Excerpt:
The Green Room.
It was the foulest of nights. She couldn’t remember a night as grim. Torrential rain fell in sheets and then swirled along the gutters before racing down between the bars of the storm drains and hitting the rushing stream below. What had started as light drizzle had become a storm.
Feeling utterly miserable, she paused beneath the street lamp, her umbrella all but useless as a sudden gust whirled around the corner of the end shop, buffeting and shrieking against her slender body like an escaped, demented banshee. The street lamplight shone around her like a weak halo, shrouding her long dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail. She took in the route before her, the gaze from her tawny-coloured eyes flicking left and right. The road looked empty, but she could barely see beyond the second street light, and it was a long and squelchy twenty-five-minute walk home from the Yvonne Arnaud theatre. Damn her pride! Why hadn’t she accepted the lift from Darren even if she would have had to invite him in for coffee at the very least?
Okay, so he could be boring and full of himself, like many males playing the lead in a play, but at least she would have been dry. She recalled how cross he looked as she told him politely but firmly she had a lift lined up.
It wasn’t true, but she believed it at the time. She had noticed the other dark-haired man drinking alone at the theatre bar. She spotted him in the same corner when the theatre company had first arrived in town a couple of weeks earlier. They locked eyes for a moment when she wandered into the noisy room and bought herself a gin and tonic. Quite a bit older than she was but good-looking and judging by his physique, pretty fit. She lingered by the bar, perching herself upon a bar stool, with her shoulder bag over the back of her seat. She wondered if he would make any attempt to chat her up, but apart from that one brief eye contact and slow appraising smile, she was disappointed when he made no other positive move. Strange: she was certain he was interested. Having someone else on hand would have made Darren think twice about pestering her later on too. His earlier offer of a lift was simply an excuse to get her in his car. Fighting his grubby hands off was the last thing she wanted after the evening performance. It had been a long week and she was exhausted.
She sighed as she stood beneath the street lamp and hoped Darren wouldn’t sulk and take it out on her the following day. She had heard about his reputation when he didn’t get his own way. Too bad! She wasn’t in the mood for games, even for ‘star quality’, and sleeping with him wouldn’t have done anything to further her career. She felt a fresh trickle of icy water run down beneath her coat collar and she shivered. God, it felt bloody cold after the warm late summer weather they had all been enjoying recently.
She resented not being able to splash out on a taxi. Playing a small part in the play meant low wages, and pay day was still over a week away. Her thoughts flashed to the theatre company’s next production. The director had promised her a more important role and that entailed more money. It hadn’t taken much to persuade him; married men were so easily persuaded. She chuckled. Oh yes, she was determined to make her way up the ladder to stardom, no matter what.
Ahead of her was the town park, the fenced-off children’s playground and sports fields over to her left, while to the right, snaked a thicket of birch and hazel frequently used by runners and dog walkers during the more clement weather. The wood cut right across the parkland near the ornamental gardens, cutting her journey down by five minutes if she hurried. She took another dejected look around. The route was one she knew well; she took it regularly in the mornings to get to the theatre, but guessed no other idiot was likely to be out walking in weather like this.
Another fierce gust smacked into her, and, mind made up, she crossed the road and headed for the path bordering the wooded copse. Within seconds, the air felt warmer, and she realised the trees were blocking the path of the wind. The rain began to ease off, too, and within a minute it had stopped. She fished a tissue from her pocket, wiped her face dry and set off.
Glancing at her watch in the muted light shining from the lamp above, she saw it was twenty minutes to twelve. With luck, she would be in the warm and dry before midnight, and the thought of sinking into a deep hot bath, savouring a steaming mug of chocolate seemed like bliss.
Her feet made no noise as she hurried along in her thigh-length boots; the only sounds came from the incessant drip of water from the trees on her right or the rumble of late-night traffic on the roads behind her. The meandering path was lit by a string of lamps, throwing out golden pools of light. And then she froze.
A crack from a broken twig, a rustle in the undergrowth…and a hooded figure loomed up out of the gloom by her side. He uncovered his head, and when he smiled, she recognised him. How odd they should meet here of all places.
“You left this behind in the Green Room,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket and holding out her purse. “I was coming this way, but you were walking too fast for me to catch up. Everything’s all there. I swear I haven’t taken any of your cards or cash.”
“Oh! How stupid of me. It must have fallen out of my bag when I hooked it over my bar stool earlier. Thank you.” She reached for it. “What a gentleman following me all this way and on a night like this, too.”
