WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (68 page)

I swallowed past the temptation for help, then dabbed soap
bubbles on the tip of his nose.  "Thank you.  Really.  But
I told you before, no handouts.”

“Who said anything about handouts?”

“This is my problem, not yours.  Whatever form your
help comes in, it all boils down to a handout, like your offer to pull me in
some new work contracts.”

“Oh, that.”

I leaned harder against the warmth of his chest.  “This
is just something I feel that I need to deal with on my own.”

“If that’s what you want,” he replied.

“It is.  Now lose the frown and give me a kiss.”

“That, I can manage.”  He leaned in, let his lips graze
mine in a soft tease, then swept the tip of his nose across to my ear and then
down.  “You smell divine.”  He slid his arms around my waist again,
wrapping me like a silk scarf while he nuzzled my neck, sending delicious
shivers throughout my body.  Jeez, I could get used to
this
. 

CHRISTA

O
nce
Brian took delivery of his courtesy car, he drove Sarah and me home.  The
snow was turning to dirty slush.

Sarah slung her bag over her shoulder, left the car and
raced to the house.  As I reached to open my door, Brian touched my
hand.  “Hold on a sec.”  He leaned across and gave me a delicious
kiss on the lips. "God, I can't wait to get you alone to give you your
birthday present and put a big smile on your beautiful face."

I blushed, forcing back the urge to crawl across the console
and straddle him.  “I'll see you later then?”

“I’ve got a meeting this afternoon.  I wish I could
reschedule but the guy’s driven a long way.”

“Tonight then.  We’ll order Chinese food and then talk
once Sarah goes to bed.”  

His eyebrows hopped up.  “Love to.”

“That wasn’t code or anything.  I did actually mean
to
talk
.”

"First, then I'll ravage you,” he said in a jovial
growl.

I laughed.  “Can’t wait.”  We kissed again and I
left the car with my heart bouncing against my ribs, mentally tearing the
clothes off his chiselled body.

Brian beeped the horn and drove off.

My stomach fluttered, then it faded.

Poor bloke.  Facing the wrath of Claire would not be
easy.  I just hoped that Steph had taken his advice and not spilled the
beans already.  Despite Claire’s bad attitude, I did feel sorry for her
knowing that she was in love with Brian.  I assumed heartache was painful
for even the spikiest of people.

I unlocked and opened the front door.  Immediately, the
smell of bleach hit me.  “Whoa!”  We stepped into the hall and found
Nicola dashing out of my office.  She wore black jeans, a long-sleeved
polo neck sweater and heavier than usual makeup. 

“Oh, er... Happy birthday,” she said.

Sarah rushed past us into the kitchen.

“Thanks.”  I smiled then mouthed, ‘we need to chat in
private.’

Nicola’s eyes flickered around the hall.

“Are you okay?”  I hooked her elbow and leaned in to
cup her face.  “What’s up with your chin?  It looks swollen.”

“Oh, er...  I had a reaction to that blasted face
pack.”  She turned away and walked toward the kitchen, enclosing her fist around
something small.  “And I overdid the wine last night, slipped and dropped
my mobile.  It’s broken.”

I followed her.  “Poor love.  You should put ice
on your face and throw the tube in the bin.  I don't want Sarah using that
face pack.  You know what she’s like.”  The smell of bleach
intensified in the kitchen where Sarah was rummaging through the fridge. 
I wafted my hand about my face.  “I tried to phone you so many times last
night.  Why wouldn’t the landline work?”

“I think the weather knocked it out.”

“Great.  That’s all I needed.”  I glanced
around.  “Have you spilled a bottle of bleach or something?”

"Yeah," Sarah commented.  "It
stinks."

“Thought I’d clean up a bit,” Nicola mumbled.  “Can’t
have you coming back to a dirty house on your birthday.”

“It wasn’t that bad, but... very kind.”  I sniffed the
air.  “Do I smell... smoke?”

Nicola hunched.  “I tried not to, but yes, I smoked a
cigarette.  Sorry.”

