The Velvet Caress: On the edge of life and death (Velvet Lies Book 2) by C. P. Mandara (3)

'Mark. Mark. Look at me.' Her voice was quite loud by the time I finally paid it any heed.

'You should go home. Right now you can barely stand up, so how in hell you plan to take a whipping is beyond me. I've already called a taxi for you, and it'll be here within ten minutes. You don't need to worry about the ladies. I'll tell them it was my idea and I was a bit worried about you.'

Taking a series of several very deep breaths I smiled at her. My faculties were nearly all back now and I knew exactly what she was up to.

'You don't want to do this, do you? You never intended to whip me.' Wiping the sweat from my forehead I grinned up her. My sense of humour had returned.

Pushing the tip of her boot into my ribs she hissed at me. 'No. I do not want to do this. Your wife is in hospital and clearly you're suffering. I would be an animal if I wanted to strip the flesh off your bones at this point, and quite frankly, I don't. I also know that you won't safe-word, mainly because you're a pig-headed asshole, but also because for some reason you think you deserve to suffer and want to be engulfed by the flames of hell. If Jennifer gets through this she'll need you. If I do this to you you'll be out of action for days. Use your brain, for Gods sake!'

'I'm not going home.' My lips were set in a stubborn line, and there would be no changing my opinion. I needed to do this. I'd made a bargain.

'No. I won't do this.' Her voice was a tiny whisper, and it was perhaps the first time I'd seen Sophia lose control. I'd never even seen her upset before. Angry when I displeased her, yes - but never upset. It was her strength that I had greatly admired.

'Yes. You can.' She was not backing out on me now. If I'd endured all she'd thrown at me for this damn whipping, the least she could do was deliver the thing. It was too bad if she felt guilty at this late stage in the game because I was not going home. 'Besides, the witches will never forgive you if you curtail their evening before they've had their fair share of fun.' I smiled at her, but the usual sardonic gleam was back in my eyes.

'Mark, promise me you'll use your safe word.' This was probably as close to begging as Sophia would ever get. It was almost endearing.

'I make a point of not making promises I don't intend to keep.' I grinned at her. I couldn't help it.

Gripping a handful of my hair and pulling me upright she said, 'You know I can't go easy on you out there.' She eyeballed me to get the point home, but I was already well aware of the fact.

'I've played my part in this bargain. Now it's your turn to play yours.' I raised an eyebrow at her in challenge.

She growled at me. 'Don't push your luck, young man.' Then she sighed. 'Well, I guess it's time to get you naked again, isn't it?'

 

Twenty minutes later I found myself strung up to Sophia's whipping post. I'd been given some water and a couple of energy bars, and she'd watched me to make sure I ate and drank everything in sight. She needn't have bothered. I was ravenous. I also knew I needed a hell of a lot of energy to get through this last round, if I wanted to do so with any dignity. The chances were slim on that score regardless, but a little food inside me wouldn't hurt.

'Are you ready to begin?' Sophia's voice purred into my ear and sent shivers up my spine. I nodded in reply.

'Want something to bite on?' I heard her footsteps tapping across the floor as she moved to stand in front of me. In her left hand she held a black ball gag and in her right a five-inch by two-inch piece of wood I was very familiar with.

'You kept it.' There was surprise in my voice.

'Of course I kept it. It's one of my few souvenirs of your time here. I was thinking of getting it framed for my bedroom.'

Never quite sure if Sophia was joking or not, I gave her a wink in return. 'I'm sure it will look lovely above your bed.'

She studied me carefully as she waited for her answer, her eyes scanning along my outstretched left arm to my right, and then down my body, lingering on my cock before she arrived at my tethered feet. The whipping post was a simple affair really, just a tall, adjustable, black metal frame that was fitted with numerous eyelets for rope. Sophia loves rope. Her favourite is the harsh, abrasive hemp rope that will leave marks when her victims struggle. She took her time tying me up, looping the rope over my wrists and ankles several times, although I knew she wasn't worried about the possibility of my escape. Still, each little torment she provided had its own brand of charm, I thought. Tomorrow I would be left with several reminders of my time here, and I found that under intense strain, pain sometimes helped me to concentrate. It was worth a try.

'You know I don't want it now.' I shook my head. 'Let me take the first few lashes without anything. When I begin screaming you can shut me up like you usually do.'

'Looking forward to it.' She gave me a dark look. 'You absolutely sure you want to do this?'

'I've been looking forward to this part all evening. As to the other bits, we'll talk about that later.' I meant what I said. Whilst I knew this was her show, I thought she'd taken more than a few liberties with me. I wondered if it had been to try and dissuade me from what I was about to do. If that was the case, it was too bad. There was no changing my mind now.

'Will we now? If I do my job properly the only thing you'll be doing later is sobbing your heart out.' She gave me one of her imperious looks, but I was far from cowed by it.

'Now you and I know that's not going to happen, darling.' There was every chance I might scream, but I drew the line at sobbing.

'More's the pity,' Sophia couldn't help adding, whilst rolling her eyes.

'And yes, I think I'm ready. Go and get the witches and tell them you're about to beat the crap out of me. That'll put a smile on their faces.' I smiled darkly.

'You're not funny,' Sophia said, but she'd already turned her back on me and was walking towards the door. Either she was anxious to get started or desperate to get it over with. I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out which of the two it was.

 

Sophia didn't make me wait long. In fairly short order there was a parade of latex and high heels making their way around me, and they all sat down in silence with the minimum of fuss. They were clearly eager to get on with the show. There was nothing a dominatrix liked seeing better than a man brought to his knees, and I suspected I'd give them a reasonably good show. Time would tell. For now their attention was focused on me, and there it would stay for the next twenty minutes or so.

Entering behind the rest, my eyes fell to Sophia. She'd redone her make-up and hair. Fresh coral lipstick graced her lips, which went beautifully with the red hair that she'd piled up on top of her head. When you were swinging a whip around you didn't want to get anything in your eyes, trust me.

The first thing she did was walk slowly around me, checking that the ropes held me snugly. There was little chance I was going to fall through them, but I knew better than to tell her so. When she was confident that everything was as it should be she dimmed the ceiling lights, placing a large solo spotlight upon my body. It bathed me in warm, orange light. There was nothing like being the centre of attention, right? On the plus side, I could barely see anyone now. The room had suddenly become a whole lot smaller, and it was better that way. It would help me concentrate.

Sophia began her scene by running her gloved hands gently all over my body, a seductive, sensory exploration that gradually evolved as the seconds ticked by. At first it was nothing more than her fingers skimming lightly around my chest, thighs or buttocks. Then the caresses became firmer, more fluid and they increased in pace. My cock responded accordingly. The next stage involved little taps of her hands that slowly increased in speed and weight until they were full blown slaps. These, she interspersed with tweaks and twists of her fingers, pinching my nipples, ass, and any other areas of flesh that she could manage to grab enough of.

It didn't take her long to work me up into a state of fervour. My hands began clutching tightly at the ropes and I found myself straining for her touch, my cock tapping rhythmically against my stomach in encouragement. There were a few little sniggers and giggles in the audience as she performed for the crowd, but I barely heard them. I was awash in sensation. There was a rhythmic beat in my head that felt each touch and magnified it twofold. It was as if every pore of my skin was open and absorbing the electricity of her touch.

It was ironic that this was perhaps the first time in my life I was actually enjoying being dominated. There was a unique headspace that it provided which I had never fully appreciated before. Don't get me wrong, I had always enjoyed myself to some degree or other, whether I resented Sophia's control over me or not. That was half the fun of it for her at the beginning. She loved watching me being bent in a direction that my mind didn't want to take. I found a taste for the same thing after I left her. It was the power trip, I guess. Manipulating someone into obeying every word you said was quite the aphrodisiac, believe me.

When her hands finally left my body I felt instantly bereft. There was a profound pause in which she did nothing but circle me, her eyes searing into mine, sizing me up as if she was trying to pluck the thoughts out of my head, one by one. If you're going to let yourself be dominated, you want to make sure that the person behind the whip can read you. The dance is a delicate one, but you need that connection and I have never been able to settle for anything less. It's a bit like a game of chess, I guess. You need to play with someone who will not only beat you, but who can annihilate you in ten moves or less. Put it this way, that's the way I've played the game and that's how Sophia and I began, all those years ago. It wasn't the same relationship now. Now, if I wanted to, I could beat her, although I'd be the first to admit it wouldn't be easy. Snap out of it Mark, you're daydreaming.

My attention was recaptured when Sophia picked up the Cat. The leather sparkled under the bright light and she caressed it as she began advancing towards me. It was a thing of beauty. It was the reason I had stuck around amid all those rabid women, some of whom, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me.

Sophia lifted the handle of the leather whip to my lips, and I kissed it reverently. Old habits die hard. The smell of leather polish brought a flood of memories back. I remembered the first time I'd been whipped, and the aftermath in which I'd walked out on her. It had taken me two weeks to go back, when I should have stayed away. Mind you, if I hadn't gone back I'd have never managed to work my way up to where I was today, so I would always be thankful to Sophia in one way or another. She managed to put me in a position where I was no longer reliant on anyone, and never would be ever again.

'Are you ready, darling?' she whispered in my ear. She'd have never said it out loud, because in front of her friends I was nothing more than a 'slave' or 'pet'. When we were alone things weren't quite so black and white. Well they weren't then, anyway. I nodded my head imperceptibly, knowing she'd catch the movement.

'So, pet, do you remember the rules?'

This she said for the benefit of the crowd, but I'd known it was coming. Taking a deep breath I lifted my head high and with a loud voice I said, 'I'm allowed to yell, I'm allowed to scream, I'm even allowed to cry. What I must never do is give up.' It was good advice for just about all avenues of life, and the old adage that pain makes you stronger had some weight to it. At least, I thought it did.

Sophia made some kind of hand signal and the dungeon door opened once again, this time admitting a long string of servants, all of whom bore flickering orange candles. One by one they placed them in a large circle around us, and the eerie glow they imparted had an almost hypnotic effect on me. My eyes were drawn to the dancing flames and I barely noticed as the servants formed an orderly line and filed silently from the room.

When the door closed I snapped out of my trance. Pulling my head back up I took serious note of the ring of light around me and felt a moment of dread. The words 'human sacrifice' sprang to mind, and I hoped I hadn't signed up for anything more than I'd previously bargained on. All we needed were some drums and then we could start throwing some blood around. Oh, wait, Sophia would be doing that in a minute, with mine. Fuck.

My heart rate went wild as I waited for the first stroke to crash down. It was a long time since I'd been whipped. I wondered if I'd embarrass myself by breaking down almost as soon as it had begun. The thing is, you forget pain. Time has a way of dulling its memory into something bearable, but at the time it's usually anything but. Please let me be strong, I chanted to myself. Over and over I repeated the phrase as I waited for that first lash to strike my back.

They always make you wait for the first one. A good dominant knows that the anticipation, dread, and fear will curdle in your stomach, until adrenaline and arousal turn it into something almost unrecognisable. Sophia was going to time the moment perfectly. I knew this, because she always did, and just when I thought I could wait no longer a ferocious whistling sound rang through the air. It was time to grit my teeth and embrace the ropes that bound me.

Sophia didn't go easy on me. As the first blow came crashing down the next was already following in its wake. My breath caught in my throat and the shock numbed me for a second or two as my head tried to come to terms with what was happening behind me.

It was as if lightning bolts arced through the air and struck several vital organs at once. It's hard to compare it to anything else. 'Intense' pain doesn't begin to describe it. As the third lash landed I thought I would end up begging for her to stop before it had barely begun. My legs began to falter on the fifth blow and I had to tell myself to stand up straight and endure. I needed to focus on something. Anything. The white-hot pain was mind-bending. It was absolution and it was freedom. It was also excruciating and agonising in the extreme. Each fresh stripe was indelibly printed upon my brain and there it would remain forever. Holy fuck. Get it together. This is what you came for. Gripping the ends of the ropes in my fingertips as tightly as I could I tried to take some solace in history.

I think the Romans introduced the Cat, but back then it was called a Scourge. Actually, it might have been the Egyptians. They were evil bastards too. Anyway, back to the Romans. They weren't content with knotted rope and a few metal beads. Oh no. They purposefully put razor blades through the rope, with the idea of shredding a victim's back to bloody ribbons. It was one of the ways they prepared a condemned prisoner for their death. Nice bunch, the Romans.

My thoughts left me as a particularly vicious blow sent me sprawling, and I sucked in fiery air as my legs flailed around, trying to right themselves. I heard Sophia yell 'Nine,' and I wanted to scream that I was not going to make ten. Gritting my teeth tightly, somehow I held it together as the Cat and its malevolent nine tendrils wrapped around me again. A spiteful embrace of leather, rope and metal.

I swear you can smell skin, when it breaks. There's a tang of something metallic on the air, perhaps iron or copper, and when you breathe it in it makes you want to choke or vomit. It's not just the blood though. It's as if something vital has been exposed to the air. Sweat, fat, protein and something like ozone. It's just a peculiar smell that I can't quite put my finger on. Perhaps that's just me. Having your skin break under the Cat isn't the problem though - it's being beaten again on that raw flesh that will send you crazy. My head lolled down to my chest as I thought my back might explode. Sophia had tried to warn me. Why did I have to be such a stubborn prick? Go back to your Romans, Matthews. Anything to distract me from the flames of hell that were consuming my back.

