The Hike(44)

‘I’m not going to be at home though, am I?’

He opened the bottom section of his rucksack and took out the vacuum-packed blanket. As far as hiking shit went, this item was probably the most useful. He hadn’t noticed until now, because he’d been too pumped on adrenaline to realise – but it was actually getting cold. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘You were paying attention.’ He grinned. ‘I, however, will no doubt have to put up with that nonsense. But I’m very good at ignoring people when it suits me. Just ask Ginny.’

He felt a small pang of something as he said her name. Like someone had pinged an elastic band against his chest. Poor old Ginny. Cat didn’t think she’d deserved such a gruesome fate. But what happened had happened. The job had been done.

The way he’d spun it to Cat was that Ginny would be zonked out on Valium before she slipped and fell to her death. She might’ve had a brief moment of panic as she tumbled off the slippery slope, not sure what was happening. But then she’d have hit her head on a tree stump, and it would be over quickly. Simple.

As it turned out, that wasn’t what happened at all. The first part, where Cat had pushed her, was similar to their initial plan. The problem was, because Cat had done it instinctively, he had no way of knowing how far Ginny would fall, and how long it would take her to die.

It was extreme bad luck that she’d landed on that ledge and winded herself so badly she couldn’t call out. It had looked like her arms were broken, and at least one leg – from the strange angles of her as she lay there watching him descend in his harness. He’d had to look away from her pleading eyes as he’d smashed her head with a rock before pushing her over the side.

Poor Cat. She’d have to live with the guilt of killing her baby sister.

Except she hadn’t. He had.

He watched Cat as she wrapped her own blanket around herself. Each movement making shadows dance around the room. He thought about the fact that she might be carrying a baby, and that it might not be his. Was he wrong to trust her? She was no fool. But he’d just have to give her the benefit of the doubt until they knew for sure. She was rummaging now for something else. She lifted her head, sensing him watching, and gave him a wary smile. ‘Have you got any more of those energy gels? I think we finished the sweets.’

He fished one out of his bag and handed it to her. Then he took out a bottle of water from the side compartment and took a long, slow drink.

It was her turn to stare at him, now. Her gaze was intense. She was quite something, this one. Despite everything, or maybe because of it: he was aroused.





Thirty-Seven

SATURDAY NIGHT

Tristan handed Cat the bottle of water and she drained it in one go. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was – but, thinking about it, it had been a while since either of them had eaten or drunk anything. They seemed to have made it to the house on adrenaline alone. Despite the state of the place, she was glad to be under cover and out of those woods. She hadn’t told Tristan just how creeped out she’d been, and she certainly wasn’t going to make any further complaints about their room for the night. She’d seen his face earlier when she’d commented without thinking.

‘I’m sorry about before. I was tense and angry. But I’m OK now.’ He’d moved his hand from where it had started, on her knee, to halfway up her thigh. His fingers were beginning to press and probe on the soft flesh inside, edging their way up towards her shorts. She laid a hand on top of his, gently pulling it away.

Was he seriously trying to get frisky with her right now? In this place? After what they’d done? Sure, they’d kissed a little, earlier. But that had been a kiss of desperation between two people whose emotions were running high. He shuffled closer to her, tried to bat her hand away, but she held firm.

‘Now? Seriously?’

He pouted and snatched his hand back. ‘Jesus, Cat. No need to be so coy. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.’ His playful pout turned into a sneer. ‘I don’t remember you telling me to stop before. In Ascot. In Reading. In any of those hotels in Canary Wharf that you seemed to be happy enough to turn up at during the day . . .’

She kept her voice low. ‘What’s gotten into you?’

Tristan sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry. Again. I guess I’m feeling a bit strange right now. Everything’s a bit surreal.’

‘You can say that again.’ She took his hand in hers, stroked her thumb over the side of his. ‘I think we’re both still adjusting to what’s happened. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re both still in shock. Even though we planned it, I still can’t quite take it in.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘We got carried away with the plans. I don’t think I ever really properly considered how it would feel.’

He lifted her chin with his other hand, looked into her eyes. She could see the light of one of the candles reflected in his dark pupils. ‘Everything is going to be fine. Trust me. We’re both going to be different people after this, but that’s no bad thing. For me, at least. I wasn’t a good person when I was with Ginny. I didn’t respect her.’ He looked away. ‘She deserved better.’

The lump in Cat’s throat was growing so big, she felt like it might choke her. She had to swallow hard to make it go away. She wasn’t sure she believed what he was saying anymore. About how he’d treated Ginny. He was talking in clichés, and his tone was cold.