“But you’ve been doing so well,” I said, sidestepping
Sarah’s bag plonked on the floor.

Nicola shrugged.  She was acting weird.  This was
a different Nicola.

Sarah grabbed a juice from the fridge.  “Where are your
cards and presents mum?”

“Under my bed,” Nicola replied.

Sarah started out of the room.  “I’ll get them. 
You can open mine first.  Nicola helped me make it.”

“Oh, Sarah,” Nicola called.  “Will you use your mum’s
bathroom today?  The bath’s leaking and the toilet’s not filling up
right.”

“Leaking?” I said.

She nodded.  “Don’t worry, I’ve mopped up.  I know
a friend who can fix it, but he said that no one should use the bathroom at all
until he mends it.  All right?”

“Sure,” Sarah said, then left the kitchen and I heard her
bounding up the stairs.

I flicked the kettle on.  “This wretched house is
falling down around us.  Perhaps giving it up is for the best.”  I
spooned coffee granules in two mugs, turned around, and leaned against the
bench crossing my legs at the ankles.  “Come on.  Out with it."

Her eyes widened.  "What?"

"You had people round last night, some sort of
party.  It's written all over your face.”

“I-I didn't.  I drank a few more glasses of wine than I
realised.  That's all.”

I gave a light chuckle.  “Well, it’s your home
too.”  For now, at least.  “So long as you didn’t let anyone in my
office.  Anyway, John didn’t turn up at Brian’s last night."  I
wiped my brow in a show of relief.  "Thank goodness.”

Nicola coughed out a cross between a hiccup and a
choke.  “J-John?”

I patted her back.  “We need to keep an eye out. 
Don’t let him in the house, okay?”  I lowered my voice.  “I’ve left a
message asking him to phone me, but he hasn’t.  I’m shocked that he’s
playing this dirty, but really, I guess I knew it wasn’t a bluff.  Thanks
for the heads-up.”

“Dirty?” Her voice shook.

“Yes.  Isn’t that what you were telling me on the phone
last night?  That John came round here to spill the beans to Sarah, to
force me to give up the house?”

Nicola plucked invisible fluff off her sweater, glanced up
at a corner in the kitchen.  “Y-yes.  Sorry.  I forgot. 
This damn hangover is torturous.  What an asshole!”

I flopped my head back and sighed.  “I can’t magic up
that amount of money to buy him out, so I’ll have to say goodbye to this
place.  He knows it’ll be a struggle to run my business without all that
space.  It’ll break Sarah’s little heart not to have all these spare rooms
to play in, however battered and full of cobwebs they are.  It would have
been the most amazing home once I finish renovating.” 

"The perfect bed and breakfast place."

"Ooh, a guest house?  Not a bad idea, but... well,
that’ll never happen now."  Leaving this house would feel like a
death had occurred.  I nudged my depressing thoughts away, grabbed a
carton of milk from the fridge and turned.  “Oh, and guess what?”

Her face blanched.

"Don't look so worried, this is good news." 
Unable to contain my smile, I whispered.  “Well, Brian and I abseiled down
a cliff last night.”

“Really?”

“And when we got to his house, we kissed.” 

“You’re kidding me?”  Something small fell out of her
hand and skidded across the tiles.

“It was amaaaazing.”  I beamed, melting at the
memory.  “He’s going to talk to Claire today.  End things
properly.  It was a bit awkward when his sister barged in and started
screaming at us, so please don’t gossip about it until Brian's smoothed things
over, all right?”

Nicola nodded.  She crouched down and scanned the
floor.

I stared down at her, confused. 
Why can’t she drum
up any enthusiasm?
  “What’s up, hon?”  Hadn’t she realised what
I’d just said?  And why hadn’t she asked me about Steph barging in on
us?  I felt like I was talking to a blank version of her in a parallel
universe.  “What did you drop?  Want me to help you look?”

“Nothing important.”

“I thought you’d be whooping and doing a happy dance, throw
a street party.”  I cast my eyes across the floor.  "Come out
wherever you are.  Where did the real Nicola go?"