Being scourged was a form of torture back in those days, unless you hadn't guessed, and the requisite number of lashes was forty. I was facing nothing like that here. The Cat behind me was a baby compared to what some people over the years had been subjected to. The shock of the scourge would often cause death, which was probably a blessing in disguise if you were strung up to a pillar and waiting to be executed. For those prisoners who were unfortunate enough to survive the ordeal, the Romans threw salt on their wounds as they were led from the whipping post, in order to make it an extra special experience.

My thoughts went blank then, because I began screaming. There was no avoiding it, as much as I wanted to. Five lashes on a lacerated back will do that to even the most hardened of men, take my word for it. Hold it together, Matthews. Clamping my teeth together so hard I thought they would break, I tried to bottle up the noise my lungs so desperately wanted to expel. I hated the thought of the witches hearing my pain, but pride was only going to get me so far in this game. When the next lash came my body buckled under the weight of it and I damn near swallowed my tongue trying to keep a lid on my screams. Help me out here, Sophia, I pleaded.

The woman can read my mind, I swear. Pausing for a moment she came around in front of me with the piece of wood she'd offered me earlier. Now she simply slotted it between my teeth. Thank fuck. Now I had something to bite on the screams might be a little easier to quell. That, and she'd probably saved me from a hefty dentist's bill later. We'd soon find out.

There was a pause as Sophia repositioned herself behind me and my blood went cold as I got ready for her to begin again. Although I'd reminded myself over and over again that I could safe-word, it didn't seem like much of an atonement if I wimped out in the middle of it. Besides, if Jennifer didn't make it through this mess I would never forgive myself. I'd promised myself I would take all Sophia could give, and the woman was going to get her money's worth this evening. Let her live. Let her live. I hoped somebody up there was listening. I honestly didn't know what else I could do.

The next stroke that cracked against my skin had lights dancing in front of my eyes. My legs went out from under me again, and this time they refused to cooperate when I tried to stand. The Cat sliced into my back again and my arms lost their hold on the ropes. A whip can break a man, but the pain could also reinvent him. I needed Jennifer. I'd been broken for so long I don't know how I hadn't realised it myself. It was time to put the pieces back together.

Eventually the Cat stopped. The women filed out as silently as they had walked in. I hung from the ropes, my eyes almost rolling and my mouth dribbling as the pain crippled me. I was barely aware of what was going on around me but certain things registered in mind. I remember the candles being taken away. The flames seemed to have doubled in size and my eyes were drawn to their almost magical light. Their warm amber glow and the hint of vanilla on the air were almost soothing as they began to disappear from my sight. Eventually the piece of wood that had kept me silent for the last ten minutes dropped from my mouth. A keening wail emitted from my mouth, but it sounded foreign to my ears. What the hell was happening to me? I never broke down, never.

'Let it go, Mark.'

As usual Sophia knew me better than I knew myself. Finally, now that the room was empty, the tears came. She untied me carefully, helping me down onto a chair. All the while she stroked my hair and made soothing noises. I think she knew I was in a cold dark place, and I had an idea she'd seen something similar herself.

Somehow Sophia managed to get fluids into me while she cleaned me up. I was of no use to her whatsoever. Grief had taken over completely. Crawling into a miserable hole inside my head, I wallowed in self-pity while I tried to drown myself in an ocean of bitter salt tears. Normally I would have been horrified at this kind of weakness, but after the evening I'd just endured I felt entitled to my momentary lapse. If Sophia didn't like it that was her problem, not mine.

'She'll come around. You'll see.' More soothing words, but they sounded hollow to my ears.

'After what you've just endured it would be a crime if she didn't. You deserve a second chance, Mark. Believe you'll get one and you will.' She sounded confident, but then again her partner hadn't just swallowed one of the most deadly poisons known to man. It was hard to be positive when the odds were stacked very dangerously in the wrong direction.

Believe. The word echoed in my head. I wanted to believe. Oh, how I wanted her words to come true. As she ran her fingers gently through my hair, humming softly as she did so, I let myself go for a moment or two. My thoughts bounced from the depths of despair to the heights of 'what ifs' and they didn't stay on any one subject for long. There was too much going on. I could barely separate them, nor did I want to. The confusion and jumble could be sorted out later.

Sophia was generous with her time. She didn't hurry me, nor did she tell me to pull myself together, and I'd fully expected her to. She simply let me be. When I was finally all cried out, and could breathe again through my nose, I finally decided it was time to go home, but perhaps not before I'd had a chance to fully clear the air between us.

'Why the fuck did you put me through that?' More than annoyed, I wanted to reach out and wring her neck. To do so would be more pain than I could handle though, and that was saying something.

'Isn't that what you wanted, darling? To suffer the fires of hell in order to repent for your misdeeds?'

'You knew exactly what I wanted. Pain. It clears my mind. I wanted you to flay the flesh off my back, pure and simple. What the fuck was the humiliation for? Did you want to prove something? If so, it was lost on me.' I was fucking annoyed now.

She sighed long and hard, and closed her eyes for a moment. 'It was always lost on you, darling.' I thought she would say more, but everything went silent and the next thing I felt were her hands on my back. I hissed.

'Don't move. It'll be easier on you if you keep still.' Applying generous amounts of antibiotic cream to my lacerated back she hummed gently as she worked. I was glad she was enjoying herself.

'Fucking hell.' I'd raised my voice, and I'd promised myself I wouldn't do that this evening. So much for willpower.

'Stop being such a baby. If you can take the Cat you can take a little aftercare ointment. I have some oxycodone for you too.' Hearing a rattle from behind me I turned around and stared at her.

'How on earth did you get your hands on hardcore prescription drugs?' I hissed again as the cream found a particularly sensitive spot near my shoulder blades. 'Ah, Vivian, of course. Kind of handy to have a doctor in your midst.'

'Indeed it is.' When she'd finished with the ointment she covered me up with a sterile non-stick dressing and then wound a reel of crepe bandage around my chest several times to hold it in place.

Popping two little white tablets in her hand she then said, 'Do you want me to get you some water?'

'I don't want the fucking tablets.' I was being unreasonable and surly, but I didn't much care after what I'd been through.

'You might not now, when you're angry, but you will later.' She replaced the little pills in an orange vial and handed them to me. Wanting to thrust them back in her face and tell her what I thought of her, common sense prevailed. There was a very good chance I would want these tonight and the next couple of days were probably going to be a little uncomfortable, to say the least.

'Why did you let me go?' It annoyed me that I had to ask the question, but I needed to know.

'Because you would never have been happy with my terms. I knew that at the beginning, but it didn't stop me. You were so damn attractive, still are for that matter, but your beauty just floored me. I decided I had to have you, and I pulled out all the stops in order to do so. Even then I didn't think you'd come to me. You kept me guessing until the last minute.'

'I loved you,' I said bitterly.

'I loved you too. I might not have worn it upon my sleeve as you did, but I loved you too.' Her voice was now filled with regret, but all those years ago when I finally had enough courage to walk out on her she hadn't blinked an eyelid.

'Not enough,' I whispered. 'Not nearly enough.' Closing my eyes I turned away from her once again. 'Please leave me alone, Sophia. I can manage on my own now.' I wanted the woman out of my sight, and quickly.

'I don't think that's a good…'

'Get the fuck out of here now before I do something I regret,' I hissed between clenched teeth, my hands already forming fists in an effort to stop myself turning around and going mad.

Thankfully she must have sensed I was serious, for she turned around and quickly left the room. I breathed a sigh of relief. Our chapter was finished.

Chapter Nineteen - Leyland

The item I'd held in front of Marianna's face was a scalpel - a stainless steel, extremely sharp, medical grade scalpel. This wasn't the usual kind of stunt I pulled, but I figured time was of the essence where Mark was concerned, so it was imperative to get Marianna to spill her guts as quickly as possible before anyone else was poisoned, or worse, killed. Besides, the magic wand was damn heavy and my right arm was killing me.

'Give me one reason why I shouldn't carve you up, Marianna?' Pressing the blade against her cheekbone I watched as she shuddered. The delicious tremors that ran through her body were turning me on something fierce, and trying to ignore them was getting harder and harder.

'Talk to me, Marianna.' Putting the scalpel in my back pocket for a minute, blade side down so I didn't do something stupid when the time came to retrieve it, I eyeballed her. My hand went to her neck and caressed her throat, and even that gentle action caused her to swallow involuntarily.

'I can't,' she whispered.

'You can,' I replied, 'and you will.' Taking two steps back from her intoxicating presence I surveyed my work thus far. Her tits were now swelling nicely and had gone a very dark red in colour. When I brushed my hand along the side of one she moaned heavily, indicating that they were now extremely sensitive. Giving each clamp upon her nipple another twist, I smiled when she swore at me.

The view was no less attractive the further down her body I travelled. Her labia were now thick, red, swollen petals, and her clitoris was bulging from all the orgasms it had received. It seemed to pulse softly under my gaze, as if encouraging me to touch it. Surely not? The girl couldn't be that greedy, could she? Taking her clit between my thumb and forefinger I squeezed it sharply. Marianna threw her head back and yelled something unrepeatable.

'Tsk, tsk, tsk,' I said, frowning. 'Naughty girls with dirty mouths must be punished.' She then said some more unrepeatable things, namely along the line of 'what the hell had I been doing for the last three hours if it wasn't punishing her?' The girl had a point. It was time to get back down to business, and I really meant it this time.

Pulling the scalpel back out of my pocket I twisted it around a few times, so the light caught it. I wanted her to get a good look at it.

'Do you want to know what I can do with this?' I asked.

'Is that a trick question?' The fire was back in her eyes and I couldn't help but admire the girl's sass. I kept telling myself that she couldn't be the money-hungry bitch my brain insisted I tag her with, but if she wasn't, then she'd had a very hard upbringing. That didn't quite fit with Mark's girls. They were all polished and perfect, the product of a lot of money and attention. There was something that was off with Marianna, though. She didn't quite fit the norm. I wanted to slice her head open and discover every little nuance and detail that made her who she was. But I wasn't going to use a scalpel. Well, I was, but not for slicing and dicing.

'I'm guessing that a very large scar along your cheekbone won't do much for your promotion prospects, precious.' I moved the scalpel up to her cheek. 'Don't move, else the damage might start sooner than I intend it to.' She held herself still as a stone as I stood there breathing over her. 'Don't make me do the unthinkable and mar that pretty face.' My lips were inches from hers. I could smell them, I could virtually taste them, and I wanted them inside mine.

'My promotion prospects were over the moment I drugged Matthews. I'm not stupid. I know how this works. If you're going to do it, do it. I'm pretty disgusted by the male race in general, so if you make sure they stay away you're probably doing me a favour.' She raised her chin a fraction and the scalpel slipped a millimetre down her face. I removed it quickly.

'That's if I don't kill you at the end of this,' I said, and the temptation to wring this foolish woman's neck was great. I just didn't want to extinguish her life at the same time. But Marianna didn't need to know that.

'Don't kill me. She needs me. I can't die.' Marianna's voice was pleading, and there were tears in her eyes. Whoever 'she' was, clearly it was someone important to her. Things were beginning to unravel, and I had a feeling I might just be entirely wrong about this lady.

'Death is too quick and far too easy an escape route for someone like you. The only way I'm going to get any sense out of you is to inflict intense pain. Clearly a scar across the cheek isn't going to do the business.' I gave her my crazy look. I'd perfected it over the years, and I'd been told on more than one occasion that I looked like a complete madman when I used it. By the horrified look in Marianna's eyes it appeared I might have improved upon it.

'I've had enough messing about, little lady. Slow and agonising torture happens to be my speciality.' The menace in my voice was unmistakable and my eyes were rolling about crazily in my head. I wanted her under no illusions that I meant what I said. This was a one shot chance, because when she found out I wasn't going to torture her - and Christ, who had the stomach for that shit anyway - she wouldn't believe a further word I said. If this didn't work I could resort to drugs to get her to talk, but those were sketchy at best. I could also get her drunk, but there was no proven rate of success there either. So you'd better make sure she thinks you're serious, Leyland. What else could I add to my little diatribe? I spun around and twisted my head from side to side, loosening myself up as I talked. It helped with the crazy thing. I fondled her clit one last time and gave each nipple a heavy tweak. Her face was as white as a sheet now, and if I wasn't careful she was going to faint on me. Let's get it over with and ram the point home, I thought.

Holding up my scalpel I swung my arm back and aimed towards her head. My arm had literally just started moving forward when she screamed, 'Stop! I'll talk, I'll talk,' and promptly burst into a fit of hysterical tears.

Thank fuck.

The woman couldn't breathe for a minute or two, under the flood of snot and tears that poured forth, but I was in no hurry. She'd spill the beans now, because the consequences of not doing so were much worse than death. Did I feel like a total shit for putting her through that crap, which would likely give her nightmares for years to come? A little. My conscience had dealt with far worse in the past though. I'd get over it and still manage to sleep at night. More's the pity.

Chapter Twenty - Mark

I regretted sending Sophia away so quickly. Trying to get myself dressed without any help was agonising in the extreme. Still, it was nothing more than I deserved. The pain reminded me why I was here, and why I'd wanted to suffer in the first place. Right now the only thing on my mind was getting back to Jennifer. I desperately needed to see her face and hold her hand, just to reassure myself she was still alive.

