by Jade Winters
Everything To Lose
by
Jade Winters
Everything To Lose
by Jade Winters
Published by Wicked Winters Books
Copyright © 2015 Jade Winters
www.jade-winters.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Other titles by Jade Winters
Novels
143
A Walk Into Darkness
Caught By Love
Guilty Hearts
Say Something
Faking It
Second Thoughts
Secrets
Novellas
Talk Me Down From The Edge
Short Stories
The Makeover
The Love Letter
Love On The Cards
A Story Of You
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty- Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty- Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty- Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
For Ali as always
Chapter One
Aaron sat in the flimsy plastic chair, waiting. The smell that assaulted him was a putrid cocktail of boiled cabbage and decaying fish. It emanated from the air vent in the mildewed wall. The odour was so strong that it seemed he could taste sewage, and he started to feel nauseous. He held his breath for several seconds, trying to still the turmoil in his stomach. He wondered how anyone could eat the swill they called food in this place. But eat it the inmates did, shovelling spoonfuls of the shit into their mouths like pigs at a trough.
Through the slightly open window, he could hear the loud banter from the inmates in the kitchen directly below where he sat. They sounded like a bunch of rowdy school children in a playground, not the lost souls they were, incarcerated behind a twenty-foot-high wall topped with barbed wire. They were caged animals in desperate need of redemption. Yet, despite these conditions, they still found it within themselves to laugh.
But not Aaron. No. Aaron wouldn’t be laughing until the day he walked out of the gates of this hellhole to freedom.
Aaron believed it was a sign from God that he’d escaped being raped or murdered during the past six months. Because it sure as hell had nothing to do with the bastards who said they’d protect me in here! The visiting room of the prison in which Aaron sat was empty, and the walls were a stark white. The only furnishings were long, metal tables scattered throughout the room and chairs made from a solid piece of plastic. The tables were bolted to the floor. Usually, the room was filled with wives and families visiting the prisoners. Today, however, Aaron was alone. He propped his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands.
Aaron was waiting for a very important visitor. The room had been cleared specifically so this VIP could meet with Aaron secretly. The VIP was called The Fixer, but not a damned thing’s been fixed for me.
A buzzer sounded and the door opened automatically. A figure stepped into the room.
The Fixer eyed Aaron cautiously, and Aaron glared back as they waited for the door to close. When it finally did, The Fixer said sharply, “I thought I told you not to contact me.”
“Now, how did I know you were going to say that?” Aaron said sarcastically. He slapped his head with the palm of his hand. “Oh, of course. It’s because I’m a psychic!”
The Fixer’s face was expressionless.
“For me?” Aaron pointed at the take-away paper coffee cup The Fixer was holding.
The Fixer walked towards Aaron, took a seat opposite him, and carefully placed the coffee cup on the table. They gave one another hard looks. “It’s what you demanded, isn’t it?”
Aaron, with a smirk on his face, reached across the table and took the drink. “Come on now, play nice. Do you really begrudge bringing me a coffee after all I’ve done for you?” Aaron raised the cup to his mouth and took a sip. “What did you think was going to happen? That I’d just wither away in this pit like a good little boy? Well, think again. You owe me, and you owe me big.”
“What do you want, Aaron?” The Fixer asked, visibly irritated.
“Not a lot, just what you promised me. I want out of here. Such a simple thing for someone like you to organise.”
“I told you it’s going to take some time.”
Aaron narrowed his eyes. “And why’s that?”
The Fixer slammed both palms on the table. Aaron jumped involuntarily. “Because you fucked up big time! Ashley McCoy wasn’t supposed to be the target. Neither was her bloody girlfriend. It’s a good thing you didn’t kill them. Your stupidity could have blown this whole thing apart.”
Aaron ignored the outburst and said coolly, “That wasn’t my fault. Miles was the one responsible for that cock-up. I was only trying to tie up loose ends.”
The Fixer’s jaw tightened. “I told you both at the start I was going to take care of McCoy in my own way. As for all your supposed good intentions, you’ve just made things more difficult.”
“And it’s going to get worse if you don’t sort something out this week. If you won’t help me, maybe McCoy will.” Aaron leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, adopting a relaxed, arrogant pose. “I’m sure she’d love to know what’s been going on right under her nose.” He gave The Fixer a long, hard look.
“Now we both know you wouldn’t be that stupid, Aaron.”
Aaron raised his eyebrows and brought his hands down to rest on the table. “Do you really want to put me to the test?”
