WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (30 page)

P
aul’s hand
jerked, the one holding the knife.  Light flashed off the sharp blade.

We
ran at each other and I kneed his groin.

He
cursed and cupped himself.

I
turned to run but fell belly down.

A strong,
gloved hand shackled one of my ankles. 

“Nice
try,” Paul said, laughing in a pained kind of way. 

The
cold insane sound sent chills up my spine. 

He
dragged me back to the middle of the kitchen by my foot. 

I
clawed at the floor, but I couldn’t grip anything solid.  My screams
pierced the graveyard room while the dreaded picture of being stabbed over and
over again as I lay here on the floor, blasted through my mind. 

Paul
grabbed my waistband, yanked me to my feet then spun me around.

The
knife came closer.  I panicked, threw my arms and feet around in a frenzy,
trying to block the blow while screaming.  The blade sliced my
forearm.  I continued fighting him off until the cut on my arm burned so
fierce, I thought a firework had exploded inside it. 

Paul
jammed me against the kitchen island.  "There was never going to be a
wedding," he said.  “It was all for show.  The finale.”

I
cracked one eye open.  Movement over Paul’s shoulder caught my
attention.  I did a double-take. 

Carol,
Laura’s aunt, was peering through the kitchen window.  Her nose was
squashed against the veined glass.  She waved a garter in the air, but
when our eyes locked, she let go of it.  She stared, open-mouthed. 

I
gasped, wanting to feel relieved that she would call the police.  But I
couldn’t be sure she wasn’t intoxicated.  “I… er…”  I tried to speak,
so Paul wouldn’t notice I’d been staring out the window.  When I looked
again, Laura’s aunt had gone. 

Paul
dropped his voice to a chilling whisper.  “I’ll try to make it
quick.  But painless will be impossible.”

He
raised the knife to strike.

I
was minutes away from being rescued, yet seconds from death. 
Think of
something
.  “Wait!” I croaked, close to suffocating in fright, staring
at the sharp tip of metal pointing down at me.  “I know where that twenty
thousand is." 

Paul
paused, blade suspended in mid-air. 

“It’s
in here.  In the house.” 
Why the hell can’t I hear any sirens?
 
Panic blistered inside me.  “I’m your way out of here, Paul.  I can
give you cash.  You’ll need every freakin’ penny to go on the run.” 

Paul
glanced at his watch, paused while twisting his lips, then looked at me. 
“Start talking.  You’ve got one minute.”  He grabbed my top.  It
tore when he pulled me away from the bench. 

“It’s…” 

“Fifty-five
seconds.”

I
signalled towards the kitchen corner with my eyes.  “It’s in that
bag.  Let me show you.” 

His
breath was a hot brush against my cheek as he bunched my torn top in his fist,
tugging me close to his face. 

I
tried to say, “Over there,” but when his nose squashed into my cheek, and his
breath blew on my face, the words got jammed in my throat. 

“In
those bags, you say?”  Suddenly, he grabbed my ponytail, yanked my head
down low and leaned over to hiss in my ear.  “You’d better not be lying. 
I don’t like liars.” 

That
much I knew.

I
gritted my teeth against the eye-watering pull on my scalp.  “I’m
not.  I’m not.”  I prayed that Emma had something in her bags I could
bash him with. 

Swinging
me by my hair, he hurled me forward towards Emma’s bags in the corner.

“Ouch!”
 I fell to my knees in front of Jayne, wheezing and spluttering.

Every
second that I didn’t hear sirens, more sweat broke out all over me, and I
couldn’t prevent my body from shaking.

He
moved closer along the slick tiles, leering at me from above.  “Get the
cash!  And don’t get smart.  Try something, and your guts will meet
the floor.”

My
mouth filled with warm sick as I dragged Emma’s numerous bags from under
Jayne’s limp, bloodied body.  My head was in an unstoppable spin, a
collection of loose parts whizzing in circles while I flung Emma’s clothes
around the room.  If I didn’t find a weapon...

“Hurry
up.”

“It’s
in one of these.”  I tipped another bag upside down, shook it in
desperation.

Paul
stomped across the room.  He looked out through the spiderwebbed window,
left and then right. 

In
the back of my mind I was overjoyed with Laura’s aunt for being an
alcoholic.  Her inability to resist the lure of free alcohol became my
golden ticket to survival.  She was a drunk.  But she would do. 
More than do, right now.