Forgoing the underwear I had brought with me I decided to go commando. The elasticated waist of my black boxer shorts would drive my back crazy. My trousers would have to be enough, and even they weren't going to feel very pleasant for the next couple of days. Slipping my feet back into my loafers, which was a thankfully painless procedure, I sat there for several long minutes contemplating putting my sweater back on. This, without doubt, was going to hurt. Now I could take the oxycodone Sophia had left me and wait for them to kick in, but that would kind of defeat the object of my time here. So I sat quietly until I'd gathered the necessary courage to get on with it. Raising my arms above my head had me sweating like a nun in a field of cucumbers. Seriously, the effort required to stretch that raw skin was off my pain scale chart. Holding my breath and clenching my teeth as tightly as I could I put my arms in the correct holes and dragged it down sharply in one move. Then I yelled. Don't ask me why, but yelling helps with pain. Maybe it just gave me something else to focus on, but I wasn't going to knock it. Closing my eyes for a second, glad that the ordeal was over, I slowly got to my feet and put one foot in front of the other. In no time at all I found myself at the front door. Sophia was already there, waiting for me.

'I've called you a taxi.' Her voice was imperious and terse. Too bad I didn't give a fuck.

'That's nice for you. Tell the driver I said "hi".' Reaching for the front door handle I pushed it down sharply and pulled back. I held on to the hiss of pain that wanted to escape from even that small action, but there was no way I was letting her see any more weakness. We were done.

'You can't drive in the condition you're in. If you had an accident I'd never forgive myself.' Her voice lowered to a mere whisper. I was the one back in charge and if there was a pendulum in between us it had swung back firmly in my direction.

'Goodbye Sophia.'

'Did you at least take the oxycodone?'

Bringing the small vial out of my pocket I rattled it and smiled at her. She'd take that as an affirmative. More fool her.

'Thank you for a fun evening, Sophia.' Her eyes looked large and haunted now. I wondered if she'd realised what she'd lost. Probably not. She was just as stubborn as me, if not more so.

Walking across the road I pulled my keys out and unlocked my car. The sound of the central locking being released sounded unusually loud to my ears. Pulling out onto the road, I didn't look back. I knew she would be standing there, but I didn't want to look at her. I had no room in my head for anything else bar Jennifer.

 

Whilst I wanted to break nearly every speed limit that could possibly be broken, I found myself handling my Mercedes very gently on the short drive to the hospital. The smallest jolt sent paroxysms of agony straight through me. Take the damn tablets, asshole. But if I took the tablets I wouldn't be legally able to drive, and it would kind of feel like I'd cheated the big guy out of the deal I made. Just a few more hours, and then I'd take care of myself. Suffering was good for the soul, I'd heard, and I was due more than my fair share of the stuff.

Upon arriving at the hospital I wanted to race to Jen's ward and kneel at the foot of her bed. The reality was more of a slow hobble and pained grimace as each step sent fire through my body. Fire was good. But the ice that fell over me as soon as I entered Jen's room chilled me to the bone. She was still deathly pale and as lifeless as a still portrait. My eyes immediately searched for her bedside monitor to check her vitals, and as I watched the steady green beep that worked its way across the screen I breathed a sigh of relief. There was a deep, dark fear in my gut that she would be taken away from me. I didn't deserve her, and after all the sins I'd committed it would be a fitting punishment. You can't think like that. But I was and the fear was very real.

Working my way down into the plastic chair beside her bed, I gripped her delicate hand tightly and let my thoughts carry me away because there was little else to do in this place. My head slumped heavily against my chest.

So, I'm the man who is never wrong, and yet here I am, pretty sure that I am indeed wrong. Wrong about her deceit, wrong about her involvement in this mess, and just about completely wrong in everything else that might count too. That wouldn't be a problem normally. Up until now women had been expendable. If one displeased me there'd be another waiting around the corner, and another, and another. Alas, that was no longer the case. After I'd finally admitted I was in love with Jennifer, the role I actively played in her downfall was impossible to bear. She was at death's door for fuck's sake. Between her father and me there was a good chance she might lose her life, and there was no coming back from that. I might not even get a chance to tell her I was sorry.

It was a terrible thought, but I almost hoped she was complicit in the mess that had just unfolded. If she'd been a willing player I might just about be able to live with myself if she died. I now had a strong suspicion that she had absolutely nothing to do with anything that had just happened, and if that proved to be the case I might as well sign my own death warrant. That would be my cross, my burden to carry, and I would wear it around my neck every damn day for the rest of my life. It would be an impossible weight to carry and it might destroy me. That was the price of foolishness, wasn't it?

If she was completely innocent in all of this, I swear to God I was going to kill her so-called father. I'd snap his neck in two and never feel a moment of remorse. How in hell could he do that to his daughter? She might only be a stepdaughter, but he'd brought her up and cared for her, surely? What was happening here? What was I missing… something crucial, obviously. The parts did not add up, and no matter how hard I tried none of them would slot together in any form that mattered. Putting my head in my hands I rubbed my tired eyes and tried to make sense of things. Jumbled nonsense flew around in my head for several minutes, and eventually I gave up on it. Resting my head back on the wall I let my eyes close, just for a few seconds as I tried to unwind. I was so damn tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

Chapter Twenty-One - Leyland

'I don't know his name, and I haven't seen him in person. We've only spoken on the phone. I could describe his voice to you, and there are a few bits he's told me that might be useful. Or you could see my phone statement. Could you trace the number that way?' Marianna was babbling, as well she might after what I'd threatened her with. It had taken over five minutes for the hysterical sobbing to subside, and now that it had I wasn't getting much more sense out of her.

'Take a breath.' My caring face was back and to encourage her to do as I asked I took a deep breath in, held it for two, and then exhaled. She did the same. Atta girl. She repeated the step two or three times, and then I thought we'd try again. 'Okay. What did he sound like? Let's start with that.' It didn't look like I was going to get too much out of her, but I was now convinced she was telling the truth, and I didn't have the stomach for using her body as an experimental pincushion. I'd just have to work with what she gave me. Matthews could laugh all he liked later because I didn't much care.

'Very posh. It wasn't a manufactured accent like mine, either. The man comes from money.'

'That was probably something I could have figured out all by myself considering he offered…' I paused and then frowned. I'd forgotten that he hadn't paid up.

'He promised me two million pounds, and I needed it desperately.' She frowned. The action annoyed me. The woman had stabbed her boss in the back and then was surprised when the conman who'd hired her didn't pay up. All things considered I thought she hadn't done too badly. In fact, if she hadn't crossed Matthews, of all people, she may well have gotten away with it.

'That's a lot of money, even if you didn't receive it,' I remarked. 'Why was he so desperate to have Mark drugged?' I already knew the answer to that question, but I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak. It might be possible that she was kept in the dark about the whole ordeal. Two million pounds was a lot of money. Most people wouldn't have asked too many questions.

'He said Mark was blackmailing him, threatening to shut down all of his companies and bankrupt him. He told me he just wanted to have a chat and promised me no harm would come to him. I wouldn't have done it if I'd thought anyone would get hurt, and I know Mark is okay because I saw the photos of his wedding to Jennifer Redcliff splashed in all the papers.' Marianna's voice was so quick I had trouble distinguishing one word from the next, but I managed to get the gist of what she was on about.

'So he forgot to tell you he was going to sexually torture Mark and nearly kill the bastard. How remiss of him.' I raised my eyebrows sardonically. 'Do you feel in the least bit guilty?'

'Well, now that you're sexually torturing me, just before you stab scalpels all over my body until I resemble something close to volcanic rock, I confess I don't feel all that guilty about it, no. I might have felt a bit more remorse before today had I known that, though.'

At least the woman was honest.

'So, what can you tell me that might help me ferret the two million pound guy out? Or should we call him the wanker? You choose.' I began tormenting her left nipple to get her thinking. Scrap that, I began tormenting her because she looked so damn sexy when she was aroused.

'Don't,' she whispered. 'Not after what you threatened me with last time.' Giving me an angry look she rattled her fists around in her chains, but she forgot the fact that I didn't possess much of a conscience. Giving each nipple clamp another fierce turn I brought tears to her eyes very quickly.

'I give the orders around here, not you. Start talking or I'll go back to my earlier threat.'

'But I don't know much more,' she wailed pathetically.

I picked up the scalpel again and began twiddling it around in my fingers. I was asking for trouble. One of these days I would end up cutting all my fingers off.

'I hope for your sake that you do,' I said with a nasty smile. If I was going for asshole of the year award I was fairly confident I'd make top ten after this evening's performance. Sure enough Marianna swallowed tightly, and I could almost hear the cogs of her brain turning in desperate circles as she tried to figure something out.

'I think he was a Londoner, judging by his accent, but a posh one, like I mentioned. He definitely had an upper-class tone and he was quite charming.' Oh, I just bet he was, sweetheart. 'Most of what we talked about were the details of how I would obtain the syringe and where I would hide it. He knew he would have to wait until an opportunity presented itself, and he said to make sure the circumstances were right before I used it. He didn't want the job rushed and botched. His words, not mine.'

I sighed. 'Is that it? Is that all you have for me?'

'Well, there is one more thing.' She blinked a couple of times and I found myself glued to those pretty emerald eyes. They really were quite something.

'Out with it,' I said. Throwing the scalpel up into the air, amazingly I managed to catch the thing without cutting myself open. I could do the same trick holding the neck of beer bottles, but the kick was far more impressive using scalpels. Maybe I'd have to resort to knives in future. It was either that or marriage. If Mark's was anything to go by, as far as adrenaline was concerned, I was missing out big style. 'I'm still waiting,' I reminded her tersely when several seconds had gone by.

Marianna's eyes flickered up from the scalpel, which she had been watching intently, and rose up to my face. She swallowed nervously. I guessed she was worried that whatever she was about to say wasn't going to be enough to keep me happy. In fact, she was probably imagining me carving up her body in short order and in all honesty, she was doing fairly well keeping it together thus far. There was another swallow, but finally she spoke.

'When we were talking about the money, after he said how much he was willing to pay, there was a loud gasp. A female gasp, if I'm not mistaken. There was then some muffled conversion about who was going to pay the two million pounds. It went something like, "I hope we're not footing the bill for this". The guy must have covered up the receiver at that point because it was really hard to hear anything, but I'm sure he said something about needing Mark in order to deal with his ex.'

'Thrilling, I'm sure.' I had no idea what use that little snippet was to me, but I really hoped she had more than that.

'The woman wanted to know who the hell he was married to before, and he just said one word.'

My finger pinched the bridge of my nose and I held up my hand to indicate she should wait for a minute. The suspense was killing me and I wanted to drag it out for all it was worth. When I was finally ready to hear this one amazing word I motioned for her to continue.

'Mafia.'

I sucked in a slow breath and narrowed my eyes. 'If you're pulling my leg, woman, I swear to God I am going to dissect every last organ…'

'I'm not lying. It was muffled, but I heard it.'

I watched the pulse beat frantically in her neck. Was she lying? It was possible, but I didn't think so. One tended to blink a lot when lying and fidget a little, unless they'd had a lot of practice, and I suspected she hadn't. It appeared her ordeal was over and I hadn't had half as much fun as I'd anticipated.

'Fine. I believe you.' Mark was probably going to love this. Not a lot, perhaps, but he might get some mileage out of the fact that his new wife had a Mum with connections. One's that even he couldn't break, and that was saying something.

'So now what? Can you kill me quickly? I've told you all I know, I swear to God. Just get it over with fast.' She hiccupped and then burst into several coughing sobs.

The tears were back again in earnest and I found, oddly, that I wanted to stop them. I say oddly, because I usually enjoy tears. I think this might have been a first for me.

'I'm not going to kill you.' When she didn't hear me through all the snivelling and snuffling I put both my hands on her shoulders and shook her. 'I'm not going to kill you,' I repeated, several times, until she finally got the message.

'What are you going to do with me?' Her eyes bulged out of their sockets until the whites appeared almost luminescent. If I'd been Jack the Ripper I might have found the look appealing, but although I was into dark things, I wasn't quite that dark.

'I'm going to return you to whence you came. Wherever that might be. But before I do I have one question that needs answering.' I couldn't help myself. The question had been eating away at me and I wouldn't rest until I knew the answer.

'But I've just told you I don't know anything else,' she immediately sobbed and her face crumpled into abject misery once more. Goddamn, I felt like a toad.

'This isn't about Mark. This is about you.' Grabbing her left wrist I began to unfasten the shackles. I was already bracing myself for the backlash that was sure to come, but surprisingly, when I let her arm roam free she returned it slowly to her side. I was immediately suspicious.

'Don't you want to hit me?' Hell, I'd want to hit me after what she'd been through, so I really couldn't understand her reserve. Releasing her right arm I then went to work on her legs.

'Hitting you wouldn't achieve anything sensible. Besides, I deserved this. I guess I knew that Mark would end up in some serious shit, and sure enough, it appears he nearly drowned in the stuff.'

When I'd fully untied her I sat her down on one of the benches and began removing the rope that circled her breasts far too tightly. But although they were now a deep plum colour and there might be a little bruising, there would be no permanent damage. Believe it or not I was careful about such things.

'Seriously, if you want to take out some of your frustration on me, go right ahead. I'm a big boy, I can take it.' I was actively encouraging her to take a swing at me. It was probably because I would feel better about this whole ordeal if she gave me a wallop. Why I should feel guilty was anybody's guess. Marianna had stabbed her boss in the back and stood to make two million out of the delightful gesture, had Michael Redcliff felt the need to pay up. Clearly he hadn't. More fool Marianna. Always get the cash first. She probably deserved all I'd thrown at her and more.

'I don't hit people.' She spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear her.

Replying in an equally quiet voice I said, 'No, you just do the dirty on them. That's far more effective than a black eye, right?' By her flinch I knew she'd heard me.

'Shit. We need to get you some clothes.' I had a black T-shirt in my holdall that would just about be long enough to cover the important bits, and I guess I could bear to part with my jacket. It was either that or call a lady friend, and that could be awkward. If I called them they usually expected things. Social niceties were not my forte, either.

