Harry nodded and started moving. “Okay. Let’s get the coal, painkillers, food. Anything we need to take back, let’s get it all piled up over here.”
Kath and Lucas nodded and got to work. Before Lucas ran off into the darkness he saluted Harry and said, “Right away, Major Jobson.”
It was then that Harry realised something important; something he’d overlooked earlier. He’d never told Lucas what his surname was and he was sure no one else had either.
Which begged one question for Harry: How does Lucas know me?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jess finally managed to take a breath. It succeeded only in making her nauseous. The sick feeling was due to watching helplessly as a badly-burned Nigel hacked his knife into Damien’s mid-section. Jess was powerless to intervene as Nigel heaved a Steph’s groggy body onto the chair that had earlier held Damien captive.
Jess scanned the floor for a weapon, looking for a solution. The only thing she could see was the trusty fire poker, but it lay several feet away, next to a wounded Damien, who writhed on the floor and gritted his teeth against his pain.
Poor Guy!
Despite Damien’s unscrupulous activities around the local estate, Jess genuinely hoped that he would pull through. As things turned out, he wasn’t as bad as people made out. Wishful thinking aside, though, Jess still had to make it over to the poker without being spotted by the 18-stone rapist currently taping Steph to a chair. Even worse, she had to do it despite the cold sending her shivering body into awkward spasms.
So I have to be silent and stealthy while chattering like an over-excited monkey. Jerry would just love this. I’m sure they’d be a film reference that would fit perfectly.
God, how she would just love for Jerry and the others to come barging through the pub’s doors right now to save her from this wretched nightmare. But if tonight had taught her anything, it was not to hope for the best because things had a habit of getting worse.
Without realising it, Jess had started to move, crawling carefully on her hands and knees, shivering every time she took her arms away from her body. The chill was bad enough that even the fibres of the carpet had begun to freeze over; sharp and brittle, like tiny pine needles digging into her palms. Up ahead lay the poker, and perhaps her only chance to protect herself from Nigel. She looked up at the big man and saw that he was now trying to stir Steph from her fuzzy haze. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he was saying. “I want you to be awake for this. No fun if you sleep through all the fun.”
Steph opened her eyes and managed to focus on him. She spat at Nigel. “Screw you!” As soon as it had arrived, the fight seemed to leave Steph again. She was too bruised and broken to keep it up. Nigel slapped her hard, the sound filling the room and bouncing off the walls.
Jess closed her eyes and winced, but continued crawling forward, the poker just a few feet away now.
Nigel slapped Steph again, this time a backhand. “Spitting is very unladylike,” he shouted, “and anything ill-befitting of a lady will not be tolerated. If I wanted a bloke for entertainment then I would have tied Damien back up in the chair. Speaking of which, how are you big man?” Nigel turned to Damien who was still moaning on the floor. “Not so hard now, huh?” Then he took a run up and booted the lad in the chest. The air exploded from him like a car backfiring. Jess winced again, glad she wasn’t on the receiving end. She carried on shuffling towards the poker. It was nearly at arm’s length now.
Almost there.
Almost…
Jess cried out as a heavy work shoe crunched down on her hand. She knew right away that she’d blown it and that she would most likely pay for it with her life. Nigel twisted his heel and pushed down harder, cracking and bruising the small bones in Jess’ hand. She wailed in agony and struggled to get free. Nigel laughed sadistically, the sound more chilling than the cold night air. Jess’s screams increased as she felt a rough hand tangle itself into her hair and yank. The pressure removed itself from her hand and she was hoisted to her feet, finding herself face to face with Nigel who was snarling like a feral beast. She tried to pull away.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. Now that Steph is nice and comfortable, you and me have some time on our hands.”
She fought to twist herself free, but it was like being held in a vice. “The others will be back at any minute,” she warned him. “You’re going to get your arse kicked, you sicko.”
Nigel smiled. “By who? Harry, the alcoholic? Jerry, the loser? Or Lucas, the thick mick? I don’t think so, sweetheart. They’re probably already dead, and if not then I’ll see to them later.”
The thought of Nigel killing the other’s filled Jess with rage. She decided to take a leaf out of Steph’s book and spat. Nigel flinched as the saliva missile hit his cheek and she used this opportunity to try and get free, driving her knee as hard as she could toward Nigel’s groin. The blow missed the intended target but still managed to plant firmly in his mid-section. He staggered backwards, releasing her, as the air escaped from his lungs. Jess used the time to make a grab for the poker, diving to the floor and reaching out with her hand. Her fingers closed around the metal and Jess’s heart skipped a beat as she realised she’d actually managed to get the weapon. Now she had to use it. She leapt to her feet and turned around, poker in hand, ready to let Nigel have it.
But he was gone.
Jess did a double take of the room. She knew that Nigel was hiding somewhere, waiting to pounce. But from where? With the poker held out in front of her, she took a tentative step forward, expecting an attack at any moment. Her nerves were tattered and frayed by the constant jolts of fear. If she lived through tonight, Jess decided she should write a book. The Winter Rapist? The Ice Killer? She’d have to think about it later.
Moving past the sofa, she prepared to swing with all her might, sure that Nigel would jump out at her any second. She moved carefully, watchfully, deciding that the most effective hiding place for a serial killer would be behind the bar. There was only one entrance to the area behind it so, if she was quick enough, she could take Nigel out before he could manage to do anything to her. Jess slowed her pace, not relishing an encounter that was life or death.
The bar loomed closer, lit by a number of dwindling candles. The struggling light shone on the liqueur bottles that lined the shelves, making them look like rows of crocodile teeth. The final few steps were nerve-wracking and she had to come to a halt before she reached the bar fully. Deep breaths, Jess. Nigel must be behind there, but you’re going to be ready for him. Armed and ready. She squeezed the poker in her right hand, anxiety forcing her to check it was still there even though she knew it was. Okay, here goes.
Jess took the final steps towards the bar area and quickly sidestepped to see behind it. As she suspected, Nigel was crouched and waiting for her. What she hadn’t expected was how quick the big man would be – and how much it would hurt having a vodka bottle smashed over her head.
Straight away, Jess felt the blood cascade from the top of her head. It ran into her eyes, blinding her, and then into her mouth. She could hardly believe she was lucid enough to even taste the coppery, metallic taste of it, and that somehow the blow had not knocked her out. It had certainly dazed her.
She teetered backwards, legs folding as she hit the floor. Her ears picked up the heavy clunk of the poker skittering across the floor. How many times is that thing going to get dropped? Despite everything, Jess found herself laughing at the thought. No need to lose her sense of humour now, not when she needed it more than ever. She collapsed onto her back, too dizzy to get back up. Not that it would have mattered because Nigel was on her like a shot, pinning her arms down with his knees and straddling her chest. Held to her throat was the broken remnants of the Vodka bottle.