He said nothing. Glancing up, she stared into his face. Instinctively, within seconds, she knew something wasn’t right, despite his grin.
It happened so fast, and she was so taken aback that she forgot to scream. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as he stepped towards her, one arm snaking round her waist forcing her forwards, and then spinning her round, causing her to slam against him. Her skirt and coat were yanked up from behind, and with terror, she felt a hand slide between her buttocks as her tights and knickers were torn from her. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other arm strike down towards her neck.
As she opened her mouth to scream, she caught a glint of metal as it flashed; a long moment of white-hot agony as she fought for breath. She didn’t know which was worse: the fingers biting into her windpipe or the assault from behind. She felt her eyes bulging, losing vision, and then a moment of blessed relief as the pressure was released round her throat. Her lungs felt seared as she gasped for air, only to catch it in a stifled sob as once again the force returned. Why me…and then nothing as a black shutter fell before her eyes.
Chapter One Christian
Looking back over the night before, it had been simple…as easy as the other times. He had watched Janet Lambert shimmy into the room, glancing round to make sure she had an audience. She threw her glossy dark hair back over her shoulders, smiling widely at everyone who looked her way, including him. She widened her eyes, sharing an inviting look; he had no idea what colour they were from where he was sitting, but he knew that later they would fill with terror. He had her measure. These women, they all had a high opinion of themselves, believing they were special. A pretty face, seductive body and the belief the whole world would fall at their feet just because they smiled at a man. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t they use their brains just once? Make it all the more exciting.
He noticed how she crossed her long slim legs, displaying her thighs above the tops of her leather boots. Her bag was hanging on the back of her seat, unzipped and gaping open, and he caught a glimpse of a wallet nestling near the top. These women made it so easy. He gave it just the half hour, time for one drink, and then slipped away before there was a mass exodus when time was called. He was certain he would achieve what he wanted.
But, none of these women were clever. Nowhere near his league. They thought they were special because they were on the stage. They all imagined they were destined for the higher echelons of Hollywood. Poor histrionic cows. It was all an illusion, mostly; ninety per cent would never normally make headlines…ever.
But an engagement with him gave them just that. One meeting was all it took and then the stupid bimbos had more media coverage than they would ever imagine possible.
Thespian Prey. That was what he liked to call them. Heigh-ho…on to the next.
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The Green Room.
It was the foulest of nights. She couldn’t remember a night as grim. Torrential rain fell in sheets and then swirled along the gutters before racing down between the bars of the storm drains and hitting the rushing stream below. What had started as light drizzle had become a storm.
Feeling utterly miserable, she paused beneath the street lamp, her umbrella all but useless as a sudden gust whirled around the corner of the end shop, buffeting and shrieking against her slender body like an escaped, demented banshee. The street lamplight shone around her like a weak halo, shrouding her long dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail. She took in the route before her, the gaze from her tawny-coloured eyes flicking left and right. The road looked empty, but she could barely see beyond the second street light, and it was a long and squelchy twenty-five-minute walk home from the Yvonne Arnaud theatre. Damn her pride! Why hadn’t she accepted the lift from Darren even if she would have had to invite him in for coffee at the very least?
Okay, so he could be boring and full of himself, like many males playing the lead in a play, but at least she would have been dry. She recalled how cross he looked as she told him politely but firmly she had a lift lined up.
It wasn’t true, but she believed it at the time. She had noticed the other dark-haired man drinking alone at the theatre bar. She spotted him in the same corner when the theatre company had first arrived in town a couple of weeks earlier. They locked eyes for a moment when she wandered into the noisy room and bought herself a gin and tonic. Quite a bit older than she was but good-looking and judging by his physique, pretty fit. She lingered by the bar, perching herself upon a bar stool, with her shoulder bag over the back of her seat. She wondered if he would make any attempt to chat her up, but apart from that one brief eye contact and slow appraising smile, she was disappointed when he made no other positive move. Strange: she was certain he was interested. Having someone else on hand would have made Darren think twice about pestering her later on too. His earlier offer of a lift was simply an excuse to get her in his car. Fighting his grubby hands off was the last thing she wanted after the evening performance. It had been a long week and she was exhausted.
She sighed as she stood beneath the street lamp and hoped Darren wouldn’t sulk and take it out on her the following day. She had heard about his reputation when he didn’t get his own way. Too bad! She wasn’t in the mood for games, even for ‘star quality’, and sleeping with him wouldn’t have done anything to further her career. She felt a fresh trickle of icy water run down beneath her coat collar and she shivered. God, it felt bloody cold after the warm late summer weather they had all been enjoying recently.
