Fair game, p.1
Fair Game, page 1
Table Of Contents
OTHER BOOKS BY CHARLOTTE MILLS
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
EPILOGUE
OTHER BOOKS FROM YLVA PUBLISHING
ABOUT CHARLOTTE MILLS
Sign up for our newsletter to hear
about new and upcoming releases.
www.ylva-publishing.com
OTHER BOOKS BY CHARLOTTE MILLS
Body of Work
Payback
DEDICATION
To C, thank you for not letting me off the hook.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Astrid and everyone at Ylva Publishing for their support with this project. To Miranda Miller for her guidance and assistance through the editing process; sequels can be tricky creatures. To Michelle Aguilar for pulling me into line once again.
CHAPTER 1
He crept up the stairwell, his trainers making only soft thuds on the concrete steps as he edged closer to the top. Sleep would have claimed Morris hours ago, but there was no reason to draw attention to himself. Besides, he knew little about the sleep patterns of the old woman in the next-door flat. He didn’t like taking unnecessary risks.
He pulled the key he’d fabricated from his pocket, hoping the time spent earlier would pay off. The caretaker had been oblivious to his actions when he’d stopped by Morris’s flat the other day. It was amazing what you could do with a lighter and a piece of sticky tape.
The sharp edges of the metal scraped against his skin: in his haste, he had bent the key out of shape.
“Shit!” He clapped his hand over his mouth.
He pressed the key against the wall to flatten it. Sweat clung to the inside of his latex gloves as he took hold of the padlock. Slipping the key into the slot, he held his breath and wiggled the thin metal. His jaw ached as he crushed his teeth together, fearing he would have to resort to plan B—the heavy bolt cutters in his rucksack. He rolled his shoulders as he tried again, jiggling the thin metal. He felt it twist to breaking point under his firm grip.
The padlock snapped open seconds later, preventing any further negative thoughts. He pulled off the lock, removing the key to flatten it again, this time against the door frame. He already had plans to remove the evidence as soon as it had taken effect. He opened the door. Darkness and warm air greeted him. The orange glow from the streetlights below provided some ambient light, but the surface of the roof was lost in the darkness. He stepped out into the moist air and slipped the padlock between the door and the frame to prevent it from closing on him.
He scanned the roof for the ventilation point he needed and moved towards his target, then pulled the required tool from his rucksack. After removing the screws, some WD-40 along the joint seam eased the release as he pulled off the mounted ventilation turbine. The sharp, scratching squeal stopped him. He remained crouched on the roof, gazing across at the only possible onlookers. Why the fuck couldn’t Morris have lived in the other block? He studied each of the third- and fourth-floor windows. Due to the design of the block, only people in two flats could see him. Each window appeared dark; some had blinds or curtains visible, but most of the top-floor windows were black holes against the timber panelling. He clenched his jaw, still angry that his preparation had taken longer than he’d planned. Experiments could be unpredictable; he knew that now. There hadn’t been anyone living there two months ago. Now some stupid woman had moved in, creating more complications for him.
Satisfied there was no one watching, he added more release agent. The turbine came off with little resistance. He placed his torch in the ventilation shaft before turning it on. There was the length of wood he’d placed in the shaft earlier. He switched the torch off, placing it next to his rucksack, and slipped on the face mask he’d pulled from his pocket.
The chemical scent of the mask filled his lungs. He removed the large plastic box from his rucksack and placed it carefully on the roof. He’d spent weeks culturing this specimen in the incubator, so he couldn’t afford at this stage to damage it. This had to be the only source they would find in the flat. It needed to look like an unfortunate accident, an element of chance that had created this invisible killer. Except he hadn’t left it to chance at all; Morris was already showing signs of flu.
He’d been smart in his choice of bacteria. Legionella wasn’t common, but it did happen. With the location he had chosen, it was unlikely that anyone else would be affected. To stand any chance of inheriting whatever fortune Morris had hidden away in that dump of a flat, he needed to be totally unconnected to any of this.
He retrieved the fast food container from his bag. The right environment was needed for it to flourish—or at least to look like it had. Lowering it into position at the bottom of the ventilation shaft, he retrieved the wire and placed it into his bag.
After uncoiling the fishing wire he’d already tied to the metal, he popped the lid. In his experiments, the rusty surface had proven a good medium for the bacteria. He stretched his arms and teased the metal from its watery box. Standing, he carefully lowered the metal plate down the shaft. He fed the fishing line between his fingers, waiting until it settled on a solid surface before grabbing the torch to check its progress.
Content that it had reached its final resting place in the food container, he settled it flat. Morris would get weaker and weaker now, and soon he would struggle to breathe. Morris already had a slight fever, he’d seen it earlier when he dropped off some shopping.
Only a little longer would push him over the edge. Morris had to suffer, and he wanted to watch every minute of it. He’d quickly shelved his hit-and-run idea; Morris didn’t deserve to go that swiftly. A warmth filled his chest as he pictured himself telling Morris exactly what he had done, just before the end. Morris needed to see the pain that he himself had felt for so many years.
