Chapter 61
SIXTY-ONE
As we head to the lounge, my two unwilling companions walking ahead of me, I note Jemma faltering, her gaze drifting to the front door.
Anger spirals inside me and I reach to give her a nudge onwards.
‘You really are a devious cow, aren’t you?
’ I snarl. ‘What were you going to do? Grab your chance to run and leave your friend to her fate?’
‘No,’ she protests feebly. ‘I… Why are you doing this? You can’t hope to get away with it,’ she blurts, in some small show of bravado.
‘I think you’ll find it’s you who’s not going to get away with it. In there.’ I give her another shove in the right direction, then whirl around, brandishing the knife at Kara as she takes a step towards me. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warn her.
She holds my gaze defiantly, and I can see that if anyone is going to try to stop me, it will be her. ‘Think of your baby,’ I tell her, lowering the knife meaningfully to her midriff.
Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. ‘You’re deranged,’ she spits.
‘Possibly.’ I smile impassively. ‘Do you really have to wonder why I would be, though? The man you think so highly of tried to kill me.’
She drags her gaze away. Obviously, she can’t argue with that fact.
‘Sofa,’ I instruct her, then swing the knife at Jemma. ‘You too.’
They both do as they’re told, thankfully. I’m not sure how things would pan out if they ganged up on me. Is that what they’re planning to do? I note the surreptitious glances between them. Would I use the knife if they did? I would have to, to save myself. They know I would.
Watching them carefully, I retrieve the tablets I’ve already extracted from the blister packet and plop one into each of their mugs.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not haloperidol,’ I assure Kara, whose expression is alarmed, to say the least. ‘Just the mild sedative I gave you before. It will help calm your nerves.
‘So, Jemma,’ I turn to her, ‘are you going to tell your friend how deceitful you’ve been, that you fucked my husband behind my back while lying to my face? That you encouraged his relationship with her,’ I nod towards Kara, ‘even knowing what a manipulative bastard he is?’
‘He’s not.’ Jemma defends him, astonishingly. ‘He’s none of the things you say he is. When my mum died, he was really kind to me. We didn’t intend for—’
‘Ha.’ I laugh derisively. ‘I doubt very much your husband will think he’s kind, that your kids will when their father walks out.’
‘Please don’t tell him,’ she begs tearfully. ‘It happened once. One time, I swear. There was never any affair. I’ll do anything you say, but please don’t tell Andrew.’
‘I gathered you would.’ I look her over contemptuously.
In a way, though, I feel sorry for her. She’s so pathetically weak.
Was it really just a one-night stand? I doubt that.
Jack was constantly ringing her. Holding the threat that it would come to light over her in order to extract information from her?
‘Tell Kara how kind you are, why don’t you?
How you kindly relayed everything she told you to me.
Just like you would have relayed everything I told you – in confidence – to Jack. ’
Jemma’s gaze shoots to Kara, her eyes filled with trepidation.
‘That’s not true,’ Kara whispers, clearly shaken. ‘Is it?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jemma cries, tears plopping wetly down her cheeks.
‘I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to, I swear.
She threatened to tell Andrew, and I… Please don’t say anything to him.
’ She looks at Kara imploringly. ‘If he finds out, it will destroy him. I love him, Kara. I made one mistake. Just one, and I am so, so sorry.’
Kara is obviously struggling to process what she’s hearing. ‘You’ve gone along with this because you were being blackmailed?’ she asks, staring at Jemma, confounded. ‘You actually supplied Natalia with information about me?’
Jemma nods wretchedly. ‘I should have been stronger. I’m not. I… I didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose Andrew. My home, my family. Surely you above all people can understand that.’
I sigh and eye the ceiling, then pull out Kara’s phone.
Let’s see how much Jack cares for her, shall we?
I’m about to send him a text when a little voice nags in my head.
What if he doesn’t come back? If I tell him I’m holding hostage the woman he thought was worth killing for until he tells the truth, there’s a possibility he will alert the police instead.
‘Enough with the tears,’ I growl, growing irritated as I try to think what to do.
Eyeing Jemma distastefully, I take out her phone too.
The right message from her is sure to bring him charging back.
‘And hurry up and drink your tea,’ I add.
‘It will make you feel better. Well, better than you would being awake anyway.’