Page 12 of Thief

She heard the Porsche’s engine return to life. Kat knew a hefty sum of money would be transferred into her bank account on Monday morning. Deal done! Another step away from poverty, despair and the mercy of a fate which had never looked kindly upon her.

She stepped into the road, rubbing the chill of the night air from her bare arms as an available cab appeared round the corner.

The early morning sky was glowing in the East, a brilliant wash of yellows and oranges blending with deep blue, black. It was Kat’s favourite time, and as she alighted outside her apartment block, she felt like she had London all to herself. She liked that thought immensely.

Pausing, she looked up at the exclusive high rise towering above her. Sleek and modern, the sharp lines of the blue opaque balconies circled the building like a row of bangles. Her gaze automatically reached upwards to the top floor and searched out her own balcony. Branches belonging to her olive tree swayed over the chrome and glass rails, and next to them sat her little wooden table and chair. Chair in the singular because Kat never had visitors in her apartment. No friends or family and a job which didn’t involve work colleagues, meant she existed in a very solitary world despite the hustle and bustle of living in a capital city.

There was just her in her life. Nobody else.

She pushed through revolving doors into the elegantly furnished lobby and spotted the security guard sleeping in his office; mouth open, head hanging down and his newspaper on the floor in a creased heap.

She bent to remove her heels and wiggled her toes as she set each foot onto the cool tiles. As she padded to the lift, she relished the soothing sensation that spread through her stockings onto the balls of her aching feet.

Once on the top floor, Kat stepped into her softly carpeted apartment, alert to her surroundings. It was her beautiful home, and she loved it, but a little bit of paranoia could be healthy for a girl in her line of work, especially with the connections she’d developed with the underworld.

Her attention darted around looking for any disturbance and listening for signs of life coming from within the four rooms. Had anyone broken in and moved things while she’d been out? She didn’t think so. But just the same, Kat didn’t drop her purse and shoes like most girls would. Instead, she ritualistically went through each room, checking cupboards and behind doors.

Finally satisfied there were no intruders, she ambled into her luxury cream and gold bathroom, reached into the double shower cubicle and spun the hot water onto full blast. She dropped her shoes outside the slightly ajar door so they landed on carpet as opposed to the hard tiles. She didn’t want her new shoes getting damp even if they had hurt like hell.

She stepped out of her dress for the second time that evening, twisted her hair into a wide clip on the top of her head and peeled off her underwear and stockings. Moving under the hot water, she let out a contented sigh as heat streamed down her naked body, and the hard little side jets pummelled the delicate flesh on her chest and shoulders. She needed to wash the evening away, wash away the scent of the man she’d had sex with.

She covered herself in expensive, sugar-sweet shower gel before raising her face to the water with her eyes tightly closed. The spray beat down on her cheeks and eyelids like a torrential summer rainstorm. It felt heavenly. With her lips parted, she let the water slide into her mouth, blew out a spray and lowered her head to treat the back of her neck to the same hydro massage.

There was a sudden hot pressure over her face. Hard, fast, unrelenting. Her heartbeat trebled and her eyes popped open. Petrified, she realised the tightness around her mouth belonged to a hand.

A big, male hand.

It was covering the entire bottom half of her face, clamping her jaw and making it impossible to scream out. Hell, breathing was hard.

Within a split second of feeling the hand, her entire body slammed into what felt like a brick wall and her naked back made contact with thin material covering a wide, solid mass which didn’t move a fraction on impact.

Frantically she tried to remember her karate training for this type of hold. She’d practiced it enough times in the dojo. Surely it would come to her, if only she could think for a second.

She ground her brain into gear and flung her head backwards in an attempt to head butt her attacker and deliver a blinding blow to send him reeling. At the same time, she rammed a sharp elbow into his concrete bulk, aiming for a vulnerable gap between the ribs.

But it was futile. His big arm surrounded her bare body and pinned her arms so tightly against her own torso she couldn’t get up any momentum.

She wriggled wildly, twisting and curling, trying to take advantage of the fact she was wet and slippery and difficult to hang on to. Still no good. No let up.

In vain, she tried to ram her foot down her assailant’s shin onto the top of his foot but succeeded only in painfully whacking her own heel against the lip of the shower cubicle. If she’d been able to, she would have cried out in agony.

“Easy, Pussy Cat!” A deep voice rumbled into her ear as sharp bristles scratched her head.

Kat tried to twist and turn even harder, utterly terrified and beside herself with anger. She was furious with her attacker and even madder with herself for getting into this position. She was desperate to get out of this bracing arm lock and searched frantically for a small break in resistance to pull her moves. Who was this monster attacking her in her own shower? How did he get in? And who would call her ‘Pussy Cat’?

“Hey! I said easy.” The voice was sterner this time and the grip on her whole body tightened. “I’ll give you back your face if you stop your damn wriggling.” He paused and pressed lips to her ear. “Do you promise not to scream if I let go?”

Kat stilled. She would play by this madman’s rules then attack the second the opportunity arose. It was clear she would have to use technique rather than muscle with this monster, brain rather than brawn.

She nodded and let her arms go limp.

The hand was removed, though it hovered an inch from her mouth in the still streaming water.

Kat spun her head. “Shit… John,” she gasped, catching a side view of his face. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Yeah, I bet you never thought you’d see me again, eh?” He smirked. Then his face shifted into a dark and dangerous expression. “I don’t want games, Kat, I want answers…fast.”

Kat turned to face him, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. She looked at his huge, soaking wet, fully clothed bulk standing in the middle of her shower. How the hell had he found out where she lived? And how had he got in? Damn that stupid old security guard, always bloody asleep on the job. Her mind whirred like a computer. He must know she’d taken his car. She’d used it to get herself halfway home. The only way he could possibly know where she lived was if he’d followed her.

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