Watching Her: A Gripping Thriller Novel With A Twist

by Emmy Ellis

  Don’t think about it. Me or him, that was the only option.

  Another man appeared to my right, dressed the same as the last. He ran towards the vehicle, rifle resting on his shoulder, his sights clearly on me.

  “Come on, Kolya, do your job,” I shouted, glancing into the rearview again.

  Two short phut-phut-phuts of sound, then Kolya went down in a split second.

  No!

  I stared at the man in front of me. He was down, too, an obscene slash of red desecrating the snow around him. They’d shot each other.

  Could I leave Kolya out here, hurt, and with no help? Were other men around, waiting for their chance to kill me? I pulled to a heart-pumping halt then reversed, going over the first dead man again. I reached Kolya and came to a stop, engine idling. I peered down at him from the driver’s-side window, my hot breaths fogging the glass. He was on his back, motionless, finger on the trigger, the rifle resting on the snow as if useless. Him lying there like that gave the impression he was useless.

  But he wasn’t, he’d been my friend, protector, and lover.

  I cuffed away the condensation in time to catch his wink.

  There was no blood that I could see. Did he have a protective vest on under that coat, too? Was that also why he’d been reluctant to take his coat off in the coffee shop?

  He beckoned with the fingers of his free hand, imperceptibly, for me to get out of the vehicle. So he had a plan? He knew how many men were around? Or were they all dead now? If that were the case, he’d get up, wouldn’t he? Or had he been shot and the blood was beneath him? Was I better off doing as he’d said, allowing him to take me to see if Guilia was all right instead of me doing it by myself?

  Thinking of Guilia had me shaking my head at him. I was going to see her no matter what, and messing around here, in danger, was a bloody stupid thing for me to be doing. I had to leave.

  Kolya widened his eyes, as though pleading, knowing what I had in mind.

  Fucking hell…

  I pushed the door open a bit. “What?” I whispered harshly.

  “Open the door wider,” he whispered back.

  His penetrative gaze spoke volumes. It was so compelling that I couldn’t look away.

  He clicked his tongue, as if pissed off that I hadn’t already obeyed his order. “Then get out of the car slowly. Make sure you hide behind the door—crouch. Do you understand?” That tongue click again. “Hurry!”

  The realisation of what he was really saying slotted into place. Someone else was still out there—out there behind the shroud of trees; otherwise, why ask me to crouch behind the door? If anyone were in the house or behind it, they could pick me off in a heartbeat, so he must have killed everyone in there.

  I did as he’d asked. I stared at him and swallowed, shakes taking over my body. I didn’t need that—I had to stay strong. My leg muscles protested at the awkward position, but that was the least of my worries.

  “Now, shut your eyes,” he whispered. “I want you to stay as calm as you can. There is one more man left.”

  I closed my eyes, my mouth going dry. “Why aren’t your men or whoever they are helping us? I mean, where the fuck are they?”

  “Dead.”

  “What?” My chest tightened. “And they’re meant to be the best your boss has?”

  “No, I am the best, which is why I am still here.”

  “And you know there’s only one man left, how?”

  “Someone, on our team, is watching on a monitor from elsewhere. I had a text message after I had killed those in the house. Three insurgents left, they said. One you just ran over, the other I shot, and the third…”

  I shuddered in fear, conscious that my feet and calves were visible to whomever might be on the other side of the door. They could shoot me in the foot, and there was no way I’d be able to run then.

  “If something happens to me,” he said quietly, “you must take my phone and get to The Zigarrengeschäft. Ask for Mr Winter. He will take you to Mr Summer.”

  Code names.

  “Okay.” I blew out a deep quivering breath, my lips wobbling.

  “Shh now, lyubov moya.”

  The dull thud of snow falling in a big sheet had me jumping. Someone was close, and they’d obviously disturbed it enough that it had fallen from tree branches. Then came the crunch of feet on snow, that unmistakable creak of it being compressed. It was eerie, a desolate noise that pronounced the end of days and me never seeing Guilia again.

  Get back in the car and run the other man over.

  I opened my eyes. Kolya seemed as though he was asleep, but I gathered he was staring down towards his feet at our approaching enemy. A whimper threatened to come out, and I stuffed my knuckles in my mouth, biting them to stop terror taking over completely. It could all end here—and it scared me shitless.

  The footsteps came closer. The man clearly believed Kolya was down and out. How Kolya breathed without sending out puffs of mist I didn’t know, but mine were fast and furious, I’m-here-come-and-get-me puffs of give-me-away whiteness.

  I held the air in my lungs.

  A whizzing sound, then Kolya raised his rifle and sat upright in one rapid motion. He pulled the trigger, and I stared at him wide-eyed, praying he’d hit the man. There was no telltale noise of a body thudding to the ground, though, and I released the air I’d been holding then snatched in a bigger breath and kept it inside again. Another whiz. Another fine spray of red mist that lingered in the air around Kolya.

  Oh shit. Oh shit…

  “Oomph!” Kolya rattled off a hail of bullets. His torso fell backwards, and he hit the ground hard. His head bounced up then thudded down again.