'Oh, and the clamps had better come off. Brace yourself, woman.' Looking at the evil steel clamps in front of me, and those beautifully elongated nipples, it was almost a crime to remove them, but they were one of my most favourite pieces of kit, so they were coming home with me. Now, should I pull them off both at once, or one at a time? Both at once would probably be kinder. The pain would be more intense but over in half the time. 'Here we go.'

I removed both simultaneously and I knew the moment she felt the bite. Her eyes screwed up and there was a little gasp as her voice got stuck in her throat. She did extremely well. I'd done this to a lot of women, and there was often screaming involved if they'd been left on for over twenty minutes. Other than the small gasp there was no other sound to be heard.

She took a minute or two to get a hold of herself, but then surprised me by saying, 'Don't worry about clothes. You can wrap me in a couple of bathroom towels. I'm sure the taxi driver will have seen worse.'

I think I blinked several times at that. Then I said, 'Firstly, lady, there is no taxi driver alive that I would trust with you and two small towels, and much as I dislike you, I don't hate you that much. Secondly, I have some clothes in my case that will just about suffice for the drive home, and as I'll be driving you won't have to worry about me peeking. I've seen it all before, sweetheart.'

She pressed her lips together and desperately blinked back tears. The woman looked like a whipped dog, and something didn't sit right with me. She didn't seem to fit in the right category for the money-grabbing female I suspected her to be. Sure, she wore the right clothes, although I suspected Mark had paid for those, but her manner wasn't what I expected. She was tough when it came to the sex, but on the inside she looked like she was ready to have a meltdown. I couldn't quite understand it.

Leaving her there on the bench I quickly retrieved the T-shirt and grabbed my jacket that I'd slung over one of the black leather chairs at the back. She eyed me warily, but eventually accepted my gift, pulling the thin shirt quickly over her head. It looked wholly indecent as she was wearing no bra and her nipples were standing to attention proudly. My cock nearly had a messy accident at the sight of her, and that was pretty fucking amazing in itself. I am Mr Cool, Calm and Casual. I never get revved up like this. What was it with this woman?

Holding the jacket out so she could put her arms through the sleeves, it still took a good couple of seconds before my libido went back to normal. I suspected Marianna could wear a burlap sack and my body would still respond rather painfully.

'Before we go I still have my one question that needs answering. It has nothing to do with Mark, so take a deep breath and answer it as best you can. My only request is that you respond truthfully. If you can't answer it truthfully, then silence would be preferable.' I stared at her darkly to make sure she got the message.

Marianna's large emerald eyes looked up at me, swimming in unshed tears, and she simply nodded. Well, here goes nothing, I thought.

'Why? Of all the stupid, foolish things you could have done, doing the dirty on a man like Matthews, who has countless millions at his disposal, for revenge is beyond stupid. You're lucky he doesn't want you dead, because believe me, if he did you'd be dead by now. What possible thing possessed you to pull such an incredibly reckless stunt when you were already being paid a more than generous salary? So yes, I need to know, what was the money for?'

Her eyes immediately filled with tears again, and a few silent ones escaped down her cheek. Never had I wanted my camera more. She was a canvas I might never grow tired of. Too bad she didn't have a conscience though. I didn't need much of one in a partner, but there did need to be some kind of semblance of basic morals. Fuck. Why was this always my luck? Maybe I could make an exception in her case? My cock pulsed beneath my jeans as if encouraging my brain to play hooky.

She didn't answer me straightaway, and as the seconds ticked by I wondered if she would. Continuing to stare at her, and enjoying the view immensely, it was a bit of shock when she did begin to speak.

'The money isn't for what you think. It's not for clothes, shoes, or holidays.'

This was more smoke and mirrors. I wanted the truth.

'So what is it for? Please enlighten me.'

She laughed bitterly. 'I know what you think of me. Right now you probably suspect it's for an apartment in Monaco or a double-D boob job.'

I confess those things might have crossed my mind, but I wasn't about to admit it to her.

'Firstly, you'd be lucky to get an apartment in Monaco for two million quid and secondly, it would be a crime to put those tits under the knife. So, are you going to answer me truthfully or not?'

Marianna sighed long and hard, as if she was warring with herself whether to tell me or not. Sitting there, staring at her, I wondered what kind of secret could be so important that she needed to keep it so deeply buried. The silence dragged on and on and eventually I gave up hope of hearing a thing. Fishing in my pocket for my car keys I made to stand up, but a soft whisper stopped me.

'My little girl is sick.' That halted me in my tracks and I slowly sat down again. I had a bad feeling about this. Unless I was much mistaken I was shortly going to feel like the biggest shmuck alive. On the plus side, perhaps she was lying to me.

'I'm listening.' My voice was soft, encouraging her to continue. Now that I'd set myself up for this I might as well hear the lot.

'She's sick with leukaemia. It's a rare type and chronic. The doctors have given her less than five years to live.'

Fucking hell. The look on her face said it all. If this was true I was in trouble. How in hell had Mark not done his homework? His employees were normally required to be single and without children. How had she slipped through the net? Anger rose through my gut, swift, burning and monstrous. When I asked my next question I made sure that none of that anger could be found upon my face. If there was one thing I was particularly good at, it was schooling my emotions.

'What's her name?' This was partly so I could check out her story, but also because I wanted Marianna to open up to me. This was important for some reason.

'Leanne Knight. She still has my husband's surname, even though we've been separated for several years now. She's been living with my Mum up north.'

Well, didn't that explain a few things? 'So you lied on your application form, then?' My tone wasn't condescending. If I'd had a sick child I knew I'd have done anything for them, including being a doormat to Mark Matthews, heaven forbid.

'Everyone lies on their application form. The trick is to make sure you get away with it.' Marianna sniffed prettily. How on earth she could cry and still look beautiful was confounding, but she pulled it off admirably. Besides, the woman was right.

'How long has she been sick?' If I were sensible I'd walk away now. All I had to do was shove the woman in a taxi and forget I'd ever laid eyes on her. I had everything I needed from her. The smartest move would be to get out and fast.

'She's always been a sickly child, but in the last three years she's bounced back and forth from hospitals with frightening regularity. The last year in particular has been hell.'

It was fairly easy to add up the dots after that, but I let her do the talking. I wanted to hear it in her own words.

'There was an experimental treatment on offer in the US. The likelihood of it succeeding isn't great, but any chance is better than no chance. In my semi up in Glasgow there was no chance of me earning the kind of money required to make it possible. For a while we didn't know what to do, other than just sit there and watch her die.'

I nodded, encouraging her to go on.

'I tried to get modelling work, but the pay was nowhere near enough to fund the kind of specialist treatment she needed. Even worse, more and more of the photographers were basically insisting you sleep with them before they took you on. The business is completely corrupt, especially if you enter it without any money behind you.'

I had an unpleasant taste in the back of my throat at the thought of what she must have gone through.

'Then one of the girls mentioned Mark Matthews and the fact that the kind of money his girls earned was off the pay chart scale. I thought if I could somehow land a job at Zystrom I'd at least be earning enough money to take out a loan that might cover part of the treatment.' She shook her head ruefully.

'But it wasn't enough?'

'No. The costs spiralled in just a couple of years and I found myself almost back to square one.'

I closed my eyes. Marianna had left a sick child in order to raise enough money to try and treat her. That alone had to have been excruciatingly hard, but to then find it had all been for nothing was something else entirely.

'Why didn't you ask Mark for the money?'

'You must be kidding.' Marianna laughed bitterly. 'Until the last few months of my employment he barely knew I existed. When he did finally discover me, you know better than to ask Mark for anything. If you put a step wrong you pay the price. That was the nature of the game and I'm pretty sure you're on the same wavelength as the man. There was also the chance he could have turned around and told me to get lost. Then I'd have been out of a job too.'

Mark wasn't that much of a bastard. I'm pretty sure if she'd asked he'd have helped her, but she wasn't to know that. Oh lord. Where did I go from here?

'So the two million pound conman came along, and he was too good to be true?' Quite literally, as it happened.

'Yes. That money would have paid for the flights out to the US and got us the medical attention Leanne so desperately needs. It seemed like a gift from God at the time, even if there were consequences.'

'And there were certainly some of those,' I remarked, putting a hand to my head. 'Probably more than you'd bargained on, I'm betting.'

'Actually, I thought Mark would have me killed.' She was deadly serious. Then again, the man had a lot of money at his disposal so I guessed she had a reason to be.

'That's a little bit dramatic,' I said. 'I know he's a bastard, but he isn't a complete animal.'

'Well, for a moment there I thought you might actually kill me.' Marianna's eyes were staring at me intently, and I wondered what she wanted me to say.

'I've been told I'm a very good actor.' It came in handy for the day job that was for sure. Then the conversation took a left turn.

'Are you two friends?'

Marianna turned her face towards me and looked me straight in the eye. Thankfully I didn't have to lie. 'No. Let's go with the term "frenemies".' It was more enemies, really, judging by the fact I'd recently discovered he owned sizeable amounts of many of my companies, but I was working on that.

'So why are you doing his dirty work for him?' It was her turn to look imposing and superior, and I didn't think much of being put under the spotlight.

'Let's just say I felt I owed him a favour, which has now been repaid. Now he owes me.'

She inclined her head in reply and her bottom lip pouted beautifully. Fuck. I still hadn't gotten my cock under control. Maybe I'd had too many oysters at lunch. Anyway, the bottom line was that as much as I wanted to get her out of my hair, I also didn't want to leave her side. The two sentiments were difficult to pair up. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed again.

'So what do we do now?' I said, tapping my fingers against the seat of my chair. I knew exactly what we were going to do now, but wanted to hear her take on the matter.

She looked up at me and smiled ruefully. 'We tell Mark what we know and then you get rid of me as quickly as possible? I just want to go home and see my daughter. That's all I want to do. I just want to give her a big damn hug.'

'I'll get us booked on the first flight up to Glasgow. We'll just need to get you back to your apartment to pick up a change of clothes. Those aren't going to cut it on a flight.'

'You don't need to come with me. I'm a big girl. I can manage.' She frowned at me. My jaw nearly dropped. The woman even looked cute with a frown. How was that possible?

'You're not getting rid of me just yet. That's the deal. Take it or leave it.'

'I'm too tired to argue. Let's go.' She sighed and then got up off the bench, a little unsteadily at first but it didn't take her long to find her feet.

As soon as she was upright she began walking towards the door and gasped out loud, her eyes going wide.

'Ah. That'll be the piercing, darling. It'll take a bit of getting used to.' I stood up and held the door open wide for her.

'You're telling me. That little piece of metal really hits the spot.' She blinked a couple of times and then gingerly moved forward again, breathing in large, measured breaths. I wanted to laugh, but respectfully kept my face devoid of humour. Until the swelling had died down she was probably going to orgasm every ten steps or so.

'Why didn't you just tell me the truth at the start?' I asked, as she walked through the door. My nostrils inhaled the scent of her luxurious brown waves and the smell of honey and vanilla was heavenly.

'Because you wouldn't have believed me at the start, and you had the look in your eye of someone who enjoys tormenting people. Now you can check my story out. It won't take you very long. Then I can go home. I just want to get home.'

The emotion in her voice was almost my undoing.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Michael Redcliff

'Holy fuck. She could die. What the hell are we going to do now?' Michael stood out on the balcony, rocking backwards and forwards upon his heels, his face looking rather ashen and haunted basked in pale grey moonlight. The temperature at his island retreat in the Caribbean might have been a balmy twenty-eight degrees, but you wouldn't know it the way his hands were shaking.

Katrina sat there in a sheer cream caftan and looked up from her iPad lazily. 'We? There is no "we". You're on your own if she dies. This was your plan, after all.' Taking a brief glance at her lover, her eyes quickly returned to her screen. Michael did not look at all well.

'My ex-wife is going to kill me if she finds out.' The newspaper Michael held in his hand began rustling as if it had a life of its own, as if it had some extremely pressing news to share.

Taking another look at Michael's face Katrina rolled her eyes and sighed. Putting her tablet down gently on the ornate latticework table in front of her she said, 'Calm yourself. Who's going to be the most obvious suspect? Matthews, that's who. Your ex will probably have him killed, and then you haven't a care in the world. Just let nature take its course. All you have to do is stay low and make sure you don't do anything stupid. I think we covered our tracks reasonably well and all avenues lead back to Matthews, just like we planned.'

'Yes, but what happens if Jennifer wakes up? If she was dead I wouldn't be worried, but my sources tell me that somehow they've managed to save her life. What if she wakes up? What if my wife manages to talk to her? Then I'm screwed. I might as well grab my Glock and blow my fucking brains out. It'll be a lot less painful than whatever my ex-wife might have in store for me, should she find out.' The newspaper began to unravel in Michael's hand, pages fluttering across the floor, curling around softly in the gentle tropical breeze.

Katrina shook her head and her lips hardened. 'You think too much. Jennifer is unconscious at the moment. Your ex is going to have Mark killed in less than forty-eight hours, unless I'm much mistaken. That's what I'd do. Have someone tail the bastard, and when fortunate circumstances present themselves he will no longer be a concern. The man is on his way out - not quite in the way you'd planned, but this way is probably better. Less heat on you, darling.'

'But what if she wakes up before then?' Michael was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Panic had taken control of his body and seized him in a fierce, cold grip.

'What if she does? Will your ex be sitting by her daughter's bedside, ready to explain where the fuck she's been all these years? Use your head, Michael. This is in the bag. Stop worrying, and for fuck's sake sit down. You look like you're about to have a coronary.' Katrina stood up and made her way over to Michael's side, gently easing him down to the padded sofa that waited below. The last thing they both needed right now was a visit to the ER room. 'Sit down, have a strong glass of something and read your paper. This will all be over in a day or two. All you need to do is hang on in there.'

