TWELVE

JACK

I should have known it was a trap. I can only think that I was too distracted by her to realise in time. The sound had come from the living room directly above the cellar. I headed straight there, my hands already curling into fists. But there was no one there. Already on edge, I went over to the window and looked out. Nothing.

Turning, I listening hard. Nothing. I moved to the back door, rattling it. It was locked. I was heading for the front door when I caught sight of movement upstairs. I flicked my head in that direction. It had been a shadow on the wall, I was sure of it. I took the stairs silently, turning towards my bedroom. I didn’t hear him approaching behind me. The first I knew of what was happening was when his hands went round my neck, a thin length of wire pressing to my throat. I stepped back, slamming myself against the wall behind me, crushing my attacker as the wire dug deeper into my neck. “Where is she?” a voice hissed in my ear.

My mouth was open but I couldn’t have spoken even if I’d wanted to, the wire was cutting off my airway. I twisted round, slamming back against the other wall. “Where is she?” the voice asked again.

I managed to get my fingers under the side of the wire, ignoring it cutting into my skin as I yanked it away as hard as I could. It only moved an inch but it was enough for me to take a deep gulp of air. With my lungs full, I was better able to focus. He wasn’t strong but he was fast and quiet. I had to play to my strengths. I slammed back against the wall again, gratified by the grunting sound that accompanied this. Pushing my hands outwards, I reached his wrists. Gloves. Of course.

He’d got the drop on me but I was regaining the upper hand. His gloves meant he couldn’t grip as well as me. I shoved him back twice more against the wall behind me and with the second thud, his hands fell away from my neck. That was all the time I needed. I got under the wire, rolling away from him and coming up to my feet to find he’d dropped the wire. Instead he had a knife in his hand and was brandishing it towards me.

“I hope you know how to use that,” I said, looking at him properly for the first time. Clearly a hired hand. He was good, luring me upstairs like that. But he wasn’t that good. I’d already gotten away from him. I’d seen his face, the face of a man who wasn’t used to dealing with someone like me, someone who wasn’t afraid of him, who fought back.

“Where is she, Jack?” he asked, taking a step towards me. “Tell me and you can walk away.”

“This is my house,” I replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The talk had been to distract me. As I answered, he lunged forwards, the knife plunging towards my stomach. I sidestepped it, grabbing his arm and yanking it hard, making him lose balance. He was facing away from me, still trying to recover, when I kicked the back of his knee, sending him to the floor. I dived on him but as I did so, he brought the knife up to meet me.

I managed to shift my body weight so it missed my chest but in the time it took me to reach his hand, he’d brought it lashing down across my back. It cut straight through my shirt and sliced deep into my skin before I was able to bang his arm against the floor, once, twice, then on the third time the knife fell from his fingers.

“Where is she?” he hissed as I took his head in my hands and slammed it into the floor under him. He winced, his hands wrapping round me in a bear hug. I was stronger than him but he knew he was in trouble and that fear gave him power. He twisted with me. We slapped against one wall, then the other, rolling back and forth on the floor. Suddenly, he let out a scream and then a gasp, his hands falling slack.

I looked down at him, wondering what the hell had just happened. Was it a trick? Then I saw the blood trickling out from underneath him and realised. He’d rolled onto his own knife. I got to my feet, looking down at him with disdain. “If you’re the best they had to send, I don’t know why I bothered to hide her.”

He grimaced, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to say something. Then he died.

I turned away from him, walking into the bathroom and grabbing an armful of towels. I returned to the landing and pressed the towels to his side, staunching the flow of blood as best I could.

I didn’t feel much of anything other than a slight tension. If one had come, others were coming. My employer had better work fast. I wouldn’t be able to fight off everyone. He better get his act together. It was damned frustrating. I’d have been better able to plan if I had been given more warning of the danger. But no, just, “lock her up and keep her safe until I can get her out of there,” and that was it.

As I stood up again, the pain in my back started. I’d always been able to ignore it while working but I couldn’t ignore this. It was soaking through the back of my shirt. “Shit,” I muttered out loud, reaching behind me and feeling with my hand, finding it sticky. There was too much of it. I needed help.

I ran into the kitchen, rummaging through boxes I had yet to unpack, tossing things to the floor, knowing I didn’t have much time. Finally, I found what I needed and with it under my arm, I ran for the cellar door, getting it unlocked a second later. A wave of dizziness washed over me as I stumbled down the stairs, crashing to the floor in front of her bed. I looked up at her, passing her the box, managing to say, “Help me,” before everything went black.