“I’m very happy,” her lacklustre voice floated up from the
floor.  “But I thought you said there wasn’t any chemistry.”

My stomach fluttered and a smile came to my lips. 
“Chemistry?  There were enough sparks to set his house on fire!  God,
he's a fantastic kisser.  No wonder Claire’s so hooked on him.  It
was like... as soon as our lips met, the world didn’t seem such a grinding
place.  Know what I mean?"  I nibbled my bottom lip through a
wave of sweet shivers at the memory.  "Your plan to get us alone last
night obviously did the trick.  Thanks.  Really.  You’re the
best friend I could ever wish for.  I can't begin to tell you how amazing
it was.  Why the hell didn't I realise what was staring me in the face all
these years?"  I snapped my mouth closed before I went overboard,
gushing and swooning like a teenager. 

"Well in that case..."

I waited through her pause.

She smiled a little, then flung her arms out and pulled me
into a hug.

"That's more like the real Nicola," I
muttered.  Although...

“I’m just shocked, I guess.  I thought you two would
never get it on. Wonderful news.”

No.  Her hug felt wrong.  Cold and cautious, like
she wasn’t really into it.  I leaned out of her arms and smoothed her hair
away from her face.  “You really don’t look well.  Wanna sit?” 
I motioned to her unusually high-necked top.  “What’s with the new
get-up?”

She moved out of my arms and her hand flew up to clutch her
throat.  “I’m a bit fragile today.  Hungover.  Sorry.”

“Well, your eyes do look red and you don't seem
yourself.  You know, you’re really beautiful.  You don’t need to wear
all that make-up.”  My compliment didn’t even raise a smile.

“I’ll be fine after another coffee,” she said in a
mechanical voice.  “But thanks.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone last night,” I said, assuming
that might be the reason for her cold front.   The kettle boiled so I
made the drinks.  “Anyway, I need to change my clothes and then Sarah and
I are going to watch a film.  It might take my mind off waiting for the
dreaded phone call from John.  How can I have such a high and a low in one
day?  Weird, huh?  Anyway, I just have to accept it, no point hoping that
some miracle might happen and I get to keep the house.  Oh, John is such
an arse.”

“Christa, that’s a bit mean.”

I frowned.  “You’re sticking up for him?”

“No... I’m just... never mind.”

Weird.  “Anyway, then I’ve got to perform surgery on a
few computers before I get behind on things.”

“Surgery?”

“That’s what Sarah called it the other day.  It
requires patience – mine – running tests and then sometimes I have to open ‘em
up and operate.  Get it?  Operating system?”  I laughed at
myself, but Nicola just frowned.  “Okay, it’s lame.  Anyway, Brian’s
coming round for a takeaway later.  I know it’s not glitz and glamour, but
you’ll join us, right?  Help me enjoy the last birthday I’ll have in this
house?”

Sarah bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, her arms
spilling with cards and presents.  “Open mine first, mum.”

I smiled.  “Can’t wait.”

Nicola picked up what looked like a flash drive off the
floor, then grabbed her mug and started out of the room.  “I need to go on
the internet, Christa.  Pay my catalogue bills ‘n’ stuff.  Can I use
your office while you watch the film?”

I glanced at Sarah and winked.  “You mean my operating
theatre?” I laughed and tore the wrapping off Sarah’s present. 
Not
much of a birthday celebration. 
“Don’t you want to watch me open my
gifts?”

CLAIRE

C
laire
charged down the hall in her house after Brian.  “No!  No!  You
can’t do this.”

He opened her front door to leave.  “I’ve tried to be
civil.  I didn’t come here for a big argument.  It’s best I go.”

She tried to grab his coat, but only succeeded in clawing at
his departing back.  “Don’t you dare dump me then walk away, asshole!”

He blocked her wrist and glared at her.  “Insane.”
 Then shut the door in her face. 

Her heart in tiny pieces, Claire dived onto the sofa. 
Big, shuddering sobs racked her.  She flung cushions into the hall while
the love of her life drove off. 

