Ignoring the hurt, Helen lost herself in her work and coded solidly for the next two hours. When she surfaced for air, she stretched and made herself some tea. It was then that she heard footsteps outside. She stepped outside to take a look at who had come. The chickens cawed and the birds sang, the trees rustled in the wind. She couldn’t see anyone, but someone was here. She could sense it.
“Hello?” It was probably ramblers who’d strayed onto her property by mistake while walking the footpath from the village to the river. “Hello?”
Still no one answered.
Helen headed back to the kitchen—but the muddy footprints on the floor registered too late—and the door closed with a bang behind her.
“Hi, Helen.”
“Jaxon!” Helen jumped, her pulse racing. “You scared me. What are you doing here? The police are still looking for you!”
“Don’t I know it.” Hair long, clothes dirty, beard unkempt, Jaxon stalked to the sink and helped himself to water. “I came for the program.”
But the tracking script hadn’t been fully hidden yet. “It’s not ready.”
“Finish it now and we’ll send it from here.”
“You said tomorrow. Monday.”
“Plans change. I need the money tonight.”
“But you—”
“What’s the fucking problem?” He spat the words out, a desperate man on the edge. “Just fucking finish it.”
“But I’m … I’m on my way out to meet friends.”
“Like I said, plans change.” He gulped down more water then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Whatever you had going on is canceled. You want the money? Finish the job.”
“Okay, Jax.” Helen tried to compose herself, inching closer to her phone on the worktop, regretting switching it off. It would take longer to call for help now. “Let me text my friend. She’ll be waiting for me.”
But Jaxon snatched the phone before Helen got near it.
“Your friend will soon know you can’t meet her when you don’t turn up.” Jaxon smashed her phone on the worktop corner then dropped it into the sink, still filled with dirty water. “Now finish the damn code! I’ve had the police crawling up my arse for weeks, I finally shook them off this morning and I’ve been walking ever since so stop fucking around and just finish the fucking program.”
Fear coursed through her but Helen had to keep him calm, keep acting like herself and the person she used to be around Jaxon—always helpful, always eager to show off her skills and hear his praise. She dashed to her computer, her hands shaking.
Could she risk emailing the police under Jaxon’s nose?
But he could see her screen from where he was standing. She needed to distract him.
“Grab something to eat while I work,” she said. “You look like you need it.”
Jaxon grunted and raided her fridge, the violation making her feel sick. Had she really once daydreamed of sharing this kitchen with him? Cooking together, sharing meals, like she’d done with Sebastian. Disgust rose in her throat as Jaxon ravaged a chunk of cheese and a piece of bread he’d just ripped off the loaf—and he was still too close to her screen for her to risk emailing the police.
“I saw you in the papers for that sports thing.” Crumbs shot from Jaxon’s mouth. He’d taken her out for lunch in Bristol a few times, but he never ate like this. His eyes were bloodshot, wired and feverish. Was he drugged up? “Your boyfriend’s not home?”
Oh, god, what would’ve happened if Sebastian had been here? Jaxon didn’t seem the least bit worried that he could’ve been. Was he that far gone that he thought he could overcome Sebastian?
Divyesh Karsan’s battered face flashed before her.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Thank fuck Sebastian wasn’t here. “We broke up last week.”
“Too bad.” Jaxon bit off another chunk of his sandwich, not remotely interested in her love life. “Get typing. I need this money. I need to get out of here. You’ve got two hours.”
“That won’t be enough.”
“It’ll have to be. I know you’re good for it.”
