Watching Her: A Gripping Thriller Novel With A Twist

by Emmy Ellis

  “Of course it is, sending me there…wherever there is, into the mountains. When these men who are out to get my father come to get me, they’ll find her, too.”

  “They’ll find her anyway. You are both on their hit list. Having you close together is, believe it or not, good use of resources, no?”

  “Hit list? That sounds like they want to kill her.” And me, but I wasn’t too bothered about that. “Why the hell would a dead little girl be of use to them?”

  “Why, to get to her grandfather. Their…how do you say, meat, is with him.”

  “Beef.” I scowled.

  “Yes, their beef is with him.” He clicked his fingers.

  His shot glass was refilled.

  “I cannot fail to protect you.” Ivor frowned at me. “It would make for very bad consequences.”

  “With the beef people?”

  “No.” He studied me over the rim of his glass for a moment and then drank. “With the people who hired me. They would not be happy with me.”

  “And who is ‘they’ exactly?”

  He ignored my question and instead banged his palm on his chest. “They will screw me over. I will not, cannot tolerate that. My business…empire…will not tolerate it.” His voice rose, and he shook his fists as he’d said the word empire. “And I will do anything in my power to stop them getting to you and the girl. It is a means to an end. I have worked too hard to build up what is mine to let them take it away.”

  If the sentiment had been that he’d cared about women and children, as Kolya had claimed, then perhaps I would have felt heartened, but the fact that I was bait for a bunch of pricks out to hold me and Guilia to ransom, or worse, detracted from the meaning. And it was also clear he was putting all the effort in for his own ends, too; his business relationship with these people and his empire.

  “Now.” He set his attention on Kolya. “You will go. Take the Range Rover. Do not let this woman out of your sight. Be with her, like sticky glue. All day, every day.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kolya clicked one foot on the floor in a military-style gesture.

  “There are men on the ground already, in the mountains, watching the child. You will stay nearby and maintain constant radio contact with them. We do not know when the strike will happen. It could be day, it could be night.” He glanced at me then back at Kolya. “Do not be distracted. I will not tolerate distraction. It will get you and her killed. Do you understand me?”

  Kolya swallowed and tipped his chin up. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

  “Now go. And may God’s care travel with you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Travelling so much in a short space of time wrenched my nerves—as did the revelation that Koyla hadn’t been truthful. And there was me thinking he was a decent man. I sat beside him in the Range Rover, seething. Unusual for me to hold my tongue, but since this crap had started, I’d been holding it more and more. I doubted I’d be able to stay silent for much longer, though. He hadn’t said a thing, no explanation as to why he’d lied. I’d have preferred it if he’d told the truth—I’d have still gone with him knowing I was bait, just to save Guilia. It was the deception that bothered me. Did he think I wouldn’t go with him? If that were the case, he had no clue about a mother’s love.

  I calculated that we were nearly at our destination. We’d been in the car for over an hour—yes, I’d been quiet that long—and boredom set in as we drove through yet another small, picture-postcard village.

  “Look, you…you prizrak chelovek,” I said. “What the hell are you playing at, lying to me?”

  “I did not lie. I always tell truth.”

  Good answer.

  “You telling me about danger and whatever was the truth, yes, but the bait bit? You forgot to mention it, silly you. An oversight. Not to worry.” My sarcasm might go right over his head, but I felt better for being mean.

  “I did not know about it until you did.”

  And I was supposed to believe that? But, damn it, I did. His tone had been sincere, as was his expression—soft lines and sorrow in his eyes as he glanced across at me.

  Shit.

  “Would you have told me had you known?” I asked.

  “Yes. A person needs to know certain things. Other things, not so much.”

  “Like who has called upon Ivor Belikov’s security services to protect me?”

  “You do not need to know that. It is irrelevant and will only bring you pain. I do not want you to experience more pain.”

  “So you know?”

  He didn’t reply.

  I took that to mean he did know. “Well, aside from that, why should you care whether I’m hurting or not? I’m nothing to you, just a pay packet. Maybe it’ll even be a bonus if you get a fuck and then come through this with flying colours.”

  “I do not know anything about colours that fly, but you are something. More than just a fuck. You are my first…” He cleared his throat and blinked. “My first proper lover. One that I did not have to pay.” His voice quieted. “That means something to everyone.”

  “Bloody hell,” I muttered. “Bloody, fucking hell.”

  “What is the matter?” He gave me a quick look then returned his attention to the road.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  What the hell had I been thinking, toying with him? Now I was feeling sorry for him. All the anger that had festered inside this car was disappearing fast, replaced by sympathy and a twang of guilt. Had I read him right the first time then? That he was, deep down, a good man? Or was this the way he played the game, going with the flow and saying whatever he needed to in order to get what he wanted? And what he wanted—or needed—was a compliant hostage in order to keep Ivor happy.

  I didn’t know what to believe anymore. He probably had a wife and three kids tucked away in Siberia for all I knew.

  “Claudine,” he said, worry in his tone. “Have I said something wrong?”

