Unfaithful (64 page)

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Now, now, play nice, Mark. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

She uncurled the scarf from her delicate neck and shrugged out of her heavy winter coat. He was shocked at the change in her appearance. Her long blonde hair wa
s cut up short into a pixie style, and she’d dyed it jet black. Her previously pale skin was tanned a deep golden brown. Perfectly arched dark eyebrows framed thick, black, heavily mascaraed eyelashes. A bright red slick of lipstick was painted on her full lips. She’d lost a lot of weight, not that she’d needed to, and was now almost painfully thin. She was dressed head-to-toe in black; a tight black sweater and black leather trousers encased in a pair of heavy biker boots. The only flash of colour was her bright red lipstick and matching scarlet nail varnish. He was taken aback for a brief moment by the dramatic change in her appearance; she wasn’t the beautiful, feminine woman he remembered. She was still striking but there was an edge to her now, a hardness about her which unnerved him slightly. But there was no mistaking the icy grey eyes which steadily met his.

“You look surprised,” she smirked, arching an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to have grown horns in prison?” She studied
herself in the mirror as she reapplied her lipstick. It was obvious that she was in playful form. “A tail maybe?” she asked, tilting her head inquiringly, with a mischievous glint in her eye. The corner of her mouth turned up into a smile as she played up to her “she-devil” role.

“You look different,” he retorted.

“Prison tends to have that effect on a girl,” she retaliated.

There was a tense silence as they both eyed each other in equal disdain.

“What do you want, Savannah?” He kept his voice low.

“How very rude, Mark. It’s been so long since we last met. You don't ask me how I am or what I've been doing. Is this how you treat your girlfriends? Do you forget all your ex-lovers so quickly? Don’t you remember the wonderful afternoon of passion we shared in France?”

He cringed as an image of them together shot through his memory.

“Aren't you even going to offer me a cup of coffee before we get down to business?”

He stared at her, willing himself not to shudder. It irritated him how self-assured she seemed, as if she had complete control of the conversation. Well, two could play that game. He decided to change gears and forced a smile. “What can I get you?”

“Well, I don't suppose you can give me back the last five years of my life, so I suppose a cappuccino will have to do,” she laughed her high-pitched laugh, which made a few people turn to look at them.

Mark cringed, hating having any attention being drawn to them together. He got up and ordered the coffee, glancing around the room. He hadn't seen her arriving so he wasn't sure if she had come alone. There didn't seem to be anyone watching them, but then again they'd hardly make themselves obvious. He fiddled with the phone in his pocket and pressed the record button before heading back to the table with the cappuccino.

She took her time adding milk and sugar, clearly enjoying making him wait. “How've you been, Mark?” she asked eventually, leaning back in her chair and crossing her slim legs.

“I'm trying to move on with my life,” he replied, struggling to keep his tone even, wishing she'd get on with whatever she had to say. “When did you get out?”

“That doesn't matter, does it? I'm sure you don't really care anyway. None of this is about me, so let's stay focused on you.” The edge was back in her voice. “How are your wife and family?”

“Let's keep them out if this.”

“Now, now, Mark, there's no need to get touchy. I'm only trying to make polite conversation. After all, you and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

He sipped his coffee, trying to keep his rising temper in check.

“Let's get this over and done with, Savannah, shall we?”

“Maybe we should go somewhere quieter?” she smiled at him suggestively, making his skin crawl.

He glanced around the room. Everyone seemed to be absorbed in their own lives and conversations. Nobody was paying them any attention. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it here,” he said decisively.

“Fine by me,” she shrugged nonchalantly and drained the last of her coffee. “I take it you haven’t missed me then?”

“Cut the crap, Savannah,” he leaned in closer to her. “I don't have anything to say to you.”

“Oh, but I have plenty to say to you, Mark,” she hissed, a dangerous gleam in her steel-grey eyes. “You've ruined my life. I went through hell, rotting in jail for the last five years, because of you. It's payback time.”

“It hasn't exactly been picnics and rainbows for me either.”

“That's your own fault, not mine. You got me involved in your pathetic scheming. You owe me.”

“I don't owe you anything. I've done my time, now I want to be left alone in peace to start my life again.”

“I hear you've got book deals and movie people interested in your sordid little story,” she sneered. “It seems you've done quite well for yourself. Apparently, you're going to write a tell-all book about your version of events and who you think was really behind the whole plot.” She stared mockingly at him. “Tell me, just between the two of us, who was it?”

“You'll have to wait to read the book to find out.”

“Don't mess with me, Mark. You and I both know the truth and I can guarantee you that I have the power to ruin your plans for success. I'm sure everyone would be thrilled to hear what I have to say. Maybe I should write a book of my own version of events.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Oh, I would dare, I would very much dare, and I wouldn't recommend trying me. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. But I thought the decent thing to do would be to come to you first and see if we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” he glared incredulously at her. “I think you're insane and completely deluded. I emailed you and told you to call off the hit but that email miraculously disappeared and you carried on the plans of your own volition for your own sick reasons.”

“I still have the email,” she sat back and watched his reaction. “Your change of heart took me by surprise but then the emails kept coming and it seemed like you’d changed your mind back again.”

“The email I sent you was to put a stop to everything. I never emailed you after that.”

“So who did?” Savannah pursed her lips and folded her arms.

“I don’t know, that’s what I'm trying to find out.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she sneered.

“Why didn't you show my email to the police?”