He snipped the fishing wire and coiled it around his hand before pocketing it. He only needed to add the bacteria-laden water; then he could sit back and watch it unfold.
CHAPTER 2
Lexi Ryan stretched out across the bed, expecting to clash with part of Helen’s body at some point, only to be thwarted. Had it all been a dream? She rested on her elbows as she quickly scanned the dimly lit room for anything that would point to Helen’s presence. Once her gaze landed on a familiar black coat on the chair in the corner of her bedroom, relief flooded her. For so many nights, she’d dreamt of Helen in this bed. She couldn’t face waking up to disappointment again.
It was hard to believe that almost two months had passed since they had met up again. Lately, she’d relapsed into acting like a teenager—living for the weekends when Helen visited. She smiled to herself as she thought about their first meeting all those months ago in Warner. Despite their rocky introduction, they seemed to bring out the best in one another, at least in Lexi’s eyes. Impersonating a police officer may not have been the best idea, but her choices were limited at the time. In the end, she’d assisted in apprehending a serial arsonist and a hit-and-run murderer during her stint as DC Kate Wolfe, hadn’t she? Although it still didn’t make up for the fact that she had also taken a life during her time there.
Richard Jarvis had attempted to grab a knife as he’d barrelled towards her before falling and cracking his head on the floor, but the circumstances made little difference to her. Was he even a victim? Hadn’t her sister been the real victim—not to mention all the other children he’d abused during his sick life?
No matter how much she sugar-coated it, the harsh truth was that if she hadn’t been there, it would never have happened. Her desire to inflict revenge and face her sister’s sexual abuser had been too strong. She could have persecuted him for months before exposing him if she’d put her mind to it; instead she had gone for shock tactics.
In her panic, as he scrambled towards her, she’d missed the knife entirely. She could never have fought him off—he had been too well built. Her limbs twitched at the thought of having to fight for her life. It could have ended so differently. What if she’d been the one dead on the kitchen floor? Would he have called the police? Would he have got away with it? What about her mother? Who would have been left to look after her then?
Her decision to escape Warner with her freedom had been her only option. But leaving Helen behind was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. Their last conversation, unsurprisingly, wasn’t a great success. She had, after all, cheated her way into Helen’s heart. Time was all she could offer. Let the dust settle between them. This gave Helen the upper hand. She
Lexi had almost talked herself out of going, convinced Helen wouldn’t be there. The unease in the pit of her stomach when she saw Helen walking towards her on the pier had been like a murmuration of starlings moving around in her stomach. But confessing her feelings had been liberating, and two months of solitude had only clarified her desire for Helen. The fact that they were reciprocated was remarkable.
Helen was the most stunning person she had ever met, let alone dated. Smart, sexy, and with a sense of humour. Not to mention her insatiable sexual appetite, which was currently the reason for the ache in Lexi’s body as she stretched again.
This time, Helen had arrived prepared to stay more permanently, especially if she accepted the offer on her house. Would Helen move closer, to Bristol even? Surely that would depend on what job she chose to do. Lexi didn’t dare broach that subject yet. She was still processing the news that Helen had left the police force. It had seemed to be a job that fit her perfectly, at least at first. But the personal tragedy of her stepmother dying, not to mention the pressures of the job and the harrowing cases she had worked on in the past, had taken their toll.
After their first night together in that pokey little cottage in Warner, Lexi knew that she would either go to prison for the murder and unlawful disposal of Richard Jarvis or never see the inside of a cell. There was no grey area with Helen. You were either under her protection or you were her target. Lexi was grateful to not be the latter. Detective Chief Inspector Helen Taylor was tenacious at her job. Ex-DCI Taylor now, of course. Was that something else Lexi had to take responsibility for?
She squinted at the clock in the near darkness. It was almost two a.m. What was Helen doing up? She swung her legs over the side of the bed. A chill from the open window made her pull on her dressing gown before she ambled through her flat. She trailed her fingertips along the wall as she peered into the dark sitting room. No Helen shape was visible. As she stood in the kitchen archway, a silhouetted figure outlined against the large window came into view. From Lexi’s position, it was impossible to see which way Helen faced. The glow escaping from the streetlights below provided only a slight orange incandescence.
Leaning against the wall, the narrow room put her at barely an arm’s length from Helen. She fumbled for the light switch. On closer scrutiny, she saw that Helen faced the window. She showed no reaction to Lexi’s approach. Once again, Lexi was glad she had a top-floor flat. There was nothing else the same height for miles around, which to her meant little need for curtains and the freedom to walk around naked whenever she wanted. Unfortunately, the dark material surrounding Helen told her she had yet to embrace this concept.
“Here you are! You know, Thomas Edison’s inventions did make it to these parts.”
“No. Don’t!” Helen said.
