With a cheeky grin, he headed back to his caravan.
As soon as Betty set foot on the runway, Kirsty knew she'd lost the bet. Lake grinned over at her from his position beside the runway.
"Unlike our competitor," he said into the microphone, "we believe that every woman is beautiful and deserves great underwear."
The noise in the tent was ear-splitting as Betty strutted down the catwalk. Behind her photos of Lake's shop, before and after the makeover, appeared on the wall. The sound system blasted out the old Right Said Fred song I'm Too Sexy and Betty did her best to appear sexy. She pouted, she posed, she blew kisses to the audience and waggled her backside like a duck. Kirsty laughed in spite of herself. It was a stroke of genius to put her up there. She wore a red silk nightgown and robe set, complete with fluffy pink slippers. And, for once, she had her teeth in.
From Kirsty's position, beside her mother at the entrance to the marquee, she got a great view of the crowd. She had to admit that Lake's choices for his show were smarter than hers. She'd tried to put on a sophisticated runway show, whereas Lake had anticipated his audience. All they wanted was to be entertained, and that's exactly what he was doing.
Before the last model made an appearance, Lake handed the microphone to Dougal and disappeared behind the curtain. Then, as the last model turned to go up the runway and people started to clap, Dougal cleared his throat.
"There's one more model," he said.
There was silence as people leaned forward in their seats to see what would happen next. The photos projected on the wall suddenly changed. Instead of the shop, the screen was full of the pictures Kirsty had encouraged Magenta to spread on Facebook. The doctored photos of Lake with balding hair and a beer belly had the crowd in hysterics. Kirsty hung her head. She knew what was coming next. The man was a born exhibitionist. He had no shame at all.
"Lake Benson would like to remind everyone that his shop—For Your Eyes Only—also sells men's underwear. He would also like to set the record straight about some images that have been circulating. Some false images. Please put your hands together and give Lake a big thank you for tonight's show."
And out he came, dressed only in a pair of red Calvin Klein underpants.
Kirsty's jaw dropped. His eyes sought her out over the crowd and gave her that sexy little half-smile that rocked her world. The women in the marquee went nuts. They were jumping up and down in the aisles. Some of them were throwing things onto the runway. To her disgust, Kirsty saw a pair of knickers. Lake kept smiling confidently. He walked to the end of the runway, folded his arms and grinned at the crowd. Then he looked at Kirsty and raised one eyebrow. Surrender? She shook her head. Never. He laughed.
As Lake strode back up the runway, someone outside of the tent tugged at Kirsty's arm. With a grin on her face, she turned to see who it was and froze.
"It's good to see you again too, Kirsty," her ex-fiancé said.
For a minute she couldn't speak. The music blared loudly around her. The women were screaming. It'd turned into a raucous night at a male strip club instead of a sophisticated runway show. But Kirsty couldn't think about any of that. The man she'd once trusted, the man she'd once loved, was standing in front of her.
"What are you doing here?" She stumbled over her words.
Her head was reeling. It didn't seem possible. Brandon? In Invertary?
"I came to see you."
He looked down at his shoes—the image of a penitent man. Kirsty didn't buy it for a minute. He peered up at her through those long lashes that she'd once thought were lovely.
"I couldn't get the photos of you out of my mind. I know I screwed up, that I don't deserve a chance to explain, but I had to see you. I had to see if there was some way we could fix things."
Kirsty's mouth hung open.
"You left me unconscious in hospital and never even came to visit," she said. "Not to mention you stole all my money."
He took a step backwards out of the tent door, motioning for her to follow and, like an idiot, she did. The icy wind bit her skin as she left the warmth of the tent. Kirsty folded her arms against the cold, and Brandon.
"I made mistakes," he said. "I owed too much money to guys who wanted to break my legs. I felt cornered. I reacted badly and caused you harm. I'm sorry,"
His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to forgive him. He seemed genuine, but Kirsty also remembered a time when it'd seemed like he'd loved her. She no longer took anything he did, or said, at face value.
