Intimate Knowledge (2 page)

Nothing except those sounds she was now used to reached her. She couldn’t see anything unusual. No strange shadows, no looming people, nothing. Her heart beat loudly, and there was a faint ringing echoed in her ears as her blood pounded. Jennifer tried to control her breathing, the urge to pant in fear strong enough to make her shake.

Seconds crept by. A clock ticked in her brain as she struggled to calm herself.

Nothing stirred.

Her gaze penetrated into the darkness but didn’t reveal a thing.

“You’re losing your mind,” she chided herself, saying the words aloud so she didn’t feel quite so vulnerable. “Getting paranoid, my girl. Going to be jumping at shadows and starting to weave conspiracy theories any moment now. You need a good night’s sleep and maybe a shot of that whisky you brought along.”

Muttering to herself further, she crouched and entered her tent. She toed off her shoes and stripped off her outer wear. Jennifer ran a hand through her long blonde hair, finger combing it before climbing back into her sleeping bag. Taking a few deep, even breaths she tried to calm the racing of her heart.

Determined to get some sleep, she snuggled down into the soft cushion of her bag. Jennifer focused on clearing her mind. A few minutes later, when her ears had picked up nothing but the natural sounds of the forest she relaxed properly.

Shortly after that, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter One

A week or so later…

Jennifer rounded the corner and turned into her street. Her head bent low against the misty, drizzling rain, she tugged her beanie as far as it could go. Her ears were starting to freeze off. Focusing on her steps, she remained oblivious to the world around her, her attention focused on the long, steaming hot bath she planned to take the second she entered her flat.

Never had she been more grateful for a Friday. Despite the fact she’d only worked the last three days after returning from the Forest of Dean, she was exhausted, chilled to the bone and weary in a way she’d hoped to overcome on her short camping trip. She felt like she’d worked a full week, and considering the pile of still unfinished work she’d left behind, that just depressed her spirits even further.

A few doors down from her flat she tugged one glove off and dug it into an outside pocket of her work satchel. The strap was across her chest, the satchel itself resting against her upper thigh to make it more difficult for a random thief to snatch it from her. The bag was battered from years of use, but Jennifer didn’t care, she loved this satchel. It had tons of pockets of all shapes and sizes. She kept an umbrella in one, her phone in another, pens and a notebook in case she had an idea—or a shopping list—to jot down in random moments, all sorts of paraphernalia secreted into its depths.

A smaller zippered compartment on the outside was perfect for holding her keys. It was this she undid and rummaged through, determined to not waste precious seconds standing on her front step in the cold. Jennifer had plans, big ones. First she’d start running the hot water. This would be quickly followed by stripping and putting on her worn, fluffy robe. Then a strong drink. Oh yeah. She deserved something decadent. Maybe a hot toddy?

Her mind full of these lovely thoughts, Jennifer kept her head down and her focus internal. She climbed up the stairs, keys in hand and entered her tiny flat. Instinct took over as she started ticking off the items on her mental to-do list. She dropped the keys in the bowl by the door and switched on the lights as she kicked the door closed behind her.

Without missing a beat she strode directly for the bathroom, still rugged up in her winter gear and wearing her satchel. She was halfway across her living room, heading for the hall and her awaiting bath when an enormous figure stepped out of the kitchen.

Jennifer screamed shrilly.

Well over six feet and heavily muscled in a powerful, weights-pumping manner, the thickset man grinned. It wasn’t a pleasant thing, but an expression that made her stomach churn sickly.

“Well, lookee here, who’s come home finally.”

Jennifer froze, surprise overpowering her. She could see this man, but his presence didn’t seem to want to compute in her brain.

“Aww, she’s gone all shy,” he continued as he scratched his ginger beard. His grin widened. “Well, I’m not too worried about that, I’m sure you’ll be very verbal once I get to work on you.”

Jennifer shook her head and took a shaking step back. She knew—or rather desperately hoped—in a second or so she’d turn into some sort of superhero. Part of her mind envisaged herself fighting this man, beating him senseless and fleeing, but her body refused to do anything but quiver.

