Page 101 of The Cottage in the Highlands

Instead of leading me into the alcove where his coffee machine and squashy seats awaited, Seth Gordon whirled round towards me and grabbed both my arms in a vice-like grip.

It took a few seconds for me to grasp what was happening before adrenalin kicked in. I began to struggle and wriggle, my shoulder bag crashing to the carpet and its contents spinning everywhere. For a slender man he had a powerful grip.

I let out a scream as I realised I was being lifted off my feet. My legs and feet lashed out, trying at first to land back on the carpet. When I realised I couldn’t do that, I aimed a series of blows and kicks to his shins. I felt like a cartoon character. I barely landed a blow against his legs; my feet lashed wildly in the air.

“Stop it, you stupid bitch!” he spat into my ear, dragging me backwards towards a fire exit door.

My nails clawed at him as I screamed and yelled again, the noise from my chest ragged and desperate. It sounded like the cries were coming from someone else and not me.

I managed to draw blood across his white knuckles, my nails digging into his skin.

“Ow! Spiteful little cow!”

Panic and bile rose up in my throat as the fire door banged open behind me, bouncing against our two struggling figures.

The empty stairwell loomed below, twisting down into nothing.

He gripped me tighter, before snatching one of my boots from my right foot and snapping off the heel. A dark thought lodged itself in my head.

Oh God. He was going to throw me down the stairs and make it look like an accident.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I squealed like a terrified animal. I couldn’t get any traction. Every time I tried to get my feet back onto the floor, Gordon would hoist me back up again. My stomach hurt with his fierce grip.

I threw my head back, jerking in Seth Gordon’s arms. “Let me go!”

“With pleasure,” he hissed into my ear.

My heart stopped. My breathing rasped in my chest like a snake.

The stairwell was closer now, spinning all the way to the bottom. The air trapped itself in my chest as I wriggled and squirmed, screaming louder, trying not to imagine my broken body lying at the bottom of the set of stairs.

I threw my head back again, trying to land a blow against Seth Gordon’s forehead, but he kept moving just out of reach. I pulled and clawed at his arms around my waist, digging my nails in harder.

Then I realised his arms, which had been locked around my waist, seemed to be loosening. His constricting, vicious grip was losing its strength all of a sudden.

He let out a weird groan, both his arms slithering away from around my crushed waist.

What’s happening? What’s he doing?

Panic gave way to relief and I let out a series of agonised sobs.

I gasped in more greedy amounts of air and staggered round.

It was like I was drunk, wobbling and weaving around, unable to straighten myself up.

I whirled to see Seth Gordon had now sunk to his knees, an odd look on his face.

What’s wrong with him? Why did he let me go?

I saw a flicker of movement behind him and blinked. I couldn’t take in what I was seeing.

It was Kerry. She was clutching a fire extinguisher, which she had wrenched off the other wall.

As I watched, open-mouthed and still gasping for breath, she gave Seth Gordon another direct thwack on the back between the shoulder blades with the extinguisher and he flopped forwards, spreadeagled before us like an exhausted starfish.

My mouth flopped open wider, unable to compute what I was seeing. “Kerry? What the hell…?”