He ran a hand over his brown hair and Kirsty noticed that it wasn't as perfectly groomed as it used to be. Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of details about him that were different. He had a kind of panicked look and his clothes weren't as expensive, or polished, as they'd once been.
"Look," he said. "I know it isn't the best time, but why don't we go somewhere and have a coffee? We can talk through things. I owe you that." He sighed heavily. "It's the very least I owe you."
Kirsty hesitated. She had questions. There were answers that she wanted. She bit her lip as she thought about it. For some reason, going anywhere alone with her ex-fiancé did not appeal at all.
"Just one cup of coffee," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "We can talk about old times. We did have fun, didn't we?"
"I don't want to talk about old times," Kirsty told him.
"Give me half an hour," he said, but his tone was a little intense.
The hair on Kirsty's arms stood on end.
"You came all this way to have half an hour with me?" she said as people bustled around them.
"It's more than I deserve after what I did," he said. "I'm a different man now, you have to believe me. All I want is half an hour to explain." He paused. "Let's go to your flat. We can talk there." He looked around and smiled. "We definitely won't get any privacy here."
He turned and motioned for her to walk in front of him. Kirsty took a tiny step. And then she saw it. The look in his eye. The smirk clawing at his lips. Her palms began to tingle and everything within her screamed that she shouldn't go anywhere with this man and definitely not alone.
"How about we meet tomorrow?" she said. In daylight. With a chaperone.
"I don't have that much time. I have to leave in the morning. Now is best for me."
Her eyebrows arched.
"You can't give me tomorrow?"
His eyes hardened briefly. Kirsty flinched slightly.
"I need to talk now," he said tightly. "You can escape for half an hour, can't you?"
Kirsty took a step backwards and shook her head.
"I'm really busy. Tomorrow works better. If you can't make it, that's your problem."
He let out a long sigh and shook his head.
"In all the years I knew you and you weren't suspicious about anything, and now you're suddenly cautious," he said pleasantly.
Kirsty was confused. She wasn't sure what was going on. She took another step back towards the marquee door. She could see her mother standing on the stool beside the entrance. Her focus on the stage.
"I'm going now," she told Brandon. "If you want to talk to me, come back tomorrow."
His smile was cold.
"That isn't going to work for me."
He took two steps towards her and grabbed her arm. The demure Brandon was gone. The guy in his place was a little terrifying.
"I thought we could do this the easy way," he said. "I guess not. We're going to your flat. And we're going now."
Kirsty pulled from his grip, but his fingers dug into her making her yelp.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. And I don't want to talk tomorrow either."
He laughed at her.
"Talk? Yeah, like I'd really want to talk to you. Hash over our past. No," he shook his head. "I really don't give a crap about that. But I do want to go to your flat. I want you to give me the necklace."
"The necklace? That ugly papier-mâché thing? You came here for that?"
Her heart was pounding
so fast that she felt light headed. Nothing made sense.
He smirked at her.
"You models, so beautiful and yet so damn thick. Yes. I came all this way for the necklace. You honestly didn't think I'd come back for you? Why the hell would I do that? You're no use to me now. Let's face it, you're not even the woman you once were. You're damaged goods. But the necklace, that I can use. It isn't papier-mâché. It's diamonds. And I need it."
Kirsty felt so nauseous that she bent over. She heard Brandon laugh.
"Let's go. The sooner I get what I want, the sooner I can get out of this hell hole and you can get back to the bargain basement version of your old life."
Kirsty shook her head vehemently.
"No. No, I'm not giving you the necklace," Kirsty told him. "You want it? Hand back my savings."
He tugged her arm and she struggled to get away from him. The noise, and the bustle of people, meant that no one paid any attention to them. Kirsty looked back into the tent. Her mother was laughing as she clapped for whatever was going on. Lake was nowhere in sight.