Michael blinked a couple of times and looked at the ragged remains of the newspaper in his left hand, only half of which he still held. He slammed the thing down in defeat.

'Look on the bright side, darling. It'll keep your thoughts busy as you try and puzzle the thing back together.' Katrina sat down once again and retrieved her tablet. There'd be no sex this evening, so she might as well get comfortable.

Chapter Twenty-Three - Mark

When I awoke the first thing I felt was pain - intense, biting, sharp pain. What the hell had I done to myself? It felt like someone had run me over. When my eyes finally blinked into focus, it was to discover long strips of hospital halogen lighting above my head, and I instantly panicked. My blood pressure rocketed as I looked desperately around, only to find Jennifer asleep beside me. I reached quickly for her hand and winced again as the skin on my back protested vehemently. Suddenly everything that had happened in the past twelve hours came flooding back to me.

My eyes flew to my watch, wondering how much time had passed since I'd arrived here. Daylight filtered in through the shuttered blinds, so I knew we were talking hours rather than mere minutes. I nearly fell off my chair when I realized eight hours had passed. That was an impressive nap. Perhaps I needed to get whipped to within an inch of my life more often.

Pulling myself slowly up the padded chair I tried my best to make myself more comfortable. It was an impossible task, but after much fidgeting I finally found a position that didn't hurt as much as all the rest. The oxycodone tablets were burning a hole in my pocket, but I wasn't going to take them just yet. I think I was looking for some sort of sign that Jen would be okay. Any sign would do, but I just needed something. The room stayed ominously silent and Jennifer lay still as a corpse in answer to my plea. Maybe I should go and get some coffee and then go over my deal with God. Couldn't hurt, could it? Giving Jen's hand a quick squeeze I braced myself for the inevitable pain on standing and then held my breath until it had subsided. All I had to do then was put one foot in front of the other.

'Good morning, Mr Matthews. Can I get you anything?' A big black nurse bustled into the room, larger than life, and briefly checked Jen's stats. She then returned her attention to me. 'Coffee, tea, or just plain old-fashioned water?' She smiled when I didn't answer immediately. 'Try talking to her. All that poor girl wants is to hear your sexy voice. Take it from me, mister. You only just married, so there's no way God wants to take her away from you. Just be patient. Time is all she needs.'

'Coffee would be wonderful. Thank you,' I added, returning her smile even though it didn't make it past my eyes.

'Sure thing. You stay there and I'll be right back.' Turning on her heel, skirts flying as she marched, she was gone in a whirlwind of cotton. Sitting myself down once again I nearly jumped right back in the air when I heard a moan come from beside me. My eyes flew down to Jennifer whose head squirmed upon the bright white pillow. Her eyes were scrunched up as if she were in pain. I gripped her hand tighter and shook it a little.

'Jen? Can you hear me? It's Mark. I'm here for you, sweetheart.' There was another soft groan, but then she settled down again. It was progress though, and I was all for that.

 

When the nurse bustled in five minutes later with my coffee, we chatted briefly about how Jen was doing. There wasn't any substantial change since I had visited last, but 'no news was good news' I was told. The only advice I was given was to keep talking to her. The body healed on its own timescale and there was no rushing nature. My back chose that moment to protest, and I guess that confirmed it. I would just have to be patient. She would come back to me eventually.

Picking up the thick china cup and bringing the steaming dirty brown water to my lips, I blew the steam off the surface and burned my tongue in a semi-pleasurable fashion. All caffeine was good, no matter how bad it was. My stomach chose that moment to gurgle, reminding me that I hadn't fed myself for hours. I couldn't be bothered to acknowledge it, because that would mean moving and that was going to hurt.

The nurse was still bustling around in the background, tidying mostly, and sorting out a few needles into neat orderly piles. I guessed she was getting the patients medication ready for later. There were only three people in the ward we were in. One had been moved during the night, and the other was a middle-aged man who was fast asleep. As soon as my wife made it out of intensive care I'd have her moved to a private ward, but at the moment she needed to be where it was safest. Jen moaned again and twisted her head around, drawing my gaze instantly. I wondered if she were having a nightmare of some sort. Perhaps a bit of chatter would soothe her. Hell only knows I had a lot to say to her. I didn't think the nurse would mind. Staring up at the ceiling, I gathered my thoughts.

'You need to wake up, sweetheart. There are so many things I need to tell you. Firstly, I need to tell you that your dad is an asshole, but I think you already knew that. Secondly, I need to tell you that my house is your house and you can live in it for as long as you like. Perhaps that should be my houses are your houses, and…' I leaned forward close to whisper, 'you don't need to live in the same one as me. I'll understand if you can't bear the sight of me. I can barely bear the sight of me, and believe me, at this moment in time it isn't a pretty one.' That was more of a tongue twister than I bargained for, so I took another sip of scalding hot coffee before continuing. 'I know I made a huge mistake, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but don't die on me okay? You get well and I'll let you run the show your way. Whatever that may mean, I'm more than willing to compromise. I owe you at least that much. I'd be more than happy to kill your father too, should you require it. You just say the word.' Fuck. I was babbling. There were really only three words I needed to say to her and I think she deserved to hear them. Though I'd much rather say them to her when she was wide awake, I didn't want to take the chance that she might never hear them. There were too many regrets already. I didn't want any more.

'Jen. There's one more thing. It's something important, so I hope you're listening in there somewhere.' I ran my fingers across her forehead with a feather light touch, stroking her soft, silky skin. She looked so delicate, so white, and so damn fragile. I just wanted her whole again.

'Do you know, I think if you'd been any other woman I'd have refused to marry you. I don't care what's on the footage your dad holds. Besides, I have enough money to make his life miserable. If I put my mind to it, I could have tied him up in legal tape for years. I still can't figure out what this is all about, by the way. That's why I need you to wake up. He can't be that desperate for money can he?' And there I was again, avoiding those three little words that needed to be said. The trouble was I hadn't ever said them to anyone before. They felt strange and foreign on my tongue. They were burning a hole in my throat though, and they needed to be said.

'Jennifer Courtney Matthews, there is something I badly need to share with you. I think I could have said this to you back in Albrecht stables, if I'm honest. Yes, I'd already fallen for you way back then, and I think I knew as soon as I saw you. You see, much as I'd like to tell you that I was horrified of the thought of marrying you, a part of me was secretly glad I'd have you all to myself and under my roof. The thought of you with another man drives me insane with jealousy and all I can think about right now is keeping you safe, although I appreciate it's a little bit late for that sentiment. Anyway, what all of that means is that I am well and truly in love with you. I. Love. You. I'll shout it from the rooftops if you don't believe me. Fuck, I'll even swap the kinky sex for vanilla, as long as I can be with you. That is how serious I am, Jennifer Matthews. And just for the record, you are never getting a divorce from me, no matter how much you might hate me when you wake up. Somehow I'll make you forgive me. There has to be a way.' My voice was perhaps a little louder than it should have been, but I meant what I said. I was going to do everything in my power to make this woman love me.

The nurse carried on behind me, giving me no indication that she'd heard a word I'd said. Most of it had been in a low whisper anyway, and in her line of work I guess she heard a lot of things. Besides, she probably had far more important things to worry about, like drug dosage, charts, and saving sick people in general. When she came to stand behind me I paid her no attention. I was sure I'd only get in her way. Instead I gazed lovingly into the eyes of Jennifer Matthews. What the fuck?!

For a moment I thought I was dreaming, but those deep blue irises blinked at me. I think my whole body froze as I waited to see whether this was yet another of my weird dreams and whether it might get good any time soon. For instance, if I was dreaming, maybe she could give me an adoring look, reach for my hand and ask if she could go home. To my place, in case you were wondering. My subconscious gave a chuckle. Jennifer would be fine convalescing with me. I'd make an excellent nurse. Mainly because I'd make damn sure the woman never got out of bed ever again. For all the wrong reasons of course, but I was happy to tie her down if need be. The eyes blinked again and I think my brain began to run in slow motion. I knew what Jennifer was wearing under her utilitarian hospital duvet - a hospital gown. One of those paper things that looked perfectly decent from the front, but when viewed from the rear it could trigger heart attacks in healthy males. Maybe I'd have to try some medical fetish when we got back. Stick her in one of those gynaecologist-style chairs and examine each and every last inch of her. My mouth began to water at the possibilities that presented. I could pin those legs wide open, for as long as I liked, and have my wicked way with her. Wondering if she'd like that, I decided I'd ask her if she was really awake.

'Jen? Am I dreaming?' I had to ask the question. At this moment in time I didn't trust my own judgment.

A long scream then lit up the air and Jen's eyes went wild with fright. This dream was beginning to enter nightmare-land, much like all my other dreams of late. I had a suspicious feeling I was not about to enjoy this.

'Get away from me. Police! Arrest him! He tried to poison me.' Jen reached for the panic button beside her bed and did her best to try and press it. In her weakened state it took a couple of attempts.

I stood rooted to the spot. It was really about time I snapped out of this one. Behind me the nurse dropped something on the floor, but she didn't stop to pick it up. She ran out of the door as fast as she could and I was guessing she'd gone to fetch a doctor, or the police, or both.

Jen smiled up at me ruefully, apologetically even, as the men in black burst into the ward looking for me. I didn't understand the look at all. What was going on here? This dream was absolutely surreal. There was no time to mess about though. Dropping my cell phone in her lap I said, 'Call Khalil. He'll explain everything. The code is the date of the Great Fire of London.'

It took no time at all for my hands to be cuffed behind my back and for my body to be yanked upright. I screamed. Loudly. The pain was crippling. Should I be able to feel pain in a dream? I wasn't sure I had before. That would be an interesting question to ponder later. Right now I was being frogmarched down the corridor, and the police officers walked far faster than my back was comfortable with.

'Let me explain. I can explain,' I said to them. Although I wasn't sure I could. What possible reason could Jennifer have for saying that? Only about a billion and one, my subconscious chimed. If you go to prison she gets rid of you for at least ten years, whilst having use of all of my possessions, and all of my money. It wasn't a bad deal. If she was lucky and got a shark for a lawyer she might get me put away for twenty years or more.

Thankfully the fast march was brief. It wasn't long before I was sat down on a plastic chair in a small, nondescript room on the first floor. I was made to wait for an age before anyone came to talk to me and in this time I had figured out two things. One, the clock on the wall ticked infuriatingly loudly, and two, there was a good chance I was probably not dreaming. Several sharp pinches to my thigh had confirmed as much. This wasn't going to be one of my greatest days. I sincerely hoped my lawyer had eaten his Weetabix this morning. I had a feeling we were going to get quite chummy over the next few days.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Jennifer

My whole body felt it like had undergone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. Everything hurt, without exception, and my head was spinning around in circles. If they'd given me pain meds I could quite honestly state that they were next to useless. Where was the morphine when you needed it? To make matters worse, there was some idiot talking nonsense next to me. Whilst the two sides of my brain were bashing against each other in earnest, trying their best to compose a symphony for headache of the year, someone was yanking my hand about and murmuring directly in my ear. If I'd had the energy I might have rolled over and punched them. As I didn't, I settled for sending them my darkest thoughts.

It took me a while to fully regain consciousness, but eventually my light-headedness disappeared, although unfortunately the pounding head didn't. Anyway, my brain finally straightened itself out enough to recognize that the voice next to me was none other than my husband's and when I'd gotten over the shock of that, the words he was uttering nearly floored me. Had he just said he'd fallen for me back at Albrecht stables? My jaw wanted to hang open in shock, but I had a feeling that if I gave any indication of having heard a word he was saying, he would stop immediately. Figuring out that it might be in my best interests to hear the rest of this one-sided conversation, I kept my eyes closed and my body deathly still. This was good. It meant my husband was human after all. After the events at Escape I had begun to wonder. So, there I was happily throwing rose petals around in my brain, while decorating the walls with hearts and flowers. My husband cared about me! He wasn't the cold, heartless, total fucking moron that had given me quite a scare not so very long ago. Sure, he'd given me glimpses of something more, but then we usually had another setback and we were back at square one. Now we seemed to be making progress. Hallelujah! And then I heard them. Three tiny little words that I never thought would creep past Mark's lips. No way had I heard that right. Perhaps I was high on morphine after all. This would turn out to be one big hallucination and then I could go back to being miserable and suicidal. Actually, scrap that. This latest brush with death had been enough to scare the hell out of me. I couldn't quite believe that someone had managed to save me, and I knew it had been a close call. When my body had started to shut down I said my goodbyes and fully expected that to be that, only it wasn't. Here I was, with my billionaire husband whispering that he loved me. Hmph. I'm pretty sure that only happened in fairy tales. I went back to wondering what drugs I was on, and why they weren't doing a better job at managing my pain. Then he said them again. My brain stopped spinning for a minute. Could it be possible that Mark loved me? His recent actions had suggested anything but, yet here he was confessing all. Was it too much to hope for? Was I setting myself up for a fall? Probably, but the time had come where I should probably open my eyes and tell him I loved him too, although I suspected he probably already knew. Where Mark was concerned I was crap at hiding things. He always read me so well.

Prising my eyelids apart it took a moment to adjust to the blinding white light all around me. My eyes felt like someone had pierced them with a dozen pins and needles, and they were so dry it felt like they were rubbing against sandpaper. I guessed this was the price you paid for surviving a near-death experience. When I finally managed to focus on Mark it was to find him looking up at the ceiling. He was telling me that I would never manage to divorce him, which if I'd been feeling better would have been rather funny. I'd tried to tell him again and again that divorce wasn't on the cards, and that he'd be stuck with me forever. I didn't have much choice in the matter. Now that the tables had turned I wondered what had changed? Oh yes, he loved me. It seemed nearly dying was an excellent thing to do if you wanted to get some affection around these parts.