The fact that Brian had avoided mentioning Christa’s name as
the reason for breaking up with Claire compounded her anger to no end. 
Did he think she was stupid?  “I hate that bitch!” she yelled into the
silence.  She sniffed back tears, and then texted her brother to come over
straight away.

There was only one way to fix this.  Claire had to put
a stop to Christa and Brian’s relationship.  Fast. 

If she couldn’t turn Brian off Christa, she’d have
to...  Hmmm...  Be devious, subtle as moonlight.

She wiped tears from her face, sat up straight and forced
herself to focus. 
That dang liar.  Well, Christa's not going to
walk off with my Brian.  Not if I can help it. 
She’d had her
chance with him years ago.  Brian had let it slip a while back that he and
Christa had had a
thing
in their teens.

After searching her whirring brain, she grabbed her mobile
and typed Christa a text message:

‘I am hurt just like you will be when you learn the
truth. While you have been his emotional support, I’ve been his physical if you
catch my drift. Even this lunch time, he had to have me one more time, then
again, telling me it was over.  Brian’s confused and feels sorry for
you.  Let him be free, for his sake.’

Claire pressed send, gave a deep, gratifying sigh and then
her mobile rang.  She glanced at the screen.  It was Steph. So she
answered it.

From the venom in Steph’s gushing voice, she clearly loathed
both Christa and Brian, and was happy to lend Claire a sympathetic ear.

“He didn’t say it outright,” Claire explained while tidying
up the items on her coffee table.  “But I know he dumped me for
Christa.  I just texted her and... kinda told her to let him live his
life.  He feels sorry for her.  She’ll never make him happy.”

“My brother’s an ass and doesn’t deserve you.  I hate
him for hurting you like this.  Why on earth he’d hook up with her is
beyond me.”

“Hook up?” 
Did something happen that I didn’t know
about?
  “What do you mean?”  She grabbed Sarah’s laptop from
behind her sofa, and shoved it onto her bookshelf in the corner of the
room.  Thank goodness she’d gotten it back.  In the wrong hands that
would land a lot of people in deep, deep shit.  Praying that Brian would
not realise he’d left it in her car last night, she sat down to concentrate on
what Steph had to say.

“Oh, just... er, that Christa’s nothing but a rotten egg and
a cheat.  Always has been.”

Claire gulped and sat up straight. 
How interesting! 
“Really?”
 
She knew Steph had developed a soft spot for her
over the months.  If Steph had dirt on Christa, she had to coax it
out.  Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, Claire twisted her
hair up into a bun and purposefully sweetened her voice to massage Steph’s soft
spot.  “We should go out for drinks, just the
two
of us.”

“I’d love to.”  Steph’s voice had an obvious perkiness.

“But first, tell me what you mean by ‘rotten egg’.” 
Claire might be able to use this to convince Brian that Christa was no good for
him.  “When did Christa cheat?  On her husband?”

“No.  It was ages ago,” Steph replied. 

Oh, great.  So much for juicy gossip.

“I haven’t had much to do with her since Sarah was a baby,
but I doubt she’s changed.”

Claire picked at her fingernails.  “What happened?”

“Christa never mentioned the guy’s name, but she was
cheating on my brother, Michael, around the time she got pregnant.  She
blurted it out while crying on my shoulder.  I was the first person she’d
told about being pregnant.”

Claire tightened her grip on the phone and sat rigid with
impatience on the sofa. 
Perhaps this would be juicy.
  “And?”

“Christa said she didn’t know who the father of her baby
was.”

Goose bumps raised on Claire’s skin.  “Oh, heck.” 
Her world charred around the edges.  Steph might not have known who the
other
guy was, but Claire sure did.  Brian.  “Tell me more.  What
happened?”

“You have to understand that I loved Michael and was thrilled
at the thought of becoming an auntie,” Steph explained.  “I got excited,
carried away, and thought this news might get Christa and Michael back
together.  I told Christa to forget about this other guy, and kinda said
that the dates meant that Michael had to be the father.”

“
Kinda said?” 
Claire’s voice hardened with
dread.  “You mean you lied?”

