Catch
an excerpt

‘The thing is,’ said David, spinning to lean his forearms against the counter, expensive coat folded over one elbow, ‘you can sum up Kate and Kate’s entire life in three little words: normal, dull, and mundane. Nothing exciting ever happens to Kate.’

Kate thought her brother's words were a little harsh, but true. There was never even so much as a whiff of excitement or danger in her life (well, if you discount the time a young boy reportedly stole a book from the store, but he hadn’t seemed armed and Kate had been in the staff room, blissfully unaware of such criminal activities), but that didn't bother her. She liked her life safe, silent, solitary. The way she saw it, everything had a special place and danger shook those comfortable niches; excitement disturbed her daily routines.

Then Neil Scott walked into her life, literally. At first she thought he was just another business man, plain and boring and only appealing in the sense of the suited man, but she soon decided that her first impression was wrong. Here was a man that oozed self-confidence, masculinity, and prowess. He moved like a great cat in the jungle: slowly, carefully, stealthily, but with every insurance of his own greatness. He was Sexy, with a capital 's'.

She should have known he would be trouble. Trouble, with a capital 't'. Kate suddenly found that not only could you be in the wrong place at the wrong time, you could also go on a date with the entirely wrong man. The kind of man your mother taught you to avoid.

Now Kate's on the run for her life, her quiet and safety shattered forever, and all she can hope is that they don't catch up with her...

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Then they were out of the kitchens, out of the building, out in the night. Kate gasped for breath as the crowd freed around her. She tripped along as Scott pulled her faster, out of the yard, onto the street.

‘Wait,’ she cried, half-sobbing. ‘Wait.’

‘No, we can’t.’ Scott’s voice was harsh, cold. ‘We have to move.’

‘The police,’ Kate continued to sob as Scott pulled her along the dark alley. ‘We should talk to the police. That man had a gun.’

‘Yes, he did. As you managed to tell the entire restaurant.’ He paused at the end of the alley – pausing so suddenly that Kate slammed into his back. She cried out, pressing a hand to her shoulder.

‘Dammit,’ breathed Scott as he waited in the shadows, examining the activity on the brightly-lit street beyond. There was a noise behind them and Kate looked over her shoulder to see other customers coming up the alley. Scott made an angry noise low in the back of his throat and dragged Kate out onto the street. She resisted momentarily, and then he pulled her arm tightly into the crook of his elbow and she knew she couldn’t get away.

‘Walk quickly,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But try to look casual.’

‘Where are you taking me?’ she hissed, hiccuping slightly.

‘Ideally, to my car,’ he replied, eyes darting around. ‘But it’s back at the hotel.’

‘So?’

‘If they found me so quickly, then they’re probably waiting back at the hotel. Damn.’

‘I don’t understand – what’s – ?’

Scott cut her off. ‘We’ve got no choice. Try and stay calm, and follow my lead. Understand?’

‘No, not really, I –’

‘There’s a good girl,’ said Scott, patting her hand and he pulled her back through another alley way between two darkened shops, doubling back to the other street. Kate glanced over her shoulder and saw the restaurant, police cars drawn up in front of it, their blue lights whirring.

‘The police! Let’s go –’

‘Look, dear, the hotel,’ said Scott and drew her firmly inside. As the warmth seeped in through her shock, through her alcohol-frenzy, she began to shiver. Looking around, she saw that it was a nice place: comfortable seats in plush maroon and picked out in burnt umber, thick curtains shutting out the horror on the street outside. Twinkling lights and a fake-fire gave the entrance a warm and friendly glow.

Scott changed as soon as he walked through the door – Kate felt it. He relaxed, shutting what had happened outside away, and he smiled at the woman behind the desk as she looked up. Carefully he positioned Kate in one of the low, rounded chairs and walked to the desk. Kate hesitated and then stood up, taking a few steps closer to Scott. She didn’t feel comfortable and she didn’t feel safe -- and she wanted to hear what Scott was saying.

Scott walked straight up to the desk, leaned one elbow against it, and bestowed a wide smile on the girl behind.

‘Hello,’ he said, in a thick American accent. He shoved his free hand into his trouser pocket, appearing completely casual as he surveyed the quiet hotel lobby. ‘Key please. Room 38.’

‘Of course sir,’ said the woman and she handed him the corresponding keycard. ‘Here you go, Mr. Galloway.’

‘Thanks.’ He leaned closer, as if imparting a secret, and winked. ‘Oh, and the broad’s coming with me, so I don’t want to be disturbed. D’you think you can make a note of that?’ He flicked his fingers towards her computer screen. ‘No room services or early morning wake-up call. I’ll ring if we need anything.’

‘Of course, Mr. Galloway. Have a good evening.’

‘Oh,’ said Scott with another broad wink. ‘I’m sure we will.’