Paul
continued stomping around, kicked objects out of his way, then opened and
closed a door. 

Heart
stampeding, I emptied the contents of another bag onto the floor, but found only
a dressing gown and underwear.  I’d have to just bite him, kick him
between the legs, push my thumbs into his eyes and run for it.

A
high-pitched screech pierced the house. 

I
looked over my shoulder.  Carol flung the kitchen door open.  Light
streamed in, silhouetting her.  A huge gush of relief sailed through me.

“What
the hell have you done?” Carol yelled.

I
looked behind her, searching for the police. 
Oh, no!
 
She’s
come alone?
  “Useless, drunken idiot,” I yelled out.

Carol
glanced down at me with dark, creepy eyes.  “Son of a bitch.”  Carol
shook a fist at Paul.  “This isn’t what we discussed.”

The
side of Paul’s lip, and his nose, twitched.  “Whatever.”

I
shuddered. 
Oh, my God!
  The truth hit me with an agonizing
gut twist.  Laura’s closest living relative had screwed her over as
well. 

“Christ,
Paul!  You weren’t meant to kill anyone.  Laura’s my only niece!”

Paul
tapped the blade on the granite worktop.

“You
said if I delivered that photo to Chelsea’s house, I’d get my share and no one
would get hurt.  Paul!  You promised!”

Paul
gave Carol a steely glare.  “You tried to run Chelsea down.  You knew
people were going to get hurt.”

Carol
clamped a hand at the side of her head.  “I panicked.  You said she
was supposed to be sleeping at some guy’s house.”

I
tensed while listening.  My muscles felt like elastic bands at their snap
limit.

Paul
faced Carol.  “Enough of this.  But just you remember, if you hadn’t
threatened me for a cut, things might have gone as planned.”

“I
wanted what’s rightfully mine.”  Her words slurred.  “I got jack shit
in the will, and Laura was never going to give me those jewels.  But
this…”

I
stared at Carol in disbelief, as though she wasn’t real, like she’d
disintegrate in front of me.  Unfortunately, she didn’t.  “You bitch!”
I blurted out, wanting to throttle her.

Carol
looked down at me.  After a long, intense stare, she signalled towards the
door with her head before looking back at Paul.  “You’ve gone too
far.  God, I’ve been so stupid.  You only kissed me to get me on
side,” she said, then lurched at him. 

His
big fist slammed into her nose. 

Blood
spurted and she stumbled, her head smacking against the edge of the door. 
She slumped to the floor like a bag of cement near Megan. 

 “Waste
of oxygen,” Paul said with disgust.  “No one holds me to ransom.” 
Then glaring at me, he muttered, “I’d have got rid of her sooner, if I thought
the police wouldn’t have come sniffing round.  She caught me with the
money.  Threatened to tell Laura what she’d seen.  Kissing her was
like snogging a drooling dog.  Nosey, irritating cow, always popping up
when you least expect it.”

Paul
shoved Carol with his foot, then pushed the hall door shut. 

I
didn’t have time to get over the shock.  Frantically, I turned my back,
clawing my way through the contents of Emma’s bags again.  I was more
desperate than ever to find something I could use as a weapon.  Not only
to hit Paul, but to clobber Carol with as well.  My mind felt like a bingo
machine, balls of ideas, which I couldn’t take hold of, flying around in a
spinning drum. 

I
found Emma’s Dictaphone – the one we’d used to pose as reporters on the hen
night. 
Why has she brought it here? 
Not that I cared. 
I clicked the record button.  If we were all going to die, then I needed
to make damn sure that Paul would go down for it.  I kept the Dictaphone
hidden in the bag, then felt around again.  I touched some plastic cable
with my fingers, grabbed hold and dragged whatever was attached to the end of
it onto the floor.  Hair straighteners.

A
second later, Paul grabbed my shoulder.  He spun me around.  I stared
up at him.  An evil gleam in his dark eyes spurred me into action.  I
whacked his lower leg with the straighteners.

“Ouch!
You little—” he snarled, kicked the straighteners clean out of my hand. 
 “You’ve got ten seconds to show me the cash.”  His savage voice was
more menacing by being a whisper.  “Nine.  I’m not messing around
here.  Eight…”

I
stared at him.  His gloved-finger was now under my chin, tilting my head
up. 

