The Deadline Series Boxset Read online

  Deadline Series

  A Date to Die For

  And

  A Contest to Kill For

  Wendy Soliman

  Deadline Series Volumes 1 and 2

  A Date to Die For

  A Contest to Kill For

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2017

  Revised June 2017

  This e-Book boxset is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

  The Author – Wendy Soliman

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or give to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the expression permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  Alexi’s heels echoed on the boarded floor of her open-plan loft as she made a final check for rogue possessions. The space felt devoid of character now, awaiting someone else’s imprint. Outside, a spring drizzle was turning London monochrome, reflecting her own grey mood. She looked at her reflection, ghosted in the picture window against a backdrop of rain. Tall, scruffy today with the work veneer removed. Hair down, loose, chipped red nail polish, old jeans emphasising her figure. Still good, she had to say. But the boots were a bad choice on a day like this. Primark meets Jimmy Choo. Who was she trying to kid? Certainly not Patrick. Not anymore. She turned from the window and tottered downstairs on heels that threatened to slip from under her. At the flat’s front door she opened her case, swapped the boots for a pair of trainers and shoved the case’s lid down on the boots. Better. She took a final look around and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

  ‘Okay, Cosmo, we’ve had it with this place. Let’s hit the road, big guy.’

  Cosmo rubbed his head against her calf—a show of solidarity that Alexi interpreted as a sign of her irascible cat’s approval. Sometimes he could be surprisingly intuitive.

  In the underground car park Alexi stowed her case in the boot of her Mini and placed her computer bag behind the passenger seat, into which Cosmo had already installed himself. Alexi pulled the seatbelt across and fastened his leash to it. The police could be funny about unrestrained pets in vehicles; unenlightened as they were when it came to Cosmo’s idiosyncrasies. She couldn’t exactly blame them for that. There were cats, and then there was Cosmo, whose oddities she was still getting to grips with herself, and the last thing she needed was an altercation with the law. Cosmo, who had taken the slogan Be More Dog to heart, would probably jump in to defend himself, and her. Which meant there would be blood.

  Theirs; not hers or Cosmo’s.

  Alexi climbed into the driver’s seat, stowed her handbag in the footwell in front of Cosmo and turned the key in the ignition. Apprehension, anger and relief fought for supremacy as she pulled out into the flow of traffic on the Battersea Road and watched her old home grow smaller in her rear view mirror.

  Twenty minutes later they were on the Westway heading towards the M4, music blasting on the radio, the windscreen wipers on intermittent to counteract the light drizzle that continued to mirror Alexi’s mood. She automatically lifted her foot off the accelerator when she saw a warning sign for a speed camera, wondering what the point of the cameras was if motorists got advance warning. Drivers weren’t stupid enough to speed past them, were they? She rolled her eyes when a man in a Lamborghini overtook her in the fast lane. He was probably doing over a hundred. Perhaps some drivers were that stupid.

  ‘No prizes what you’re compensating for,’ she muttered.

  Cosmo opened one eye at the sound of her voice. Always in a hurry, Alexi put her foot down once she was clear of the danger zone, only to lift it again almost immediately.

  ‘You know what, Cosmo,’ she said. ‘We don’t actually have to be anywhere and we’re not late for anything. For the first time in living memory, I don’t have a deadline.’

  Cosmo’s ears twitched but he didn’t lift his head. Alexi smiled, envying Cosmo his simple, uncomplicated existence—if being a tiger disguised as a domestic cat counted as uncomplicated. She thought of an article she’d once written on ladyboys and figured perhaps Cosmo’s situation wasn’t so very different. Theirs was a blameless society, so it wasn’t Cosmo’s fault if he was screwed up over his identity, she thought, moving over to let a BMW speed past.

  Alexi felt a flash of optimism filter through her anger and insecurity. When had she last not had at least one assignment to keep her dashing from pillar to post? When had she last taken time for herself, rather than channelling every second into building a career that had fuelled her creative and competitive genes? A career that had absorbed her and kept her focused on rising to the top of a profession that was still very much an old boys’ club.

  She’d made it, too, or at least thought she had. She had won the respect of some of her fiercest critics through hard work and dedication, not resenting the sacrifices she’d had to make to reach that high water mark. But now it had all come crashing down in a spectacular ball of flames, and she was left with…well, with Cosmo and two bags of possessions. Not much to show for all that ambition.

  Perhaps it was time to reassess her priorities.

  She passed under the M25, noticing the queues of stalled traffic on the southbound carriageway above her. Some minor disaster she wasn’t part of, jamming the motorway again. Missed planes at Heathrow, business meetings postponed, family reunions delayed. So many stationary headlights in the drizzle. Once upon a time she might have been curious, but not anymore. She sighed, the sound of her mobile pulling her from her reverie. She moved to pick up the call without screening it. As a journalist she never allowed her phone to go unanswered. Then she remembered that she no longer was a journalist—at least not a gainfully employed one—and checked to see who wanted her.

  ‘Patrick. Fuck you,’ she muttered, pressing the reject button.

