The bastard was so sure she would come, that he would get what he wanted, he’d left the door open for her to walk straight back into his life. He’d been right to be sure. He’d said he knew her, that day in the courtroom when she’d prayed she would never see him again. Perhaps he did, after all, enough to be certain she would never let him hurt another member of her family. This time she would make damn sure that he paid properly.
Pushing the door open, she stepped into the hall, a fresh bout of nausea swilling through her as the unmistakable smell of cannabis reached her nostrils. Noting the damp wallpaper speckled with black mildew, her stomach turned over. This was where Millie had been going all those nights she was away. Where he’d taken her innocence and broken her life to satisfy his own urges, to … what? Throw her away? Murder her? Wasn’t that his ultimate turn-on?
Fury unfurling steadily inside her, her heart leapt when he stepped into the hallway. And then it hardened. It was him. His hair was shorter. He was still good-looking and as tall and muscular as she remembered. Still wearing the cocksure smile that had permanently adorned his face, still with that glint in his eyes she’d mistaken for admiration or love.
‘Hi, sweet cup,’ he said, his smile widening languidly. ‘Long time no see. I’ve missed you. Bet you’ve missed me too, haven’t you? Did you think about me?’
‘You’ve cut your face,’ she said, her eyes going to the angry gash across the bridge of his nose.
‘A parting memento from your daughter.’ His smile slipped, just for an instant, a flash of humiliation now in his eyes. ‘She’s as feisty as you are. She obviously inherited your genes. Come in.’ He nodded behind him.
To the bedroom, Emily gathered, having noted the living room to her side, the kitchenette beyond it.
‘I’m just packing a few things,’ he said, turning.
To make good his escape, presumably. With her? Or was it her fate to go the way of her sister? Her hand curling around the sharp boning knife in her pocket, she followed him, her heart squeezing painfully as her eyes fell on Millie’s pretty crystal hairclip on top of the chest of drawers, the only furniture in the room apart from the bed. Her heart turned to stone.
‘So, what now?’ he asked, collecting a handful of T-shirts from one of the open drawers and stuffing them into a holdall on top of the duvet. Stopping, he glanced at her. ‘You know we’re destined to be together?’
Emily said nothing, and tried very hard not to communicate her feelings through her facial expressions.
‘We share a secret, Emily,’ he went on casually. ‘One we’ll both take to the grave. We both know who really pushed Kara that day, don’t we?’
Liar!Emily seethed inwardly. He’d told her all those years ago that she’d killed her sister out of jealousy. Deeply shocked, grieving, not trusting her own memory, she’d believed him. Unbidden, scenes from that terrible day crashed into her mind. She wasn’t even supposed to be there. It was Kara that Lewis had agreed to meet on the canal bank that day, not her. But Kara had been angry. Emily saw her, her flaxen hair wild, her violet eyes full of fire, spitting fury, telling him what a vile bastard he was, that she would rather die than let him anywhere near her again. Emily hadn’t pushed her.Hehad.
‘Leave them alone,’ she said. ‘My family. Leave them alone and I’ll come with you.’
He studied her narrowly, for a long, bone-chilling moment. ‘Ben’s my son,’ he stated flatly, and went back to his packing.
He was insane. Surely he couldn’t hope to have anything to do with Ben after all that he’d done?
‘We can start afresh.’ She kept her voice even.
‘Right.’ He smiled cynically. ‘So you’ll give your family up to be with me? Your perfect husband with his big fat salary? You’re lying, Emily.’ His eyes flicked back to hers. ‘You’re blushing. Didn’t I tell you I know you?’
She didn’t flinch. ‘I’m not lying. I’m nervous. I’m bound to be after everything.’ She glanced down and back. He didn’t know her that well. Couldn’t see that it was white-hot rage burning her cheeks. ‘I’ve only ever wanted to be with you. I thought you didn’t want me.’
‘And that’s why you tried to push me away the last time we were together?’ He eyed her sceptically.
‘I was angry.’ Emily told him the lies he wanted to hear to salve his ego. ‘Because of Kara.’
He thought about it. ‘So you don’t love him then, the upstanding Dr Merriden, with his flashy car and his big house? You don’t love your nice lifestyle, your fine clothes,’ he looked her over, a hint of contempt in his eyes, ‘your fancy holidays. You love me.’
He wasjealous. Emily couldn’t quite believe it. Of Jake. Of what she had with Jake. Was that what had driven him to do what he’d done, to destroy somany people’s lives? Pathetic creature. She would have given anything to tell him just how disgustingly contemptible she found him, but she kept her counsel and held his gaze instead. ‘I’ve never loved him,’ she said, the words almost choking her. ‘He’s looked after me, looked after Ben. I care about him, but I don’t love him.’
He swept his gaze over her. Her flesh crawled as she watched the incredulity in his eyes give way to lust. ‘Prove it,’ he said, nodding to the bed. Removing the holdall, he dropped it on the floor and then looked back at her, a challenge now in his eyes.
Emily’s insides lurched. Bile rising in her throat, it took her a second to find her courage, to make her legs move.
Walking across to him, she noted the stunned disbelief on his face as she snaked an arm around his neck, heard a groan deep in his throat as she pressed her mouth over his, her tongue seeking his, the taste of second-hand cigarette and cannabis smoke in her mouth, the familiar scent of him, sickly-sweet lemon mingled with body odour, assailing her senses.
He pulled back after a second, reached to free himself of his T-shirt, yanking it over his head too fast for her to be ready. Greedy lust in his eyes, he scanned her face briefly, then leaned back into her, his mouth covering hers, his body hard against her, his hands all over her as he steered her around, urging her backwards towards the bed.
Emily’s heart thundered. Her fingers found cold steel. Now she was ready.
The point of the blade was a millimetre from the vertebrae in his back when her blood froze, her shocked gaze pivoting to the man with a syringe in his hand and cold murder in his eyes.
Paul Lewis looked ludicrously surprised as the needle slid smoothly into the side of his neck. Then his eyes darkened, his face contorting with rage as he whirled around.
