WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (33 page)

“Now
this weekend is here, Jenna, I can’t give up on it.  Can you?”

I
closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.  The inside of the house went quiet, but
my heart didn’t.  It beat out a rhythm of annoyance.  I ran things
over in my mind.  I thought about the horrors of my real life outside the
walls of this holiday home.  A night with two strangers couldn’t be
anywhere near as bad in comparison.  What could possibly go wrong? 

The
most important thing was being away from my husband and spending time with
Dylan.  I opened my eyes and gave a little nod of my head. 

John
cleared his throat.  “Like I said, tomorrow, we’re out of here.  Then
the place is all yours.”

Dylan
glanced down at me, lowered his voice, and stroked a finger down my
cheek.  “It’s just one night, Jenna.  Okay?  They’re not going
to leave unless we carry them.” 

“Nor
give up the bedroom.  They’ve already nabbed it.”

He
tilted his head.  “I can sort that out.”

Anxiety
simmered low in my gut.  I gripped his arm.  “Please.  I don’t
want you to fight.” 

“Well
that leaves us with the couch.”  He cupped my cheek.  “As soon as
they go, we’ll strip then bleach the bed.  Cover it in flea powder if
needs be.”

I
wanted to laugh, but was too heavy-hearted.  “Some weekend this has turned
out to be.” 

Dylan
walked over to the couple with his hand outstretched.  He twisted his lips
into a smile.  “Looks like we’ll be housemates.”

John
nodded his agreement.  “Nice one.  Okay then, we’ll get out of your
hair.” 

“Thanks,”
Kerry said.  “I’m so tired I could sleep standing up.”  She went over
to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, then pocketed something from my
groceries as she left.  They disappeared into the bedroom. 
Our
bedroom. 

“Cheeky
cow,” I muttered, but had to laugh.  Once they closed the door, I
swivelled on my heels and collapsed onto the sofa.  “The landlord had
better refund your money after this.”

“He
will.”  After locking the front door, Dylan clicked off the ceiling light,
leaving the flickering fire alone to illuminate the room.  Sitting in the
dark, listening to the wind, rain and random cracks of thunder, the atmosphere
felt somewhat spooky.  Floorboards creaked as Dylan brought my handbag,
two bottles of wine and glasses from the kitchen, and then sat down next to
me. 

“Thanks.”

“It’s
gonna be one long night.” 

I
stuffed my handbag under a cushion beside me for safekeeping, then downed half
of my first drink in one long gulp.  “Keep it coming,” I said, motioning
with my fingers for a top up.

Dylan
refilled my glass then slid his arm across my shoulders.  I hooked my
thigh over his leg, then tensed when a floorboard creaked behind us. 

“Just
me,” Kerry said. 

I
peered over the sofa. 

The
warm smile on her face puzzled me.  An altogether friendlier person had
entered the room.  She laid a couple of blankets on the back of the sofa
near my head.  “Thought you could use these.”  She turned and left.

“Thanks,”
I shouted after her, then faced Dylan.  “Wow.  Maybe they aren’t so
awful, just kinda weird.”

Huddled
together near the crackling firelight, arms and legs entwined, we polished off
several more glasses of wine and kissed, slowly, tenderly.  His hands
wandered over my skin, and by God, I wanted him so badly.  However, the
thought of being caught in the act twice in one evening if John or Kerry came
out of their room, pricked away at me.  So, when Dylan unzipped my jeans
and slid his hand into my pants, I stopped him.  “Let’s wait until they’ve
gone.”

A
crack of thunder
snapped me awake.

“The
storm’s getting wilder,” Dylan whispered.  “You warm enough?”

I
nodded against his chest, pressed a cushion over my ear and let my eyelids
slide shut again.

The
next time I woke, I heard rain beating down harder.  The thunder had
intensified.  Strange purring and banging noises poured into the house
from all sides.  With a groggy head, the sounds confused me.  I
glimpsed a yellowish glow wavering behind one of the curtains. 
Strange.
 

Dylan
was deep in sleep, snoring like an out of tune tuba.  I rubbed my eyes,
and then shook his arm.  “Wake up.  Sounds like the house is about to
collapse in on us.  What’s going on out there?”

“Huh?”
He stretched his arms and yawned.

Suddenly,
I heard a harsh bang followed by what sounded like... a drill. 