The Fixer’s lips curled into an ev
il smile. “Okay, Aaron. You’re right.” The Fixer sat up straight in the chair, hands upraised in a gesture of surrender. “I’ve been a bit slack on making good on my promise. I’ll make some calls as soon as I get back to my office.”
“Hmmm, I thought you just might,” Aaron said, taking a slurp of his coffee. He licked the froth from his top lip. “This is so good. The shit they serve in this place tastes like poison.”
The Fixer eyed him intently. “You’ll be out of here sooner than you think, Aaron. In the meantime, be a good boy and keep this zipped,” The Fixer said, putting forefinger to lips. “You haven’t told anyone about our…what shall I say…secret, have you?”
“As God as my witness, I haven’t told a soul.” Yet. He wasn’t about to let on that he didn’t trust anyone, not even the person sitting across from him. He’d seen what this individual was capable of when crossed, and it wasn’t pretty. No, he’d taken precautions in case something “accidently” happened to him. An envelope would be delivered straight into the hands of Ashley McCoy, blowing the lid off everything. A wise man plans for his life and his death, especially with the company I keep!
Aaron leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head again. “Like I’ve always said, you come through for me and I’ll never be a problem. You know my word is as good as my bond.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve served us well. Right, I think we’re both on the same page. I’d better get back to the office and start the ball rolling.” The Fixer stood and walked to the door, knocking on it three times before the buzzer sounded and a guard appeared and opened it. The Fixer hesitated momentarily, turned, and regarded Aaron for a moment. “Enjoy your coffee, Aaron.”
“Oh, I will,” Aaron replied, offering a mock toast and then taking a long sip. He lowered the cup and licked his lips in delight.
The Fixer smiled a slow sardonic smile and walked out of the door without looking back.
Aaron sat and drank his coffee, savouring it. I’ll give it a week. If I’m not out of here by then, McCoy will know everything about all those involved in the Coleman case. If they think I’m the only one who’s going to take the fall, they’ve got another think coming.
He looked towards the door expectantly, then crushed the empty paper cup and threw it in the direction of the waste bin. It didn’t go in.
That’s strange. Why isn’t the guard coming to take me back to my cell?
The sudden pain felt like a fist grabbing his throat. He started to gag and within seconds, spasms racked his chest and clawed down his back. He clutched at his stomach as waves of stabbing pain tore at his insides, causing him to crumple over and fall to the floor. He writhed in agony, moaning and gritting his teeth, willing the torture to pass. A surge of nausea swept through him and, before he could open his mouth to call for help, he vomited violently, spewing acrid, brown liquid. He needed to get the attention of the guard on the other side of the door, but it took all his strength just to keep breathing. He was unable to make a coherent sound. Groaning in pain, he lay on his side, and another fountain of vomit spewed from his mouth. Powerless to move, his face lay in the hot, foul-smelling, frothy bile. His stomach spasmed tightly once more, but there was nothing left to bring up and he just dry heaved. He retched again and squirmed on the floor, praying the guard would remember him and come to his rescue.
Aaron’s mind swirled in panic. He knew he was dying. That much was obvious to him. How many times had he witnessed the death of others by his own hand?
With every ounce of strength he could muster, he fought against the searing pain in his gut and clawed his way towards the grey metal door. He felt like some limp, legless sea creature trying to move as he pulled himself across the floor on his belly. Inch by agonising inch.
His throat was dry as he struggled for breath. “Help me,” he said, the words barely a hoarse whisper.
Aaron could see the shadow of the guard’s head beyond the clouded glass of the door, but the guard didn’t turn around.
Aaron’s vision was getting blurry, and he knew any second he’d lose consciousness. He stopped crawling and lay motionless, trying to stay focused. In front of him he could just make out the empty coffee cup, lying scrunched up next to the waste bin. A thin stream of brown liquid had flowed out of the cup and onto the pale flooring.
Aaron stared at the liquid and had one clear thought – poison. The penny dropped. He knew even if he screamed with all his might, nobody would come to his aid. His head dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. It was all over.
He’d thought he was invincible. How wrong he’d been. But they were wrong too. They thought they were smart, but they’d underestimated him. Aaron would have his revenge, even in death, and Ashley McCoy would be the one to deliver it. He was sure of that. A powerful pain in his chest caused him to jerk into a foetal position. He wrapped his arms around his knees, his body clenched into a ball, his breathing short and shallow. He had no fight left in him. Aaron had one, last, comforting thought of Ashley, his avenging angel, and then succumbed to the darkness.
