by H Elliston
She forced herself to silently count to ten, hoping to muster the strength to tell her brother not to make a move on Brian. It didn't work. She reached the count of eight and gave in to her dark side. "Okay, mess his life up a little. But don't hurt him."
"I won't, well not physically. Let the Lord strike him down in that way. By the time I've finished screwing with Brian's life, he'll be crawling on his hands and knees, begging you to take him back. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yes, but... give me some time. I’ll text you to give you the go ahead.” Or not, she thought, torn.
“What’s he doing today?"
“Going to his mum’s house, then home to change clothes. He’s got an important meeting for work this afternoon. Some big deal he’s desperate for which is why he’s pleased to have the courtesy car.”
His eyebrows quirked. “Really? Perhaps I can mess that up for him.”
CHAPTER 18
NICOLA
Nicola slipped the flash drive containing the webcam-activating software into her back pocket, and nipped outside to the patio. She lit a cigarette, her eyes jerking, her body jittery as though drugs coursed through her veins. Taking a deep drag and swaying on her feet, she waited for the microwave to ding, for Christa to leave the kitchen and start watching a film with Sarah.
Despite snow still on the ground, it was a bright afternoon, but in Nicola’s mind it was the dead of night. She huddled into herself.
Like many a folk, Nicola watched the news on TV regularly. Plenty of sick, twisted people existed in the world, but she never once thought that their paths would ever cross with hers. The photos of John and the bloody knife were no longer what put the fear of God into her. No.
The guy’s parting words from last night grated through her mind; do as we ask, or your local funeral director will be booked out for weeks. We know where all your family and friends live, where they work, and where Sarah goes to school.
He’d lowered his face to hers at this point...
Scary bedtime stories will feel like a treat once we’re done with her. Try to signal someone, contact the cops, waver from your routines by even an inch, or do a midnight flit and...
A wave of shudders moved through Nicola. She pulled at the high collar concealing her bruises. Everything about her life was suffocating. Her predicament. Her stupidity. And now her clothes.
Life was tough enough before last night. Pretending to Christa that she was going to work each day, and struggling to make her cash stretch, was enough of a headache. But that paled against this. And now she regretted all those days she handed Christa's computer business flyers out in town to secretly help her drum up business in the hope that Christa might need an assistant. Need Nicola. But her covert marketing would now result in even more unsuspecting customers having their private lives made public.
Those guys had made it absolutely clear that they would hunt her, and everyone she knew at anytime, anywhere. Having seen their website, it was perfectly reasonable to discern that they did indeed have eyes everywhere.
Nicola hugged herself and puffed smoke rings into the crisp air. How the hell could she ever forget about the cameras and pretend life was normal? No. There had to be a way out. She would have to put on a bloody good act to convince them she was being compliant while thinking up a way to screw them over. If only she could work out who they were and where they operated from.
The microwave dinged. At last.
“We’re going to put the film on now,” Christa told Nicola, hugging a bowl of butter-scented, slightly charred popcorn to her chest, below the pretty necklace Sarah had made her. “The office is all yours. Join us when you’re done paying your bills and you can help us demolish that box of chocolates. Apart from the toffee ones, I’m saving those for Brian.”
Lost in her dark, suffocating thoughts, Nicola gave a strange mock salute. "Try and stop me."
“I thought John would have phoned me by now, seeing as today is the deadline.” Christa pursed her lips. “Strange, huh? Think he wants me to sweat it out?”
John's bloodied body returned to Nicola's mind, shooting arrows of fear and repulsion to her core. Christa’s feet were planted on the very spot where John’s body had been. She shuddered. Lying to Christa felt awful, but it was for her own good. At least until Nicola could figure a way out of this mess without getting them all stabbed and mummified in cling film.
“Hurry up, mum,” Sarah shouted. “The film’s starting.”