  She was well and truly over the two-faced prick, and if she never saw or spoke to him again it would be too soon. He still had his cushy number on the Sunday Sentinel, with plum additional duties—her duties. He claimed to love her, but he’d known what changes were in the offing weeks before the announcement was made and hadn’t tipped her the wink. That didn’t add up to love in Alexi’s book. It was more like self-interest dressed up in a hunky package. She blew air through her lips, thought about how in tune that hunky body had been with her own, and bashed the heel of her hand hard against the steering wheel. Cosmo opened an eye.

  ‘I should have known there was something wrong when you kept trying to bite his ankles,’ she told her cat.

  Cosmo shot her an I-told-you-so look and went back to sleep.

  Alexi hummed along with the radio as other cars sped past her, feeling calmer with every mile she put between herself and London. Driving slowly was cathartic. Who knew? The motorway rolled out through open countryside she’d never had time to look at before, and she decided to leave the busy road a couple of junctions short of her destination. The drizzle had stopped and a weak sun threatened to break through. The Berkshire fields undulated gently as she drove through small villages. She slowed to the speed limit on the road into Lambourn, a pretty town lying within a
fold of the chalk downs. A large sign welcomed her to the valley of the racehorse and asked her to drive carefully. The area was dotted with large houses and stables, the fields fenced with post-and-rail; barely a leaf out of place. She could almost smell the money. A few leggy horses grazed in one of the fields but most of them appeared unoccupied, as did the roads. It was peaceful, pristine and eerily quiet.

  ‘I hope you like fresh air and horses, Cosmo,’ she said as the cat finally stirred, sat up and took notice. ‘And remember what we talked about. No terrorising Cheryl’s dog. You’re probably bigger than Toby and no one likes a bully. No dashing across the street and spooking highly strung racehorses and absolutely no stalking about on the surfaces in the kitchen, looking for food. Are we clear?’

  Cosmo arched his back, sent her an appraising look through piercing hazel eyes and resettled himself.

  Alexi followed the directions issued by the disembodied voice from the satnav, feeling guilty that she needed guidance to her best friend’s door: a door she hadn’t passed through since Cheryl’s wedding ten years before. She’d been too busy building a career—a career with its foundations laid in sand. But in her hour of need, her neglected friend had shown willing to welcome her with open arms.

  It was humbling.

  She drove to Upper Lambourn, past a pub called the Malt Shovel, curious about the origins of its name. Ever the journalist, she figured that curiosity gave her a legitimate excuse to frequent the establishment and find out more about its history. Alexi turned left past the pub and took a right through brick gateposts that she still remembered, a discreet plaque advising her that she had reached Hopgood House, Boutique Hotel.

  The gardens on either side of the gravel drive looked pristine. What Alexi knew about gardening could be written on the back of a postage stamp but even she recognised a display of late daffodils and tulips. They waved their heads in welcome as she brought the car to a halt, reminding her that it was supposed to be spring. After the drizzle of London, a chilly breeze had sprung up, blowing away the blanket of cloud and showing the rural setting in its best light.

  The old manor house had a façade of honey-coloured stone, with what she thought was probably wisteria climbing against it, its pendulous purple flowers giving off a heady perfume that assailed her nostrils as she opened the car door. Alexi breathed the scent deeply into her lungs, thinking country air seemed sweeter than its city equivalent. It was so long since she set foot outside London, and she’d become inured to dank city smells. Hers was the only car in the visitors’ parking area, she noticed, hoping that wasn’t a bad omen for her friend’s business. Before she could decide, the front door burst open and Cheryl flew down the steps towards her, messy blonde curls dancing around her face. At five feet four, she was a good four inches shorter than Alexi, and had always struggled with her weight. Right now, it appeared as though she was losing that particular battle.

  ‘You’re here!’ she cried, launching herself into Alexi’s arms and almost knocking her from her feet. ‘And you look fantastic, damn you.’

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ Alexi replied, wondering how she had let something as inconsequential as work get in the way of their friendship. At first dubious about taking up Cheryl’s invitation, the warmth of her reception caused the years to fall away and she knew she had done the right thing. They were back at college again, giggling about nothing, drinking too much, staying out too late; always short of money but sharing everything they had. ‘Thanks for the invite.’

  ‘Where else would you go in your hour of need?’

  Alexi’s reunion with her old friend was interrupted by a series of indignant meows from inside Alexi’s Mini.

  ‘I’d best let him out before he frightens the horses,’ Alexi said.

  Cheryl peered into the car, only to be hissed at. It didn’t seem to faze her. ‘Wow, I’ve never seen such a huge cat.’

  ‘I did warn you,’ Alexi said, suspecting that Cheryl was being diplomatic. Since being adopted by Cosmo, Alexi had heard him described as anything from a white tiger to a racoon, or various combinations thereof. Everyone had an opinion. ‘Are you absolutely sure he’s welcome? I wish I could say the bad mood was all a big act, but it isn’t. He’s a miserable bastard, but he’s my miserable bastard.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.’

