WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (32 page)
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Authors: H Elliston
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THINK FAST DIE LAST
By H.C.Elliston
(Action thriller)
Copyright
© 2011 by H.C.Elliston
All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof
in any form or by any means whatsoever without prior written permission from
the author.
The
moral right of H.C.Elliston to be identified as the author of this work of
fiction has been asserted.
All
characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the
public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual events or real
persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Thank you to my family, my fiancé and his children,
and my friends for encouraging me, and for understanding my need to chase my
dreams. A special thank you to my critique partners who forever push me
harder; Carla, Dana, Steph, Rachelle, John, Chuck, Sky, Christine, Steve and
Brandi.
To everyone else who had input or encouraged me with
this story – thanks, you’re the best!
I couldn’t have done it without your support.
Thank you to readers for taking a chance on
me. I hope you enjoy reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Table
of Contents for
THINK
FAST DIE LAST
Contents
JENNA
A
single bang
came from outside, and I jerked underneath Dylan. Our lips
separated. “What was that?”
Dylan,
laying on top of me in front of the open fire, smoothed a hand over the cups of
my bra. “Relax.” He ran his tongue along my neck. “It’s just
the wind, Jenna. It’s meant to thunder like crazy later, so I hope you
packed some earplugs.”
My
eyelashes fluttered. “To sleep? Nah. I didn’t plan on doing
any of
that
this weekend.”
He
smiled, and then kissed his way up to my face.
Just
as our lips came together, another sound, like footsteps crunching leaves, cut
through the howling wind.
“Seriously,
Dylan. I think someone’s out there.” I swept my lips from his open
mouth and stared sideways. The front door squeaked open. Air rushed
over my skin, freezing our hot moment. “Oh, God! Someone’s coming
in.”
“Jesus!”
We
sprang apart.
I
grabbed the edge of the rug and curled it over me, covering my underwear.
“Didn’t you lock the door?”
Dylan
fumbled around and grabbed his jeans. “Who the...”
“You
did officially book this place, right?” I whispered.
He
scrambled into his jeans on the floor. “Definitely.”
“Then
it must be the landlord.” I hugged the rug tighter to my chest and
scanned for my clothes. “Could this be any more embarrassing? Where
did you throw my top?”
“Check
the sofa.”
I
was about to rise, then stopped. A frightening thought entered my
head.
He couldn’t have tracked us down, could he?
After
hearing muffled chatter, which I couldn’t make out, a couple of duffel bags
launched into the room and skidded across the floorboards.
“That’s
not the Landlord.” Dylan’s expression darkened and he jumped to his
feet. “Stay behind me.”
“Oh,
Jesus! Y-you don’t think it’s—“ I choked up, but inside I was screaming.
A
gust of wind blew a flurry of leaves into the house, carrying the scent of damp
pine. Footsteps crossed the threshold. Two sets.
I
tugged Dylan’s arm and whispered, “Let’s go. Now.”
Dylan
didn’t move, but his jaw clenched in either anger or worry.
“Please!”
Instinct urged me to run. As I turned, two strangers dressed in hooded
coats entered the retreat. “John. Why are the lights on?” a woman
said.
A
woman?
I
stopped moving and looked over my shoulder at the door. The tension
drained from my body. While hugging the rug to my chest, I almost laughed
at myself for that little frightener. I didn’t care who these people
were, just as long as they weren’t my cruel, deranged husband.
Dylan
took a step forward. His tight, normally calm blue eyes moved from one
intruder to the next. “Hi there, guys. What are you doing here?”
The
taller figure tugged his hood down, revealing a stubbled chin and eyes shadowed
by dark circles. He stared at us and his posture snapped upright.
“Blimey. Who are you?”
The
female swept the hood off her head. “Oh, Lord.” She gasped while
running her eyes over me.
In
a shocked, momentary standstill, I stared at them. They both looked in
serious need of a comfortable bed and a hairbrush.
What happened to
them?
The silence was broken only by the whimsical crackles and pops
of logs ablaze in the fire, and the wolf-like howl of wind blowing into the
retreat.
“You’re
in the wrong house,” Dylan stated.