Steph didn’t answer.  Her dead air spoke volumes. 

Oh, shit. 
Brian is Sarah’s dad!
 And Steph
had manipulated Christa into believing that he wasn’t.  Steph was five
years Christa’s senior.  Christa was a teenager at the time, a pregnant
and probably hysterical one who would likely have believed Steph, especially
seeing as she was training to be a nurse.  Tears trickled down Claire’s
cheeks.  Brian had let it slip that he and Christa had been together, but
never once had he said it was around the time she got pregnant.  He’d have
been seventeen, perhaps about to turn eighteen then.  “What happened
next?”

“Christa told Michael she was pregnant with his child.” 
Steph sniffed. 
Is she crying?
  “I hoped he’d be delighted,
but he couldn’t handle it.  He took off, got drunk with his bad boy mates
as usual, but this time...  he fell onto the train lines.”

Oh, my God.  Claire smothered her mouth with her hand
to keep from spluttering down the phone.  She sat shocked and agitated,
but also puzzled as to why Steph was sharing this dark secret with her. 
No.  It couldn’t be true.  There had to be more meat to her story
because this made Steph look so bad, in fact partially responsible for
Michael’s death.

“I felt guilty,” Steph said.  “It drove me insane.”

Jeez.
  “I bet it did.”

“If Christa did have paternity doubts, then I think the
shock of Michael’s death sealed that box for her anyway.  I mean... how
could she raise the subject after he’d just died because she’d told him he was
going to be a dad?  How could I?  My family would have gone
ballistic.  I didn’t know what to do, so I kept up the story and told
Christa not to tell anyone about this other guy.”

“Didn’t Bri... er... this
other
guy-“ Claire
practically choked on the words. “-ever wonder if he was the father?”

“Christa told him he wasn’t.   I told her to tell
him that the dates didn’t match up.  I’m assuming he was also a teenager
and well... c’mon... Even Christa only knew the basics, so what do boys that
age really know about ovulation and the window of conception?”

“Hmmm.... probably not enough.” 
Clearly. 
“Didn’t
Christa ever wonder about it when she got older?”

“I’d convinced her pretty well.  In her mind, I think
it was a closed subject, and a painful one that she didn’t want to
revisit.  None of us did.”

Crap, crap. 
Claire’s body thumped and pounded,
her bowels would soon be slush.  While tears spilled, she searched her
brain for something to say which didn’t scream heartache.  “Is this why
you and Christa don’t get along?”

“I don’t know how many times I almost blurted out what I’d
done.  But then I grew angry.  If Christa hadn’t cheated on my
brother, none of this would have happened and my brother would still be
alive.  Anyway, about a year down the line I finally broke contact with
her.”

“Does anyone else know about this
other
guy?”

“No.  And they don’t need to.”

Phew.  Claire slumped.  The secret was safe so
long as Steph kept her trap shut.

“It’s irrelevant now,” Steph added.  “That’s why I
don’t feel bad anymore and why I’m able to tell you this.  My conscience
is clear.”

Claire sat forward again.  “Clear?  Why?” 
She held her breath. 
There’s more?

“Well... It turned out that I was wrong about this other guy
being the father.  I can’t tell you how relieved I was.”

“You were?”  A wave of relief rolled through Claire,
drying her tears.  This explained why Steph had confessed.  Thank God
it was all a misunderstanding.  She wilted into the sofa.  Brian was not
Sarah’s father after all.

“I mean...” Steph went on.  “It’s obvious.  You’ve
only got to look at Sarah’s face to see that she comes from our family.”

Oh... fuck, fuck!
  That’s
her evidence?

“So Michael has to be Sarah’s father,” Steph said.  “Or
she wouldn’t look like one of us, would she?”

Unless it was sibling sperm, Brian’s. 
Claire’s
heart more or less burst open.

So, Brian was indeed Sarah’s father, and no one knew except
Claire.

“She’s got the same big blue eyes as me and Brian, a similar
jaw and...”

