Chapter 42
Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
We barely speak on the way home but as soon as the door shuts behind us I can’t stop the words from flying out of my mouth.
‘We had a plan, Antoinette,’ I hiss at her and she shrinks away from me, surprised by my wrath.
‘We had a plan and, yet again, you going off script nearly ruined it for us. It still could. We need to hope and fucking pray that whoever finds Richard Stone believes that staged accident was real.’ I slump into the couch, all of my energy seeping out of my body.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ I stand up and stride through to the kitchen, where I wash my hands, scrubbing the last bits of blood and dirt from under my nails.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, following me. ‘But he was touching you. He had his hands all over you.’
‘And I was handling it,’ I say. ‘Jesus Christ, Antoinette, this is hardly my first fucking rodeo. I’ve dealt with creepier creeps than that.’
Much creepier.
‘And look how it’s affected you!’
What?
‘What?’ I say. ‘It hasn’t affected me. Not at all.’
Antoinette gives me a look. ‘Oh, really?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you think it’s normal behaviour to kick a man in the balls when he kisses you?’
Oh. She’s talking about Travis.
‘Well, no,’ I say, ‘obviously not.’
‘No, Kitty. It’s a trauma response. You had a horrible, traumatic experience and your body reacted to it. And when I saw Richard Stone touching you like that my body reacted. Because I wanted to protect you. Because I didn’t want you having another panic attack like you did with Travis.’
Protect me? Like I’m some fucking damsel in distress.
‘Well, that was very gallant,’ I say, anger bubbling up inside me. ‘But I really don’t need you jumping in to defend me!’
‘But Kitty—’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to hear it. Your recklessness is going to get us caught. I’ve already spoken to you about this but it doesn’t seem to be getting through, does it?’
‘I was just—’
I hold up my hand. ‘Stop. I’m starting to think it was a mistake bringing you out here.
I’ve been doing this on my own and it’s been fine.
Now you’re involved and there’s a dead movie star and a woman beater in the basement.
And now there’s a dead producer and some Final Destination fucking accident that we have to hope people believe.
’ I let out an exasperated sigh. ‘I should’ve done this alone. I could be home by now.’
Antoinette swallows hard. She looks like she might be about to cry. ‘Well, let’s just finish Aidan Ward off now and you can go home,’ she says. ‘We can both get on with our lives.’
I stare at her. ‘Oh no,’ I say. ‘You’re not having anything to do with killing that man.’ I jerk my chin towards the cellar door. ‘He’s the reason we’re here and I’m not having you mess that up.’
‘What? But I—’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m killing Aidan Ward by myself. You’re a liability, Antoinette, and I’m not going to risk you fucking this up.’
She stares back at me and I wonder if she is actually going to cry. But then her eyes narrow and she says in a voice cold as steel, ‘Fine. I’ll just get out of your hair then.’ She turns away from me and walks out of the room. A few seconds later I hear the front door slam shut.
Great.
A tantrum.
Just what I need.
I don’t go after her. She’ll cool off.
Besides, I meant what I said. I want to kill Aidan Ward alone.
And what better time than now? The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can get on a plane and get home.
I can’t wait to tell Tor it’s done and she can finally rest, knowing the man who hurt her will never be able to do it again.
The look on her face when she knows it’s over will be worth all this.
Also, it means I can get back to Charlie.
I’m sure if I plead my case to him properly he’ll understand.
I’m still me. And he loved me once. You can’t just turn those feelings off.
I miss him so much. I’d do anything to have him here right now, to be able to poke my finger into that adorable dimple he has in his cheek.
Urgh. I need to stop thinking about Charlie.
I need to focus on Aidan Ward for now.
First I grab some duct tape – I can’t risk anyone hearing his screams as I murder him – and then I pull a knife out of the knife block and examine it. It’s a MAC Professional chef’s knife. Not my knife of choice but sharp and lightweight. I swoosh it about a bit and make some stabbing motions.
It will do.
The basement is dark and Aidan Ward blinks a few times when I switch the light on. He’s huddled into a corner, as far away from the LV cases as he can get. I’m not surprised. It’s starting to smell a bit down here. My stomach does a roll of protest.
‘I thought you were going to leave me to die down here,’ he says. His voice is little more than a croak. He must be really thirsty. Good. He can stay that way.
‘And miss out on all the fun of killing you myself?’ I hold the knife up and his eyes widen. ‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Can I have some water?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t have to do this, Kitty,’ he says quietly.
He’s using his therapist voice. I’ve heard it before.
And I trusted it last time. When he told me that he was in love with Tor.
That he would never hurt her. That I should give him a chance, even though I knew he was targeting her because she was his patient and vulnerable.
I will never ignore what my gut is screaming at me again.
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ I say. ‘I absolutely do have to do this. Because I promised Tor I would. You remember Tor, don’t you? The woman you battered and left for dead because she wouldn’t have sex with you?’
‘You haven’t got it in you to kill, Kitty,’ he says.
This makes me laugh.
‘Really?’ I say. ‘Well actually, you won’t even be the first man I’ve killed. You’re not even the first man I’ve killed today.’ Okay, so technically Antoinette killed Richard Stone, but Aidan Ward doesn’t need to know that.
He stares at me and I see it, a tiny glimmer of fear sparking in his eyes.
I love it when men realise they’ve underestimated me.
It’s better than sex.
‘What do you mean?’ he asks.
‘Your voice is annoying me,’ I say as I reach for a roll of duct tape and slap some across his mouth, slicing it off with the knife.
‘And I mean I’ve already murdered someone today.
A producer who got handsy with a friend.
Stabbed him through the neck with an ice pick.
’ I move closer towards him and feel a little rush of endorphins as he tries to scuttle away from me.
Not an easy move when your ankles are cable-tied together.
I squat down so I’m on my haunches at the same level as him.
My thigh muscles protest. Loudly. They still haven’t recovered from that impromptu CrossFit session.
I look him directly in the eyes. ‘And over there,’ I nod towards the LV cases, ‘are the remains of Ron Wilde. The movie star? I’m sure you’ve heard of him.
He had to go too.’ Yes, Antoinette killed Ron Wilde as well, but the actual details don’t matter.
The spark of fear in Aidan’s eyes has turned into a full flame.
‘So I really do think that I have it in me to kill, Aidan.’ I hold the tip of the knife to his throat.
‘And I think I’m going to enjoy you the most.’
He gulps and then a horrible stench hits my nostrils.
It’s acrid and bleachy, ammonia.
Almost like really potent …
I glance at Aidan Ward’s crotch. A dark, damp stain has spread around the groin area of his jeans.
That’s disgusting.
The smell fills my nose again and I can feel my stomach clench.
I just about make it out of the cellar and into the kitchen before I throw my guts up into the sink.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Maybe I do need Antoinette to help me with this after all.
I’ll wait until the morning and we can do it together.