***
The Fixer walked through the prison gates and climbed into the waiting black Mercedes. Once settled into the back seat, The Fixer sighed heavily as the car’s engine turned over and began to hum. Slowly, the sleek vehicle pulled away from the prison, its dark tinted windows hiding the occupant. The Fixer watched as the bleak prison buildings diminished into the distance, then sighed again and began to flick through the first few pages of documents that had been placed on the back seat.
“How did it go?” the driver asked after a few seconds, his eyes using the rear view mirror to look at The Fixer. “Did you sort everything out?”
“Yes,” The Fixer said. “It might not have been exactly what Aaron wanted, but it was what I decided was the best route for him.”
“Glad to hear it,” the driver said. “Right. Who’s next on your agenda?”
The Fixer didn’t miss a beat. “Ashley McCoy.”
The driver’s eyes flashed to the rear view mirror again. “Do you want me to keep following her?”
“No. We need to do something more than just keep an eye on her.”
“Just let me know what you want me to do, and I’ll get straight on it,” the driver said laughing. “I could always cut the brake lines on her car.”
The Fixer started, seeming to forget the driver was there. “No. Nothing quite that drastic or obvious. We’re going to have to tread carefully with this one.”
“Okay. Do you want the partition up?”
“Yes. I need some time to think.”
The partition slowly slid upwards with a gentle whirring sound. The Fixer watched it rising higher and higher until it obliterated the view out of the windscreen, leaving only the silhouette of the driver’s profile. The sound of the car’s engine died away as the partition clicked into place, leaving The Fixer wrapped in a dimly lit cocoon of solitude.
With yet another sigh, The Fixer placed trembling fingers to temples and began to massage away the throbbing. Just the thought of McCoy set The Fixer’s blood boiling. She was a detective that stopped at nothing to get to the bottom of a crime. Sooner or later, she’d find something out and that would be the end of The Fixer’s career and freedom. The choice was clear – it was either McCoy or The Fixer. There has to be a way to destroy her reputation, so no one will trust her any more. An idea stirred. A recent piece of information previously believed to be useless suddenly became dynamite – all thanks to a planted stooge – Warren Stiles.
Bringing Ashley McCoy down would take some planning but if The Fixer was anything it was resourceful.
Chapter Two
Ashley pressed down the lever on the waste bin with her foot and scraped the half-eaten seafood off her plate into the gaping black hole. Feeling more despondent than ever, she wished she could disappear into that darkness as well. She lifted her foot from the pedal, and the lid closed with a loud clang.
What she’d planned as a nice night in had
been anything but. Tasha had been on edge for the past few weeks. She snapped at Ashley when she asked her if she wanted to talk. She yawned and rolled her eyes when Ashley told her about a case she was working on. Ashley had tried everything to take Tasha’s mind off the upcoming court case, but had failed with a big, fat “F”. The face of the world-renowned psychic Aaron Davies swam before her eyes as she put the last plate into the dishwasher.
“I hope he rots in hell,” she cursed aloud as she slammed the door with more force than she had intended to.
Nightmares had plagued Tasha’s sleep since her horrific ordeal. Every night she awoke drenched in sweat and panting in an effort to escape the nightmares. Ashley tried to comfort her, to be there for her, but nothing could erase the vivid memory of her abduction and assault. A shadow of fear dogged her every move.
Blue-white lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the kitchen all around her. Ashley lowered the blinds and leaned against the worktop, trying to think up something else to do. She didn’t want to face Tasha yet, to look into the broken eyes of the woman she loved and feel that all too familiar feeling of complete helplessness.
Guilt consumed her. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t been romantically involved with Tasha none of it would have happened. It had been her investigation of several cold case murders that had led Miles Fisher to Ashley’s house that fateful day. He’d expected Ashley to be there; she wasn’t, but Tasha was.
Ashley couldn’t bear to think about what Tasha had gone through; being taken to that cabin deep in the forest, where she’d been tied up and forced to wait for the inevitable to happen. The relief she must have felt when Aaron walked in, thinking he was there to save her, when in fact he was there to murder her. By the time Ashley and her colleagues arrived at the scene, he had almost succeeded. Tasha was close to death, and had they taken any longer to find her... Ashley couldn’t even bear to complete the thought. Miles hadn’t been so lucky. When they arrived at the cabin, he was dead already, at the hands of the man he thought was his partner in crime. There may be honour amongst thieves as the saying goes, but apparently there is none amongst kidnappers and murderers.