"Your savings are long gone, darling. And, yes," he said. "you are going to give me what I want. You always gave me exactly what I wanted and that isn't going to stop now."
"No!" Kirsty pulled back from him and felt something sharp at her side.
"That's a knife," Brandon sneered at her. "Want to add to those famous scars of yours? Or maybe you can afford to lose another kidney?"
He pulled her towards the main street.
"Mum!" Kirsty shouted. Her mother's smile disappeared as soon as she turned. The colour leeched from her skin. "Get Lake," Kirsty called.
Kirsty looked desperately towards the spot where she'd seen Lake last. There was a wild group of shrieking women. No Lake.
"Kirsty?" her mother called.
"Stop screwing around," Brandon said. He pressed the sharp tip into her side. "Get going."
Brandon yanked her into the crowd and away from the tent.
CHAPTER TWENTY
There were women pawing at him. There were women whispering promises in his ears. There were women taking photos of their friends as they draped themselves over him. They thought this was part of the show. The catwalk was suddenly full of people strutting their stuff as they pretended to be models. It was all good-natured fun and Lake didn't mind it one bit. Although he did wish he'd had time to pull on his jeans.
At the back of the crowd, beside the marquee entrance, Lake spotted Kirsty's mum. She was jumping up and down, waving frantically. Lake smiled at her, then stilled. Her face was grey. She seemed distressed. She mouthed a word—help. He scanned the room for Kirsty. She was nowhere in sight. Help, her mother mouthed again. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
Lake pushed through the group around him. The more people he urged out of his way, the more there seemed to be. Behind him, Betty and the other models were now on the runway dancing along with the audience. With a deep breath, he jumped off the stage and into the crowd.
There were excited squeals as the women thought he was joining them. Camera flashes went off around him. The laughter was deafening. Lake pushed through the people, tripping over abandoned handbags and blankets. At last he reached the door and Kirsty's mother.
"What is it? Where's Kirsty?"
"He took her," she said. She was trembling.
"Who?"
Instead of answering, she sobbed. For the first time since his youth, he had to work at staying calm. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to roar. He wanted to remove everything that stood between himself and Kirsty.
Behind him the women of Knit Or Die came screeching to a halt.
"What on earth is going on?" Shona demanded.
Kirsty's mother didn't know whom to answer first. Lake put his hand on her arm. She turned to him.
"Who took Kirsty?" he said.
"Brandon."
Everything within him stopped dead. The women gasped. Heather wrapped an arm around Kirsty's mother.
"Where?" Lake said.
It was hard to get the word out, his jaw was clenched so tightly.
"I don't know," Kirsty's mum said. "He dragged her up the high street. She told me to get you."
He nodded and turned towards the door. Kirsty's mum put a hand on his arm to stop him.
"I saw a knife," she said as she started to shake.
"Oh my goodness," Jean wailed.
Betty appeared, charging through the crowd in her red nightie.
"What the hairy hell is going on?" she demanded.
"We need to get to him before he hurts Kirsty," Margaret said.
The rest of the women nodded solemnly—even Betty, who didn't have a clue what was going on.
"You lot stay here," Lake ordered. "I'll handle this."
"In your birthday suit?" Betty said.
Lake ignored her. He stared the women down.
"I'm serious. Don't interfere. You could make matters worse."
They stared back at him, clearly ignoring everything he said. There was no time to deal them. He had to get to Kirsty.
Margaret Campbell sobbed beside him as her friends cooed words of comfort.
"It's okay," Lake told her. "He won't hurt her. I won't let him."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Lake pushed the marquee flap back. He couldn't see Kirsty, there were too many people. But he knew where she would be. He should have looked into that necklace when Brandon first showed an interest in it. He knew there was something else going on. He knew it in his gut. And now this? He hadn't even told Kirsty how dangerous the guy was. Fury coursed through him. It was his fault and he knew exactly how to fix it.
Behind him someone shouted, "Come on, girls. Let's get Kirsty!"