  His rifle landed by my feet. I could hold my breath no longer. I picked up the rifle and curled my finger around the trigger. Kolya coughed. I looked at him, heart aching, wishing things had been different, that he’d been the ‘best’ after all, like he’d claimed. He glared at the sky. Blood speckles dusted his face and bubbled out of his mouth, a trail dribbling down his jawline. His breathing came out in a harsh rasp, going in just the same way. He blinked slowly, gazing up at me. The urge for me to reach for him was strong—but not strong enough to make me do it; I wasn’t prepared to get killed. More blood seeped into the snow—he must have been shot in the neck?—and I watched in horror as he closed his eyes and those hideous rasps stopped.

  I pushed out of the crouch a bit and peered through the bottom of the window. The man staggered towards us, his rifle in a shooting position, aimed at Kolya. I backed into the car, keeping low, then rested the barrel of Kolya’s rifle in the opening between the door and the windscreen. The man jerked his rifle my way. I pulled the trigger of mine, and he flew off his feet, blood spraying from his chest and landing on the snow at the same time he landed. In shock, I sucked in quick, short breaths and let them out again just as quickly to stop a panic attack taking hold.

  The man remained where he was.

  Motionless while the snow stained crimson.

  I’d killed a man.

  Now I was the same as Sutton.

  About to drive away, I was stopped by the muffled sound of a text message alert going off.

  Kolya’s phone.

  I remembered what he’d said about The Zigarrengeschäft, Mr Winter and Mr Summer, so scrabbled out and onto the snow beside him. A patch of blood in the same shape as the St Andrew’s cross on the car’s keyring blared bright in the snow beside his face. For some reason it really got to me, and I had to hold back tears. This man had been willing to die for me, for Guilia, and I’d barely learnt much about him. I wished he’d found love in his lifetime, that when all this was over he could have settled down with a nice girl, but shit had happened, and there was nothing left for him now.

  I searched his pockets until I found the phone, feeling guilty as hell and sad as fuck that he was dead, but that was the price he’d been willing to pay when he’d signed up for this career. I couldn’t allow myself to be sentimental—at least
not right now. There was hopefully time enough for that later.

  I got in the car, shut the door, then locked myself in. I hunkered down to quickly read the message, just in case whoever was monitoring this awful situation had some instructions for me.

  More are coming. Do not use the vehicle. Go to The Zigarrengeschäft immediately.

  “Do not use the vehicle?” I muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to…?”

  I shoved the phone in my left pocket then all but leapt out of the Range Rover. There had to be a damn good reason for not using it, and I had to trust that the people directing me knew what they were doing. I wasn’t sure about obeying them by going to The Zigarrengeschäft, though—my first port of call was the school. Guilia was my priority.

  I clambered out of the car and made my way towards the forest to my left. If I stayed close to the tree line, I could not only keep an eye on the road leading to the house but also navigate to the school better.

  Once in the relative safety of the shadows, I got out the burner Sutton had given me. I jogged and managed to tap out a text message to him.

  Is Guilia okay? Men came. Kolya dead. I’m on foot. On way to school.

  His reply came almost immediately.

  Shit. Guilia fine. Meet me opposite the school. I can’t leave to come and get you.

  I was glad he’d said that. Guilia’s safety was his main priority. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  I sent another message.

  See you soon.

  I shoved the phone in my right pocket, glanced around to make sure no one was following me or hiding, then ran faster. The thought of maybe seeing Guilia spurred me on. Her play break would be over by now, but Sutton might have such good intel that he’d know where her classroom was. Maybe we could look through the window at her.

  I prayed to see her and hoped that whatever god was up there, He found it in His heart to listen to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I understood why my assailants had worn black now that I was scurrying through the gloom of the forest. About twenty feet into the cover of the trees that ran parallel with the road, the light was dark as night, with hardly any brightness reflecting off the deep snow—black made them invisible.

  I stumbled. Gripped a splintery tree trunk to stop myself from toppling over, then carried on. The snow was nearly to my knees here, my tracks easy to spot, but there was nothing I could do about that except get as far away from them as possible.

  I dashed a tear away. Was it from the cold or my grief for Kolya? I didn’t know and didn’t have time to examine the reason for its presence.

  Guilia.

  My lungs were on fire, the cold air burning through them. I wished I’d taken advantage of all of those fancy hotel gyms so this trek wasn’t such a struggle. But then what could have prepared me for rushing through an Alpine forest in the middle of winter being chased by mad men?

  On and on I went, my limbs aching, my mind a jumble of emotions—fear, despair, determination, love, hate.

  Pausing to catch my breath, I glanced over my shoulder and pushed my hair from my sweat-damp brow.

  I froze.

  An engine. A car. The Range Rover?

  Shit. Who the hell was in it, and where were they going?

  I scooted another ten paces into the shadows then continued on my downhill journey with renewed vigour. They’d failed to get me, so it would be Guilia they’d be after now. She’d be as good a tool as any to get to my father.

  And I couldn’t let that happen.

  Ignoring the cold-air needles stabbing at my throat and the cramps in my belly, I raced on. I lost my footing once and landed facedown in a drift. Kolya’s phone flew from my pocket and crashed against a trunk. Instantly wrecked. The pieces had scattered.

