by Rebecca Heap
“You'd better start telling the truth bitch or a broken nose is the least of your worries. I can do things to you, you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares.”
Angela sobbed pathetically. “Please don't hurt me again. Please!”
“You must have seen her. She has been here in your house. She is slightly built with blue eyes and long, dark hair. Her name is Katherine. Tell me where she is!” Sebastian commanded.
Light now dawned in Angela's eyes. “Yes! Yes!” she confirmed eagerly. “Sorry I didn't know who you meant! I wasn't told her name! I was just told she was Sean's sister!”
Sebastian's eyes darkened at this and his hand involuntarily tightened on her neck. “And who the fuck is Sean?” he asked, his voice harshening dangerously.
Angela began to cough and choke and so he eased up enough to allow her to give a rasping account of who Sean was, his explanation for Kate's presence and what had occurred.
“Where are they now?” Sebastian asked, when she had finished her story.
Angela started crying again, rightly deducing that he would not be happy with her lack of information on this score. “I don't know,” she whispered. “I thought they might still be here but I did tell them that I wanted them to leave.”
“They aren't here - I've checked. When did you last see them?”
“They were still here at about 6 am - that's the last time I saw Sean.” She swallowed painfully. “Why do you want to find them? Are you her husband?” she queried tentatively.
His face could no longer be called attractive as his mouth pulled down into a ghastly scowl and his cheeks burned red, the roar in his veins reaching fever pitch. Kate had been within his grasp but there was no lead to finding her, and now this stupid bitch had the gall to start questioning him!
“It's me who's asking the fucking questions, cunt!”
He hit Angela again, this time with the gun, making contact with her eye and cheek. There was a cracking sound as her cheekbone splintered and she howled in pain. Her screams just fed his rage and he began ripping at her nightclothes, determined now to find some outlet for his vexation.
He put the gun down on the bedside table, tugging at his trousers and keeping his other hand on Angela’s throat as she whimpered and thrashed beneath him, clawing ineffectually at his face. Once he had freed himself, he clamped both hands round her throat, extinguishing her last choked scream as he gave full rein to his rampaging, frustrated lust.
It was over very quickly and he collapsed on top of her prone form realising, as he released his savage grip from around her throat, that she was no longer moving. There was no time to dwell on this though, as he was suddenly and forcefully attacked from behind.
CHAPTER 7
Brenna was becoming bored. She smiled whilst she twisted and turned for the camera but she’d been through this process before. She was getting tired of the posing. How many photos and outfits would it take before her portfolio would hit the right note? She’d even agreed to some collagen lip enhancement. Maybe her brother had been right. Brains were more important than beauty and she was lucky enough to be blessed with both – at least that’s what he’d always said. She’d always agreed with the brains part and maybe she really didn’t have what it took in the looks department, despite their initial confidence in her. Other girls she’d met whilst here had got lucky and been offered work. She’d heard about it. She’d been here for nearly 3 months now and had even started missing her studies and her most annoying college friends!
She was actually relieved when they were unexpectedly interrupted by the entrance of the boss – Harry Pearson, the man who’d chaired her initial interview. Uh, oh. It was unusual for him to pay a visit. Was she going to be ditched? Now this prospect raised its head her stomach turned over in dismay. She wasn’t prepared to let go of her dreams - especially the dream of living with her brother in his classy apartment in New York, or even finding her own place near him. Money for the flight to America would be chump change once she was a model. She’d been hoping to just show up and surprise him. She’d been emailing him but had kept her new situation a secret from him.
Harry addressed the photographer. “Enough now Marcel. Brenna, come with me.” His tone brooked no argument.
Feeling apprehensive, Brenna followed him from the room. He led her away from the photography studio and into a room she’d never really noticed before, marked “Conference Suite.” Were her dreams going to end here and now? Closing the door as she entered, he smiled at her and invited her to sit in one of the chairs surrounding a long, glass-topped table. The place was clean and well-lit but eerily bleak and empty without the presence of anyone else. It made her feel on edge and suddenly inconsequential but she belied her nerves with an answering smile.
Taking a seat next to her, Harry put a folder on the table between them tapping his fingers up and down on it. Brenna glanced at it, noticing the front held her name in bold type. She looked up from it, pensively.
“Have you enjoyed your time here, Brenna?” Oh no, this was definitely it, she thought. This was the “we’re letting you go” speech. She nodded.
“Good, good. We’ve been having a little problem placing you though, haven’t we?”
Brenna was about to defend herself when he patted her knee, continuing with “Not your fault, not your fault at all. Fashion is a fickle business. There’ve been new designers making a big noise and they’ve odd ideas about the kind of look they’re after.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, whilst the market can shift again just as dramatically, at any time, we just can’t afford to hold you on our books any longer.”
Brenna blinked away the sudden prickling of tears. Hadn’t she known this was coming? So why wasn’t she ready for it?
“So,” his hand now delved into the folder, emerging with a piece of paper. He passed this across to her. “Time to settle up, I’m afraid, my dear.”