“Why would I do that? And incriminate myself? I’d still have gone down. I figured I might as well take you with me, especially considering it was your idea in the first place. None of this would have even begun if it wasn’t for you.”

“This proves that I was double-crossed! There was no need for me to ever have gone to prison. I spent five years in that hell-hole for nothing!”

“Cool it, Mark. Keep your voice down. You're hardly immaculate, let’s not forget that you started off planning the whole thing, and you had every intention of going ahead with it until you had a sudden change of heart.”

Mark wondered what it would take to get rid of Savannah, get her out of his life forever. He’d realised she’d show up sooner or later but it was still a shock to see her sitting in front of him. She was dangerous and could still cause serious trouble for him. She was a strong woman, the type that usually got her own way.

“How long do you plan on staying in Dublin?” he asked, changing the subject. He needed time to digest what she’d just told him.

Her lips curled up in a sneering smirk. She was well aware of the effect she was having on him and was relishing every moment of it. “I’ll stay for a while. I don’t have any definite plans, yet. Why, don’t you want me here?” She shot him a mocking glance. He’d give anything to wipe that self-assured grin off her face.

“It’s your choice.” He shrugged, trying to give the impression that he wasn’t bothered.

“What are your plans, Mark?” she asked with genuine interest. “Do you know where you are going?” She shot him a peculiar glance.

He could sense the double-meaning behind her questions, but he couldn’t quite figure out what she meant. She was a strange woman, a dangerous woman, and he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. “Of course I know where I'm going,” he couldn’t keep the indignation out of his voice.

“Do you really? I'm not so sure,” she studied him thoughtfully. “I wonder if you really know what you want. Don’t you feel like an outsider looking in at the shell of your old life, stuck on the sidelines?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he replied calmly, but she unnerved him. It was like she’d read his mind. He’d felt like an outsider for a long time, but he had no intention of admitting that to her. He knew she’d use it against him somehow. There was no way he was going to admit his weakness and vulnerabilities to her. He had to stay strong and maintain a calm veneer.

“I know a lot more than you think,” she smirked, sipping her coffee. “But you don’t know much about yourself or anyone else.”

“I don’t have to sit here and listen to you psychoanalysing me.”

“I wish I could make you understand, Mark, make you see things the way they really are.” Her expression softened for a moment. “They’ve got you exactly where they want you.”

“Who, what are you talking about?” Her innuendoes were really starting to irritate him.

“You should get away from here. Leave Dublin, before it’s too late.”

“This is my home and I have no intention of leaving. I’ve had no trouble from anyone except you, since my release from prison. Nobody’s going to bother me here. I’ve got a second chance and I'm going to make the best of it, here in Dublin.”

“Yes, I think even you deserve a second chance, but it’s not that simple. There’s evil all around you, but you can’t see it.”

He stared at her then, as if she really had taken leave of her senses. “You’re being ridiculous.” He laughed nervously. Grudgingly, he had to admit that he had felt peculiar recently, as if something bad was about to happen, and he’d found himself constantly looking over his shoulder. He’d felt that someone was following him but he’d done his best to banish his fears from his mind, putting it down to paranoia at the paparazzi who had hounded him for months.

“Evil is everywhere, just because you can’t see it or touch it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I know a lot about evil. I’ve seen a lot of bad things and done a lot of bad things in my life. I suppose I'm quite
evil myself, which is how I can sense when it’s near.” She delivered this with a faraway expression on her face, as if she were somewhere else entirely. He wondered if there was a lot more to her than he’d ever realised.

“Stop talking in riddles and tell me what you mean.” He was afraid of her. She knew too much about him and seemed to be able to see right through him. Was she trying to warn him?

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said mysteriously before standing up. “It was good to see you, Mark.” Her expression changed and she smiled sweetly at him. She pulled on her coat and scarf. Then she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and whisper in his ear, “until we meet again.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise.

Chapter 17

“Finished at long last,” Jackie let out a deep sigh of relief before typing her two favourite words, “The End.” She saved her work and shut down the computer with a flourish. Then she stood up and stretched her arms wide over her head to ease the tension in her aching neck and shoulders.

“Well done, darling,” Colm kissed his wife lightly on the cheek. They’d been sitting at opposite ends of the large oak table in companionable silence for most of the morning, each hidden behind their computers, wrapped up in their work. He was making an effort to spend more time working from home and they’d fallen into a new routine which they both enjoyed.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get it done. My publisher will be thrilled that I’ve finally finished it.”

“So how did you end it?” Colm asked curiously. “Did she get away with killing her husband?”

“Ah, you’ll have to read it to find out.” She winked coyly at him.

“Tell me. I can’t stand the suspense.”

“Nope, if I tell you I’ll have to kill you.” She stared at him with a serious expression for a moment. He looked stunned, not knowing quite how to respond. Then she burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face! I don’t know about you but I'm absolutely famished. Would you like some lunch?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Sure. I’ll be down in a minute. I need to finish up a few things first.”

“Okay. I’ll call you when it’s ready.” She closed the office door behind her and wandered downstairs into the kitchen. She poured fresh coffee into the percolator, popped several rounds of toast under the grill and cracked some eggs in
to the frying pan, humming while she worked. The tension and stress of the past few weeks with her looming deadline had finally begun to evaporate. She was looking forward to taking a few days rest before bracing herself to face the publicity machine which lay ahead. Writing was her passion but she loathed few things more than the almost endless publicity and promotion which each new book entailed.