  “Shit.” But what use was it to me now anyway? It had been for contacting him, and he was…

  I was moving again before I’d even brushed the snow from my nose.

  I had to keep going.

  I could do this.

  The sound of the engine grew louder. I sensed the vehicle gaining on me.

  But the forest was my friend, my new guardian in these hills, and I was well hidden from the road.

  The crunch of tyres on cold ground echoed through the forest.

  I stopped and flattened myself behind a fat tree that had pale-green lichen hugging its bark. In the distance was the road, the blue sky highlighting it like a white river.

  The Range Rover tore past.

  I held my breath.

  One man. In the driver’s seat.

  One man. In the back seat.

  Where the hell had they come from? Kolya had said there were no more men. He’d shot the last one. How could he have been so wrong?

  But the text message said there were more…

  I couldn’t and wouldn’t let them to get to my daughter.

  Once again I pressed on.

  Should I go to the school? Maybe it would be more sensible to go to The Zigarrengeschäft and ask for Mr Winter and Mr Summer.

  I didn’t know. I couldn’t think straight. What was the best thing to do?

  And how much farther could the village be?

  As I thought that, the trees thinned in the distance, and a wooden fence, two bars and stumpy posts, about four feet high, came into sight. Beyond that, rooftops.

  I was nearing the village. My journey was coming to an end.

  Soon I’d be there, at the school.

  There. That was where I was going. My mother’s instinct had made the decision for me.

  But would I be there soon enough?

  I reached the fence. Gripped it and leant over the top bar. My earlier coffee swirled up my gullet and sloshed through my throat, splattering the snow milky then melting into the ground.

  Dragging the back of my hand over my lips, I scaled the fence.

  I spotted a path, well-trodden by the looks of it, and headed down into the village. I took to it, relieved to no longer be wading through snow. My thighs were on fire. My knees ached. I ignored it all.

  The path wended past a wooden house with a small balcony, its windowsills piled high with untouched snow. Beyond that was a garage with a 4x4 sitting outside, its windscreen thick with ice and a drift collecting over its rear bumper.

  Again I glanced back, worried that now I was out in the open I’d been spotted. These men were enigmas, they appeared from nowhere. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel safe again.

  I lost my footing on a frozen puddle but stayed upright by windmilling my arms. I regained my balance, and a signpost caught my attention.

  Zentrum.

  Center. Good. That was where the school was, and Sutton.

  And, most likely, the Range Rover and the two men who had now become my greatest enemies.

  I sped up, wondering at how terror had given me the energy to keep moving, and was soon rewarded when the back of the school came into view. Its large terracotta-tiled roof was devoid of snow, and its railings loomed before me as I raced towards it.

  And then it was as if everything in my body stopped working. Brilliant red shards of fear slashed through my brain.

  The Range Rover pulled up outside the school, adjacent to a gate that didn’t appear to be anywhere near strong enough to keep out men with murderous intentions.

  Reaching for the burner phone, I called Sutton’s number, all the while searching for him amongst the parked cars and gardens of the local houses. Surely he’d seen the huge black vehicle arrive.

  Nothing. No Sutton.

  Why the hell was he at the front of the school?

  The danger was at the back. Where I was.

  The dull sound of the ringtone blasted into my ear, and I clenched my teeth.

  “Answer the fucking phone,” I muttered, gripping it so tight I was surprised it didn’t crack. “For crying out loud, Sutton. Answer.”

  But he didn’t. It just rang and rang.

  Angrily, I ended the call then brought up the text
messages so I could send one.

  Get to the back of the school. Now!

  I shoved it into my pocket, pissed off with him. How come he wasn’t where he needed to be? Between him and Kolya, I was beginning to wonder about their bloody personal protection qualifications.

  Had they flunked that course at spy school?

  Sticking close to a high white wall that circled a large chalet-style house, I headed towards the Range Rover. I had no idea why, or what I would do when I got there. Would I saunter past them and go into the school? Grab my daughter and run—which was my most basic instinct?

  Hell no. That was the last thing I should do. Where would I go? What would I say to the teachers?

  So why was I still walking this way, in plain view, when all along I’d been hiding? It was mechanical, one foot in front of the other, as if my legs had taken on a will of their own.

  I glanced around, again wondering where the fuck Sutton was. I could really do with him and his gun to take out the two pieces of shit who were waiting to make their move.

  Would they barge into the school and kidnap her?

  Or were they patient enough to wait until next break? The end of the school day? And take her then?

  To my horror, the back door of the Range Rover opened.

  Still I kept walking, in the middle of the road now.

  A tall man, with thick stubble and a black beanie and puffy coat, stepped out. He stamped his feet on the ground and patted his side as though checking his weapon was there.

  No.

  I sped up. Heat crept over my skin. My back itched, and my scalp tingled.

  It was clear their intention was to just go in and snatch her. Guilia’s teachers would be no match for these mad men.

  The driver’s door opened, and another figure appeared. This one had a hood pulled up and his face partially hidden. I wondered if he was the other man from the coffee shop.