A
drill?
 

I
stiffened then shook him harder.  “I’m serious, Dylan.  Wake up, will
you?”  I poked his ribs, then sat forward.  “What the hell’s all that
noise?”

The
next bang came louder, propelling both of us to our feet. 

“Jesus!”
Dylan yelled.  “What was that?”

“I
told you.”  My grip tightened on the blanket around my shoulders. 
Another wandering light glowed through the curtain on the far wall. 
“Holy, shit!  Someone’s out there.” 

More
noise came.  Dylan turned sharply.

I
whirled around, following the harsh sounds that circled the house. 
Is
someone running the perimeter, banging on the walls? 

“Who’s
out there?” Dylan said.

It
felt like standing inside a huge drum being battered from all sides.  The
sounds peaked and echoed around us.  Every thump made my heart twitch as I
spun in a circle.  My tired head swirled from the wine.  Was this
real or a hangover dream?  “It couldn’t be Kerry and John trying to scare
us into leaving.”  I paused to nibble my lip.  “It couldn’t be, could
it?”

He
dashed across the room.  “I don’t know.  Yes.  No.  Surely
not.”

“So
where are they?  Why haven’t they come out to see what’s going on?” 
A chill raced across my shoulders.  “Oh, God, we’re so stupid sharing this
place with strangers.”

“It’s
the storm.  Bin lids.  Shutters flapping around.  But how
can...” Dylan broke off.  He stepped around the dining table and reached
for the curtains where I’d spotted a glow of light. 

Half-expecting
to see John’s face pressed against the glass, I steeled myself as Dylan whipped
the curtains apart.  

“Can’t
see a bloody thing,” he said. 

While
I looked nervously at Dylan, another light glowed behind a curtain to his
left.  “Over there,” I whispered.  Then a high-pitched purring sound
vibrated the opposite wall by the fireplace.  “No.  Over
there!”  The flames flickered and swayed.  A shot of grit and dust
dropped down from the chimney.  I hugged the blanket to my chin as the
drilling noise intensified to an ear-aching screech. 

He
crossed the room and threw open the curtains to a small window near the
fire.  “It’s pitch black.”

I
flicked a lamp on.

Dylan
jerked backwards.  “The windows are boarded up.”

I
flinched at another loud bang from outside.  “What?  Why?  They
can’t be.”  The noises finally stopped as I dashed into the kitchen. 
I found the light switch and flipped it.  “Oh, God.  You’re
right.  This window is, too.  What’s going on?”  I whirled
around.

Dylan
high-tailed it around the entire room.  He yanked every curtain apart on
his way to the front door.  “What kind of idiot would do this?”

The
windows were all boarded up.  No soft moonlight flickered through the
trees.  No flashes of lightning forked the night sky.  No blinking
stars.

Dylan
frowned so hard that just looking at him made me shudder.  “Hey! 
Who’s out there?” he shouted through the door, wrapping his coat around
himself.  “There are people inside!”  He pulled his collar up and
grabbed the keys off the dining table.  “Stay inside, Jen.  I’ll go
out and ask what’s going on.  Wake Kerry and John, will you?” 

I
shook my head.  “No.  I daren’t.  What if it’s one of them?”

John’s
voice travelled from the bedroom.  “Keep it down, will you, guys?”

I
gasped.  “Oh, Christ.  It’s not them.”

“John!”
Dylan shouted back.  “Get in here!”

As
Dylan unlocked the front door and gripped the handle, inside I was a huge,
tangle of worry.  “Dylan, I’m scared.  Be careful.” 

He
yanked the door open.  “Jesus!”

I
screamed.  The blanket slipped off my shoulders as I tripped, landing butt
first on the wooden floor.  “Why would anyone...”   

There
was no wind, no flurry of leaves swirling into the house like before.  No
six-foot hollow where the doorway should have been.  Instead, I stared up
at an expanse of chipboard.  Sheets overlapped one another where the door
should have opened out to the picturesque view of the woods.  Several
sharp nails pierced the flat boards, and pointed their speared ends right at
us.  My heart pounded against my ribs. 

Dylan
raised his leg and booted the boarded doorway.  It rattled, but didn’t
give.  “Oi!  Who’s out there?  You’ve trapped us inside! 
Damn you!”  He stepped back, scratched his head once before screwing his
face up and booting again with double the force.