When Mark finally looked down it was to find me staring at him. It gave him quite a shock. I blinked twice. I then heard him ask me if he was dreaming. It was a good question, and I was beginning to wonder the same thing. Mainly because there was a rather scary nurse wielding a large syringe behind me, who was coming straight for Mark. She looked like she meant business, too. When she pulled her arm back and got ready to plunge the thing into Mark's body I screamed. There was little else I could do. I'd just remembered my mother's little visit and I suspected this was all her doing.

'Get away from me! Police!' I shouted whatever I could think of to get someone come running and quick. Thankfully the volume of my voice must have shocked the nurse, because she dropped the syringe she was holding and looked around wildly. By some miracle there must have been some officers nearby, because two policemen entered the room in short order and it sent the nurse running for cover. I guessed they'd been waiting in the corridor to question Mark or me, and thank God for that. If they hadn't been it was quite possible the nurse would have given it another shot. Mark was a big guy, but I'm telling you she would have given him a run for his money.

Looking apologetically up at Mark there wasn't much else I could do except watch him be cuffed and led away. I didn't feel guilty. Although I had no idea what my mother was really capable of, I figured he'd be safer spending the night in a jail cell than wandering about town. It wouldn't take me too long to figure out how to get him out, just as soon as I'd had some time to sit down and think. If the worst came to the worst I'd just tell the officers the pain meds had addled my brain. At the moment that was probably half true anyway.

'Call Khalil. He'll explain everything.' They were the last words he said to me. He then dropped his cell phone on my bedcover, while the officers wasted no time in getting him under control.

Watching Mark as he was yanked upright I heard him scream, and wondered what had happened. It was unlike Mark to show any kind of weakness, and from what I'd seen they hadn't been too rough with him. Had it been a scream of frustration? No. It was far too loud and I knew pain when I heard it. Something had happened to him. I had no idea what, but I'd find out soon enough. This 'Khalil' guy would probably be a good place to start, if I could ever work out how Mark's phone worked. Still, it would be an entertaining initiative test. Once this headache had gone I would get right on it.

'Mrs Matthews? How do you feel?'

Another nurse was standing beside me, looking a little concerned at all the ruckus that had just ensued. I was going to hope this lady wasn't also under the employ of my mother.

'I've felt better,' I answered truthfully.

She pulled my chart off my bed and made some kind of note on it, and then she smiled at me. 'The doctor's been called and he'll be here in just a minute. Is there anything you need right now? Some water, perhaps?'

I nodded immediately in response to her question. My mouth was dryer than the Nevada dessert in the heat of summer, and my scream had been weak at best. At least it had done the trick. 'Yes please,' I whispered.

'Does anywhere hurt? Do you need something for the pain?' She fiddled with the IV beside my bed, and noted that it needed changing.

'Everywhere hurts,' I said. 'Pain meds would be good.'

She nodded. I'll let the doctor know and we'll get you sorted out in no time.

'Do you want me to put the TV on for you while you're waiting? Get you a magazine to read, perhaps?'

I shook my head. Either of those options was out of the question with my pounding head. I was happy to lie back, close my eyes, and wait impatiently for the doctor.

'The police officers will be back shortly. They want to speak to you about the night you were poisoned. Did you want me to fend them off for the time being?'

'Please. My head is playing Guns and Roses and the tune is not one of their better ones.'

She laughed at me. Okay. I can get them to go away until tomorrow at least, but they'll be back. Right, let me go and get you some water. By the way - welcome back to the land of the living. It was touch and go there for a while.' She didn't need to tell me that. I could feel it in every single bone in my body. The nurse then smiled at me, before she strolled out of the ward.

The poor woman probably thought I was crazy. One moment I was screaming the house down claiming that my husband was a murderer, and in the next I was cool as a cucumber and asking for a glass of water. Mind you, she'd probably seen stranger things.

Grabbing Mark's iPhone I pressed the button to turn it on and was immediately presented with a request for a code. Shit. He'd told me something about a code. What had he said? It was a date of some kind, I think, but it had completely slipped my mind. I banged my head on the pillow in frustration. It would be some cataclysmic date in history, no doubt - the trouble was, which one? I flicked through some important ones in my head, hoping inspiration would strike. The Black Death, The Spanish Armada, Battle of Trafalgar, Waterloo, Union of England and Scotland, Discovery of America by Columbus, The Great Fire of London. Yes. That was it. I was nearly positive that was what he'd said. Now I just had to figure out what the date was. I'd never been that great at history at school, so I would need to ask someone or resort to Googling. Unfortunately, without the code for the damn phone I had nothing to Google on.

When the doctor came in ten minutes later I was sat there with my glass of water and a big frowny face. Whilst I knew I would never get the date all by myself, I had tried my best to narrow it down to the approximate decade. I was going for somewhere around the 17th century, and in the middle-ish.

'How are you feeling Mrs Matthews?' Dr Menzies, according to his name badge, was extremely keen to find out as he was already waving a little torch at my eyes.

'Not bad, considering. I'm alive and I have water, so it could be worse.'

He laughed at me. 'The nurse says you'd like a little something for the pain, is that right?'

I nodded. 'I've got an almighty headache. If you could take the edge off it that would be lovely.'

'I think we can do that. Okay, Mrs Matthews. You've been through quite an ordeal in the last few days and we need to run some tests just to make sure everything is functioning as it should. After that we'll get you some of the good stuff.' He winked at me. 'Do we have a deal?'

'We do. Just one thing before you begin, though. Is there some way I can get on the Internet around here? I don't seem to have my phone with me, and just wondered if there was some way I could get in touch with my friends and family.' A complete lie, but he didn't have to know that.

'Ah, no problem. The TV set has an Internet connection built into it and there's a controller for it in your bedside table. As soon as I've finished with you we'll get the nurse to show you how it works.'

'Perfect.' I smiled. That was one problem solved but I suspected there would be plenty more in its wake.

 

The tests were endless. They seemed to want all of my blood, and little vials of the stuff were being shipped off everywhere. Then they played about with reflexes and strength tests, and did a tolerable job of making sure my brain and memory were intact. When one was completed there was another one immediately on its heels. I knew they were doing this for my benefit and trying to make sure I was okay, but I had things to do and people to free from prison. These people needed to get a wriggle on!

When I grew fidgety they told me in no uncertain terms that I was lucky to be alive and that I shouldn't take it for granted that there would be no side effects from the poisoning episode. This was obviously what they were trying to discern. Would I come away from here in the same shape as I had been a few days ago, or would I be left with some long-term nastiness? The thought was worrying enough that I kept perfectly still until the last test had been completed.

When they were satisfied that I was fine, or as fine as I could be for now, they finally left me alone for a while - with the threat that some lunch would be arriving shortly. I wrinkled my nose up at that. The last thing I felt like doing was eating. Fortunately I'd now been given some decent pain killers, so at least it was unlikely that I'd kill the poor lady or gentleman who was going to have the unfortunate task of serving me. Anyway, enough about that; it was time to surf the net.

It didn't take me long to find the controller which would let me access the TV screen. There was a bit of a setback when I realized I would need five pounds to access it, especially as I knew I didn't have any cash on me when I was admitted here. Apparently I needed to buy a TV card and that was going to be tricky. The dress I'd been wearing had barely enough room in it for me, let alone anything else. I sighed. Looking through my bedside drawer revealed what I already suspected - there was no money to be found. So what was a girl to do?

Looking around the room I found only one other patient. He was fast asleep, had tubes and wires all over him, and didn't look like he was going to wake up any time soon. First I had to deal with my own moral dilemma though. Could I steal from a critically ill person? I thought about it long and hard, and decided I could. For starters, I was now a millionairess. I could repay him back ten times over and pay for enough hospital TV to last him a lifetime. Secondly, time was of the essence. My husband was going to jail, and since I'd put him there it was probably not advisable to leave him there too long. I didn't think Mark was going to take to the new experience with whoops of joy.

It took all of thirty seconds to steal a fiver from the poor man's wallet. If you want to know if I felt guilty, I did, but I'd already checked his name on his hospital chart and promised myself that he would paid back with interest. That eased my conscience somewhat.

My next challenge was to find a TV card vending machine and that probably meant getting past the nurse's station. The things a girl had to do to get a little entertainment around these parts! To give me my dues I tried to creep around in my hospital gown, and that was mighty drafty, let me tell you. It was also rather hard to sneak about when you had to drag your IV line and catheter with you. Of course I was immediately frowned upon as soon as my feet reached the floor and ordered to get straight back in bed. Plot foiled. So I settled for pleading with the nearest nurse, picking one who was still smiling after a long shift, to buy it for me. Lo and behold the adorable lady promised to do exactly that, and I wanted to kiss her. After thanking her profusely I snuggled back in my bed and waited. That should have been my excitement over for the day. My blood pressure was being recorded, so it would have been sensible to sit there quietly whilst taking comforting sips of my water. Oh, that would have been bliss. Unfortunately nothing was going my way lately and it seemed it was set to stay that way for the foreseeable future.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Jennifer

The date of the Great Fire of London was the second of September, sixteen hundred and sixty-six. The number of the devil did not go unnoticed. Trust Mark to have that in his phone code. The man was incorrigible.

When I entered the code the phone immediately came to life and there were messages flashing left, right and centre. The latest one was from Leyland Forbes, and that alone caught my interest. After our last episode at Escape I'd pretty much figured those two would be mortal enemies, so what was he doing texting my husband? There was only one way to find out.

Opening up the message it was to find just three sentences, but one of them took my breath away.

Pretty sure Redcliff is behind the poisoning. Also, your mother-in-law appears to work for the Mafia. PS. If your wife wants a divorce tell her I'm happily waiting in the wings. L

Okay, two of those sentences took my breath away, but surely the second one couldn't be right. God no. Things like that didn't happen in this day and age, did they? It would certainly explain a few things if true… but the mafia? Surely not. I screwed my face up in disbelief and shook my head.

Having already tried to convince myself that the previous episode I'd had with my mother had been a figment of my imagination, I now had to rethink the whole thing. This wasn't good. I'd only been awake half an hour and I already thought I was crazy. Still, in for a penny in for a pound. Perhaps I should try that guy Mark mentioned. Oh hell, I'd forgotten his name too. What was wrong with me? The meds I was on must be doing funny things to my head. My memory was normally perfect. Oh well. Perhaps I should just scroll through his contacts and hope inspiration struck at the right time. It was worth a shot.

About forty-five minutes later I was going cross-eyed. Mark must have had over a thousand people in his contact list. Keeping on top of that lot must have been nearly impossible and trying to find a name was like trying to find a needle in a… forget the haystack, I was going to go with football pitch. When my eyes began to glaze over I was thankfully rescued by my lunch.

It turned out that my thanks were a bit premature. Lunch was a dried up cheese roll, a fruit salad and a flapjack. Did no one realize I hadn't eaten for days? What was the meaning of this outrage? I pouted. The only saving grace was that I'd been given a generous mug of tea. It came with two sachets of sugar, and even though I'd never taken sugar with my tea, I tipped both of the damn things in there. Think woman, think!

After ten minutes of frantically trying to come up with the mysterious name and achieving absolutely nothing, I gave up. Instead I watched reruns of The Mentalist and did my best to rot the enamel on my teeth. Sparing a thought or two for Mark, who was probably now pacing up and down a cell that had more bars than downtown London, I did think I should probably give the scrolling thing another go, after I'd watched the BBC news, of course.

In the middle of the news, which was storms and tumbling stock markets, Mark's phone rang. I wondered whether I should ignore it. He probably wouldn't think much of me answering his phone, especially if it happened to be a business call. Picking up the vibrating handset and looking quickly at the screen, it was to discover the name Khalil. The name sounded familiar. Could that be the one he had mentioned?

'Hello.'

'Who is this?' The guy's voice on the other side of the phone sounded quite deep, and at a guess I'd have said he was from middle-eastern descent.

'Mrs Matthews. I think Mark told me to speak to you when he gave me his phone.'

'Ah, okay. Well I'm very pleased you seem to be feeling better, Mrs Matthews. You gave us quite a scare. Is it possible I could speak to Mark? I have some things I need to share with him.' He sounded as if it was urgent. Apparently it wasn't a good day in the world of business.

'Ah, about that. I think we have a problem.' I then proceeded to tell him about the events that had just unfolded. From the one-sided conversation with my mother, to the nurse who'd looked like she had murder on her mind. I still wondered if I was being paranoid, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

'Do you think I overreacted?' I asked, when I'd finished blurting out all the details.

'In all honesty I have no idea until I check into the details, although by the sounds of it he's in trouble. We need to get him out of there as soon as possible. If there is any truth in this mafia tale he won't be safe in prison. Do you think you can square up your story with the cops ASAP?'

'They're coming tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?'

'I should think so, but if you can talk to anyone this evening try your best to set the story straight.' There were sounds of a keyboard being tapped upon and it looked like Khalil was going to be busy over the next few hours.

'Okay. I'll do what I can. Oh, one more thing before you go. I have no money. Is it possible someone could lend…'

'Don't worry about a thing. I can get someone over there within the hour to sort that out.' Well, I guess that was one less problem to worry about. Thanking him, I then asked to be kept abreast of any updates before hanging up. Oh lord.

