Zero kill, p.1
Zero Kill, page 1
Also by M.K. Hill
Two O’Clock Boy
It Was Her
One Bad Thing
Sasha Dawson Series
The Bad Place
The Woman in the Wood
ZERO KILL
M. K. Hill
An Aries book
www.headofzeus.com
First published in the UK in 2023 by Head of Zeus, part of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © M.K. Hill, 2023
The moral right of M.K. Hill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (HB): 9781804549193
ISBN (XTPB): 9781804549216
ISBN (E): 9781804549230
Cover design: Ben Prior
Head of Zeus
First Floor East
5–8 Hardwick Street
London EC1R 4RG
WWW.HEADOFZEUS.COM
For Laurence
Contents
Welcome Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Acknowledgements
About the Author
An Invitation from the Publisher
1
Date Night was going pretty well, until the clock struck midnight and everything went to shit.
Joel did his best to make it a night to remember. There’d be no kids to spoil the romantic mood, he told her. ‘I’m going to treat you like a queen.’
Which didn’t sound too bad to Elsa’s ears. He took her to a posh restaurant off the King’s Road, one of those trendy places you have to book months in advance, thinking she’d be impressed. What he didn’t know was that back in her old life, the one he had no idea about, Elsa was familiar with places like this, and it was just the kind of snooty chophouse that bored her senseless.
But Joel was like a puppy desperate to please, and kept telling her about the strings he pulled to get them in the door, so she offered up a couple of appreciative remarks to make him feel good. Despite the fact the menu was pretentious, the waiters walked around with their noses in the air, and there was nowhere to place her elbows on the table because there was cutlery everywhere.
Plus, the price of the wine was fucking ridiculous.
‘A small glass,’ Elsa told him when he implored her to choose anything she wanted. You didn’t reach the fitness levels of an elite athlete – 15 per cent body fat; VO2max of 40 per cent; optimal bone density and muscle mass – by drinking alcohol. But he insisted on buying a bottle with a long unpronounceable name and longer price tag, just to show off. It would be pathetic, really, if she didn’t find his eagerness to please such a turn-on.
Joel looked handsome and relaxed in a casual suit, the stiff cuffs of his pink shirt peeking jauntily at the sleeves, but then he liked to dress smartly. Elsa, who spent every day in sweat tops, leggings and trainers, felt uncomfortable and foolish in towering heels and a tight red dress that clenched her torso, from her broad shoulders to her flat stomach, before running out of fabric halfway down her long thighs. Thanks to the plunging neckline, she spent most of the night trying to cover her tits.
‘Just for the record.’ He watched her pluck at the elastic. ‘You look magnificent.’
‘I feel like an idiot.’ She eyed the other diners. ‘And everybody’s staring.’
He laughed. ‘Because you’re a goddess.’
When they had eaten – the food was delicious, but Elsa picked at it, as usual – she looked around the high-ceilinged room, still packed late on a Thursday night. People chatted loudly and brayed with laughter, pleased with themselves for being there. Champagne corks popped; sizzling dishes were delivered to tables. When she caught a fat guy across the room ogling her, her stare made him quickly look away.
‘We should have stayed home with a takeaway and a movie.’
‘We can do that any night. It’s healthy to get out occasionally, just the two of us.’ Joel lifted an eyebrow. ‘So I can treat the woman I love the way she deserves.’
‘You don’t have to lay it on thick, I was planning on fucking you tonight.’
She said it just as a waiter arrived at the table, making Joel blush. Elsa nodded at her empty glass. ‘I asked for sparkling water.’
‘I’m sorry, madam,’ said the waiter. ‘I’ll get it as soon as I can.’
She gave him a terse smile. ‘Now, please.’
He blinked. ‘Of course, madam.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Joel apologized as the guy left, and he shook his head ruefully at Elsa. ‘You could start a fight in an empty room.’
‘Ready when you are.’ She pouted. ‘I’m never going to be nicey-nicey.’
‘I love your sharp edges, and wouldn’t have you any other way.’
‘I told you already, I’ll let you have me tonight.’
‘But, also—’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Here it comes.’
‘The waiter is rushed off his feet and doing his best, so maybe… you could consider apologizing.’
She raised her glass, with its dribble of wine at the bottom. ‘Here’s to us.’
‘Now you’re just trying to shut me up.’ They clinked. ‘To my fierce and unpredictable girlfriend, who I love.’
‘To my oh-so predictable boyfriend.’
Joel’s fingers drummed the table anxiously. ‘There’s something I wanted to… there’s no easy way to…’
‘Just tell me.’ She’d had a dread feeling that something like this was going to happen, and Joel was making it all super awkward. He reached into his jacket and took out a ring. It was the most beautiful thing Elsa had ever seen, a thin band with a precise glittering point at its centre; a diamond, no doubt.
He slipped out of his chair and dropped to one knee, holding the ring above his head like an offering to the gods. ‘Elsa, will you do me—’
‘Get up,’ she hissed. ‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’
Slipping back into his chair, Joel said, ‘Elsa, will you marry me?’
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, because everyone was watching them.
Maybe he wasn’t The One, because she had only ever loved one man and had no plans ever to fall in love again, but she had to admit that he was kind and attentive – and it was undeniable that the kids adored him. Her relationship with her own parents was so poor that maybe a dull, dependable father figure was just what they needed in their lives. Joel felt like the guy to fill that elusive role.
He looked positively ill as he waited for her to answer, so she said, ‘I guess we could give it a go.’
‘So…’ Joel frowned. ‘Is that…?’
‘Sure.’ She shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘She said yes!’ Joel told the room, and there was a smattering of applause as he reached across the ocean of cutlery to slip the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.