“Oh,
God.  I need to get out of here.”  I shut my eyes, trying to picture
anything other than this claustrophobic reality. 

A
door creaked open.  I looked over.  John dashed into the living room
followed by Kerry.  She pulled yellow plugs out of her ears.  “What’s
all the noise?”

“Do
you normally bounce off walls while you’re having—”  John stared at the
front door and his jaw dropped down.

Dylan
faced him and held his hands out.  Confusion deepened the soft lines on
his handsome face.  “We’re locked in.”

John
blinked fast, tried to shake himself.  “W-what?  Is this some sort of
sick game to make us leave?”

Dylan
stepped toward John and gripped his shoulders.  “Wake up and listen to
what I’m saying!  It’s no game.”  He pointed around the room at all
the boarded windows.  “We didn’t do this.  Someone’s sealed this damn
place up and trapped us inside.”

W
hether it was the
wind, rain or people, I still sensed a presence outside the house. 
“Help!”  I shouted, jittering on the spot.  “We’re trapped in
here!  Let us out.”

Dylan
banged on the blocked door with both fists.  “Hey!  There are people
inside.  Hello?  Anyone hear me?”

“Oi!”
John bellowed, then sucked two fingers into his mouth and whistled, while Dylan
and I shouted at the top of our lungs. 

“Help!”

“Who’s
out there?”

We
stopped to listen.  No reply.

I
tapped my fingernails on my bottom teeth from nerves.  “Someone must still
be outside.  I haven’t heard a vehicle drive off.  Have you?”

Dylan
rubbed his chin.  “The storm’s louder out there, perhaps they can’t hear
us.  Or they’ve walked off down the track.  It’s a minefield for
vehicles.  Full of potholes.  It popped my tyre.”

John
gestured to Dylan.  “What are you waiting for?  Boot it in.”

“I’ve
tried that.  Maybe if we kick it together.”

John
stepped up to the door.  Synchronized, they raised their legs, pulled back
and kicked.  The boards rumbled and shook, but resisted the blow. 
They continued booting, to no avail.

Dylan
gave one final, powerful kick.  “God damn it.”

I
pushed past Kerry and raced into the kitchen.  I yanked drawers and
cupboards open, then rummaged through them.  After flinging spoons and plates
about the floor, I turned to look at everyone, a weighty frying pan in
hand.  “Useless.  There’s nothing here.”

“John,”
Kerry muttered, in a firm, yet quiet voice that somehow disturbed me.  “I
need to talk to you in the bedroom.”

Ignoring
her, John looked at Dylan.  “Ram it.  Use the coffee table.”  He
scooted over, gripped the edge and one of its legs. 

Dylan,
sweat popping out on his forehead, lifted the other side.  Together, they
carried the wooden table toward the door, then ran at it.  It pounded the
boards with a mighty thud.  They rattled.  Even the door frame
shook.  The boards repelled it, bouncing the table back into their
stomachs.  After several failed attempts, John hurled the table
away.  It landed on its side near the dining table, skidded, then bashed
into a floor lamp which toppled and smashed.

I
massaged my scalp.  “This just isn’t happening.  Why would anyone
shut us in here in the middle of the night?”

“It’s
a mistake.  The landlord got mixed up like he did with the
bookings.”  Dylan stalked around the room.  Chairs gave a screech of
defence as he shoved them aside to scan the floor, seeking, I presumed,
something heavy and solid.  “The place does look unfinished from the
outside, but why board it up at night?  I don’t get it.”

“More
to the point, why board it up at all?” John said.

“And
why didn’t anyone check inside first?”  I perched a hand on my hip. 
“Check for... I don’t know... stray animals, squatters, or duh! people who’ve
paid good money to holiday here!”

Dylan’s
eyes darted around the room.  “Let’s try again.  But this time, we’ll
all ram it with something bigger.  When we break out of here, I’m gonna
give whoever did this a big, fat piece of my mind!”

John
pointed to the sofa.  “Use that.”

Dylan
and Kerry nodded.

I
set the frying pan down, crossed to the sofa and hooked my fingers under one
corner.  Once all four of us were in position, we carried it to the
door.  My arm muscles burned under the weight as I shuffled along the
floorboards.