  “No. Don’t be so weirdly sensitive.” I was being mean again but failed to care. Why should I explain my feelings to him?

  Because there’s no one else to explain them to. We’re stuck together, me and him, for the foreseeable future. Like it or not, I need him.

  That comfort thing came back again, the feeling of needing to share myself with another person. But, oddly, it wasn’t about sex this time. I wanted to talk and talk and talk, to get to know him. Have him tell me about his childhood, his life, so that I didn’t have to think about mine. About this crap I was involved in and the fact that Sutton would tell me nothing.

  Damn Sutton.

  Damn Kolya.

  I let out a growl of rage and thumped the dashboard. Kolya jerked his head my way, and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from taking it out on him. I wanted to rail, to cry, to shout to whatever god sat up there on the snow-filled clouds that this wasn’t fair. That a small child was being used as a pawn and He should bloody well stop it.

  He won’t stop it, but I’ll give it a good go.

  I felt marginally better then, and thankfully, Kolya didn’t ask why I’d made such a racket. Perhaps he understood. Perhaps he wanted to make the same noise himself.

  “It will be all right,” he said quietly and reached out to hold my hand. “I will take care of you and Guilia for as long as you want me to. She will be safe, and so will you.”

  A lump filled my throat. I would not give in to histrionics. I blinked a few times and, thank God, the tears buggered off. The last thing I needed was for them to fall and give me away.

  ‘…for as long as you want me to…’

  Was he offering more? Was he saying that when this was all over…?

  No. No, I couldn’t give him false hope. Before, when I’d justified what I was doing with him, it had seemed right. Now that he was possibly wanting more from me… Shit, what had I done?

  You’re doing what you have to.

  “I can only hope that’s true,” I managed. “Otherwise…”

  “There is no otherwis
e. I will make sure of it.”

  “And if I don’t want you to take care of us…after? What will you do then?”

  “I will respect your wishes. It is nothing new to me, being discarded.”

  I couldn’t cope with this. “Thank you.” It was all I could say.

  “I do not know any other instructions apart from what you heard from Ivor,” he said. “When I know more, I will tell you what I can.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ivor does not allow anyone to know anything until they have to. We rely on information being given piecemeal. That way, if we are caught and possibly tortured, we can only tell what is in the past. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Tortured? Who the hell would torture him or…us? I swallowed down a bitter taste that flooded my mouth. Russians? Whoever these other men were who wanted to fuck up Ivor and my father’s business arrangement? Would they pull our fingernails or stretch me on a rack for information?

  I didn’t have those answers. But what Kolya had said made sense. Whatever was going on, this business my father was involved in, it was big and frightening, something I would only usually read about in the newspapers. And now, with Kolya mentioning torture…it left me in no doubt as to what kind of hole I was in. These were big players, and Father was one of them. He’d been leading a double life and had fooled everyone.

  Maybe that’s why Mother left him. She could have found out.

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so angry towards her. Then again, she’d left me with him. Part of the anger returned, but I hid it away. I always hid it away, it was the only thing a child could do when abandoned by the one person who was supposed to be there, protecting and supporting, offering a guiding hand. She thought a damn Fabergé egg each Christmas made up for her absence—well, she was wrong. Even I was a better mother than her and I’d given my daughter away!

  Kolya turned off onto a track bordered by high trees, the leaves laden, heavy with white blobs. The car jostled over mounds of snow, the dull crunch-thud of tyres on the impacted whiteness filtering into the vehicle. I could have gone back in time, gladly, to winters at Juniper Hall where I’d run rampant in my wellington boots, a thick scarf wrapped around my neck and mittens warming my hands. Laughter, so much of it had come from me back then, when I’d been carefree and young. Life had held promise, my only concern making a snowman, complete with carrot nose and raisins for eyes.

  Does Guilia make snowmen?

  “Our home for the next few days is just up here,” Kolya said.

  I silently thanked him for the interruption. “Oh, okay. Guilia is close, yes?”

  “She is.”

  “I can feel her.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  But, yes, I could feel her. The imaginary clumsiness of her arms when she hugged me. The press of her outdoor-chilled cheek on mine. Her warm breath as she laughed and told me she had indeed made a snowman.

  Stop torturing yourself.

  How could I not, though? I hadn’t been this close to my child since the day she’d been taken from my arms, where I’d been forced to give her up. She was here like a tangible thing, in the car, on my lap.

  The pain of it almost pulled me down. I was back in the ocean, sinking, no air in my lungs.

  Kolya brought the car to a stop. I stared through the windshield and, seeing no buildings, I turned to look at him, dragging in a breath.

  “I have stopped because I have something to tell you,” he said. “Before we go inside.”

  Although the interior light wasn’t on, I had no trouble seeing him. He twisted to face me, and the glare of the snow lit up his face.

  “What Ivor said… He knows.” Kolya shrugged as though embarrassed.

  “Knows what?” I frowned, thinking back to what Kolya could be referring to.

  “He mentioned being distracted.” He shrugged again, his cheeks turning pink.

  ‘Do not be distracted. I will not tolerate distraction. It will get you and her killed. Do you understand me?’