I took a deep breath. Okay, my first plan of action should be to see if I could talk to a police officer in order to set my story straight. Picking up the hospital telephone I called reception and asked whether someone was available to come to my room. After being put on hold for what seemed like three-quarters of an hour I was told there had been an incident on the third floor and that everyone was busy at the moment. If they managed to get it under control quickly, the receptionist said they might be able to drop by and see me, but otherwise I might have to wait until tomorrow morning. I frowned, but there wasn't a lot else I could do. Anyway, Mark was a big boy. He could take care of himself for a night. Drumming my fingers upon the bedside table I tried to recall the last few hours of my visit to Escape. Was there anything I had missed? Could I give an accurate description of the guy who had brought me the poison? What was I going to say about my crazy little episode earlier? I certainly needed to get my story straight before tomorrow morning. Piecing the little details together was going to keep me busy for the next hour or so.

When I was happy with what I was going to say to the police, and was as comfortable as I could be with it, I let my eyes close for a minute. I had no idea why I was tired. According to the doctor and nurses I'd been asleep for the last couple of days, so you'd have thought I'd have managed to catch up on my beauty sleep. This, unfortunately, wasn't the case. I was dog-tired and within seconds my body succumbed to the wonders of dreamland.

Chapter Twenty-Six - Mark

The interview at the hospital had not gone well. I told the officers my side of the story, and they looked at me as if I had grown two heads. They obviously did not believe a word I was saying. This came as no great surprise to me. At the moment the two bastards sitting comfortably in front of me were nearly positive I had tried to murder my wife, and all they wanted was a tiny shred of proof which they would then try and use to put me away for a very long time. The questions went round and round. The same questions, asked in many different ways, but all leading to the same thing. Did I try and kill my wife? Thankfully, as I wasn't lying, I didn't have to think about my answers, so they quickly got very frustrated with me. Sticking to the basics I just flung the simplest answer back to each and every question. Whilst they did have some fun with me for being in an S&M club, and there was no getting away from that, I didn't share anything else that had happened before that night. If Jennifer wanted to go down that route I'd play it by ear with the best advice my lawyer had to offer, but for now I fended them off with what I had.

Eventually they got bored of me and sent me down to the station. On the way out I managed to unfasten my Rolex and throw it to one of the nurses on duty. I was never going to see it again after I'd been booked in at the police station, so she might as well have an early Christmas bonus.

'Thank you for saving my wife's life,' I said by means of explanation. The poor woman looked absolutely flabbergasted and immediately tried to give it back to me, but it was kind of hard as my wrists were in handcuffs and I was being marched swiftly towards the exit. In the end she gave up gracefully when one of the officers told her to keep it. Then I was firmly directed into a white police car and in no time at all we were at the station.

The formalities were completed with little fuss, at least from myself, and they had my fingerprints and mug shot within a few short minutes. I even smiled for the camera. I didn't smile so much when all my personal effects were taken away, though I was expecting it. I then had an endless series of health questions to answer before they led me to a holding cell. Everything considered, my mood wasn't too bad. The weight that had just been taken off my shoulders was immense. My wife was alive! After all that had happened to her somehow she'd managed to come out of it in one piece. I couldn't quite believe my luck. She was awake, and I was fairly certain that most of her brain cells were firing on all four cylinders. Unfortunately, or perhaps because of that, I was in a prison cell. She was clearly pissed at me, and with good reason, but I reckoned that if she just gave me a chance to speak to her and straighten things out we might have a chance.

So, here I was, in a cell, ecstatically happy. A wife who was alive presented a world of opportunities, and I intended to make her see sense at my earliest opportunity. I wondered if it would be too early to fuck the living daylights out of her? Frowning, I decided I wasn't going to touch her until the hospital had given her the green light, and even then I was going to seek a second opinion. Would there be long-term side effects? Would she make a full recovery? These were burning questions I needed answers to, but I wasn't going to figure out anything until I'd got myself out of this cell.

Unfortunately the metropolitan police had been rather busy when they booked me in, and they didn't have time to get my phone call sorted, but I was sure that in the next hour or two they would get around to it. I just needed to hang tight until then. To be fair, there wasn't much else I could do.

My cell had a single sheet of stainless steel for a bed, and a thin grey plastic mattress rested upon it. There was also a toilet, a sink, and a tiny window right at the top of the back wall that delivered a thin streak of pale light onto the concrete floor. Being incarcerated wasn't going to dampen my mood though. Oh no. I was going to sit here on my rock hard mattress and figure out how to get Jen back. God had quite generously placed a whole heap of thinking time into my lap, so I might as well make use of it. Now, how did you get a really pissed-off wife back on your side? Chewing on that one for what seemed like ages (I guessed about half an hour, but as I didn't have my watch it could have been three years) I came up with several ideas.

The most obvious one was to get her talking and actually listen to her this time. I had a feeling most of our differences would be straightened out with a decent cup of tea and a heart-to-heart. After we'd shared our tales of woe, I suspected I was going to want to kill her father even more than I did already, and I wondered how Khalil was doing, trying to locate the bastard. It was only a matter of time before he found him. A person can't disappear off the face of the planet these days. There's always a trail. Sooner or later we'd find him, and when we did I intended to have some fun with him.

Other options for reconciling my marriage involved lots of sex, more sex, preferably of the kinky variety, good food, flowers, a down-on-my-knees apology, and an American Express platinum card, although the effectiveness of any of the above bar sex was shaky, I thought. If they all failed, I guessed I could always try bribery. There had to be something she wanted - financial independence, stardom, plastic surgery, five thousand pairs of shoes - I just needed to find out what. I'd just have to hope she wasn't hell-bent on trying to get me sent down. My lawyer was good, but I already knew who's side a jury would be on, and it wouldn't be mine. If she could lie convincingly to an audience I was going down for at least the next twenty years or so. Fuck, that was a sobering thought.

Pacing up and down the small cell, to work off some adrenaline, I finally decided to take a seat. If I wanted to concentrate I was better off sitting down. When my backside touched the hard mattress, however, my back threw a fit and streaks of painful lightning shot through me. But it was a bit too late to wish I'd never got myself entangled with Sophia last night. Patting my pockets, I tried to locate the bottle of oxycodone I'd been given, before remembering that the police had taken it off me. Why hadn't I taken the damn tablets back at the hospital? I cursed myself for being so stubborn. Shaking my head, I figured it was just going to be one of those days.

The hatch to my cell was then pulled back noisily, and when the officer in question was satisfied that I wasn't hanging from the ceiling or preparing to do him a world of harm, the door opened.

'Do you need to make a call?' His tone was brusque.

Hell yes, I needed to make a call. I didn't much fancy spending the best years of my life in a garish shade of prison jumpsuit orange.

'Yes please,' I replied politely. Most police officers lack the sense of humour gene, so it's always best to err on the side of caution. Anyway, it wasn't long before I was in front of a telephone with five or ten minutes to spare.

Interestingly enough, most TV dramas will have you believe that you only get one call when you've been put in jail. This is not the case. I was told to tie up any loose ends I had at home, he put a lot of emphasis on the words children and pets, before telling me that it might be wise to get my lawyer involved too. Tell me something I didn't already know.

Punching in Khalil's number, I took a deep breath and waited. He answered on the third ring.

'Hello?' It took me a moment to realize I wasn't calling on my cell and that he'd have no idea who I was.

'It's me, Mark. I'm calling from a holding cell, downtown. Jennifer woke up, screamed at me, and now everyone thinks I'm a killer. I'm not having a good day.'

'I know. Your wife just rang me on your cell phone.'

'Hmph. So she can do as she's told. Who'd have thought it? What did she say? Is she hunting for London's best divorce lawyer as we speak?' I rolled my eyes. I needed to get out of this place and over to the hospital as fast as possible. There were things I needed to say.

'Not exactly,' Khalil drawled.

Well, if she wasn't busy working out how to get a divorce, then what was she doing? Seeing how much money I had stowed away in my offshore accounts? I wished her good luck with that; my financial advisor seemed to have hidden my money all over the world and not even I could keep up with him.

'Brace yourself. You're probably not going to like this much.' Khalil adopted his favourite 'this is probably going to hurt' tone. Sinking into the plastic orange seat beneath me, I wondered what bad news was coming my way now.

'Jen doesn't hate you. She screamed her head off in order to get you out of the ward and somewhere safe.' Khalil then took a deep breath, but I couldn't help butting in.

'Well, I think that's good news, if that's true.' I then frowned. 'But why do I need to be somewhere "safe"?' That part didn't make sense at all. 'And being put behind bars with a lot of ex-cons is hardly somewhere safe, if we're splitting hairs here.'

'We believe Jennifer's mother has something to do with the mafia.' Khalil used his I-am-deadly-serious voice. I still snorted. I couldn't help it.

'And my mother is married to Santa Claus. Come on, Khalil. This isn't funny. I'm in jail.'

'Jen had a visit from her mother while you were absent. She says she was only half awake, and had wondered if she was dreaming, but remembers the conversation quite clearly. The gist of it is that her mother thinks you are responsible for her being poisoned and she intends to "dispose of you", or something very similar.'

'Bah. That's a load of rubbish.' My imagination could run at an impressive stretch, but that was taking things too far.

'Well, that's what I thought, but until we know for sure we should tread with caution. The reason Jen screamed was because a nurse was getting ready to stick a syringe into you.'

'It was probably meant for her. I bet they've pumped her full of so many drugs she can barely see straight.'

'Quite possibly. Anyway, that's all I have for you right now. Stop wasting time and call your lawyer. He's going to have a great big smile on his face after he learns of all the work you're going to be putting his way this week.'

I shook my head and groaned. 'You're right. Guess I'd better make that call. One more thing before I go, though. If Jennifer needs anything, cash, car, clothes etc. can you help her out? Just until I get myself out of here?' To my knowledge she had nothing at the hospital. I'd meant to sort out a couple of items of clothing and leave her some money just in case she woke up, but didn't want to play with fate. Now I couldn't do a thing.

'I'm already on it. Catch you later.' I just had time to utter a quick thank you before the click indicated that the phone call had been terminated. Yet another serious bonus was headed Khalil's way. Life was never dull in my world, but I don't remember it ever having been quite this exciting, either. If exciting was a good word for describing your wife nearly dying and being put in prison. Scrap exciting. Downright terrifying was more accurate. Right, I needed to concentrate on phone calls.

Getting hold of Jonathon Hammond, my legal counsel, was another matter entirely. I got through to his secretary who agreed to pass a message across to him as soon as he became free. That was the best I could hope for. I hung up the phone slowly and sighed. This was turning out to be one hell of a day.

 

Thankfully the rest of my first day in prison was uneventful and very dull. It was also extremely uncomfortable. My back had scabbed over and any movement sent ripples of agony through me. I needed to be laid out flat on my stomach, preferably on a comfy bed, for at least a couple of days or two in order to get past the worst of it, but it didn't look like that was going to be possible. Still, it was a small price to pay for my wife being alive. I'd go through it all again if I had to. Although sleep was its usual elusive self, I felt some kind of peace wash over me. It appeared the darkness was receding, albeit slowly.

The very next morning proved to be equally dull. Breakfast was an uninspiring tray of yellow and brown goo, which might have been porridge and scrambled eggs, but then again it might not. I decided not to risk it, in any case. Thankfully there was a cup of coffee and a slice of toast that accompanied it, and these looked palatable enough. Taking a good swig of the black stuff I looked heavenward and rolled my eyes. Please tell me someone was coming to rescue me today. I needed a shower, a change of clothes and some heavy-duty meds, not necessarily in that order. Some decent food would also be nice. Most of all, I just wanted to have a chat with my wife and clear the air. Khalil's call yesterday had me breathing a bit easier, but I knew there was a lot of ground we still needed to cover.

Pushing the virtually untouched breakfast tray away from me, I rubbed at my tired eyes. They might make prison look rather glamorous in the movies, but in reality it was just a whole lot of thinking time that had you bored and frustrated in a matter of minutes. Perhaps that was the point of it. Plenty of time to repent? I had no further time to ponder the joys of prison, or lack thereof, because the hatch to my cell door snapped back and when they were satisfied I was where I was supposed to be again, it opened. Hallelujah, I thought. Time to get out of this place. Unfortunately, that thought was a little premature.

In the doorway stood a man who blocked out every inch of light from beyond the hallway. He must have been six foot three inches tall at the very least, and he was built like a brick shithouse. Suffice to say, he was fucking huge.

'Meet your new roomie,' said the prison officer. 'You two are both looking at life in prison, so you should have lots to chat about.' He plastered a fake smile across his face, winked, and then slammed the door shouting, 'Play nice,' as he left us to it. Marvellous. I wondered briefly if Jonathon would get here in time to scrape what was left of me up off the floor. There was a fifty-fifty chance, I thought.

Mr Big slammed himself down on the bed, and the whole room vibrated as the steel plate tried its best to take his weight. It was a close run thing, but somehow the steel held up. He then picked up my half-eaten breakfast tray and proceeded to finish it. I wasn't about to stop him. Besides, there was a possibility he'd be a bit more friendly on a full stomach.

When Mr Big had finished he drew his forearm across his lips, in lieu of a napkin, and then licked up the debris. Yum. He then turned his attention my way, and tilted his neck as he sized me up.

'What you in for?'

'Attempted murder,' I said. There wasn't much point in telling him I was innocent and let's face it, it wasn't going to do much for my street cred round these parts.

'Murder or manslaughter?'

'Oh it's definitely a murder charge. I like to think things through beforehand.' I smiled at him, wondering what kind of damage he could do with those fists. Seriously, his hands were the size of dinner plates.

Nodding at me, he then ran a hand through his scraggly red beard before asking, 'Who'd ya do in?'