Without a second's hesitation, Lake ran out into the night.
Brandon pushed Kirsty through the bustling market and up the high street to her home. He was moving so fast that she found it difficult to keep up on the high-heeled boots she wore. She stumbled over the uneven road. Brandon tightened his grip on the inside of her upper arm as he yanked her forward. All the while, his right hand held a knife to her side.
"Kirsty," someone called out to her. "Great show. I voted for you."
She tried to smile, but it was too difficult.
"Don't stop to talk to anyone. You don't want to endanger them, do you?"
Kirsty hated him for that comment alone. Even after years of knowing Brandon, intimately, she realised that she'd never known him at all. This man, this vile man, was so far removed from the man she thought she'd loved that it made her nauseous.
"You're despicable," she told him.
He smiled thinly.
They marched around the stalls and people chatting in the street. Underfoot, the now icy snow crunched in the areas where it hadn't been totally compacted by the many feet. Bizarrely, Kirsty found herself wondering if anyone had thought to salt the street the following morning, otherwise the pavements would be covered in a deadly layer of ice. She knew, in some part of her brain, that her inane thoughts had more to do with the shock of the situation than the reality.
"Why are you doing this?" she said.
"Why do you care?" He seemed amused.
"Don't you think you owe me an explanation?" She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tighter. "You left me broken and penniless."
His smirk turned her stomach.
"I didn't leave you without resources. Women like you can always find what you want in someone's bed."
He ran his gaze over her body and she shuddered. The thought that she'd let this man touch her was too much to bear.
"Was anything real?" she said. "Any of it?"
"You mean us?"
"I mean everything."
He actually laughed.
"We had fun, if that's what you mean, and I probably would have gone through with the wedding. Back then you were surprisingly useful and conveniently gullible. It was entertaining."
"You used me." She meant their relationship and her fe
elings for him, but he misunderstood.
"You were the best damn mule in the business. You could walk a fortune in blood diamonds through airport security, and no one blinked an eye. They were all too enamoured by your tits and legs."
He ran a hand over her hip to cup her backside. Kirsty shuddered as she pulled away from him.
"Now, now, Kirsty," he said with a smile. "You can't fool me. Remember, I know exactly what you like."
To Kirsty's shame, she couldn't think of anything to say in reply. Panic was taking over her brain. Panic from the repulsion she felt at his touch.
"I nearly pissed myself laughing that time we were flying out of Kenya and you tried to give away the necklace to a woman who admired it." He acted as though they were old friends wandering down memory lane. All the while his fingers were digging into her backside and his knife pressed the skin over her kidney. "It was our thing, remember? We'd travel and I'd buy you some worthless piece of jewellery for you to wear on the trip. You were so pleased at the gesture and so damn bubble-headed that you never even noticed when I swapped them out for a similar piece once we got home."
He laughed hard at that.
"Poor, dumb, Kirsty," he said sadly. "I miss having you around to do my dirty work."
Kirsty struggled to steady her breathing. She started to feel lightheaded and her fingers tingled. The initial shock of the night had worn off and anxiety was setting in. Only this time, there were no strong hands on her shoulders to make it stop. In fact, there was no Lake at all.
As they approached her shop, the Donaldson twins waved from their stall and cast curious glances at Brandon. The carol singers were still in full swing in front of her window. They sang of Good Will To All Men, which was weirdly out of place in her mind.
"Are you okay?" one of the twins asked, while looking nervously at Brandon.
He pushed his knife deeper into her side, making her wince, but effectively reminding her not to involve anyone.
"Fine," Kirsty said as her heart raced out of control.
"Where is it?" Brandon said in her ear. "Upstairs in the flat, or in the shop?"
"Shop," Kirsty said.
They walked to the front door. Kirsty pulled her keys out from the pocket in her dress. She fumbled as Brandon held her arm tightly. Tight enough for there to be bruises. If she made it out alive.
Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) Page 26