Christa grimaced at Nicola. “You’re acting kinda weird today. You sure everything's all right with you? You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Nicola hummed a yes while clenching her teeth for fear of blurting out the truth. It almost felt as though Christa's words were puckering the air, causing a shuddering ripple after ripple over her skin. She ached to confide in her best friend, even had a note in her pocket which she intended to slip to Christa when the moment felt right. But it didn’t feel right. Not yet.
She couldn't risk endangering Christa or Sarah, not until she'd got a grasp on what to do. If Christa reacted badly to the note, the guys would surely see, storm in and attack them.
"And just so you know,” Christa said from the kitchen. “Sarah's grounded."
"Again?" Nicola asked, trying to sound normal.
"She went out after dark last night."
"She's a devious one."
"Yup. But how does she sneak in and out of this house? That’s what I want to know. I’ve asked her, but she says I’m going deaf and mustn’t hear her, and says I forget when I say she can go out because I’m always busy working The other week, I sat waiting and worrying because she was late coming home, and then she wandered downstairs claiming she came back half an hour ago. I know she didn’t, but I don’t know how she snuck back in." She frowned at the walls and ceiling. "Breathe in this place and a floorboard creaks, especially on the stairs. She can't climb in or out of her window because it's a drop onto concrete. I’m stumped."
Nicola's mood brightened. She had no need to force out a response, Christa had just unwittingly gifted her with the perfect excuse to enter rooms she'd otherwise stay out of. "Tell you what... I'll have a nose around while you watch the film. See if I can find how she sneaks out."
"Thanks, love. I’d appreciate it. But I suppose that’s the least of my worries now we’re gonna lose this house."
“S’pose.”
A phone beeped.
“Oh, that’s mine, again,” Christa said. “A text. It beeped earlier but I forgot. Oh, heck. What if it’s from John?” She picked the phone up off the worktop and glanced at the screen. “From Claire? Oh, this won’t be good. I’ll read it in a minute.”
The second that Christa disappeared into the snug and the door sucked closed, Nicola dropped her cigarette and rushed indoors.
She crept upstairs, her battered body aching at every movement. She dragged a chair into Christa’s ensuite. It was extremely probable that one of those sick, voyeur monsters would be watching her right now. So, she turned the shower on hoping to act normal, but at its hottest setting to create steam, while subtly scanning the walls and ceiling.
Where the hell is the camera?
She slid her gaze to the blind on the window, the wall cabinet, towel rail and... Aha! The air vent. That had to be it. It seemed obvious now she’d thought about it.
Moments later, steam from the shower began misting the bathroom. Convinced that she would be beneath the camera’s viewing range, she pushed the chair up to the wall directly beneath the vent and climbed up. With heat rising to her cheeks, she wiggled the plastic casing until it came away from the wall. There, in a dark little nook in the brickwork, sat a camera no larger than a carton of cigarettes.
Gotcha!
After rummaging through Christa’s toiletry basket, Nicola climbed back onto the chair and dabbed a scraping of vaseline onto the tiny lens. That should do the trick, blurr the footage, look like steam had gotten under the le
ns.
She jumped off the chair, turned and stuck two fingers up at the camera. Bastards.
After putting everything back the way it was, she left the room, relieved. But her satisfaction that Sarah and Christa’s bathing would no longer be broadcast over the internet, well perhaps blurry, soon got nibbled into by worry. If those monsters realised what she was up to, would they do something about it?
Despite how much it sickened her, so long as Nicola kept the viewers sufficiently entertained, those monsters might not kick up a stink about losing Sarah and Christa's saucy clips from the video feed. Hopefully they’d let it ride.
Mentally drained, Nicola moved onto the landing. She slumped against the wall and took a breather before sabotaging the camera in Sarah’s bedroom with a dab of pearly nail polish. She left Christa’s bedroom and the other rooms untouched, worried that would be a step too far, then collapsed to her knees for a moment. It felt like her world was being swung by the scraggy tail, and she wanted to jump off this nauseating ride.
CHAPTER 19
CLAIRE
Cleavage riding high!