Frowning in confusion, she picked up the piece of paper. It was an invoice. Made out to her. For several thousands of pounds. “What’s this?”
“Your bill”. His tone had transmogrified from kindly grandfather to stern businessman.
“I don’t understand?”
“Your contract.” He pulled another piece of paper from the folder, that was fast becoming a nest of hidden monsters, and placed it in front of her.
“Unfortunately, your time is up. As agreed, the contract allows for a maximum placement period of 3 months. Once that period expires, as it now has, it becomes terminable and the fees for all services rendered become payable.”
Brenna stood to her feet in shock. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
He brushed a hand over the contract. “It’s all in there, if you need confirmation.”
She glanced at it but didn’t need to read it. She had no doubt he knew what he was talking about. And she’d been stupid enough to sign it. Carried away by the prospect of it all.
“But what about your side of the deal? You promised me a modelling career?”
“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. We promised to do our best as your agent to get you signed. And we have. You’re worth much more to us as a successful model, believe me. We’re as disappointed as you are.”
Brenna sat down dejectedly and picked up the invoice again.
“I wish it were different, I really do Brenna. We have to invoke the 3 month clause extremely rarely.”
He placed a hand on hers in a gesture of mollification but she withdrew hers angrily. “You don’t really expect me to be able to pay this do you?”
“Well, is there someone who can pay it for you? Your mother, perhaps?”
Brenna’s eyes widened in horror at this suggestion. Her Mum would just love that, her coming back to her, not only with her tail between her legs but cap in hand. No, even the thought of it and the inevitable “told you so, told you you were no good” rant, was too much to contemplate.
She closed her eyes. What was she to do? Fleetingly her broth
er’s image came to her. He would pay this in an instant. But he’d be mad she hadn’t involved him from the beginning. And she’d so wanted to make him proud of her and to show him what a success she could be, all on her own. How could she face him now? The shame of it was just too great.
The sound of the door opening roused her from her dismal thoughts. It was Sebastian who entered. He didn’t acknowledge her but went straight to Harry and leaning down, whispered into his ear.
Harry immediately rose to his feet. “Wait here,” he said to her and, letting Sebastian take his arm, they strode purposefully to the opposite end of the room and began to converse in hushed but urgent tones.
Once their mini confabulation was over, Sebastian walked back up the room and on passing her gave her a huge wink and then left. Brenna puzzled over this. Was she going to be given more time? Had Sebastian intervened on her behalf? Her spirits began to reassert themselves a little. Harry remained in thought at the end of the room. Abruptly he seemed to make up his mind about something and then quickly re-joined her.
“There’s been a development,” he explained, as he regained his seat. Brenna waited tensely for him to expound on this, with a mixture of both hope and fear, fear that the hope would prove false.
Harry smiled slyly. Something about that smile made Brenna feel a bit sick. “It seems you have an admirer.” Did he mean Sebastian? This was repudiated by the words that followed. “A wealthy tycoon has seen your publicity photos and he likes them.”
“He’s going to offer me a contract?” Brenna jumped in eagerly.
“No, no.” Harry waved a hand at her, dismissing this idea. “He’s not in the fashion or advertising industry.”
“Oh.” Brenna was confused.
But then Harry leaned forward and grasped her hand excitedly. “He wants to sponsor you!”
“Sponsor? What does that mean?”
“He’s going to fund your continued promotion. He believes you have huge potential and that we’ve not to give up on you. He’s convinced you’ll make it and he’d love to be credited with some part in your eventual success.”
Brenna was stunned but also a little wary. Wasn’t this all a little too convenient? “What’s the catch? He must want something in return?”
“Well, of course! He wants a cut of any earnings you make, but only a very small percentage. Oh,” he tagged on, almost as if he’d forgotten, “and he’d like to meet you. Immediately.”
Brenna turned her head, thinking this was a cue and expecting her “sponsor” to walk into the room.
Harry laughed. “No. Not here. He’s invited you to his home. For dinner.”
Brenna’s harsh intake of breath was audible.
“Remember,” Harry rationalised, “he’s only ever seen you in photographs. He wants to meet and get to know the person behind the image.”
Rising, Harry grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet, ignoring the shock clearly delineated on her features. “Now, go and get yourself ready. You’ll find Melanie already in your room, ready to make you look perfect!”
“Wait! Wait!” Raising her arms, she dislodged Harry’s grip. “I’m still trying to get my head around this!”
“Don’t try and do that, my darling. Just go. You’ve been granted a well-deserved reprieve. Hurry now,” he said waving her on her way, “we don’t want to keep him waiting and risk him changing his mind.”
CHAPTER 8
As Sean manoeuvred the car quietly back up towards the house, the sun was struggling to shine through banks of heavy cloud. Streaks of red tarnished the sky, seeping into the grey like blood, and Sean felt unaccountably perturbed. They hadn’t been gone long and he was certain Angela would be sleeping by now but a sense of unease settled in his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking coming back had been a mistake. Was there something different about the house? He thought so, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it…and then it registered. The front door was slightly ajar. He was sure he had left it shut. He shrugged. There could hardly be anyone else responsible for the door as Angela would not leave without securing it and her car was still on the drive.