But it was too late. The blinding flash filled the room. Helen shaded her eyes.
“What? Why?”
She shut off the lights and stumbled over to where Helen stood. Her authoritative tone reminded Lexi of the position this woman once held.
Lexi squinted, and flashing blurry lights filled her vision. She had to wait a few seconds for her eyes to readjust to the darkness, but even with her shadowy vision, she could see that Helen had ducked.
Helen moved her hand from her eyes; she’d managed to shield them just in time. Once she stood again, her focus back on the roof adjacent to the kitchen, she scanned the area for the figure she’d seen moving around. From the distance and movement, it was impossible to say whether it was a man or a woman. The flashlight they’d been using was still on the ground where they’d left it.
“I’ve been watching someone on the roof over there.” There was no need to point; only the roof was visible from the window. The adjacent building was a storey lower, which made the roof almost level with Lexi’s flat. Helen estimated the distance between the buildings to be around ten metres.
She moved closer to the window. Lexi bumped shoulders with her. Helen wasn’t sure if it was the result of the darkness or Lexi’s annoyance.
As she watched the dimly lit flat roof framed by the kitchen window, Helen struggled to make sense of the dark, blocky shapes. The glow from the street-level lighting made the roof darker. So far, on each of the occasions she had stayed at this flat, she’d paid no notice to her surroundings, her focus on Lexi and little else. But the screeching she’d heard earlier had grabbed her attention.
“If roof people are going to be a regular occurrence, I’ll have to curb my nudity, or at least get some nets.”
Lexi’s fingers searched for hers. They slid home as she clutched at Helen’s hand. Nets, really? She couldn’t see that happening anytime soon.
“What’s he doing? Funny time to be adjusting an aerial. Isn’t that how that puppet guy Rod Hull died?”
A smile pulled at Helen’s lips. She’d truly missed Lexi’s wit. “I think it was the fall that killed him.” She stood behind Lexi, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m impressed you even know who he is.”
She slipped her hand under a loosely tied sash, disappointed that Lexi had bothered to dress, even though she had done the same. She deposited a kiss on Lexi’s cheek, her eyes still fixed on the roof beyond. The flashlight stayed on the ground. Had they seen the flash from the kitchen light? Were they hiding, biding their time, waiting for them to go back to bed?
“I blame Emu. All those years with Rod’s hand up his jaxi, the temptation to give him a nudge must have been too much for him,” Lexi said.
Helen continued to scan the roof for any kind of movement. Nothing. “I think you might have scared him off.”
“Good. I’m just getting used to this flat. I don’t need any bloody perverts hanging around.”
“Umm.” Helen gripped Lexi a little tighter. People didn’t creep around in the dark unless they had to, which meant the person was probably doing something they shouldn’t.
“You’re so suspicious of everyone. You probably think Jessica Fletcher is a serial killer.”
“You laugh, but she is the common denominator every time.” Helen was secretly impressed by Lexi’s premillennium references. She liked how Lexi knew that anything after that would be lost on her. It wasn’t so much the six-year age difference between them; it was more the fact that twenty years on the police force had restricted her familiarity with TV and popular culture unless it was crime related.
Lexi twisted in her arms to face her. “What are you doing up, anyway?”
Her face was in shadow, but Helen could hear the concern in Lexi’s voice. “Couldn’t sleep.” She yawned, making her out to be a total liar.
“Okay.” Lexi took her hand. “Back to bed.”
She led the way back to her bedroom. Once inside, Lexi released Helen’s hand and switched on a small lamp.
Helen scanned the view from the window. The absence of any rooftop beyond prevented her from snapping off the dim light.
“Are you regretting your decision to stay here?”
There were several feet between them, but with those words the distance didn’t feel just physical. “What? Why would you ask me that?” Helen saw the worry in Lexi’s eyes. She stepped closer and rested her hands on Lexi’s waist. “I’m here because I want to be. I want to be with you.”
The fine, wavy lines were still visible on Lexi’s forehead. “You’re not up worrying about it?”
Helen struggled to prevent a grin. “No. My sleep patterns are a bit screwed up. I’ve started taking afternoon naps—”
“Like an old lady.” A smile finally appeared on Lexi’s face, and her shoulders rose at least an inch.
“I don’t remember you complaining earlier.” Helen replied.
“Well, that was earlier. I’ve slept since then. I might need reminding.”
“I see.”
Helen raised an eyebrow as she pulled at the sash of Lexi’s dressing gown, slowly loosening the bow. When she glimpsed what lay inside, her body stirred once again, a gentle throb between her thighs. She slipped her hands inside the gown, and they roamed over Lexi’s firm flesh, the fingers finding warm breasts, hardened nipples. A glance up revealed that Lexi’s lips had parted. Trailing a hand up to Lexi’s neck, Helen brought their lips together. She made the kiss deliberately slow, then edged her tongue along Lexi’s lips before slowly pushing inside. She knew how to drive Lexi crazy.