“Six,
five…”

I
couldn’t stop shaking.  “Okay.  Okay, Paul!” I managed between
breaths, making a point of shouting his name for the recording.  “The cash
is in the bag in the cupboard.  You’re a murderer, a blackmailer, and
you’ve earned it.”

Paul
sneered down at me.  “No more games.  Pass me the damn bag.” 

I
grabbed it from the cupboard and held the swinging white bag up towards Paul’s
insanely raging face.  A can of hairspray rolled out of one of Emma’s bags
that I’d shoved out of the way.

“Open
it!”

I
dropped the bag to the floor.  The zipper gave a raspy protest as I pulled
it open.  I lifted a bundle of bank notes in the air while subtly scanning
for the hairspray. 

Paul
reached down to snatch the money.

Out
of nowhere, glass shattered distantly in the house.  I flinched and
dropped the cash. 

I
couldn’t believe this miracle.  Carol must have done the right thing and
phoned the police. 

A
coarse, muffled
voice bellowed Paul’s name from down the hall.  I heard running feet. 

The
door banged open, and in stormed Lee.  “You bloody bastard!  You
killed my brother!” he yelled from the doorway, pointing the crowbar towards
Paul’s back.

The
tip of Paul’s blade stopped short of my throat.  Then his head turned
toward Lee.  “You’re late to the party.  Your name’s not on my list,
but hey!  There’s room for one more.” 

Lee
blasted into the room with a knife and crowbar. 

Jolted
from my terror-haze, I booted Paul’s knee while he wasn’t looking.  I
grabbed the can of hairspray and squirted it up towards his face. 

He
shielded his eyes. 

“Now!”
I screamed.  “Get him.”

Lee
lurched forward, waving both the crowbar and knife at Paul.  “Run,
Chelsea.”

The
sharp sound of metal bashing metal clattered above me.  They kicked each
other, ducked down to dodge strikes, and jumped from side to side.

“You
murdering son of a bitch,” Lee growled.  “I saw you spying on CCTV.”

As
thumping and smashing sounds broke out in the room, I did as Lee said.  I
started crawling.  My legs felt heavy, like dragging thick tree trunks
strapped to the top of my thighs.  A knife flew right in front of my face,
then stabbed the back skirting board.  I gasped, and froze.

“Is
that the best you’ve got?” Lee taunted.  He sounded breathy.  “Come
on.  I’ve got a score to settle.”

Glass
shards stung as they pierced my knees.  I couldn’t bear the thought of
deserting Lee, but I had to alert the police.  I moved again.

“You’re
in for it,” Paul snarled. 

“Get
out of here,” Lee yelled at me.  “Move it!”

Clattering
and banging thundered through my head.  I choked down my fears of what
could happen to Lee, dragged myself into the hall and, suddenly, my heart
slammed into my ribs.  The world stopped. 

Laura
lay rock-still on the floor.  Her face was one of undiluted shock. 

I
crawled nearer to her and held my hand to her nose and mouth. 
Nothing.  But my hands trembled so violently that I wasn’t sure. 
What
should I do? 
I pinched her nose, wrapped my quivering lips over hers
and blew.  A few shaky breaths later, I paused, lowered my ear to her face
and prayed to hear the soft sound of breath escaping her body.  I heard
little more than banging and crashing coming from the kitchen.

Ambulance. 
Get to a phone. 

I
pushed myself up, and staggered on weak legs out the front door.  My feet
touched hard ground.  I barely paused to inhale huge gulps of the sweet
air of freedom.  I broke into a sprint, heading for the house across the
street that had a light on.  Halfway down the drive I glanced over my shoulder
for a split second, to check Paul wasn’t chasing me.  He wasn’t.  I
turned and slammed head first into someone who’d appeared from nowhere.

“Whoa!”
a deep male voice said.  A pair of strong arms kept me upright. 

‘Call
the cops!’ I wanted to yell, but terror blocked my voice.  I looked up,
almost slipped through his arms. 

A
cherry-faced Mark stared down at me.  He dipped his head to my level and
his breath tickled my face.  “Holy crap!”  Mark jerked away and
dropped a bunch of roses to the ground.  “What the hell happened to you?”

I
bear-hugged his solid body.  I’d never been so glad to be in the arms of
an ex-boyfriend with a grudge in all my life.  I sidestepped him, and
pointed to the house across the street - my mind still focused on going there
for help. 

