by M K Farrar
With a sigh, she let the two items drop from her fingers, back into the bag. She wasn’t going to need them any time soon, not if he remained unconscious.
She had no choice but to try the water again. She had a second small bottle in her bag, but she hadn’t wanted to waste it by throwing it on him. Aware that this might take some time, she’d brought water and snacks for herself. She hadn’t wanted anything to drive her from this place until she’d got what she needed. There was a small toilet down here, so that wasn’t a problem for her. As for him, he could piss himself for all she cared, and it probably wouldn’t be long before he did exactly that.
With the second water bottle clutched in her hand, she got back to her feet. She cracked open the lid and exhaled another long sigh. She hadn’t considered how much this was going to take out of her. Exhaustion weighted her limbs and made her eyes heavy and sore. All she wanted was for this to be over.
“Hey,” she said again, raising her voice as much as she dared. “I don’t want to waste my water on your stupid face.”
There was no response. His breathing was shallow and ragged, his complexion pale, as though all the blood had sunk to his feet. His hands were still tied above his head, and she noted the tips of his fingers had turned a purple-blue, the nail-beds almost grey. Was his heart still pumping blood right around his body? At what point did gravity start to win?
She realised she’d just been standing there, staring, not acting, and shook herself from her thoughts. None of that mattered. She needed to focus.
“You’re making me do this,” she told him, even though he was unresponsive, and once more threw water in his face.
The water had the same effect as the previous time, jerking him into consciousness. His head rolled on his shoulders, and his eyelids flickered.
But then a strange noise came from deep inside his chest, and he started to retch.
She widened her eyes in horror, her understanding of what was happening sinking in. He was going to throw up, and right now he had a gag covering his mouth. If he was sick with that still blocking his airways, there was a good chance he’d either choke or he’d aspirate vomit, which would be just as deadly. She didn’t want to remove the gag, but she couldn’t have him dead, either. If he died, all hope would be lost.
With a cry of panic and fear, she dropped the bottle and ran behind him. The gag was tied at the back of his head, and her fingers shook as she worked the knot. His heaving body didn’t help, his movements pulling the gag out of her grasp.
“For fuck’s sake! Keep still!”
Finally, the knot came loose and she was able to yank the material away from his face. Just in time, as he retched a third time and his body was able to release what he’d been holding back. Watery vomit splattered the floor, splashing down his naked chest. She turned away, her wrist pressed to her nose, trying not to look. But she knew she couldn’t just leave him. Without the gag, he was dangerous.
“Please ...” He groaned, his eyes fluttering. “Don’t do this.”
She couldn’t risk him saying anything more. It looked as though he’d finished being sick. Working quickly, staying behind him to avoid the mess, she tied the gag back around his face, ensuring he wouldn’t be able to say anything more. The hit to the head she’d given him must have concussed him, which had caused the vomiting. The reasons behind it didn’t help anything, however. Now she had to deal with the result.
A few steps brought her back around the front of him again, though she was careful where she stood. The floor was covered, as was most of his chest and the front of his jeans. Having to throw up while your hands were still tied above your head obviously didn’t leave much room for the vomit to go.
She spun away, her hand clamped over her mouth as she fought against the urge to be sick as well. She took shallow sips of air, trying not to breathe through her nose, nor inhale too deeply. Now what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t stand to be down here with him like this. In the confined space, the air became permeated with the stink of vomit, and it wasn’t as though there were any windows she could open. The only way to let in fresh air was via the door, and she was terrified the visitor would come back.
Her anger grew again, the same impotent fury that she’d experience when he’d passed out.
“Look what you’ve done!” she raged. “Look at this fucking mess! Did you do it on purpose? Did you think this would help you get away? That maybe I’d take pity on you and move you somewhere else?”
He lifted his eyes to hers and they rolled in their sockets, showing white forked with blood.
“No!” she yelled. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare pass out again. I’ve been pretty patient up until now, but my patience is seriously running thin. If you want to make it out of here alive, stop fucking around and tell me what I need to know. Where is she? What did you do with her?”
But his eyes rolled again, and she knew she wasn’t going to get an answer out of him yet. Perhaps he was just that little bit closer to being broken. The fight had gone out of his eyes, and she hoped it wasn’t going to return.
She couldn’t spend much more time down here like this, however. The stink of vomit was overwhelming, and she fought against her own gag reflex, not wanting to add to the mess. She hoped he was a little closer to telling her the truth, but she didn’t think she could stand another minute down here, never mind an hour, or however long it was going to take.
She cast her gaze back to the stairs and the bolted door at the top. Did she dare try to sneak out and see if she could find a mop and bucket to clean up with? She’d be gone for less than a minute, and would come straight back in again. But it would mean she’d be leaving him alone. What if this was all a trick and he’d been hoping that by being sick she’d be forced to leave him unattended?