He turned to Kate, who was anxiously wrestling with the handcuff, “Let me out of here. I need to go and find it,” she insisted.
“Hey, hey!” he said, holding up his hands in visual disapprobation of her words. “Who said anything about you finding it?
“But it’ll be so much quicker if I…” she began to argue and then saw the look of chagrin on his face and decided against continuing.
“You’re not starting off well on that promise to not cause me any more trouble, are you?” he said. “Do you think I’m really so stupid as to allow you to go running around in there?”
Kate bit her lip and hung her head. What had she been thinking? She’d just been overcome by her need to recover the locket.
“Look,” he said to her. “You give me a full description of it and where you think you left it. I will find it.”
Turning her troubled eyes up to his she said in a soft voice, full of poignancy, “It has a long delicate chain. The pendant is a simple gold one in the shape of a heart. It’s engraved on the reverse with, “Katherine, Mon enfant, Mon Coeur.”
Sean was temporarily stunned into silence, affected more than he would have liked by the parental love conveyed by these words. For some seconds he simply stared at Kate. Having never received love from his own parents he felt a mixture of incredulity and, truth be told, jealousy.
Admonishing himself for wasting time, he mentally shook himself and asked her, "Where do you think you lost it?”
She shook her head but suggested, “In the bathroom? Perhaps it came off when I was getting undressed?”
“I’ll find it,” he again asserted. With that he darted from the car and into the house, suddenly grateful that he'd accidentally left the door open, which saved him some time and enabled him to enter the house surreptitiously.
The shrill desperate scream that ripped through the air, when Sean was only part way up the stairs, momentarily jammed all thoughts in his head it was so unexpected. It left him immobile with shock. The cry had come from the direction of Angela’s bedroom. Could there be some harmless explanation? His gut told him otherwise. The scream had held a note of anguished authenticity. His temporary inertia lasted only seconds and then his adrenaline kicked in, stimulating him to act.
He raced towards the bedroom, recalling now the open front door and his initial certainty he had left it shut. Was there an intruder? He slowed a little. Perhaps he should exercise some caution. However, a further scream, thinner but no less tortured, left him no choice but to intervene, and to do so quickly. Stealth was now out of the question and he’d simply have to hope that speed and force would give him the advantage he might need.
As he barged into the bedroom, flinging the half-open door wide in his wake, Sean registered many things at once: the bedclothes scattered on the floor, the spatter of blood sullying the pristine wall but, most of all, the huge hulk of a man crouched over Angela.
Angela was only visible by virtue of one arm, hanging limply off the bed, a swatch of blond hair and one tanned leg, streaked with blood. The rest of her was obscured by the body of her attacker. It didn’t occur to Sean to hesitate, he simply leapt at the man, curling his arm around his neck and pulling him away from her. They lurched backwards away from the bed together, Sean attempting to pull the larger man to the floor.
However, whilst he succeeded in extracting him from Angela, the stranger soon recovered from this surprise assault. Using his bulk and the backward motion Sean had initiated to his advantage, he resisted Sean’s endeavours and instead drove him back towards the wall, crushing him forcibly against it and causing him to relinquish his hold. His opponent then whipped round to face him a grin, rather than any sign of concern, stretching his face.
They eyed each other, both weighing up the other. Angela remained motionless on the bed, despite the removal of her attacker, and this worried Se
an but he could do nothing for her until this maniac was taken out of the picture. He concentrated on the man before him, assessing him for any sign of weakness but struggling to find any. The guy was formidable; both taller and larger than Sean, with a bull-neck and broad muscular shoulders and arms. There was little doubt he had the advantage in both build and strength, but Sean was no stranger to unequal fights. He was suddenly thankful for the brawls he’d never managed to avoid as a skinny, troubled youth on the streets of Derry. He had a strong arm coupled with an agility to duck and weave and had held his own, despite the knock downs.
Sebastian considered Sean and saw only a weaker adversary but one who clearly had verve and some strength and would hopefully give him a nice workout. What an enjoyable episode this was turning out to be. He knew he could end matters now simply by stunning this joker with the device he had in his pocket but where would be the fun in that? He loved nothing better than a good fight, especially when there were no rules and he was free to inflict whatever punishment he chose, ultimately ending in the satisfaction of a kill. However, he accepted he’d have to manage this one carefully. This new and unexpected playmate might just be the bitch’s current boyfriend and have nothing to do with Kate. After all, what idiot would have returned here? Either way, he needed to establish who he was and might even have to deliver him to the boss. That meant leaving him alive, or as close as good enough.
Sean decided he should bait Sebastian into making the first move, rather than trying to hit him first, which was likely to be ineffective. His best chance was to wind him up, hoping his aim would be affected, and he could avoid his blows. He’d learnt this method could eventually tire a heavier more powerful opponent and give him an opening to throw a successful, if not deciding, punch.
“Come on,” he taunted. “What’s the matter? Happy to beat up a woman but not someone who can fight back?”