He
inhaled sharply and gripped my upper arm.  “Oh, no, you don’t! 
You’re not running anywhere.  I’ve got two things to sort out.  Right
here, right now.  Starting with you telling me where else you’ve stored
those malicious photos.  And then I’m gonna tell Laura how I really feel,
if it’s not too late.”

‘
No. 
Can’t.  Back.  Not in.’
  My words crashed.

He
dragged me towards the front door.  “What happened to you, Chelsea? 
I never thought you’d be capable of something like this.”  His grip slipped
down to my wrist while I fought to free myself from his huge wraparound
fingers. 

Our
gazes met and locked.  I stared desperately at Mark’s livid, twitchy face
and finally yelled out.  “There’s a killer inside!”

Mark
stopped pulling on my wrist and paused to glare at me.  “Nice try. 
Come on.  We need to sort this out.  I want those photos.”  His
eyes, mean and narrow, all but smoked with rage.  He must have been too
angry to wonder where the blood on my body came from.  In a croaky, almost
apologetic kind of tone he said, “All right.  You give me no
choice.” 

“Stop.” 
I screamed.  “He’s... help... don’t.”  I sobbed, struggling for
enough breath to say words to make him stop.

Mark
gasped and slowed when we approached Laura’s body.  “What the freakin’?” 

 “Please,”
I begged.  “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Mark
started to bend down over her.  “Laura?  Laura?  Oh,
Jesus!”  I could tell he wanted to touch her.  “Chelsea, did you
do—“  He stopped when a series of bangs, and the clinking sound of metal
striking metal, came from the kitchen. 

He
marched forward and booted the door open and slammed me onto my feet in the
kitchen.  “Bloody hell!” he yelled. 

For
a moment my will wavered, the image of Laura was stuck in my mind.  But
hearing Lee cry out in pain brought me to myself.  I had no need to wonder
what had happened in my absence, I was now facing it. 

“Will
someone tell me what the hell’s going—”  Mark didn’t finish. 

Livid,
I threw a punch up at his face.

He
seized my fist then pushed my hand down.

Lee
and Paul were still fighting at full speed, biceps pumping, tearing up what
remained of the kitchen. 

Paul’s
shirt was in Lee’s hands, twisted into a length of rope and hooked around
Paul’s throat, drawing him backwards.  Paul elbowed Lee in the ribs, then
wormed free of the shirt.  He swivelled and dived onto Lee, sending both
of them flying across the kitchen and into the back wall, right in front of us.

The
crowbar came sliding in a spin towards my feet.

Both
men were now on their bottoms with torn clothes and swollen boxer faces.

My
friends were injured or worse, dead.  I’d lost Laura.  I couldn’t
lose Lee.  “Mark,” I choked out, tugging his sleeve.  “Do something!”

“Help
me, Mark,” Paul said in a pathetic voice.  “They’ve screwed me over. 
They’re trying to kill me.”  Paul grunted at Lee, face glowing red, baring
teeth.  Then he turned his head into shadow to the left.  He saw
something… a knife? 

Oh,
hell!
 

If
I didn’t do something, Lee,
my Lee,
would be dead flesh.

“Get
up, Lee,” I squalled.

Lee
swiped his hand across his forehead, smearing blood across his skin.  He
grimaced then struggled to push himself up. 

Shaking
myself back to usefulness, I gave Mark a disappointed snarl, forced my
timber-rigid legs to bend and grasped the end of the crowbar. 

“Catch!”
I yelled to Lee. 

The
bar stopped as I was about to throw.

Mark
yanked it out of my grip. 

“Hey!” 
My empty hand still in the air, I tried to engage Mark’s big brown eyes and
hoped he could see the truth within mine.  “It’s Paul,” I said, having
recovered my voice.  “He attacked us.  He tricked us into thinking it
was you.  I’m so sorry.”

“Who
hurt Laura?  Who else have you—”  Mark stopped shouting when Paul
tried to rise to his feet.  Mark shifted his gaze between Paul and Lee,
then it boomeranged back to me. 

“Paul
planted evidence to frame you,” I said.

“Mark,
my mate.”  Paul’s voice had a sickly-sweet quality while stretching an arm
out, feeling for the knife.  “She’s off her head.  They’ve both gone
nuts.  They’ve got photos on me, just like they have with you.  Have
you seen what they did to Laura?” 

Mark’s
face turned so red I expected it to explode. 

“He’s
lying,” I screamed at Mark.  “I texted your blackmail photos to two
mobiles.  One phone is yours, the unknown number belongs to Paul. 
That’s how he knows I tried to blackmail you.”