“What do you want?” she asked, struggling to hide the fear that threatened to overpower her completely. She flicked her gaze up and down him, trying to make sense of the situation. Her eyes were drawn to his heavy work-man’s boots. They were cracked, worn and clearly well used. It was the most normal, least threatening thing for her brain to latch onto. It took a second, but she finally understood why that detail captured her attention. Those boots weren’t what a regular thief would wear. They were thick-soled, clompy and noticeable. Coupled with the man’s powerful physique it suggested to her that he was no ordinary thief.

Which meant he was there to hurt her, or worse.

Jennifer took another quick step back, her heart pounding harder.

“Now don’t be like that,” he mocked in his rough voice. “We’re going to be great friends, you and I.”

He strode across the room with a speed that belied his bulky body. Jennifer scurried back a few more paces but didn’t make it to the door. He reached out a hand and clenched it tightly around her arm, hurting her even through her bulky coat.

Gasping and unable to draw oxygen into her lungs, Jennifer looked wildly around her for a weapon or anything useable. Her panic seemed to deepen the man’s amusement.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said in a low tone. He leant forward, his pale eyes glowing with humour, or maybe pleasure. The thought that this man enjoyed capturing her, hurting her and scaring her silly made Jennifer shudder. Her fear ratcheted up another notch. She felt violently unwell.

“I hope you don’t tell me where it is,” he continued. “I can’t wait to hear you scream, to make you cry so loud you think you’ll burst. I love it when they give me pretty ladies like you. Especially when they tell me to take my time and do it right. I once had someone hold out for four days on me. She told me what I needed to hear, though, they all do eventually. I have something special planned for you, oh yeah. You’re going to scream, Jennifer Mabbot, for me and because of me, that’s a promise.”

It was impossible to ignore his breath. It was fetid. Jennifer turned her head away, both from the rank, sour smell and his words. She had no idea what was going on—it surely had to be a mistake? But then why did he know her name?

Her entire body started shaking. Jennifer drew in a deep breath—about to scream bloody murder in the hopes one of her neighbours would hear, the walls were notoriously thin—but Ginger seemed to know exactly what she was going to do. He brought his other hand around her throat, tight.

“Now, now, Jenny,” he murmured. He pressed her back into the wall, his own body hard against hers. He was rock-solid, clearly enjoying this, and thickly erect. “Let’s not get the party started too early.”

Jennifer struggled to breathe, her airways closed off by the man’s large fist. She shuddered, her head spun and for a moment she wondered if she was about to die. The room whirled around her, her vision narrowing until all she could see was Ginger’s face, the wiry, crooked hairs of his beard and the large pores of his skin.

“Don’t kill her yet, you eager fuck,” came a deep voice, seemingly from far, far away.

Her assailant loosened his grip around her neck, but didn’t release her.

Jennifer’s eyes fluttered shut. She choked, coughed. The action rattled her chest. Her body craved oxygen.

Focused solely on getting air into her lungs, Jennifer missed what Ginger said in reply. She forced her eyes open and struggled to look upon the second man who had entered the room. He wasn’t as tall as Ginger and nowhere near as brawny, but still sleekly muscled in the manner of a man who works out religiously. Blond hair cut close to his scalp, he could have passed for an army man.

He wore thick leather gloves and held a sheaf of papers. A gun was lodged into the waistband of his jeans near his hip. His eyes were the coldest she had ever seen. Jennifer knew without the least doubt this man was a killer.

Remorseless.

Merciless.

She had to get out of here. Right now. Helplessness beat at her, but she forced herself to pay attention. She’d only get one chance to escape and it needed to be soon, but for that she’d have to concentrate.

“…I haven’t found it yet but I still need a few minutes,” the killer told Ginger. “Keep her occupied. Ask her some questions. That’s why they hired you after all. Just be ready to move in a few minutes, we have no idea who else she might have spoken to.”

Jennifer had no clue what he meant, or referred to. They obviously thought she had…something…and she doubted it was the new hardback book she’d bought the other day or her mother’s pearls. It was almost as if she’d entered her home and had stepped into some other universe. Was everyone absolutely crazy?

