Ice Cold (Van McCann AU)

Part 8

"Kitchen... now..." he ordered, flicking the barrel of the gun in that direction.

I didn't hesitate, walking towards him and then slipping past him into the kitchen, already starting to mentally map out where everything was that could be used as a weapon. My heart sank as I moved further into the room and saw a pile of objects over the far side on the counter top. My gun was there, together with every sharp implement from the kitchen. He'd been thorough alright.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind," came his voice from behind me. "I took the liberty of making myself at home."

Van sauntered into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table, and I took a place as far away from him as I could, leaning against the cabinets, eyeing him warily, my heart hammering. He fixed me with an even stare as he spoke.

"I'm gonna need the names and details of all the agents currently operating undercover. And you're gonna tell me... if you know what's good for you."

Fuck. I tried to swallow but my throat felt tight, constricted. I gulped a gasp of air instead, let out a shaky exhale. But I didn't do as he demanded. I just looked back at him, maintaining his gaze, playing for time whilst I tried to fathom a way out of this seemingly hopeless situation.

His brow raised slightly, it was a look that asked 'are you defying me?' Well yes, I was. As frightened as I was I wasn't going to back down. Giving away this information was as good as signing my colleagues' death warrants.

He sighed, placing his gun down on the table. "You've got a lot to learn darlin'... but that's okay. We've got all night. Be a good girl and do as you're told though, yeah? Make it easier on yourself."

He reached forward, picking up his packet of cigarettes. He slipped one out and placed it between his lips, lighting up.

"And if I don't?"

I saw a little spark of something dance in his eyes at my resistance. He was enjoying this. "You really wanna find out? I wouldn't advise it."

"If you think I'm just gonna hand that information over willingly, you're crazier than I thought."

He inhaled deeply, eyes on me, and his tone chilled me when he spoke. "I didn't say anything about willingly did I? Let's just say I have... certain ways of making people talk."

My thoughts immediately went to the interrogation crime scene photos I'd witnessed recently and a tiny whimper escaped me at the suddenly reality of it all. I cursed inwardly at my obvious display of fear, clearing my throat and straightening myself where I stood, trying to stand tall.

"Well you may as well just kill me now, because I'm not talking."

Van's lips curled into a smile around his cigarette. "Oh you'll talk sweetheart... they all do... eventually."

Then I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye on the draining board next to me. A wine bottle corkscrew. So he hadn't been that thorough after all. I let my eyes linger only for a split second before they went back to him. I could reach over and grasp it in a second but I couldn't be seen. I'd have to get him to come to me, then when he was close I could reach over and grab it whilst he was distracted. Plunge it into his neck. The thought horrified me but I knew I had to do this. It was kill or be killed. I couldn't let that moment of losing my head back in Amsterdam divert from the fact that I was fighting for my life here. I had to do whatever it took.

"Maybe we can make some kind of deal..." The words tumbled out of me, desperate sounding.

This amused him, and a little laugh escaped him as he tipped his head back and blew out a plume of smoke. He stubbed out his cigarette straight on the surface of the table and reclined himself in the chair, regarding me with those cold eyes.

"So... tell me. What on earth do you have to offer me in this so-called deal?"

The last word was emphasised in a sarcastic tone, as if to suggest I had nothing worth offering. And maybe I didn't. I was pinning all of my hopes on exploiting a weakness in him which might not even exist. But I had to try.

I took a few deep breaths to try and calm myself but my heart still pounded and my palms felt slick with perspiration. I surreptitiously wiped them on the sides of my dress before I slipped out of my jacket and reached around behind my back and up, locating the zip of my dress and pulling it down slowly, keeping my eyes on Van the whole time.

He stared right back at me, unreadable, not a shred of emotion showing on his face. My heart-rate increased and my gut squirmed with uneasiness. Maybe I'd got this all wrong.

The zip was completely open now and my dress started to slip from my shoulders. I suddenly panicked, hands shooting up to stop it, sure now that my feeble attempt to bargain with Van was all in vain. I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Don't stop..."

I looked up. He was sitting forward now, no longer displaying his laidback brand of menace. This was something more urgent, darker. He looked poised and ready to pounce. His eyes were still cold but the ice was thawing.

"I said don't stop."

I suddenly realised how quiet it was in the kitchen, making my now ragged breathing seem all the more noticeable. Uncertainty gripped me, paralysing me momentarily.

"Come on Lyla... I'm not a patient man."

Van's stare was wholly predatory now, and apprehension coursed through me. Nevertheless I lowered my hands and the material of my dress slipped down, revealing my lace bra.

"Keep going..." Van urged, indicating with a nod of his head.

I looked down then, relieved at the respite from his gaze, but I could still feel his eyes burning into me as I began to peel the skin-tight dress over my hips and down my legs where it pooled on the floor. I stepped out of my heels, kicking the dress to one side, still keeping my head down.

There was silence and it seemed to drag. What was he doing? Inspecting the goods? And what was he thinking? I daren't look, afraid of what I might see in those eyes.

"Is this... what you're offering then?" His voice was low with no hint of the mocking tone that I was expecting.

Hope ignited in me. "Yes..." I breathed.

I started to inch myself slowly along the counter top, my hands behind me, until I felt the smooth metal of the draining board directly behind me. My fingers groped blindly until they touched the wooden handle of the corkscrew. It skittered away from my grasp just as I heard movement as Van rose up from his seat.

I still didn't look up, eyes fixed on the floor, hearing him approaching until I saw his boots enter my field of vision. He came to a stop a foot from me, and I noted he was holding his gun as I raised my head slightly.

"Are you frightened of me?"

The small shivers that wracked me must have given him his answer but I pulled a sliver of boldness from somewhere, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

"My whole life I've been up against men like you. So no, I'm not frightened."

He raised an eyebrow at my comment, nodded slowly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You should be. This isn't the movies you know. No one's gonna burst in and rescue you. This is reality... and in this reality the bad guy wins. And I'm bad Lyla... real bad. Straight out of your fucking nightmares. You don't know what you're getting yourself into here."

He moved forward again, and I felt the unrelenting surface of the counter-top press into my back. My fingers reached again, coming into contact with nothing.

My heart was thudding now, so strong I felt like it was probably visible under my skin. One last try.

Come on Lyla! It's not going to end tonight. Not like this.

I pushed my hand back as far as I could and my fingers finally came into contact with the corkscrew and quickly closed around it. It was all I could do to not show any kind of emotion at this little triumph, I just looked back at Van, my mind whirring, my body poised.

It was now or never.

AN: Sorry for all the cliff-hangers!!! 😆
I'll try and update as soon as I can...