The
stubbly man closed the front door, and the wind died. He blew into his
palms and rubbed them together. “I thought this place was meant to...”
Dylan
crossed his arms over his chest and interrupted him. “Look, erm... John,
is it?”
He
nodded.
“I
don’t know what’s going on, but I paid for this place a couple of days
ago. You must have taken a wrong turn down the lane back there.
Perhaps I can help. What address are you looking for?”
John
cleared his throat. He looked at his female companion who said, “This
address.”
“A
double booking?” I slumped. Of all the weekends!
“Fan-bloody-tastic. How could this happen?”
“My
thoughts exactly,” John said. “But it has.”
I
studied him. At first, he looked older than us, but then I noticed his
smooth skin. He’d probably endured an uphill paper round as a kid, lived
the tough life, and perhaps struggled to save up for a night in this place as a
treat. I felt a twinge of sympathy for them, but still, I couldn’t cope
with this complication. Not today.
I
glanced at Dylan. “What are we going to do?”
John
scanned the room then pointed to the door between the kitchen and sitting
area. “Take our bags into the bedroom, Kerry.”
“Hey,
hey!” Dylan held up his palm. “Let’s work out who’s actually booked
in before anyone puts their bags anywhere.”
John
nudged Kerry. She hesitated, then picked up the bags and carried them
through the door.
Dylan
shook his head and crossed to John. He moved quickly, but I felt pleased
that his stance appeared unthreatening. Squaring up to strangers is never
a smart move. Who knew what sort of people they were?
“Look,
mate,” Dylan said. “One of us has got either the address or the date
wrong. And it’s not me.”
I
stretched forward and tugged Dylan’s trouser leg. “Call the
landlord. Let him sort it out.”
Dylan
grabbed his iPhone off the table. He tapped the screen then held it to
his ear. “Let’s see who’s really booked in here.”
A
dubious look crossed John’s washed-out face. “Hey, I think you—”
“No
signal. Damn it.” Dylan marched around the room, holding the mobile
high, then low, against a window, near the door... “Not a single
bar. Can you believe it?”
“Oh,
that’s just dandy,” I muttered, realising that by now, without interruptions,
we’d have been rolling around on the floor, naked. I found my jeans and
wriggled into them. While pushing my arms into the sleeves of my jumper,
I checked my mobile for reception. Not even a flicker of a bar. “No
signal on mine either.” There wasn’t, just another text message from my
deranged husband:
‘U
can’t leave me. GB here rite now b4 you blow everything!’
I pursed my
lips. Blow what? Our marriage? He blew that all by himself.
Dylan
gestured to John. “What were you saying?”
He
gave a little flick of his head. “Out of range, huh?”
For
the briefest of seconds, I thought I saw a smile slide across John’s
lips. It both maddened and confused me. Then Kerry, auburn hair now
piled like a bird’s nest atop her head, entered the room again. She
unzipped her coat and draped it over the back of a dining chair. “So
what’s happening? Are we staying, or what?”
“Yes,”
John said.
“Absolutely
not,” Dylan said louder.
I
put my mobile on top of the fireplace and sighed. Their entrance had
extinguished my happy vibes as sure as having a bucket of ice dumped over me.
Kerry
sauntered into the kitchen area and started pawing through my groceries on the
bench. “Lovely jubbly. I’m starving.”
I
stared at her, exasperated.
What kind of people act this way?
“Now just hold on a minute.” I started for the kitchen.
Dylan
bunched my jumper in his hand and held me back. “There’s clearly been a
mix-up.“ Dylan paused. “But not on our part. I’m sorry, but
you need to leave.”
John
looked Dylan up and down. Was he sizing us up? A blink later, his
attitude sharpened. “Who died and put you in charge?”
“Don’t
get lippy with me,” Dylan said, shooting him a warning look.
Kerry
continued rummaging through our groceries. John unzipped his coat.
These were not the actions of people who intended to leave. Their
presence was twice as irritating in its forwardness.
“Please,”
I said, staring at the back of Kerry’s head. “Don’t touch my things.”
“Okay.”
John rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. “You win.”
“Well,
thank you.” My voice sounded more high-pitched than I’d planned.
