighton Parker wrapped in plastic, ready be taken out. Grant and two of his men had already started the clean-up process. Soon there would be nothing left in the cell to indicate Leighton had ever been there.

“You didn’t see the state he was in,” replied Mikey, his nerves fraught. “She’d tried to poison him but had fucked it up. It was the humane thing to do but she totally freaked out and did one. Now I don’t know where she is.”

“I’ll tell you where she is,” said Jez, bristling with fury. “She’s probably out somewhere causing fucking havoc. Jesus Mikey.”

“What else could I do, take him to hospital?” he exclaimed.

Jez sighed and dragged his hands down his face. “I suppose not.”

“You didn’t see her. She became a kid again right before my eyes. It was really weird.”

“I just hope you’ve not broken her completely. Like Rachel said, she’s a walking mass of scar tissue and you’ve just cut open all those old wounds. Right now she’s bleeding out all over Manchester.”

“I’ve put word out that I’m looking for her.”

“And?”

“Apparently she got into a scrap round the back of a nightclub and beat the shit out of two blokes, but by the time I got there she’d disappeared again. Now I don’t know where she is but she’ll turn up on the radar at some point.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t land on the fucking plod’s radar too. Christ, what a mess,” sighed Jez, shaking his head.

“I’ll sort it.”

“You’d better because if you don’t get this situation under control it could bury us.”

“It won’t,” he said determinedly, staring at the lump wrapped in plastic. That was what Jules’s madness led to for those who got in the way of it.

While Jez wondered if he could phone Ryan and ask for his advice, Mikey was wondering if he should call Rachel. Both decided against it, afraid of the bollocking their mentors would give them for being so stupid.

“What’s wrong with you?” said Battler when Ryan jumped into his car and slammed the door shut.

“Nothing,” he pouted.

“Trouble at home?” grinned Battler.

“Rachel doesn’t like the beard,” he sighed.

“It has got a bit bushy. A lot of women don’t like that. I grew a moustache once.”

Ryan was amused. “I find that hard to picture.”

“My girlfriend at the time wouldn’t let me near her until I’d shaved it off.”

“Rachel tried that but I refuse to be blackmailed.”

“You do now but give it a few days.”

“I will not break.”

“Yes you will,” said Battler, starting the engine. “I heard about the body being Daniel Tebbs.”

“You heard correctly.” Ryan glanced at the back seat, puzzled to see it was empty. “Where’s Bruiser?”

“He cried off. Apparently Daina had an emergency.”

“What emergency?”

“Search me.”

“So where are we off to?”

“To speak to the foreman responsible for building your annex. Then we’re going to see Daniel Tebb’s parents and his girlfriend. They’ve agreed to speak to me. Apparently they’ve lost all confidence in the police.”

“Sound like my kind of people,” he said, pulling on his seat belt.

The foreman, whose name turned out to be Eddie Cope, was less than helpful. They’d tracked him to a site he was working on - constructing a brand new bowling green for the old folk of Newton Abbott - and he was annoyed by the intrusion. Ryan was startled to realise he’d met Eddie before. It turned out that he was in fact their town mayor and they’d met at a charity function a few weeks ago, looking a completely different man in his smart, expensive suit to the scruff now stood before him covered in dust and muck.

“You can’t come here, Mr Kerrell will go mad if he knew strangers had been on the site,” said Eddie, looking worried.

“We won’t tell if you won’t,” replied Ryan. “We just wish to talk to you about Daniel Tebbs.”

“Not this again. I didn’t put him there,” he exclaimed.

“No one said you did,” said Battler. “Just cool it, eh?”

“I’m sick of it. The police have asked me about it loads of times and I don’t know anything. We left the concrete to dry and when we came back it had set hard. It looked…normal.”

“You’re getting pretty agitated Eddie,” said Ryan.

“Because Mr Kerrell won’t be happy.”

“Why are you so afraid of Mr Kerrell?”

“Because he’s the gaffer.”

“What sort of a boss is he?”

“He’s a good boss, a clever man. He kept this company afloat when other firms were folding in the recession. No one could afford builders.”

“And how did he manage to keep things going?”

“He’s an influential man, he has contacts. He makes sure we get all the big contracts.”

“So he’s a man with his ear to the ground?”

“Definitely. He knows everything that goes on around here.”