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Krish.Shemissed him so much it ached.Thememory of their recent lovemaking replayed through her mind, and she had to stop for a minute to catch her breath (a bad idea in the present stinky situation).Shesqueezed her knees together to further the pleasant sensations swirling between her thighs.Whatwas he thinking right now?Washe leaning towards her or away?Shewasn’t sure how she’d survive if he chose a life without her.Betweenthe threat from the bride and the idea of losingKrish, the latter won as the scarier prospect.Lifewouldn’t be worth living without him, which sounded melodramatic even to her ears.Butit was also true.
Adoor slammed somewhere in the building, and she jumped.
‘Hello?’ the builder called from down the hall.
‘Geta grip,Francesca,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Inhere!’Shepoked her head out the door.
Themeeting with the builder was brief.Heagreed to do all the work nextTuesday, and it wouldn’t be as expensive as she’d thought.Result.Onemore thing ticked off her list.
Afterhe left, she threw a few more things into rubbish bags, but didn’t want to dawdle.Herlogical brain and her imagination were still playing tug of war over her current mortality risk.She’dreturn next week after the work was completed to give it a good scrubbing.
Nextweek…she tried not to dwell on it.Nextweek, she’d either be withKrishor she wouldn’t.Shehad to think positively.It’swhatKingRatwould expect.
Gatheringup the necks of the bags in her fists, she stepped towards the door and stopped.Someinstinct told her to be still.Herears picked up the distinctive whooshing sound of the front door swinging open, but no bang as it closed.Somebodymust be taking great pains to ensure it didn’t slam shut.Shefroze, heart picking up pace.
Theslow, measured clack of a man’s dress shoe echoed steadily up the stairs.Heel, toe.Heel, toe.Amoment later, another joined in, following close behind the first.
Sheswallowed hard.Twomen.Herskin crawled with electrified ants.
Atthe top of the stairs, they paused.
Francescastilled her breathing, scared to make even the faintest noise.
Thedoor to her office was ajar thanks to the missing locks.Withpainful slowness, she released her hold on the bin bags throttled in her sweaty fist.Thebrief static noise of the plastic settling crackled loud as a gunshot in the small room.
Secondslater, the two pairs of footsteps resumed, heading her way.
Again,Krish’sface swam before her eyes.Thedecision not to call him earlier, or at least tell him where she was going, struck her as the stupidest thing she’d ever done.Hewas herperson.Theone human she could count on.She’dnever really had a person before.Someonewho didn’t live inSpainor have their own family to worry about.Someonewho would come running if she needed him.
Sheneeded him now.
Theysaid that when you are about to die, your life flashes in front of your eyes.That’snot whatFrancescafound.Itwas the future that flashed in front of hers: the one she desperately wanted withKrish, but might never have.Ifshe got out of here alive, she was going to show him just how much she loved him.She’dsing it in the streets.Broadcastit on the radio.Spellit out in a field big enough that they could see it in space.Shewould prove to him that he could trust her.Nomore hiding.
Francescaset her mouth in a thin, determined line.Shemust survive.Shemust live so she could convinceKrishto choose her.Shewould fight.Thesegoons didn’t know who they were messing with.Shehad red spray paint and she wasn’t afraid to use it.
Shepulled the petite can out of her pocket and positioned her finger over the trigger.Whoeverwas coming down that hall, they’d better watch out.
Withfrustration, she eyed the cricket bat, which lay uselessly on the table a few paces away.Shecould lunge for it, if necessary.Buther first method of defence would have to be the spray.
Thefootsteps came to a sudden stop in front of her door.Shewas a few feet behind it.Theycouldn’t see her and she couldn’t see them.Throughthe narrow crack between the door’s long edge and the door frame, she glimpsed a flash of grey fabric, like a suit.Awhite hand at the end of a sleeve.
Hereyes widened.Thiswas real.Thiswas happening.
Shefixed an image ofKrishin her mind.
Bloodpounded in her ears.
Thedoor creaked as someone slowly pushed it open.Shestartled.
‘Weknow you’re in here,’ said a gruff voice.Easilya killer’s voice.
Theelement of surprise was on her side.Itwas now or never.
Screamingas loud as her lungs allowed, she jumped over the plastic bags and aimed her can in their direction.Asteady stream of foam shot from her hand like she wasSpiderMan.
‘Whatthe—?’ said the man in front, a short stocky guy with thinning, faded ginger hair and a beer belly.Hishand flailed in front of his face, trying to block her attack.Redfoam crisscrossed his rotund head.Withinmoments, he looked like a beetroot with legs.
Thesecond man yelled, ‘Stop!Police!’