Of course she does.  Claire didn’t want to listen to
any more.  Every word assaulted her brain, her heart, her soul.
 
With
a low groan, she swiped all the oddments off the coffee table, sending a mug
and vase of flowers flying into the radiator. 

“You okay?” Steph asked.  “What was that crashing
noise?”

“Nothing.  What were you saying?”

“The reason I’m telling you this is... once a cheat, always
a cheat, right?  Brian will soon realise he’s making a mistake.  Let
him hang himself.”

Claire said nothing.  It was clear that Steph’s
feelings toward her brother were still very raw, mainly stemmed from, she’d
discerned, when Brian took off for University not long after Michael
died.  Although they did help each other out from time to time, there was
always a tangible frost in the air whenever Claire saw them together.

“You still there?”

“Yeah,” Claire mumbled, dabbing her tears with her
sleeve.  Right now, she wouldn’t care if Christa was a bloody whore. 
Stupid, loopy Steph had no idea about what she’d just let out of the bag. 
She had to keep a lid on this.  If Steph spoke of it again, she’d...
she’d... cut out her tongue if that’s what it took.

“Those two rotten eggs deserve each other,” Steph
mumbled.  “Let them get on with it.  Besides, Brian’s not good enough
for you.  But I’m still here for you.  You know that, right?”

“You’re such a sweetheart.”  The endearment was what
Steph probably wanted to hear.  Claire tapped a rhythm of anxiety on the
carpet with her foot.  Oh, my God.  If Steph and Brian were ever
capable of talking rather than screaming at each other, surely they’d piece it
together too.  “Don’t tell anyone about this,” Claire said firmly, shaking
herself into focus.  She had to contain this.  Immediately. 
“Like you said, it’s irrelevant now, Stephy.  If it gets out, everyone
will turn on
you
.  You don’t want that, do you?”

“Hell, no.”

“Good.  Don’t mention this ever again.  I’ll phone
you tomorrow.  I’ve got to go now.”

“B-but what about that drink?  I thought we were–”

“I need to be on my own for a while.”  Claire hung
up.  She leaned forward on the sofa, circled her knees with her arms and
screamed out her heartache at the top of her lungs. 

The front door opened, and her brother bombed into the
house.

“Dale!”  In a flood of tears, she hopped up and raced
over to him.

"I came as quickly as I could, Rachel," he
said.  “I’ve been tied up in a house just out of town.  It’s a house
share, and Christa repaired one of the girl’s computers the other week. 
Anyway, what we saw through the webcam looked promising, so we’ve just
installed some permanent cameras.”  He paused and stared.  “What's
wrong?"

Claire tried to shake her brain awake.  Switching to
her real name was confusing at the best at times.  “I-it’s...”  She
wedged herself into the comforting ring of his arms, struggling to get words
out.  Her head, one giant knot of pressure replayed Brian's cutting words
over and over again.

He pressed his cheek atop her head.  “What happened?”

"Brian just left.  He chucked me," she
blurted out.

Dale tightened his arms around her.  "Oh, Rach,
I'm sorry."

"It hurts."

"I knew this was coming."  He stroked her
hair.  "I told you that you were only a casual fling to him.  He
doesn’t deserve you."

Her lower lip trembled as she glanced up.  "Why
doesn't he love me more than her?"

He kissed her forehead.  "I should have put a stop
to this sooner.  It was bound to end badly, Rach."

For some reason, hearing her own name annoyed her. 
“Claire.  Call me Claire from now on.”

“Why?”

“I just prefer it.”

“Okay.  Claire it is.  Whatever makes you happy.”

The reason this had come to a head today rammed into
Claire's mind.  She sniffed, slammed both palms on Dale’s chest and shoved
hard.  Her bitter eyes fired virtual daggers at him. "Why the fuck
did I listen to you?"

"Me?  What did I
do?"          

"This is all your fault."  She pushed a shaky
hand through her hair.  "If I hadn't accused Brian of wanting to be
with Christa, to do his biblical duty, and then driven into a ditch so that he'd
whisk Christa out of that bloody house then he wouldn’t have-"