How could he resist me? Freshly plucked and shaved, in a push-up bra, skinny jeans, heels, a slinky top and open jacket, Claire climbed into her car and drove the short distance to Brian’s house.
It was approaching two hours since he’d left her home. Surely he’d be back from his parents’ by now and getting ready for his meeting? He certainly wasn’t at Christa’s house. She’d not seen a peep of him through the feed on the website. And she’d been watching. Carefully. And wondering why some of the cameras had misted up.
Christa.
Anger and upset raged in her belly like great, leaping flames at the thought of that bitch’s name. She’d have to contain her emotions if she wanted to charm her way back into Brian’s pants.
There were no cameras in Brian’s house. Dale had forbidden it, no doubt not wanting to view his sister’s naked bum on the web. To her surprise, the elusive person in charge didn’t protest.
And now, thankfully, her brother would not be able to witness her seducing Brian.
But if her charms failed, she’d give her brother the nod to screw up Brian’s life, his meeting, or whatever. God knew what Dale had in mind, but she needed something to extinguish her anguish.
She turned into Brian’s street and spotted his courtesy car. Yes! He’s home. She halted her car on the street a mere inch behind Brian’s. She applied a final good-luck sweep of pink gloss to her lips, pouted in the mirror then tottered, slipping and sliding in her five inch stilettos in snow to his front door.
Brian just needed to be reminded of how good they were together, how much he needed her, how wild and exciting the sex was. She smoothed her hair to one side exposing more of the neck he so loved to nibble and kiss. She pressed the bell and waited.
The door opened. Brian appeared, smartly dressed in a slick black suit with a slice of toast in hand, chomping.
Claire flashed him her flirtiest, lottery-winner’s smile. “Hey, there,” she said, softly.
“Oh, um... Hi.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, Claire. I’m kinda busy.”
Her smile collapsed, but she fought to keep it in place. “Eating lunch? I wouldn’t call that being busy.” She ached to touch him, run a hand down his chest. “I can’t leave things like this, Brian. It’s killing me. We need to talk.”
He swallowed and his gaze bounced around. “I’m sorry, Claire. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”
She traced her fingertips down the doorframe, eyes fastened on his roaming ones. “I want you to say that you love me, drag me into the house and tear these clothes off my body.”
Brian sighed and rubbed his temple with a buttery finger. “That’s not going to happen. I thought I made myself clear earlier and...” A phone beeped. “Hold on.” Brian reached into his coat hanging near the door, then pulled his mobile out of its pocket. He looked at the screen then stared at Claire. “You texted Christa and had a go at her?”
“Snitch,” she muttered, snorting out a breath. Christa’s sickly pretty face flashed into her mind, heightening her jealousy. “Look, I know you only dumped me because of her. But she won’t satisfy you the way I can. Why can’t you see that? Quite frankly, I’ve seen more sex appeal in a wet dishcloth.”
He pointed a warning finger. “Enough!”
“The closest she gets to bedroom athletics lately is dancing in the buff.” Claire’s jealous ranting gushed out of her mouth like water from a tap. She couldn’t stop the flow. “The woman’s a joke on stick legs! Hell, she can barely boil an egg.”
Brian tried to turn her away from the door. “How dare you!”
Claire stood fast, feet pressing hard into the ground. No matter how much she tried, the fury she so wanted to suppress kept bubbling to the surface. “She’ll never cook a decent meal for you like I can. She can’t...”
“Stop it!” Brian yelled, throwing a palm up. “Christa isn’t to blame here. I’ve already explained this to you. We’ve had fun, Claire, but there’s no future for us. We’re simply not compatible.”
“We are!”
“Don’t contact Christa again.” He glanced at his phone once more, shifted on his feet then thumped the wall by the door. “Jesus, woman! What the hell’s wrong with you?”
A paralysing sadness gushed through her. Claire grabbed the wall to steady herself. Her eyes moistened with regret. She’d pushed the wrong buttons. Blown it. Time to change tact, don’t mention Christa. “I’m sorry. I just... Please. You can’t end things like this.” She reached a hand out to caress his face.