The second man turned and strode off in the direction of her bedroom and bathroom. Jennifer huffed out a hysterical bubble of laughter.
So much for a relaxing soak in the tub.

Ginger grinned—an extremely unpleasant sight—and roamed his hands over her body, attempting to remove her satchel and coat.

Her heart sped up again. The thought of having this man remove even her outer layers was enough to instil fierce panic in her. She knew she didn’t have a hope against two of them, but one on one and with the element of surprise, she at least had a fighting chance. She tried to push him away, struggling as they grappled together.

Ginger grunted and appeared to enjoy the byplay. His breathing quickened. A light flush of arousal stained his cheeks.

While he was occupied Jennifer decided it was time to go for broke. She took a hasty breath and before he could react she screamed, “Help!”

Ginger snapped his head up, his eyes blazing.

Next door, her neighbour’s large dog, Max, began to bark. It was a deep, ferocious sound and captured Ginger’s attention. With the thin walls and the volume of Max’s barks it was impossible for Ginger to know where, exactly, the dog was.

Jennifer seized the few precious seconds of confusion. She reached down towards the small table she kept at the entryway. It held a small lamp and the bowl she’d drop her keys in each night. She grabbed the lamp and swung it hard against Ginger’s head.

She’d hoped the blow would knock Ginger out, but she wasn’t that lucky. His hands froze, his eyes wide and blinking as he tried to gather himself. She used that moment of stunned amazement to whirl around, jerk open her door and flee as if the hounds of hell were at her feet.

 There were no shouts, and no gunshots. It was strange. She expected fireworks, the boom of cannon fire or at the least a raucous barrage of yelling and an enormous fuss. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder as she ran down her street.

Looking angry as hell, Ginger raced after her.

Adrenaline surged again. Jennifer shrieked and ran as fast as she could manage. The icy sleet had made the pavement slippery and dangerous to navigate. Panting, she turned out of her street, rounding the corner in a flurry as she tried to keep herself upright.

Falling, she knew, would mean instant capture. She didn’t want to even contemplate what that would lead to. Ginger had made his intentions pretty clear, and Jennifer didn’t doubt his partner would also be singularly displeased with the mess she’d created for them.

Jennifer glanced around her neighbourhood and struggled to think of where she could lose her attacker. It wasn’t very late, but there wasn’t enough foot traffic on the streets to lose him in a crowd. With only a brief glance for oncoming cars she raced across the road and headed towards a small market. As it was after working hours a number of the stalls would be closed, but many would still be open for the dinner crowd.

Dodging between the small groups of couples, most walking hand in hand and thoroughly dressed to combat the cold, Jennifer finally risked another glance behind her. She gasped, her heart hammering wildly. Ginger had fallen back but was still in pursuit. He had his mobile phone out now and talking into it. Certain her lungs would explode, she panted and somehow managed to keep up her pace.

Still terrified, but cheered that her attackers weren’t superhuman, she wound her way farther into the maze of stalls and booths. Every chance she got Jennifer made turns at random.

After a dizzying number of twists, turns and back-tracking, Jennifer couldn’t spot Ginger anywhere behind her. Walking around to the side of a stall, she decided to pause. Jennifer crouched low, wrapped her shaking arms around her knees, hugging herself tightly as she trembled.

Trying to breathe as quietly as possible, she let the panic wash over her.

What the hell was she going to do? What was going on?

Her world had turned utterly insane in the space of less than an hour. She certainly couldn’t go back home. Should she call the police? But what could she say? That two men had broken into her flat and had threatened her? She had no idea what they were after or what this could possibly be in relation to. She was nobody, an ordinary, even dull thirty-something-year-old woman. As bland and non-descript as any other random woman on the street.

Determined to not crouch there cowering for much longer, Jennifer dug into her satchel, pleased she’d been too focused on her bath to get out of her warm clothes or drop her bag. She pulled out her mobile phone and paused. She needed to think for a moment.

Part of her mind urged her to call the police and push this whole mess over onto them. Simultaneously, however, a smaller part urged her to turn to the one man she knew she could trust implicitly. Pressing the numbers from memory, she called her childhood friend.