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“Did you miss your golf?” I asked sweetly.
“Oh, I’ll survive. Anyway, next week, you’re coming to. Time you watched my swing a club rather than a whip.”
I giggled at him delight.
Finally, he’s going to make it public!
Chapter 16
I was standing under the shower at the gym, making best use of my membership and Jason’s insistence that I kept fit for him. Drying myself, I checked my mobile number. One message for me. I unlocked the screen and I did not recognise the number displayed. I stared at the text, not able to take it in. I re-read the fearful words again. Sitting down, I started to shake. The fingertips first and then the rest of me in a kind of osmotic effect.
: Little one. I’m going to find you and then I’m going to fuck you until you are dead. Remember my knife?
I knew the text was from him.
How did he get my number?
I took a few deep breaths and quickly got dressed. Gibson would be out in the entrance foyer waiting for me. Part of me wanted to delete the message, to try to ignore it, but Jason would flip his lid if he knew I had been threatened and not told him. He was going to go berserk anyway.
The moment I approached Gibson she could see I was upset about something. I must have looked white, the shock of what the message implied was starting to sink in - the bastard really wanted to hurt me.
“Miss Marshall, what’s wrong?” Her concern was genuine.
I held out my phone and she looked down at the message.
“Little one?” she queried.
“It’s what he called me.” I remembered how he would say it to me sweetly in bed.
Gibson passed my phone back to me. She took out her own mobile and dialled a speed dial number. “Chris, it is Emma. Miss Marshall has received a death threat on her mobile. It is from the target.... Yes... She’s OK. Obviously upset,” Gibson looked at me. “Right.... We’ll hold here then.”
She hung up. “We’re to wait here to be collected by car. No walking back.”
I nodded in agreement, I did not want to step outside. Memories of my earlier mistaken stalker lurked and I probably would see him everywhere. I sat in a chair by the unmanned reception desk while Gibson fetched me a glass of water. My hands shook as I sipped on it. An eternity of waiting and a Jaguar pulled up. Out stepped Martinson from the driver’s side and hurried in.
“You alright, Miss Marshall?” he crouched down next to me and smiled reassuringly. “Can I see the message?”
I handed him my mobile. He frowned when he read the message.
“Definitely from him?” he asked me.
I nodded, and then tried to speak, “Yes,” my mouse-like voice was barely audible. I blocked the images forming in my mind. They had to go, each and every one of them.
“Right. I’m going to keep the phone, in case he texts you again. I don’t want you to be further distressed. We’ll get you a new SIM card for it and transfer your contact numbers over. You’ll have to let your friends know about the number change.”
Crap. I could do without this. They might ask why my number was changing.
“How did he get my number?” I was not listed anywhere.
“We’ll find out. Don’t worry,” he patted my arm.
“Does Jason know about this?” I dreaded to think his reaction.
“Yes, I contacted him before I got here. He’s... concerned.”
That was probably putting it mildly, I could tell because Martinson’s usual impassive face had a small grimace on it. “I’m to take you back to the house.”
We were about to leave when my phone rang again, a call this time. Martinson looked at my mobile in his hands.