“All
set?”  Dylan asked, swinging it back.  “Ready, steady, push!”

We
shoved, battering the end of the sofa against the wood in the doorway. 
The base jumped out of my grip on impact, and the sofa tilted sideways. 
Kerry lost her footing and tumbled, landing on her bottom.  The front end
of the sofa thudded to the floor.

Dylan
and John set their end down, then Dylan came up behind me.  “You okay?”

I
rubbed my throbbing wrist.  “Fine.  Did it work?”  I looked up,
only to be disappointed again.

Dylan
began stomping in circles.  “We need a sledgehammer, a chainsaw...”

“Your
everyday holiday home items,” Kerry snorted. 

“We’re
trapped in here, aren’t we?” I said.  “No phone signal.  No one’s
gonna drive by and notice something’s wrong.”  I dashed back into the
kitchen, grabbed the frying pan, swung and hit the kitchen window dead
centre.  After seeing cracks vein out from the middle, hope bloomed inside
me.  I swung again, then again, until nuggets of glass peppered the sink
below. 

Banging
from behind me reverberated around the room.  Both Dylan and John were
beating out a frenzied tempo with dining chairs on the windows.  Dylan had
bust through the glass pane, but not yet the boards. 

Undeterred,
I faced the exposed board above the sink.  A stream of curse words
pinwheeled through my mind while I heard Kerry instruct John to check the rest
of the rooms. 

Just
the thought of the stone walls and panels around us began suffocating me. 
I bashed and bashed at the wood, swearing at it, hitting it with the base of
the pan, then its edge.  Nothing.  It marked the wood, carved
scratches and dints, but the absence of a hole to the outside world sickened my
stomach.  I whirled around, desperate to see that Dylan had broken
through.  I ached to see moonlight, to feel the cold draft of the night’s
storm breezing into the house, soothing me, and blowing my hair back.  But
I felt nothing.  The air inside remained as stagnant as ever.  Warm
from the fire, thick from stress.

John
and Kerry emerged from the bedroom.  “Everywhere is the same. 
Bathroom, bedroom...  all boarded up.”

The
metal pan clattered when I chucked it in the sink. 
       

Kerry
let out a screeching sob. 

My
heart seemed to kick me from inside, as though a foot were under my
breasts.  “I need to get out.  I can’t... can’t breathe in
here.”  I rounded forward over the kitchen bench.

Footsteps
came up behind me.  Dylan slid a hand around my waist.  “Have a drink
of water.  Take slow breaths.”  He opened a cupboard to locate a
glass, ran the tap and filled it.  “Let’s all calm down a minute.” 
He gave a little laugh.  “I mean, come on.  The landlord must have
spent a small fortune doing this place up.  It’s not like anyone’s going
to bulldoze it in the middle of the night by mistake.”

I
gulped the water, sucked in long breaths, then swiped the back of my hand
across my lips.  “So what’s it all about then?”

With
his arm now draped over my shoulders, Dylan led me to John, who was comforting
Kerry near the front door.  “Let’s think about this,” Dylan said. 
“If someone’s outside, they either can’t hear us, or...”

I
tensed.  “Or what, Dylan?  They’re ignoring us on purpose?”

He
hummed an unnerving note of wonder while staring at the ceiling.

“That
makes no sense,” I tugged his sleeve again.  “No one knows we’re
here.”  I thought about my statement.  It wasn’t true.  I’d told
Kate, my closest friend who also worked for my husband.  I knew she
wouldn’t have blabbed, but who had Dylan told? 

No. 
It couldn’t be.  While starting to wonder whether my husband was behind
this, Kerry and John’s nervous looks caught my attention. 

John
cleared his throat.  “Why would anyone...”  When he met Kerry’s gaze,
he broke off.

“What
is it?”  I asked, unnerved by the intense looks of worry bouncing between
them.  “You know something, don’t you?”

Kerry
scrunched her lips.  Her eyes wandered around the room as she spoke. 
“We aren’t actually...”

I
dipped my head to catch her gaze.  “Aren’t what?”

Dylan
squared his shoulders.  “If you know something about this, you’d better
come clean.  Right now!”

“Erm...” 
She glanced up at John, her brown eyes seeking support.  “We aren’t
officially meant to be...”

Dylan
stepped forward.  “Say that again.”

