‘Is the operation really worth faking your own death for? What about your family? Your friends? How long are you going to do this for?’
His gait became more erratic, the knife jiggling in his hand as he walked.
‘I don’t have any family. My only friends were in the band. I’ve got nothing in my old life to go back to.’
‘So you’re going to kill one of your oldest friends?’
His stride faltered, then he swooped in on me, his face close to mine. I shivered as the flat edge of the knife traced a cold line along my jawbone. ‘Let’s just say I’m going to tie up a few loose ends at once.’
My stomach dropped as the realisation hit me. He was going to kill me too.
‘I know you were scared yesterday.’ I tried to keep my voice from wavering as I met his eyes. ‘I know you don’t want to be responsible for a murder.’
He couldn’t hold my gaze. ‘You don’t know anything.’
‘I know you and Chris grew up together. I know he was your best friend.’
He launched away from me and went back to his frenetic pacing.
‘We can go to the police!’ I said desperately. ‘You haven’t hurt anyone yet. I’m sure you’ll get an immunity deal if you give Grady up. You can go back to your old life.’
He threw me an accusing look. ‘It’s too late for that. There’s no way Grady’s going away a second time. If you hadn’t got yourself into this mess, I wouldn’t have to kill you.’ He started towards the door.
‘What about my friends?’ I cried. ‘They know what you’re up to. You can kill me, and you can kill Chris, but it’s going to catch up with you eventually.’
He paused in the doorway and looked back at me. ‘Like I said, I’m taking care of everything at once.’
He closed the door, leaving me alone in the room.
‘What are you going to do?’ I called after him, but the stomp of his feet descending the stairs was my only answer. There was a long period of silence, followed by the crash of the door as it slammed shut.
OK, that seemed far too easy. Surely he hadn’t just gone? I had to get rid of this rope so I could find Nick and Adelita before he came back. I looked around the room for something—anything—I could use to free myself. The scanty light that squeezed into the room revealed nothing. The room was completely empty other than me and the chair. I twisted my wrists again, but the rope was tied too tightly and my skin was already raw and chafed.
When I tried to stand up, I realised Bright had not only tied my wrists together, but had tied them to the chair itself. I was left half standing, bent over at a ridiculous angle and with a chair protruding rather inelegantly from my butt. I could barely even shuffle forward a few steps. There was no way I was getting down that suicidal staircase.
It was then, when I was feeling at my most helpless, that the acrid smell of smoke curled into my nostrils. And there it was, seeping languidly under the door.
Fuck me dead. Bright had set the place on fire.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A primal fear gripped me. I forced myself to think and looked around the room again. The one narrow window began at the ceiling and ended at around the height of my knees. If I could break it, I could probably get through it. Although, jumping out of a fifth-storey window in a chair with my hands tied behind my back was hardly an appealing notion.
I shuffled backwards to the window and scrabbled with the cardboard until I was able to wrap the fingers of one hand around a corner. I pulled on it and it came away from the window easily, the tape weakened from age or exposure to the sun.
Light streamed into the room, illuminating the smoke that was now billowing in. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and coughed involuntarily as the smoke entered my lungs. OK, this was bad. I had to do something, and fast.
I turned to face the window again, judging the height and distance. Then I swung around quickly and the legs of the chair crashed into the window. I closed my eyes as shattered glass rained down on me. Looking over my shoulder, I spied a shard of glass still attached to the window frame, just above the height of my bound wrists. If I could just get myself in the right position…
I backed up to it and stood on my toes, hoping I’d be able to reach it, but I misjudged the distance and the glass sliced into my forearm. At first I felt nothing, then pain seared through me and I cried out. I checked the damage and the sight of my own blood oozing from the wound was almost enough to make me faint. I forced myself to breathe. I hadn’t hit an artery. I wasn’t going to die from this injury, but I was going to die if I couldn’t get out of this room.
I backed up and tried again. This time I managed to hook the rope over the shard. I slid it back and forth until the bonds finally loosened on my wrists. The chair crashed to the ground. I threw off the rest of the rope and gave my arm a quick inspection. It was split open like an overcooked sausage and bathed in blood. It wasn’t pretty, but the flow of blood had already slowed.
I rushed to the door but the iron doorknob was red hot and I jumped back with a cry. I returned to the window, the glass crunching under my feet, and looked out into the street. There was no one in sight.
‘Help!’ I screamed. ‘Somebody help! The building is on fire!’
The choking smoke