Paul
pointed to the cash spilling out from Laura’s white handbag and spoke in a
convincing tone.  “Look, there’s the money I paid her.”

“Don’t
listen to him,” Lee said, struggling for breath.  “He murdered my
brother.”

“It’s
true,” I said.  “Laura was sleeping with Daryl.  Paul blackmailed
him, and killed him.”  I sucked in a shaky breath.  “Mark, Paul’s
setting you up.  He knows how you feel about Laura.  That’s Laura’s
cash, not his.  He blackmailed Laura with photos.  That’s how we got
the idea for blackmailing you.”

“Hit
the stinking bitch, Mark.”  Paul spat his words out.  “Before she
turns on you.  They’re just after money and don’t care how they get it.”

A
blast of frustration slammed me right in the guts.  “Ugh!  Can’t you
see what’s going on here, Mark?”

Silence.

The
tension was thick enough to choke me.

After
what I’d done to Mark earlier, the odds were that he would indeed want to hit me,
and then Lee.  I had to stop Mark, get the bar off him.

Crowbar
bouncing in his right hand, Mark seemed to be trying to get his head around the
shocking scene.  He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his
Blackberry.  “The police can sort this mess out.  No one move an
inch.”

Paul
shuffled nearer to the knife that was sticking out of the skirting board. 

“Damn
you.”  I reached up to snatch the crowbar from Mark.

The
mobile fell out of his hand, hit the tiled floor behind us, broke apart and bounced
away.  “Jesus, Chelsea.”  He took a painful hold of my upper
arm. 

I
couldn’t run away nor grab for the crowbar. 

“I...
I can prove it’s Paul,” I blurted out, suddenly remembering.

Mark
narrowed his eyes at me.

“I
recorded it.”  I pointed at Emma’s bag that had been kicked away from the
wall, praying the dictaphone worked.

“No!”
Paul yelled.  “She’ll have a knife in there.  Don’t trust her.”

“Please,
Mark.  Let me get it.  If you could just hear...”  With Mark
still holding my arm, I stretched and hooked the bag strap, stuck my hand in
and fished around.  “Got it.”  Slowly, I pulled out the
Dictaphone.  “See?  No weapons.”  I pressed the stop button then
began rewinding.  Impatient to convince him, I pressed play and listened:
bashing sounds, thumps and clanging.  The sounds were crackled and came in
bursts, like the Dictaphone was struggling.  It was just fighting
sounds.  I guessed Paul was too busy trying to kill Lee to confess. 
I glared down at him.

Paul
shot me a crazed pit bull glance, then his voice came broken, barely legible
from the Dictaphone.  “They got what... deserved.  Daryl, Laura,
Mark—”

Mark
released my arm.  Had he heard Paul say his name in the recording? 
“There!  Did you hear that?”  I fell to my knees, lifted my head and
stared.

Paul,
a few feet in front of me, was an inch short of grabbing the knife.  His
arm stretched to the limit, gloved fingers walking over the tiles toward
it. 

“Stop
him!”  I couldn’t reach to kick it away.  One fast swipe and he’d
stab Lee. 

Then,
abruptly, Lee’s angry voice came through the Dictaphone.  “I’ve been
waiting for this moment all week.  Had it all planned out... what I’d do
to you, what I’d do to...” 

“Rewind
it,” I screamed, raising my voice over the recording.  What Lee had said
probably convinced Mark that he was to blame.  “Mark, please listen. 
Listen to what Paul said a minute ago.  He said your name!  Why would
he do that if he wasn’t guilty?  He’s framing you.”

Lee
groaned in pain.  “Open your eyes, Mark.”

“Mark,”
I said.  “Paul’s punishing you because you love Laura.”

Mark
didn’t respond. 

“Listen
to what she’s saying,” Lee croaked.

I
turned swiftly onto my butt and looked up at him, trying to plead with my
eyes.  Tears ran down my face and into my ears.  “Mark, please. 
Don’t let Paul get that knife.”  Jesus! 
What will it take to
convince him?
  “Remember what I told you yesterday?  About trying
to get proof to help Laura?  About being onto you?  Think about
it.  Paul has set you up, and it worked.  We thought it was
you.  I blackmailed you, thinking it would help Laura.”

“It’s
nonsense,” Paul said.

Mark
pointed the crowbar at each of us in turn.  “One of you three killed
Laura.”