I love you. I’m yours. Kiss me.
“What we have is special, Brian.” Desperate to coax a glimmer of love into his eyes, she curled her hand around his neck and thrust up on tiptoes, trying to force his lips to meet hers.
His hand circled her wrist, and then he eased her away. “No, Claire. What we have... is over.” He stood rigid in the doorway, a pissed-off expression cemented on his face.
Claire had gone too far.
“I don’t enjoy hurting you,” Brian said. “But you have to accept the way I feel. Please leave.”
Tears tumbled freely. Claire jammed her foot in the door to prevent him closing it. “I love you,” she said, her voice breaking around a sob. “You can’t leave me.” She wiped her face and deepened her voice, her dark side winning yet again. “I won’t let you.”
Brian’s lips pressed into a firm line. “It’s not your choice. Now please, move your foot, go home and calm down.”
“No.” How can I walk away? I love you.
Brian tussled her foot with his, then tried to shut the door. “This is insane. Why would you want to be with someone who doesn’t love you back, huh?
Claire, hurt and stunned into silence, couldn’t answer that.
“I have to get ready for my meeting.”
Claire placed a palm flat on the door and pushed inwards.
The edge of the door clipped Brian above his left eye. “Ouch.” He cupped his forehead. “What did you do that for?”
“Christa doesn’t love you like I do.” Tears trickled into her mouth, her nose streamed. Her soft and flirty plan to win him back... Oh, going terribly wrong. For fuck’s sake! Why wouldn’t her bloody mouth or body listen to her brain? Softly, softly. Claire took a breath of composure. When she raised her eyes to Brian’s, once again, anger plunged into her. “She only pretends to care so that you’ll babysit that... that little brat of hers.” Oh, shit. I’ve done it again.
Brian jerked. His face erupted molten red. “Brat? How dare you call Sarah such names! She’s like a daughter to me.”
His words spread through her veins like poison. He could never know the truth. Ever.
He snatched his keys off the wall hook near the door and grabbed his briefcase. “I’m not going to listen to anymore of this. I need a straight head for my meeting. If you won’t leave, I will, before we both say or do something we can�
�t take back.” Pulling his coat on over his suit one-handed, he shot out of the house and slammed the door, his back to her.
Claire spun and grabbed him, pulling his sleeve down to his elbow.
Brian’s keys and phone clattered to the ground. After jostling free of Claire’s grasp, he snatched up the keys. Muttering profanities, he dashed to his car, coat tail flapping.
Quickly, Claire bent to retrieve his mobile, shocked but delighted he hadn’t seen he’d dropped it. After pocketing it, she tottered unsteadily on her high heels after him. “Where are you going? Come back. I’m not finished.”
“This.” Brian indicated to himself and Claire before getting into his car and sitting. He finished in a controlled, even tone. “It isn’t healthy.”
Claire stopped moving. Silence. A tangible chill hung in the air between them, until Claire lurched forward and raced to the side of his car. After grabbing his open door, she slapped her other hand down on the frosted bonnet and glowered through the driver’s edge of the windshield. “You’re gonna drive to her house, aren’t you?”
“No. I’ve got an appointment to keep.” He uncurled her fingers and shut the door. ‘Fuck,’ he mouthed through the window, agitation etched across his face. The engine roared to life.
A suffocating darkness pressed in around her. “Am I supposed to just vanish from your life? Not even try to win you back from her?”
“Yes. And Christa has nothing to do with this. It was over between us before I even laid one finger–” He stopped, flattening his lips into a line.
“I knew it!” Jealousy and rage clashed within forming a potent cocktail. “Something did happen between you and that bitch. I should have realised Steph was hiding something else!”
“Something else? What’s she’s been saying?”
Claire bent her knee and kicked his door, scratching it. Then pound after pound, she pummelled the bonnet of his car until pain shot up her forearm and the metal dented. She broke into a sob.