  Alexi wasn’t sure of any such thing but shrugged, crossed the fingers of one hand behind her back and released Cosmo’s leash with the other. Her cat indulged in another slow stretch, his eyes fixed speculatively upon Cheryl. Alexi tensed when Cheryl reached out a hand with the obvious intention of stroking his head. She waited for the explosion that didn’t come. Instead, Cosmo submitted to Cheryl’s ministrations and then regally stalked off into a nearby clump of bushes.

  ‘My God, he remembered his manners. That’s a first.’

  ‘He obviously has good taste. I mean, he invited himself to live with you.’ They watched his rigid tail disappear deeper into the bushes. ‘Won’t he get lost?’ Cheryl asked.

  ‘Not a chance.’ Alexi grabbed her handbag. ‘Don’t worry about Cosmo, he’ll find us. I want to hear all your news. How long is it since we last had a chance to catch up face-to-face?’

  Cheryl screwed up her nose. ‘When I came to London and stayed with you. That was more than two years ago. Come on, Drew just put the kettle on. Although the sun’s no doubt over the yardarm somewhere, and if your arrival doesn’t count as an excuse to break out the bubbly, then I don’t know what does. Oh shit!’ Cheryl clapped her free hand over her mouth. ‘There I go again, letting my tongue run away with me. I guess you’re not in a celebratory mood.’

  ‘I haven’t changed that much. I’m always in the mood for bubbly.’

  Cheryl laughed and linked her free arm through Alexi’s. ‘Glad to hear it.’

  Cheryl led the way to a large kitchen at the back of the house. It was a warm, homely room in which a bear of a man with huge hands was setting out tea things with remarkable delicacy. He saw Alexi, gave a whoop of delight and swept her clean off her feet.

  ‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said. ‘Cheryl’s been listening to the traffic news all day, convinced that every time there was mention of an accident, you had to be involved in it.’

  ‘Well, you have always been a bit of a reckless driver,’ Cheryl protested.

  ‘I got more responsible.’

  Cheryl stifled a disbelieving laugh. ‘So come on, tell us about it. What happened to you?’ she asked, her smile fading. ‘You’ve been working so hard to get where you are. I know you didn’t tell me everything in our emails so I don’t really understand why it all fell apart.’

  Nor did Alexi—at least not yet. All she knew was that the world hadn’t stopped turning and her life hadn’t come to an end. A little optimism had filtered into her brain during the drive down, and she could already see a few alternatives ahead.

  ‘Let the poor woman get some tea down her before you interrogate her, love,’ Drew said mildly.

  Cheryl shrugged. ‘I didn’t think a lot of that Patrick guy. You’re worth way better than someone that self-centred, but I did think he’d fight your corner for you.’

  ‘Yeah, well…oh shit!’

  A strangled howl from the back garden had Alexi leaping from her seat, already guessing the source of the noise. Sure enough, Cosmo was on the lawn, squaring up to Toby, Cheryl’s little terrier, who appeared to be scared witless.

  ‘Cosmo, what did I tell you?’ Alexi said severely, placing her hands on her hips.

  Cosmo backed down immediately, fixed Alexi with an innocent look, and gave the feline equivalent of a casual shrug. With his tail rigid, he approached a trembling Toby and rubbed his head against the dog’s body.

  ‘I’ll be damned,’ Drew said, shaking his head.

  ‘Very likely,’ his wife agreed, grinning. ‘Well, it seems they’ve worked the pecking order out and peace is restored. Come on, Lexi, come and have that tea, then we can legitim
ately crack open a bottle or six.’

  But Alexi didn’t move. Instead she stared, unable to conceal her horror, at the ugly row of prefabricated chalets occupying a big chunk of the manor’s large garden. They were on the far side, away from the windows in the main house, which is why she hadn’t seen them before. Even so, they were a travesty—a definite blot on the landscape.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Come on in and we’ll tell you,’ Cheryl said, grimacing.

  Cosmo preceded them through the door and meowed for food. Toby followed behind and barked in support.

  Drew guffawed. ‘They’re a bloody double act already.’

  Grinning, Alexi reached into her bag and found a pouch of dried cat food she’d had the presence of mind to keep close at hand. Cheryl took it from her and decanted the contents into a plastic bowl.

  ‘Right, girlfriend, come on then,’ Alexi said, as they sat around the scarred pine kitchen table drinking Earl Grey. ‘Spill.’

  ‘We just couldn’t get the bookings to keep the hotel afloat.’ It was Drew who answered her. ‘It’s all seasonal here. We rely on well-off people who want to rub shoulders with the elite of the racing world. Problem is, if the weather’s crap they abandon that idea and sod off to sunnier climes. There’s nothing we can do about the weather, unfortunately.’

  ‘Plus there’re a lot of cheaper hotels springing up in the area,’ Cheryl added.

  ‘Don’t you get owners and other high-end horsy types?’

  Drew shrugged. ‘Owners either stay with their trainers or just come in for the day.’

  ‘We get a lot of their business in the bar and restaurant,’ Cheryl said in a cheerful tone that sounded strained.

  ‘We have a prima donna chef who knows his own worth and causes almost as many problems for us as he solves,’ Drew said. ‘Has to be handled with kid oven-gloves. But at least he draws the punters in. Trainers who want to impress potential owners, stuff like that.’