There was a second door in the room—the one that led to the small, windowless cloakroom. Perhaps there would be cleaning products in there. She didn’t think she’d seen anything when she’d last been in there, but she hadn’t been looking and so might have missed it. Feeling hopeful, she left the mess to go into the toilet. A string hanging from the ceiling worked the bare lightbulb, and she tugged it as she entered, flooding the small space with harsh illumination. She squinted—the light where she was holding him was far dimmer—but quickly her eyes adjusted. Was there anything here she could use? One half-used roll of toilet tissue was hooked on a metal holder attached to the wall, and beside the toilet, on the floor, was a bottle of bleach. Hopeful, she picked it up, but her insides sank again. The bottle was too light to contain anything substantial. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to make much of a dent in the mess with only a few sheets of toilet roll. She needed a mop and a bucket.
Would there even be one upstairs? It wasn’t as though this place was inhabited. But she didn’t think she had much choice other than to go and look. Staying down here, suffocating in the stink of sick, wasn’t even an option.
She left the toilet, tugging the string to turn off the light, and pulled the door shut behind her. She cast another glance over at the man. He was still conscious, but barely. With his hands tied to the hook in the ceiling, and how pale and weak he appeared, it didn’t look like he’d be making a break to escape anytime soon. If she was going to do this, she’d be better doing it sooner rather than later, before he had the chance to recover.
Not letting herself have the time to talk herself out of it, she hurried for the stairs. Her heart pattered, her breath shallow, not only from her anxiety but also trying not to inhale. The smell was a little better at the top of the stairs, but only just. She paused at the top, listening hard. There was a chance someone had come back during all the commotion, and she didn’t want to open the door and run straight into them.
As far as she could tell, all was quiet. With her heart in her throat, she pulled back the bolt. It opened with a crack, making her wince, but then she turned the handle and opened the door. Blessedly fresh air hit her, and she gulped it down, h
er eyes watering. But she didn’t have the luxury of enjoying being out of the claustrophobic, stinking place. She needed to move fast.
Slipping out of the door, she went down the wide hallway, past the kitchen, to where the utility room was located. There was a sink and a tall cupboard in the corner. She went to the cupboard first, pulling it open to reveal what she needed, a mop and bucket. Then she checked the cupboard under the sink to reveal an array of cleaning products.
She sighed in relief. While cleaning up someone else’s vomit was never her idea of fun, she was thankful for the products. She moved quickly, gathering up what she needed, resisting the urge to linger.
Being down there, with him, was necessary, but all she really wanted was for this whole thing to be over.
Chapter Fifteen
Three Weeks Earlier
ELLEN WAS AT WORK THE following day, looking puffy and tired, but managing to function. Liv was pleased to have her back, and fussing over her was a welcome distraction to being paranoid about where Tony was the whole time.
Liv was excited to be seeing Michael again that evening. He was taking her to dinner in a restaurant off Covent Garden. She didn’t want to say anything to Ellen, hating that her new relationship was going so well when Ellen’s had taken a nosedive. She was angry at Ryan for just ending things, without giving Ellen a proper explanation. After years of being together, Ellen was owed more than that. Each time she glanced up and caught sight of her friend’s blotchy face and shadowed eyes, her anger towards Ryan built another notch. The two of them had been together for years, and it wasn’t right for him to up and leave without offering to try to work things out. Ellen deserved better.
She’d met Ryan a number of times at barbeques and during nights out, or when he’d been dropping Ellen off somewhere. He’d always seemed like a reasonable kind of guy, and, as Ellen appeared more and more miserable as the day went on, an idea started to form in her mind. She still had the use of the agency car, and she’d be able to leave early again, saying she needed some extra photographs of the Richmond property, should anyone question her, which she doubted they would.
“Hey, are you going to be okay if I sneak off early?” She posed the question to Ellen, rather than Tony.
Ellen gave a weak smile and nodded. “Yes, of course. Hot date?”
Her cheeks heated. “Michael is taking me for dinner.”
Ellen’s smile grew a little wider. “That’s great, Livvy. I’m really happy for you.”
She hesitated, chewing her lower lip. “I feel bad abandoning you, though. I could always cancel, and we could do something instead.”
Ellen shook her head, and Liv couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. She really hadn’t wanted to cancel plans with Michael. “Don’t be silly. I’m crap company right now, anyway. You go, have some fun for me.”
“Are you sure?”
She gave Liv’s arm a playful shove. “Of course. Now, get out of here.”
OLIVIA SAT ACROSS THE street in the company car, waiting for him to materialise. She knew from previous conversations that he normally finished around five thirty. Her heart pattered in her chest, her mouth running dry as she stared across to the office block on the other side of the road. She wasn’t one for confrontation, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying something. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she put them between her legs and squeezed her thighs shut to keep them still. Already, people were drifting out of the office block—some in twos and threes, others alone, normally with their heads down, looking at their phones. She tried to balance not being seen with being able to get a good view of everyone as they left. She didn’t want him to spot her first and leave through a different exit. They’d met a number of times at parties or on night’s out, so she knew he’d recognise her the moment he saw her, and he’d know exactly what she had planned.