She resented not being able to splash out on a taxi. Playing a small part in the play meant low wages, and pay day was still over a week away. Her thoughts flashed to the theatre company’s next production. The director had promised her a more important role and that entailed more money. It hadn’t taken much to persuade him; married men were so easily persuaded. She chuckled. Oh yes, she was determined to make her way up the ladder to stardom, no matter what.
Ahead of her was the town park, the fenced-off children’s playground and sports fields over to her left, while to the right, snaked a thicket of birch and hazel frequently used by runners and dog walkers during the more clement weather. The wood cut right across the parkland near the ornamental gardens, cutting her journey down by five minutes if she hurried. She took another dejected look around. The route was one she knew well; she took it regularly in the mornings to get to the theatre, but guessed no other idiot was likely to be out walking in weather like this.
Another fierce gust smacked into her, and, mind made up, she crossed the road and headed for the path bordering the wooded copse. Within seconds, the air felt warmer, and she realised the trees were blocking the path of the wind. The rain began to ease off, too, and within a minute it had stopped. She fished a tissue from her pocket, wiped her face dry and set off.
Glancing at her watch in the muted light shining from the lamp above, she saw it was twenty minutes to twelve. With luck, she would be in the warm and dry before midnight, and the thought of sinking into a deep hot bath, savouring a steaming mug of chocolate seemed like bliss.
Her feet made no noise as she hurried along in her thigh-length boots; the only sounds came from the incessant drip of water from the trees on her right or the rumble of late-night traffic on the roads behind her. The meandering path was lit by a string of lamps, throwing out golden pools of light. And then she froze.
A crack from a broken twig, a rustle in the undergrowth…and a hooded figure loomed up out of the gloom by her side. He uncovered his head, and when he smiled, she recognised him. How odd they should meet here of all places.
“You left this behind in the Green Room,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket and holding out her purse. “I was coming this way, but you were walking too fast for me to catch up. Everything’s all there. I swear I haven’t taken any of your cards or cash.”
“Oh! How stupid of me. It must have fallen out of my bag when I hooked it over my bar stool earlier. Thank you.” She reached for it. “What a gentleman following me all this way and on a night like this, too.”
He said nothing. Glancing up, she stared into his face. Instinctively, within seconds, she knew something wasn’t right, despite his grin.
It happened so fast, and she was so taken aback that she forgot to scream. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as he stepped towards her, one arm snaking round her waist forcing her forwards, and then spinning her round, causing her to slam against him. Her skirt and coat were yanked up from behind, and with terror, she felt a hand slide between her buttocks as her tights and knickers were torn from her. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other arm strike down towards her neck.
As she opened her mouth to scream, she caught a glint of metal as it flashed; a long moment of white-hot agony as she fought for breath. She didn’t know which was worse: the fingers biting into her windpipe or the assault from behind. She felt her eyes bulging, losing vision, and then a moment of blessed relief as the pressure was released round her throat. Her lungs felt seared as she gasped for air, only to catch it in a stifled sob as once again the force returned. Why me…and then nothing as a black shutter fell before her eyes.
Chapter One Christian
Looking back over the night before, it had been simple…as easy as the other times. He had watched Janet Lambert shimmy into the room, glancing round to make sure she had an audience. She threw her glossy dark hair back over her shoulders, smiling widely at everyone who looked her way, including him. She widened her eyes, sharing an inviting look; he had no idea what colour they were from where he was sitting, but he knew that later they would fill with terror. He had her measure. These women, they all had a high opinion of themselves, believing they were special. A pretty face, seductive body and the belief the whole world would fall at their feet just because they smiled at a man. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t they use their brains just once? Make it all the more exciting.
He noticed how she crossed her long slim legs, displaying her thighs above the tops of her leather boots. Her bag was hanging on the back of her seat, unzipped and gaping open, and he caught a glimpse of a wallet nestling near the top. These women made it so easy. He gave it just the half hour, time for one drink, and then slipped away before there was a mass exodus when time was called. He was certain he would achieve what he wanted.
But, none of these women were clever. Nowhere near his league. They thought they were special because they were on the stage. They all imagined they were destined for the higher echelons of Hollywood. Poor histrionic cows. It was all an illusion, mostly; ninety per cent would never normally make headlines…ever.
But an engagement with him gave them just that. One meeting was all it took and then the stupid bimbos had more media coverage than they would ever imagine possible.
Thespian Prey. That was what he liked to call them. Heigh-ho…on to the next.
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
Nook
Apple
Kobo
