Page 5 of The Author

Kind regards,

Tom Elliot

Senior Editor

Rathbourne Publishing House

I exhaled the breath of relief I had been holding onto before sending him a quick email back thanking him for putting my mind at ease.

I shook my head at the drama of it all before opening up my book. I’m sure it would all work out in the end.

Chapter 4

Kyle

I’m sure I didn’t look conspicuous wearing a cap and sunglasses parked out in front of Faye Saunders' house. I'd been holed up in a hotel for the last three nights. It took several threats to maim my agent before he got a hold of her full details. A woman who has made my life a living hell. I couldn’t understand why she has jumped from pathetic vanilla romance novels to horror.

She didn’t look bad in her bio photo. The bio itself was written as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. The lying, cheating, thieving little bitch. Her black hair and light blue eyes only made her more witch-like. Judging by how gaudy her small terraced house looked with all the cat ornaments and twinkling lights in her windows and garden, it only convinced me she was a witch.

I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. Three days and she hadn’t left her fucking house. I glared at her house again before looking around the street. It was quiet, and no one was around. I pulled my hoody up over my cap and took my sunglasses off. It was pitch black, and I needed to check her house out.

I cracked my knuckles before getting out of my car. I refused to waste any more of my time. It was almost two weeks since I sent my manuscript, and my book wasn’t going to be dismissed because this bitch somehow got to my work. For all I knew, she could have hired a hacker.

I swiftly walked towards the alleyway where I could access the back gardens. She can’t be a very well-paid author if she lives in a shitty little street like this. I got to the wooden door, and it was locked. I turned my phone light on to see it had a tiny coded lock on it. I kicked the wooden door several times.

“Fuck!”

I stormed back to the car.

Tomorrow, I will need to come back with some equipment and a torch.

???

I mulled to myself, looking at my basket. It looked like a criminal’s shopping spree. I had a hammer, crowbar, torch, scissors, batteries and some duct tape in case I damaged something that would need a quick fix. I was missing something.

Gloves.

There was no way I was leaving any evidence behind. I wanted her laptop and hard drive if I could find it.

I’d barely slept. All I could think of was what I would say and do to her when I was face to face with my dirty little thief. Nothing dimmed the rage I felt within me, no matter what I tried. I had blanked all calls and messages from my agent and editor.

They were all useless cunts.

I was going to deal with this issue myself.

???

It didn’t take me long to break the wooden door this time. The crowbar made it easy for me to open up access to the back of the houses. She was only two doors down, so I wouldn’t need to trawl through too many gardens. It was two a.m., and I was hoping everyone would be asleep. I put the torch on to see where I was going. I went through the first garden, and the house didn’t have any lights on.

I went into her garden and hoped she was dumb enough to keep the key in the door. Using duct tape, I sealed up the glass panel before using the hammer to smash it without needing to worry about the sound of broken glass.

I grinned maniacally after I stuck my hand in and felt the key in the door. I pulled it out and unlocked the back door.

Stupid bitch.

The lights were all out, so I used my torch to go around her house. There was no study or laptop downstairs. I slowly made my way up the dark staircase, cringing when the wood creaked beneath my weight with each step I took.

Go big or go home.

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