“I’m
glad you’ve seen sense,” Dylan said.
John
beckoned for Kerry to stop rifling through my groceries, then faced us.
“The food is yours.” He paused, just a breath, but then I spotted an evil
gleam in his eyes.
Where did his anger come from?
“But we’re
staying here tonight. End of discussion.”
Dylan
stared, his frame tense. Their eyes challenged each others.
“There’s
the door,” John said. “If you’re not happy with us being here, use
it!”
“Why
you little...” Dylan lurched forward. He grabbed the sleeve of John’s
coat and tried to force him to the door. John’s fist shot up high in the
air, skin paling at the knuckles as he stumbled backwards.
“No,
don’t!” I said, dashing over. “This is ridiculous.”
“John!”
Kerry yelled. She ran from the kitchen to John’s side and pulled his arm
down. “She’s right. No fighting. Not here. Not now.”
I
clamped my fingers around Dylan’s wrist, pulled him off John and sandwiched
myself between the two men. “Please. We’re all adults. I’m
sure we can work this out without a brawl.”
The
two men stared at each other like animals defending territory. I
alternated my gaze between them, shocked by this aggressive exchange.
“We’ve
paid for this place until Monday.” Dylan’s voice had a steely edge.
“And we’re not letting you two force us out.”
John
pointed to the front door. “I’m sure you’ll get a phone signal near the
main road away from the trees. Try dialing the landlord from there.”
A
knowing laugh escaped Dylan. “Nice try, mate. Think I’m gonna leave
and let you lock us out?”
A
grin twitched at John’s lips. It was subtle, but I spotted it.
“Well then,” John said. “Looks like there’ll be four of us for
breakfast. What’s on the menu?” John put his arm across Kerry’s
shoulders, and surprised me by softening his voice. “Look, you guys,
we’re not after any trouble, but we’re going nowhere. We’re only here for
one night. Come on, man, that storm’s getting wilder and it’s about to
chuck it down. We came by taxi, so if there’s no phone reception then
we’re kinda stuck.”
I
ran my hand through my hair, let my head loll sideways and groaned. I
didn’t relish getting locked out in the cold storm myself if we left to find a
signal on the mobile, but neither did I want to share air, let alone a secluded
forest get-away on my first night of freedom, with these two unsavory
characters. “I’m sure we can sort this out amicably.” I tried to
speak calmly, worried that the guys would leap forward and lock arms at any
second.
Dylan
squared his shoulders. “Fine. Have it your way. If you won’t
leave, we will. But we’ll return with the landlord. So don’t get
comfortable.” He pointed at the door. “If watching your girlfriend
get booted into the woods in her underwear at night is something you want to
do, then by all means... stay. So what’s it to be?” Dylan fastened
his eyes on John, as though giving him the chance to save Kerry from
humiliation later on.
I
flinched. Them or us? Was he serious? This wasn’t a poker
game.
Kerry
pushed up on tiptoes and whispered into John’s ear. I couldn’t catch what
she said, but John’s thick eyebrows lifted up, and his lips pinched together.
“Look, my girlfriend’s tired. All we want to do is get some shut
eye.”
“Yes.
That’s all,” she said. “You won’t even notice we’re here.”
“I
doubt the landlord would drive out here in this weather anyway,” John
mumbled. “We’ll take our chances.”
When
Dylan didn’t respond, I slipped my finger into the loophole of his
trousers. “Can I have a word?” I tugged him to the fireplace and
leaned against the mantel. “I’m not spending the night with them.
They seem... well, weird to put it politely. Let’s just get our stuff and
go to a hotel.”
He
whispered into my ear. “There isn’t a hotel for miles, Jenna, and the
car’s got a flat, remember?”
“I’ll
help you change it.”
“We
can’t change it in that storm. If we leave to phone the landlord, they might
not let us back in. And what if he’s right? What if the landlord
won’t drive here until the storm clears? We’d be stuck. The only
other option is to sleep in the car, but I don’t much fancy that.”
He
touched my face, the place where my husband had left his latest mark. I
hoped my makeup covered the bruise because I’d not told Dylan exactly how bad
my husband’s behaviour had become. “It was meant to be just the two of
us.” I ached inside.