He refolded the notes and returned them to his pocket, shrugging in disappointment. ‘Oh well, it’s your loss.’ He turned to walk away.
‘Wait!’ she called out, before she could stop herself. ‘Just you, right?’
His grin widened as he turned back to face her. ‘Just you and me.’
‘What exactly is it you want me to do?’
He moved closer; her hand tightened around the penknife with each step.
‘I want to know what it would be like to fuck you.’
Everyone has their price, but she’d never imagined hers would be so low. ‘Where’s your car?’
‘It’s back over by the lock-up. Don’t worry, it’s parked where nobody will see us.’
‘I want the money upfront.’
He wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders. ‘Of course.’
‘Normal sex, yeah? Nothing kinky.’
He rested a hand over his heart. ‘Scout’s honour. Missionary all the way. I want you underneath me.’
She allowed him to lead her back along the road that led to the lock-up, passing by the fire doors, and continuing for a further two minutes, until they reached the 4x4.
‘Nice car,’ she commented. ‘What do you do for a living?’
‘Why do you care? All you need to know is I have your money. Here,’ he added, as he passed her the roll of notes from his pocket, which she promptly dropped into her bag.
‘Where’s the rest?’
‘It’s in the glove box.’
The car beeped as he unlocked it, and he moved to the passenger door, opening it and reaching in. He handed her the second wad, smaller than the first; she could only guess it was the amount he’d indicated.
‘You want a line?’ he asked, waving a small packet of white powder at her.
It had been years since she’d last put coke up her nose, and as tempting as it was to feel that hit once more, she resisted. After all, she didn’t know this guy from Adam, and couldn’t be certain what he was offering or where it had come from.
She waited while he cut a line on the car’s bonnet and snorted it, rubbing the remnants into his gums, and then stared at her with lustful anticipation.
She opened the rear door, looking up at the sky and hoping she wouldn’t one day be judged for this momentary lack of sound judgement, and that’s when her head was yanked backwards. Grabbing hold of her ponytail, the man forced her forwards, pressing her face into the seat cushion, flicking up her skirt in one action.
She tried to yell, to push him away, chiding herself for underestimating what this low life had in mind. Thrusting her heel up, she felt his flesh as she struck at his groin, and suddenly her hair was released. Relieved she’d demanded the money up front, she grabbed her bag and left him writhing as she tried to move off as quickly as she could.
He wasn’t incapacitated for long, though, and she heard him chasing after her as she tottered on the heels.
‘You’re not going anywhere until I get what I paid for,’ he grizzled, wrapping an arm around her neck and heaving her backwards. He was much stronger than she’d given him credit for, and her feet barely made contact with the concrete floor as he dragged her back to the car.
Reaching into her bag once again, she located the penknife and flipped out the blade; but as her hand emerged, he was too quick for her and he grabbed her hand and drove the knife back towards her. She yelped as the cold blade tore into the flesh above her hip, and the fight immediately left her.
He released his hold on her neck, and her body slumped to the ground. Just as she was coming to terms with the fact that she’d been stabbed, and hoping he would call for an ambulance, he lifted her feet and dragged her back to the front of the car. On her back, her breaths coming in swift and shallow bursts, he was suddenly sat astride her, grinning with those white teeth. As he pulled the blade out, the last thing she’d expected was for him to drive it back into her chest.
That was the moment Kerry Valentine realized just how low a price she’d sold her life for.
The bubbles in the flute of Prosecco tickled Alice Tandy’s nose as she tried to sip from it without spoiling her make-up.
‘Relax,’ her best friend, Tara, said. ‘He’ll be here.’
Alice tried to force a smile, but the frown gave away her true feelings. This day had been two years in the making, but in truth she’d been imagining it since her seventh birthday when she’d received Bridal Barbie, and had known that one day it would be her turn to wear the big white dress and celebrate with her closest friends and family.
Tara raised the bottle, offering to top up Alice’s glass, but the bride pressed a hand over the top. ‘Thanks, but I want to keep a clear head.’
Tara shrugged, before filling her own glass. ‘Well, I don’t. As your chief bridesmaid, I expect to get trollied, dance until closing, and then end up in the sack with some guy I have no possible future with. Remind me, which of Ben’s friends are single?’
‘There will be loads of single men coming tonight,’ Alice confirmed.
‘Oh no, tell me you haven’t invited Andrew from work?’
‘What’s wrong with Andrew?’ Alice teased. ‘I think you two would make a lovely couple.’
Tara wasn’t biting. ‘Apart from the fact he’s old enough to be my dad, and has no fashion sense, he’s in love with you, not me.’
Alice shook her head. ‘No he isn’t, and don’t worry, Andrew wasn’t invited. Just pick one of Ben’s friends you fancy and make a move on him.’
Tara nearly spat out her Prosecco. ‘That’s easy for you to say, when you look like this. I’m sure if I had platinum blonde hair, a rack you could eat dinner off, and a figure that wouldn’t look amiss on a Parisian catwalk, I wouldn’t have an issue scoring. Even though I like this dress, I look frumpy, and the concealer on my face is barely covering my latest outbreak of acne. It’s just not fair! I’m twenty-six now, and I still suffer with a teenager’s worst nightmare!’
‘You are beautiful, Tara, and some day some lucky guy is going to come along and sweep you off your feet. You just wait and see!’
Tara looked down at the light blue satin dress she’d had to have altered on no fewer than three occasions since they’d first chosen it. ‘I reckon I’ve got better odds of winning the lottery.’
Alice smiled at her friend’s lame efforts to distract her from the fact they’d been sitting in the Rolls Royce outside the church for ten minutes and Ben had still yet to arrive. It was almost ironic that he ran a logistics company and was late for his own wedding.
‘I told him he had to be here by twelve,’ Alice said for the third time. ‘I didn’t say ten past, or twenty past, I said twelve on the dot.’
‘He’ll be here,’ Tara reassured. ‘If there’s one thing I know about your Ben it’s that he is absolutely smitten with you.’
Alice put her hand to her mouth, before remembering the nails were acrylic and couldn’t be chewed. Tara was right, of course she was. Ben was a good man, and he wouldn’t not turn up for his own wedding. She’d read plenty of stories of brides and grooms being stood up at the altar, but Ben wouldn’t do that to her. Would he?
‘He’ll be here,’ Tara repeated, as if reading Alice’s mind. ‘Anyway, your mum