'My wife.' He nodded again, and then licked his lips. The last bits of scrambled eggs around his beard were then hoovered up. I felt vaguely nauseous.

'Was she sleepin' around?' He gave me an almost sympathetic look, but I didn't make the mistake of assuming we were friends just yet.

'No, she was just fucking irritating.' I wondered if he might take the hint after that and shut the hell up. It was wishful thinking on my part. He looked a bit taken aback for a moment, but then he grinned.

'They all are, aren't they?' Then his face grew rather cunning. 'You're probably better off fucking a man anyway. With a spell of twenty or thirty years behind bars you'll forget all about women. I guarantee it. Besides, with a face like yours you'll be getting lots of attention whether you want it or not.'

I did not like the direction this conversation was going in.

'So, what are you in for?' I asked brightly, hoping to steer the conversation away from dangerous ground.

'Robbery, assault, murder and possession,' he said.

I almost wished I hadn't asked.

Crossing my fingers tightly I hoped Mr Hammond would be with me shortly. With any luck he would solve all my problems. I'd just have to hope Mr Big wouldn't manage to create any new ones in the near future.

 

'They've found the poison in your apartment.'

That was the first sentence Mr Hammond said to me as we sat down for my legal consultation. I nearly fell off my fucking chair. This was turning out to be the day from hell.

'They've found what?' I understood the sentence. I just couldn't believe it.

'The poison that was used to try and kill Jennifer. When they searched your apartment it was sitting there on the dining room table.'

'Then that was really clever of me, leaving it lying about where the police could readily find it.' I forced my tongue into the roof of my mouth as hard as I could. It stopped me from screaming, and I'd been doing far too much of that lately. 'Are there any signs of forced entry and has the CCTV been checked?'

Jonathon stared at me. 'That was my first avenue of thought, and no, there were no signs of forced entry. Whoever did this was a pro. They also managed to take your camera offline.' He paused and cleared his throat before continuing, 'I asked the security guard on the reception desk if he'd seen or heard anything, but he was away from his desk helping an elderly lady upstairs who'd had a funny turn. He had to call an ambulance for her.' I barely heard a word he said. The shock of what he was saying was just sinking in. There was a very real possibility I could be spending an extremely long time behind bars. When Jonathon coughed politely I managed to form a response.

'Which conveniently leaves us with nothing,' I said quietly.

'I'm afraid so, and there's worse news to come, Mr Matthews.' He pushed the cup of coffee he'd brought my way. I didn't really want any more coffee, but it seemed childish to refuse the gift, especially when prison coffee wasn't half as good. Gripping the polystyrene cup tightly I took a small sip of the steaming hot brew, and wondered what else could have happened in the last twelve hours or so. This was a nightmare I wasn't going to forget for a while.

'I'm sitting comfortably,' I said wryly. 'Let's have it.' Quite a few possibilities were already running through my mind. The most worrying was that Jen might have had a relapse, or done a runner. Mind you, where would she go? She was terrified of her father, and rightly so judging by the mess I now found myself in.

'There's plausible enough reason to suggest you could get hold of the poison.' Mr Hammond looked very grave indeed, but I didn't understand why. Couldn't anyone get hold of the poison? It was a plant, wasn't it? To my knowledge I didn't have the stuff growing in my back yard, so I failed to see what he was getting at.

'I'm not sure I follow you,' I said by way of a reply.

'The poison Jennifer had was from the plant monkshood, also called aconitum napellus. It just so happens that one of the companies you part own manufactures it. I believe they ship it out to the Far East to be used in homeopathic medicine.'

'One of Leyland's companies.' I stuck several fingers in my eyes to convince myself I was still alive and not languishing in a pit of Satan's somewhere. God dammit. 'Can they prove that what they've found is the same poison that was administered to Jen?' I knew it wouldn't be, but proving it would be another matter entirely.

'I'm not sure. That's what forensics are trying to do now, at a guess.' Jonathon gave me a serious look and sighed. That was never a good sign, coming from a lawyer.

'Bail is going to be astronomical,' I whispered.

'If they grant it.' His look was sympathetic, but it was clear he didn't think it was likely. 'I'll apply for a hearing as soon as possible, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help your case?' Mr Hammond began rifling through the manila folder on his lap. At a guess he was gathering lots of papers together for me to sign.

'I don't think so. If anything comes to me I know where to reach you.' I shook his hand and watched as he packed up his brown leather briefcase, getting ready to leave. I was left dumbstruck. I'd fully expected this mess to be ironed out quickly. In fact I'd counted on leaving today. What the fuck had just happened?

All I could think about was Mr Big, back in my cell. It looked like we'd be spending a lot of time together. I decided then and there that I'd better brace myself for disaster.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Jennifer

I felt much better when I woke up. My head was clearer, the pins and needles behind my eyes had gone, and the sight of sunlight didn't make me physically sick. This was an improvement over yesterday. Yesterday! How long had I been asleep for? Hours and hours judging by the bright light streaming in through the windows.

Struggling upwards I managed to prop myself up with a pillow behind my back as I scanned the room for a clock. Finding one over the door, it was to realize that half the day had gone already. It was nearly eleven o'clock. Mark was going to be spitting chips if he was still sitting in jail.

Pressing the call bell beside the bed, I waited impatiently for a nurse to arrive. Thankfully I didn't have to wait too long.

'Nice to see you awake young lady. We'd been wondering if you were going to make an appearance this morning. How are you feeling?'

Although the voice indicated my nurse was male, I had to make sure with a visual check. Yes, yes, I know it's very stereotypical to think that all nurses are female, but it still took me by surprise. When I did get a good look at him it took me a couple of seconds to pull my tongue back up from off the floor. Damn. This guy was hot. Not just a little bit hot, but molten metal style hot. He wore a perfect James Dean smile with devilish intent, had short dark chestnut hair that gently curled at his temples, and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. They made a Caribbean sea look murky, I kid you not.

It looked like he was used to women becoming tongue-tied around him, because he filled in the awkward silence for me.

'So, you pressed the call bell. I'm guessing you might be a little hungry? You totally missed breakfast, but I'm sure we can sort you out with an early lunch.' I nodded weakly. Mark had totally revved up my libido lately to the point where I probably wanted to jump anything that moved. This was ridiculous.

'Is there any chance you could get hold of the police officers who want to talk to me? I'm ready to see them now,' I shot out breathlessly. Discreetly trying to slide myself further under the duvet, in the hopes it would cover my red-hot cheeks, I felt rather foolish.

'You sure? There's no rush. They'll wait.'

'I'm sure. And thank you.' I also wanted to have a chat about getting rid of the catheter I found myself unpleasantly attached to, but I decided that could wait until later.

'You're very welcome, Mrs Matthews.'

 

Time dragged extremely slowly with no sign of the police and no word from Mark. It had been a good day, though, all in all. The doctors had confirmed that all the tests they'd run yesterday had been fine, and it looked like I'd somehow managed to come out the other side, mostly unscathed. They said I wasn't out of the woods yet, and that there may well be lingering after effects that I'd discover as I was recuperating. Dr Menzies reeled off a list of unpleasant things I could expect to experience, such as blurred vision, paralysis, pain, numbness, dizziness or fainting episodes. They were the minor ones, in any case. I was given strict instructions to report back if I experienced any of these or indeed anything unusual.

After my check-up I cornered one of the female nurses and asked about my catheter. She immediately told me off for getting out of bed again, but I indicated that this meant I was fine and perfectly capable of making my way over to the toilet. She said she'd talk to the matron and get back to me. When she didn't I bugged all of the nurses repeatedly, at frequent intervals until they gave in.

Getting rid of the ridiculous hospital gown, I changed into some pyjamas that had been dropped off for me earlier, and put on a robe. The label inside each read La Perla, and I reckoned they must have cost a small fortune, but had to admit that they felt divine. Being dressed in plastic paper isn't a particularly nice experience, necessary maybe, but not at all pleasant.

Now I had some money, which had also been dropped off earlier, I immediately repaid my debts. Placing a fifty-pound note in my sleeping donor's wallet, I felt a little better about stealing from him. He was still unconscious, so I thankfully didn't have to apologise to him, but he certainly deserved a little something. I then set about making myself more comfortable, and basically trying to amuse myself until the police got here. Time drags on forever when confined to a hospital bed. My options were limited to playing upon the Internet, daytime TV, reading or completing word searches or crosswords - none of which particularly appealed, so I tried them all.

By the time the police finally managed to traipse up to my bed it was nearly dark. I'd been going insane with worry, wondering if Mark was coping behind bars, and though I'd told myself on numerous occasions that my husband was a big boy, it didn't make me feel any better. Think of all the things he's done to you in the past, I tried to reason with myself. It didn't help. I'd enjoyed most of those things anyway, and just thinking about what my father had done to Mark made me go cold. He'd been retaliating in the only way he knew how, and I wasn't going to resent him for it.

Retelling the story correctly, I confirmed that I didn't know who'd given me the poison in Escape, but I gave them as good a description of the man as I could. I didn't hold out any hope that they would find him. I also told them I suspected my father was behind the whole thing, but they made a noncommittal response. If I had no evidence there wasn't a lot they could do.

'Are you sure this is the story you want to go with?' The elder of the two officers, a tall man with a fierce crew cut and dark greying hair looked down at me strangely.

'I've already told you that when I woke up I was confused and on a whole load of meds. I'd just had a horrible nightmare. I feel terrible for putting my husband in jail, and haven't stopped worrying since I woke up. Can you release him now?' My words were a little jumbled because they were tumbling over one another, but thankfully the officers seemed to get the gist of what I was saying.

'I'm afraid we can't do that, Miss. His apartment was searched and some incriminating evidence was found. Are you sure you don't want to change your story? There won't be many secrets left when this goes to court. If he's threatened you we can protect you. We can also make sure you never have to set eyes on him again.'

'No. No, you've got it all wrong. He's innocent. Someone must have planted something there. I was at Escape when I was given the poison. I gave it to myself. They wanted me to use it to poison Mark, but I refused. My father blackmailed him to marry me. He's the innocent party here.' Both officers looked at each other and the elderly one shook his head. They probably thought I was mad. The story was a bizarre one at best, but it happened to be the truth.

'Well, thank you for your statement, Madam. We'll be in touch if we need anything else.' With that they stood up to leave.

'What possible motive could he have for poisoning me?' I wailed, before realizing it was a stupid question. I'd just given them a great motive with the marriage and blackmail thing. What was I thinking?

Fortunately both officers declined to comment, and the younger one cleared his throat awkwardly.

'Will he be able to get bail?' I whispered. I had a sinking feeling that if I didn't do something and fast Mark was going to go down for attempted murder, leaving me at the mercy of my father.

'It's doubtful,' said the elderly officer, although he did accompany it with a sympathetic glance. Whether the glance was directed at my mental health or my current state of affairs remained to be seen. They then gave me a swift nod, before walking away.

As soon as both of them had left I burst into tears. I seemed to bounce from one disaster to another, and each time they got progressively worse. What on earth was I going to do now?

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Mark

Thankfully Mr Big was not in my cell by the time I was returned to it. Either he had business of his own to attend to, or better still, he'd been moved.

It was time to get a grip on everything that had happened and figure a way out of this mess. This was not the time to panic. I was going to think positive. You will not be put away for murder. I had to repeat the phrase several times in order to try and make myself believe it, and it was a weak attempt at best. Fine. It was time to be a little more proactive. What could I do to get myself out of this mess? Absolutely nothing, you idiot, because you're in a prison cell. So what was I going to do? Just pace up and down until they got the grand jury ready? That wasn't my style. I could do better.

Go through everything you talked about with Jonathon, piece by piece, and see if you've missed anything. There wasn't much else I could do, so it seemed as good a place as any to start.

The trouble was, no matter how many times I sifted through all the details there didn't seem to be any clear way of exonerating myself. Even though I'd never set foot in one of Leyland's companies before, much less had any idea of exactly what they produced, that wouldn't be enough to get me off the hook. I'd just have to hope the police didn't find out I'd been blackmailed into marriage. So far I didn't have much of a motive for murder. I was a newlywed for fuck's sake. Honeymooners were supposed to be deliriously happy and in love. Jennifer had far more to gain by killing me than I had by offing her. This would all come out at trial. Jesus Christ. I was going on trial for murder. This had to be my worst nightmare come true. What if the jury were all women and suffering from PMT on the day they delivered my verdict? I would be Mr Big's plaything for the next twenty years, and that was looking on the bright side of things. Even if Jen was on my side, there was a good chance the jury would think I was manipulating or controlling her in some way. When the sex side of things came out, and there was no hiding them as she'd been poisoned in a BDSM club, everyone was going to serve me up for a good spell at Her Majesty's pleasure. I sat down shakily on the steel bench beneath me. My back was throbbing like a beast, but that was the least of my worries. I had some serious shit to contend with here. I did know one thing, however. If I was going down I wasn't going without a fight.

 

Mr Big was returned to my cell after an hour or two. My mood was already toxic, but at his reappearance it went from bleach to sulfuric acid. He was one in a long list of things I didn't want to deal with right now.

As soon as he entered he gave me the 'look', so I stood up and offered him the steel bench. Whilst I could normally take a good kicking my back wouldn't be up to anything at the moment, and it wouldn't take an Einstein to discover my weak point. Once the bastard had an inch he'd take a mile, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't like what happened after that.

'How'd it go with the lawyer?' Mr Big scratched at his balding head and ran a hand across his stubble. He looked pretty happy for someone who was about to be put away for a very long time. I wish I had his enthusiasm for what lay ahead.