the computer, they stood in darkness.
Nicola tried to peek at the screen. “Why do you keep looking at that?”
“Hush a minute. I need to think.”
His thoughtful expression surely hid a cagey scheme. John had made Christa’s life hell recently over negotiating the divorce. But despite the cold fingers of doubt tightening around her, he seemed to be trying to help. And she didn’t have a choice but to listen to him unless she wanted to get collared by those men.
Feet shuffled in the kitchen.
“Damn. They must have house keys.” John’s nostrils flared as he breathed in heavily. "Coming in here was a bad idea. I’ve got a feeling they already know the entry code.”
“W-what?” Her thoughts whirled in panic.
“They know every inch of this place. This is insane. We should switch rooms."
“We don’t have time!” Her vision blurred with tears. “They’re already in the house.” If John was also a bad guy, she’d jumped from one devil’s clutch to another. “Oh, god, they’re gonna find us and kill us.”
“Shut up. Let me think. Grab anything we can use as a weapon.” John grabbed Nicola’s hand and led her quickly and quietly around the edges of the room. “How do I phone or email out on this thing?” he muttered. “What do I press?”
Nicola picked up an extension lead thinking she could swing the hard end at her attacker’s head. She stayed close behind John, relieved that the carpet softened their steps, but petrified the men would blast through the door any second.
“So long as the lights are off, we should be okay.”
“Okay? I think we’ll need more than the dark to protect us.”
“I’ve got an idea. Follow me.” John slid along the right wall, tablet in hand as though using it as guidance. “Over there.” He pulled her to the full-length window seat on the far wall. He lifted the cushioned lid, emptied out some magazines from inside, then pointed down. “Get in.”
“In there?" she squeaked out. "This is your amazing plan?”
He cocked his head. “Got a better one?”
The front door was locked. Her keys were in the kitchen. No time to run upstairs. And if they tried to bust the painted-shut window, the men would hear exactly where they were. “Guess not.” Nicola climbed inside. She molded herself into what felt like a narrow curved coffin, on top of cables and books, silently cursing.
“Which way did they go?” a man’s voice rasped from the hall that she didn’t recognise.
“Check downstairs. I’ll search upstairs,” another replied, more muffled and Nicola strained to hear. “And you... Run... and check the feed. See if you can spot... This is a bloody mess and it needs sorting.”
Footsteps, centred in the hall, thumped away in three different directions.
"Scoot down." John climbed in after Nicola, tossed a magazine on top of the lid and pulled it closed. He lay squashed against her, thighs in a spooning position.
“Where’s your phone? Call the cops,” Nicola whispered.
“In my car, charging.”
“Nice one,” she muttered, irritated.
The office door rattled and a light clicked.
“Shush,” John whispered.
Hell. John is right about them knowing the code.
A set of footsteps tapped, barely audible, into the room and began walking the perimeter.
Nicola tensed and held her breath. Whoever was hunting her down passed by the window seat because the curtain scraped on its pole above. Every muscle bunched. She lay beside John in the soft glow of the tablet, shaking and twitching with every footstep. Her shoulder jutted up against the metal pins of a wall plug. John's chest heaved against the small of her back.
Nicola wished she had stayed in the car with Brian and Christa, rather than play cupid and be so foolishly vain.
Cupboards rattled in the office.
What were they looking for? Documents? Money? Computers?
Sweating
Nicola tried to peek at the screen. “Why do you keep looking at that?”
“Hush a minute. I need to think.”
His thoughtful expression surely hid a cagey scheme. John had made Christa’s life hell recently over negotiating the divorce. But despite the cold fingers of doubt tightening around her, he seemed to be trying to help. And she didn’t have a choice but to listen to him unless she wanted to get collared by those men.
Feet shuffled in the kitchen.
“Damn. They must have house keys.” John’s nostrils flared as he breathed in heavily. "Coming in here was a bad idea. I’ve got a feeling they already know the entry code.”
“W-what?” Her thoughts whirled in panic.
“They know every inch of this place. This is insane. We should switch rooms."
“We don’t have time!” Her vision blurred with tears. “They’re already in the house.” If John was also a bad guy, she’d jumped from one devil’s clutch to another. “Oh, god, they’re gonna find us and kill us.”
“Shut up. Let me think. Grab anything we can use as a weapon.” John grabbed Nicola’s hand and led her quickly and quietly around the edges of the room. “How do I phone or email out on this thing?” he muttered. “What do I press?”
Nicola picked up an extension lead thinking she could swing the hard end at her attacker’s head. She stayed close behind John, relieved that the carpet softened their steps, but petrified the men would blast through the door any second.
“So long as the lights are off, we should be okay.”
“Okay? I think we’ll need more than the dark to protect us.”
“I’ve got an idea. Follow me.” John slid along the right wall, tablet in hand as though using it as guidance. “Over there.” He pulled her to the full-length window seat on the far wall. He lifted the cushioned lid, emptied out some magazines from inside, then pointed down. “Get in.”
“In there?" she squeaked out. "This is your amazing plan?”
He cocked his head. “Got a better one?”
The front door was locked. Her keys were in the kitchen. No time to run upstairs. And if they tried to bust the painted-shut window, the men would hear exactly where they were. “Guess not.” Nicola climbed inside. She molded herself into what felt like a narrow curved coffin, on top of cables and books, silently cursing.
“Which way did they go?” a man’s voice rasped from the hall that she didn’t recognise.
“Check downstairs. I’ll search upstairs,” another replied, more muffled and Nicola strained to hear. “And you... Run... and check the feed. See if you can spot... This is a bloody mess and it needs sorting.”
Footsteps, centred in the hall, thumped away in three different directions.
"Scoot down." John climbed in after Nicola, tossed a magazine on top of the lid and pulled it closed. He lay squashed against her, thighs in a spooning position.
“Where’s your phone? Call the cops,” Nicola whispered.
“In my car, charging.”
“Nice one,” she muttered, irritated.
The office door rattled and a light clicked.
“Shush,” John whispered.
Hell. John is right about them knowing the code.
A set of footsteps tapped, barely audible, into the room and began walking the perimeter.
Nicola tensed and held her breath. Whoever was hunting her down passed by the window seat because the curtain scraped on its pole above. Every muscle bunched. She lay beside John in the soft glow of the tablet, shaking and twitching with every footstep. Her shoulder jutted up against the metal pins of a wall plug. John's chest heaved against the small of her back.
Nicola wished she had stayed in the car with Brian and Christa, rather than play cupid and be so foolishly vain.
Cupboards rattled in the office.
What were they looking for? Documents? Money? Computers?
Sweating
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