Striding quickly, he took Kate by the elbow and ushered her through the door to the lift.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Making them think we’re going upstairs,’ he said in his low, English voice. ‘Be a good girl and come along nicely.’

He jabbed the button for the elevator and, smiling cheerfully at a passing couple, shifted his arm so it fell around Kate’s waist. She tensed and considered calling for help.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said when the pair had passed into the entrance hall. ‘I’m not really going to do anything.’

‘Who are you?’ she demanded, trying to pull out of his grasp. He let her go, pushing the elevator button again.

‘I told you: Scott. Neil Scott.’

‘Oh, I see,’ replied Kate sarcastically. ‘Well Mr. Bond, James Bond, what kind of game are we playing here?’

He fixed her with a cold, steady gaze. Kate felt an icy finger of dread slither into the bottom of her soul. The lift doors opened with a ping and a whoosh of air.

‘The deadliest. And you just got caught up in the middle of it, Miss Banks, Kate Banks.’

With that, he unceremoniously pushed her in front of him into the lift.

The doors closed behind them.

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Suddenly – Kate didn’t know what had caused it, but she was as aware of it as if a bright light had unexpectedly been shone in her eyes – suddenly Scott tensed. He went rigid in the chair. Kate looked over at him in surprise and by the dim light from the street lights, she made out that tell-tale twitch in his jaw muscle.

She opened her mouth to speak but saw his gaze was burning furiously into the back of the driver’s head and thought better of it. She knew what he was like with his name games and privacy; he probably wouldn’t appreciate her asking something in front of this stranger.

Then, to her utmost horror, he reached his right hand into the inside of his jacket and carefully drew his gun out of the halter. (How on earth, thought Kate, had he got that past security in both the Welsh and Swiss airports?) But somehow he had and now he deliberately held it against the back of the driver’s neck.

Kate drew in a shaky breath and pressed herself back into the chair. The driver tensed.

‘What happened to the real driver?’ Scott asked after a moment. His voice was the same dead, cold tone Kate had heard him use before when he was furious.

‘He was taken care of,’ said the driver in a jaunty voice, his accent even thicker now.

Kate saw Scott’s lips pull back from his teeth in a silent snarl and he cocked the gun. ‘Don’t mess with me,’ he said tersely. ‘I will not hesitate to pull the trigger and blow your brains all over the windscreen.’

Kate swallowed. Even the words were sickening enough, let alone the image they conjured up or even the real thing! She prayed it wouldn’t happen. She didn’t think she could stand to see it, whoever this man was, whatever he’d done.

The driver didn’t reply to Scott, perhaps sensing the Englishman’s sincerity.

Scott asked, ‘Who are you working for?’

‘I can’t tell you that,’ sneered the driver. Apparently the threat of a bullet through the brain wasn’t enough to rid him of his cocky attitude.

‘I disagree,’ said Scott smoothly, reaching up with his free hand to take a handful of the man’s hair and hold his head back to the gun. ‘I think you can tell me.’

The man gulped audibly. Kate felt like she should say something, but she didn’t know what. She just hoped that the driver kept on driving and didn’t decide to kill them all with one spin of the wheel.

‘If I tell you, he will kill me. Probably.’

‘If you don’t tell me, I will kill you. Definitely.’

The man still didn’t seem convinced. Kate wondered if he was trying to make time last until he got them to their destination. Scott clearly had the same thought: he gave a yank on the man’s hair and gritted out through clenched teeth, ‘You have until the count of three. You can count, can’t you? I tell you what, I’ll do it in French for you, just to make it easier to understand. Un.’

Kate started to panic. Scott was harsh at times, cruel even – he had to be, but surely dear God he wouldn’t murder this man right here, in front of her? Right here on the highway?

‘If you shoot me, you’ll die too,’ said the man, now breathing rather shallowly. ‘The car will go out of control and you won’t get to it in time with my body here.’

Although only Kate could see it, Scott grinned, and it was that wicked, malicious grin that she’d seen on him occasionally. The one that made her skin crawl.

‘Is that what you think?’ replied Scott. ‘I seem to think differently. I would pull this lever here, which would lay your seat down flat and get you out of the way. Or I could leap into the front there beside you. Deux.’

‘You wouldn’t do it,’ gasped the driver.

Scott leaned closer to him, and whispered, ‘Wouldn’t I?’

The driver shook his head as well as he could in Scott’s gasp. ‘You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t. How then would you know who I was from?’

Kate watched the interaction with wide eyes, finding it hard to breath herself.
She watched as Scott shifted his hold on his gun, his fingers curling tighter in the man’s dark hair.

He licked his lips. ‘Process of elimination.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Do you want to take that chance?’

The man made no response, no reply. Not even a half-shake of his head.

‘Trois.’

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