John
shook his head.  “No.  It can’t be that.  We were so careful.”

Kerry’s
gaze plummeted to her feet.  In a light, wispy voice she said, “Not
careful enough.  That has to be it.  I don’t know how, or who, but
someone’s found us.  Oh, Christ, this has all gone so wrong.  John, I
could kill you for this.”

Alarm
bells bonged in my head.  “Who’s found you?”

“Start
talking,” Dylan said.

John
breathed in deeply through his nose.  “We’re here on... er...
business.  A kind of exchange.  Someone must have caught wind of it
and—”

I
crossed my arms over my thumping chest and could have screamed with
frustration.  “What exchange?”

“We’re
collecting a... package.”

My
hands were now fists.  “What package?  Stolen goods?”

“I
bet it’s drugs,” Dylan said, shaking his head in disgust.

Their
lack of response confirmed my fears.  My body sagged.  “Oh, Jesus.”

“You’ve
got us tangled up in some drug war?” Dylan said with chagrin.

“I’m
sorry,” Kerry mumbled, avoiding our eyes.  Her words were empty, sounded
false. 

“Yeah,”
I snorted.  “You sound it.”

She
looked up.  “Really I am.  I don’t know how they found us.  You
see, we had to get away from our neighbourhood for the night.  I thought
this place wasn’t quite ready for rental yet, so we planned to break in, and
then when the front door just opened...”

Dylan’s
voice peaked.  ”You tricked us?  You’re not even booked in here?”

“This
is bad, man.  Real bad,” John said.  “They must have been following
us.”

Kerry
twisted her lips as though considering this idea... or something else.

I
fought the urge to lurch forward and throttle them. 

Dylan’s
face grew redder by the second.  His body stiffened at my side.  His
jaw twitched.  

I
grabbed his arm.  “Fighting won’t get us out of here.”

“But
it’ll make me feel a whole lot better!”

“Please,”
I said, hooking his arm tighter.  “Save your energy for that board.”

Dylan
grunted at John.  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?  What
you’ve ruined?  We were meant to be...”

John
cut in, “I’m sorry, mate.”

Dylan
shot him a rabid glare.  “I’m not your mate!”  He paused to point
toward the bedroom.  “What exactly have you got stashed in there? 
Cocaine?  Pills?  Come on, out with it!”

“A
key,” Kerry replied.

“Eh?”
I said.

“A
very important key.”

Dylan
frowned.  I could sense his brain ticking over.  “So, if some gang or
whoever has found you, that doesn’t explain why they’ve shut us in here. 
Why not just steal the key and disappear?”

“They
must not know what,” Kerry began, then John elbowed her.  “Ouch. 
They must want the package as well.” 

“I
don’t get it.”  I glanced at the boarded windows.  “Why trap us
in?  Why not just steal the key and take off to get the drugs themselves?”

“Because
only we know where,” Kerry stopped when John elbowed her again.  She faced
him.  “No, John.  They need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Too
right,” I snapped.

She
continued.  “The key is for a locker where the cash is stashed.  We
know where the locker is, and we also know when and where the drug exchange is
taking place.  So if they kill us—“

I
stumbled back.  “Woah!  Hold on a second.  Kill?”

Dylan
caught me, kept me on my feet.  “So they want this key and
information.  Is that everything?”

John
nodded.  “Yeah, pretty much sums it up, mate.”

“Like
I said,” Dylan growled.  “I’m not your mate.  And after this, I never
will be.”

I
couldn’t believe it.  These scruffy people had thrust themselves upon us,
gatecrashed our romantic weekend and placed us smack in the middle of a drug
exchange.  “You sons of bitches,” I blurted out.  God!  Why had
I stopped Dylan from chucking them out?  “Give whoever’s outside what they
want and get us out of here.  Now.”

John
wiped the sweat off his face.  “It might not be that simple.” 

“What? 
Why?”

“The
people who are bringing the drugs know our faces.  I doubt they’d do the
exchange with anyone else.” 

“So
we’re trapped in here until you do the exchange?”  I looked at Dylan,
wanting him to tell me that none of this was true.

Dylan
ignored me.  “When’s the exchange?”

“Tomorrow. 
Evening,” John said, glancing at Kerry.  “I know we’re early, but we just
needed to get away from home.  Kerry thought it best that—”