  “Ah.” I shrugged, too. “So you’re saying we can’t fuck here?” The wince he gave made me think of a better way to say it. “We can’t take comfort?”

  “It is best we do not.”

  I lifted my hand to cover his on the steering wheel. “But I imagine we won’t always have to be on alert. There are other men here, watching out for us. It isn’t only down to you now.”

  “I know, but—”

  “So if we need each other…”

  “Claudine… I cannot put you in danger. Taking comfort will do that.”

  “I understand.” I wasn’t used to men turning me down, and despite the circumstances, it stupidly hurt. Sutton had done the same, acting like I wasn’t appealing and he wasn’t interested. I supposed that said something about these two men. They took their jobs—and looking after me—seriously. I couldn’t fault them for it.

  “It is not because I do not want to,” Kolya said. “More that it is not wise.”

  “So drive on,” I said. “I need sleep.”

  He sighed and started the engine, the pain on his face evident.

  We travelled on, up a steep incline, and there, at the top, shrouded by trees, stood a mainly glass building.

  Glass?

  The panes were tinted—very clever—and I knew the inside would be the typical European design to create the effect of space and light. I glanced left then right to determine whether more buildings like this were sitting on top of the hill, but the fir trees were too thick. But Ivor had said Guilia was close by, so I could only assume she lived somewhere in the village nearby. What a beautiful place to spend a childhood.

  “I will park in the garage,” Kolya said.

  He clicked a key fob, and a garage door to the right rose silently. Once inside, he clicked the fob again, and we were enclosed in darkness. So much darkness that it scared me a little. A fumble of sound, then the interior light came on. Kolya was staring at me, a pained smile skewing his lips.

  “It will be okay now,” he said. “It will be okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The building was indeed made of glass. Steel, too, and some decorative wooden panels, but mainly glass. If I’d been asked to describe an Alpine home, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. The place was more like something from an episode of Grand Designs.

  But it was warm—a huge lit fire in the centre of the open living space saw to that. And Kolya insisted that the glass was one way, so while I could see the shadows stretching down the hill towards the village, no one would be able to see me, even with the lights on.

  “It is best that way,” he said. “It gives us the advantage.”

  “But isn’t glass vulnerable? What happened to the boxes of steel to protect people who mustn’t get hurt?”

  “This is bulletproof glass. And here, there is more protection outside.” He stepped away, into the kitchen area.

  I continued to stare into the woods, wondering if Ivor’s men or the ones out to get me and my daughter were lurking in the darkness.

  I resisted shuddering and shoved my hands into my jeans pockets. Right down deep, where crumbs and bits of fluff lived.

  There was something there. In my pocket.

  It was tiny and hard.

  A bolt of realisation blasted through me. I didn’t have to look at it to know what it was. The small round piece of what felt like metal I now held between my thumb and index finger was a tracker. Just like the plastic disc Sutton had pulled from my handbag back in St Lucia.

  Except this one was different. Sutton had put it there. He’d had the foresight to make sure he could plot my movements, wherever I went in the world, so long as I had these jeans. Unless he’d put one in all my clothing. When had he done that?

  I held in a trembling sigh.

  Had he followed me to the lodge in the Everglades? And if so, why not retrieve me from Kolya back then?

  Did he think that K
olya was too much of a match for him?

  No, that was ridiculous. Sutton was a man who could handle himself. And he’d got rid of Kolya once, in the shanty town.

  So was he here now? In Austria? Had he managed to find a flight to Vienna and then hire a car and drive up into the mountains?

  I released the bug, set it deep in my pocket again, a strange sensation of comfort coming over me. It felt good to know both of my bodyguards were around. If things got dicey, each could be useful to me. Both were being paid to look out for me, after all.

  And right now, I needed all the help I could get.

  I stepped closer to the glass, searching, not for nameless, faceless men, but for Sutton. I had no idea what I’d do if I saw him. None whatsoever, but still, my brain wouldn’t let it go, and I had to peer into every corner and crevice of darkness.

  “Here.” Kolya was next to me. “Drink. Then you must sleep.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to.” I took the milky drink that smelt strongly of brandy.

  “You must try.”

  “And will you sleep, Kolya?”

  “No. I will sit here.” He indicated a brown leather chair that faced the way I was looking. “And keep a watch out.”

  “A watch out,” I repeated. “But there are already men out there, watching out, aren’t there?”

  What if they stumbled across Sutton? I didn’t want that. I had an idea of him being a free agent. One against many.

  I huffed and took a sip of the hot drink. It heated my mouth and gullet, and the slap of alcohol fizzed into my belly.

  “There are men out there.” Kolya tapped his pocket. “I will make radio contact with them soon, stay in touch through the night and into tomorrow.”

  “And what is happening tomorrow?”

  “We go out.”

  “We do?” That surprised me. “I’d presumed we’d be staying in. Safer that way?”

  “But no one can see you in here.” He frowned, as though not really liking what he was saying.

  It twigged in my brain. “Ah, and I’m bait. I must be seen in order to draw out these men.”