He was one of the last to leave, and for a moment she was starting to think she’d missed him, but then she spotted him. Ryan was a little taller than she was, about five feet ten, with brown hair in a spiky cut, and a cheap suit. She’d never really understood what Ellen had seen in him, but they’d seemed happy, so she wasn’t going to interfere. Now, however, Ellen wasn’t happy, and Liv intended on finding out exactly what Ryan was playing at.
She swung open the car door and jumped out. “Ryan! Hey, Ryan!”
He glanced over at her, and she didn’t miss the eye roll he gave as he realised who’d been calling his name. He lifted a hand in a wave and kept going. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be, Olivia.”
She fell into pace beside him. “You’ve got five minutes to answer some questions.”
He sighed. “I don’t have to answer anything you ask me.”
“Maybe not, but you owe Ellen. She’s hurting right now, and she’s not even sure what’s happening between the two of you.”
“Then Ellen and I should be having this conversation.”
“Then why don’t you? She said you moved out already, and you won’t answer her calls and texts.”
“I don’t need to answer them. I know what she’s going to say, and I can’t say or do anything to make her feel better right now. She wants us to get back together, and I can’t do that.”
She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him to a halt. “And why not? Did you meet someone else? Have you moved in with her, and that’s why you’re still able to pay rent on your old place?”
His gaze darted away, and he shuffled his feet.
Rage boiled up inside her as she realised that was exactly what had happened. Ellen had been right. “For fuck’s sake, Ryan. How could you do that to Ellen?”
“It wasn’t intentional,” he muttered. “It just happened.”
“You’re throwing away someone like Ellen for some fucking slut you’ve just met. You’re an idiot.” Her lip curled in disgust.
“I didn’t just meet Sierra. We work together. We have for the last six months.”
“Sierra?” she sneered. “Is that her name? What is she, like, eighteen?”
“She’s twenty-one, actually.”
She thought of something and looked around. “So, where is she now if you work together? Shouldn’t you be leaving together now you’re all snuggled up in a love nest?”
His gaze shifted away again, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “She had to leave early today. She had an appointment.”
“An appointment? What kind of appointment?”
“That’s none of your goddamned business.”
The penny dropped. “A doctor’s appointment? Is she pregnant? Is that why all of this happened so suddenly? You were seeing her behind Ellen’s back, and then she comes along one day and tells you she’s pregnant and that you have to make a choice, her or Ellen.” Certainty settled within her. “God, Ryan. You fucking bastard. Ellen always used to say how you were one of the good guys, and all this time you were screwing some girl.”
He didn’t even try to deny it. “This is none of your business,” he insisted.
“It is my business. I take care of my friends. I protect them. Don’t you ever forget that.”
His hazel gaze darted to her with sudden clarity. “What is this? Are you fucking threatening me?”
“Everything okay, Ryan?” One of the other men from his firm had seen what was going on and interrupted them. He was older than both of them—in his late forties, she guessed—and had the deep, stern voice of authority. She suddenly became aware that a number of people who’d also been leaving the office building had now come to a halt and were standing around, watching the spectacle. She bet they were just standing there, hoping for a fist fight so they could film it on their phones and post it to social media.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Olivia is just leaving. Right, Liv?”
She scowled at him, but her face flushed hot, while the rest of her body felt drenched with ice water. “This isn’t over, Ryan. You can’t treat my friend like that and expect to get away with it.”
“Stay the hell away from me, and from Sierra, too. I mean it.”
She stood, glaring at him, as he shook his head at her and kept going in the direction he’d been heading. Her whole body trembled, and she felt violent with her fury. She wanted to lash out at him, but knew she couldn’t. Ellen wouldn’t thank her for it.
Fuck. Ellen.
Was she going to have to tell Ellen that Ryan’s new girlfriend was pregnant? Was it even her place to share that kind of information? She’d hate for something like that to come between their friendship. Ryan hadn’t actually confirmed that her guess was right, so maybe she just needed to keep her suspicions to herself.
All the bystanders were drifting away now the entertainment was over, so she put her head down and crossed back over the road to her car. Her stomach had twisted into a knot that was making her nauseated. She should never have confronted Ryan. What had she been thinking? She should have learnt from the last time that trying to interfere in someone else’s relationship never ended well.
She needed to get home and get changed before her date with Michael. She was upset and shaky, and a part of her wished she’d never come to speak to Ryan. Now she had information she didn’t know what to do with. Ryan meeting someone else was one thing, but a baby? How was Ellen supposed to get over that? She’d be heartbroken. Liv knew it was something Ellen and Ryan had often discussed, even mentioning baby names, and which room they’d use as a nursery, should it ever happen. Now that dream had been stolen by someone else, and Ellen was going to be even more devastated than she already was.
Chapter Sixteen
Three Weeks Earlier