Elsa admired the ring. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she admitted.
‘It’s eighteen carats,’ he told her proudly. ‘Only the best for you. Because I love you.’
She opened her mouth to reply, the word on the tip of her tongue – but nothing came out.
‘For a moment, I almost thought you were going to return the compliment.’ He leaned forward. ‘You know you want to.’
Elsa plonked down her glass. ‘It’s hard.’
‘Not if you mean it. If it’s what you feel, it’s the most natural thing in the world.’
‘Thank you.’ She presented her long fingers across the table, showing him the ring, and he tried to hide his disappointment with a smile.
‘We should go.’ Slipping one foot out of its shoe, she touched her toes t
‘Now you’re trying to distract me.’ His voice rose an octave as her toes pressed harder. ‘But it’s true I’ve gone off the idea of dessert.’
The moment the clock on the wall chimed midnight, Joel’s phone rang in his pocket.
‘Is it Stacey?’ Elsa asked, because it might be the babysitter. She cursed herself again for forgetting her phone. They’d been late getting here. Elsa had occasion to apply make-up approximately once every three years, and had spent such a long time trying to remember how to put it on her face that in the rush to leave she’d left her mobile at home. ‘Has something happened?’
Joel stared at the screen, then pulled back his chair. ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to take this.’
‘Not fair!’ She threw up her hands. ‘I don’t even have my phone to stare at when you’re gone.’
He smiled weakly as he walked towards the reception. The nature of his job – he was something dull in shipping – meant he received calls day and night.
The waiter hurried over with a bottle of sparkling water. They didn’t need it now. Elsa was about to shoo him away, but thought of what Joel had said earlier. When Elsa took his wrist, the man flinched, and she realized she’d grabbed him more forcefully than intended.
‘I just wanted to say…’ She wasn’t used to apologizing, but would prove Joel wrong and show him that she could be… pleasant. ‘I was abrupt with you earlier, rude, I guess. What I’m trying to say is…’ She blurted it out. ‘I suppose I’m sorry.’
Her apology wasn’t hugely convincing, even to her own ears, but she had done it and felt pretty good about herself.
The waiter pulled his wrist free. ‘Would you like anything else?’
‘Just the bill.’
Rolling the warm metal ring on her finger, Elsa felt her life was at a tipping point. She was going to marry; she would have a proper family. The idea of spending the rest of her life with the same person, day in, day out, felt strange, but Joel deserved more for his patience and persistence. She decided to get it over with: she’d tell him she loved him as soon as he got back. The little white lie would make him feel better, and maybe one day it might even come true.
She plucked at the elasticated fabric of the dress squeezed tightly across her stomach – it was like being crushed by some medieval torture machine – but it snapped back into place. Elsa couldn’t wait to get back home and throw the dress and heels in the wardrobe. The kids would be asleep, so she and Joel could party.
But he was taking an age.
When a woman walked past, Elsa asked, ‘What’s the time?’
‘It’s gone midnight.’
The fact that Joel went outside to take the call bothered her. Maybe something had happened at home and he didn’t want to worry her. Waiters bustled around the room, carrying dishes, pouring wine.
Catching the fat guy sneak another look, Elsa decided that if he did it one more time, she’d pour soup over his head.
Sick of waiting, she tossed the napkin from her lap, slipped her feet into the heels, and went to reception to see what the problem was.
Joel was turned away, his head lowered over the phone.
‘Hey,’ she asked. ‘What’s going on?’
When he turned, his face was wretched: sad, resigned.
‘Elsa,’ he whispered, ‘I’m so sorry.’
She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
And then he spun into the air, swinging one leg at dizzying speed to kick her viciously in the side of the head.
2
Joel kept coming, delivering blows all over her body.
Jumping and kicking, landing on the balls of his feet with the precision of a ballet dancer and leaping again; legs thrashing like pistons, smashing into her, sending her staggering back.
Punches, devastating chops – in her ribs and face, her shoulders and sides – made her stumble; each attack focused, targeted. He pressed forward relentlessly until she was pinned against a wall.
Shaken, bewildered, Elsa cringed under the tsunami of painful blows. ‘Wait! Stop! No!’
Her words were lost in the relentless attack. Her head slammed against the wall by a juddering punch; her mind fogged. She could barely see because of the hair in her eyes. Something warm and sticky was running down her face – blood! Pressed against the wall, there was no escape. She couldn’t move, let alone run, and her ankles kept bending in those fucking heels.
A sluggish thought came to her: He’s going to kill me.
Muscle memory kicking in, she began to defend herself. Lifting her arms to block Joel’s attacks, mirroring his lunges, trying to find a fluidity in her own movement, she let instinct take over – muscle slammed into muscle; bone crashed painfully against bone – then started probing for weaknesses, for a way to fight back.
Spinning away from the wall, Elsa brought her legs up hard, one after the other, flicking her feet to launch the shoes like missiles at his face. He swiped one away with his arm, ducked to avoid the other.
But it gave her time to vault the reception desk – the woman cowering behind it ran away screaming; Elsa was vaguely aware of pandemonium all around them – and drop into a crouch behind it, searching quickly for a weapon. And when Joel slid over the counter, arms already raised, she came up with a landline telephone, a heavy Bakelite thing that signified the restaurant’s retro class, and slammed it as hard as she could into his nose.
He jerked back, disorientated, blood exploding every which way across his face. Elsa grabbed his hair and smashed his head into the wall once, twice, three times, making plaster crack around it in a jagged halo. When his head lolled back, she wrapped the telephone cord around his neck and yanked.
‘Stop, Joel!’ She stood behind him, knee pressed into his lower spine, tightening the cord. Unable to breathe, lips glistening with blood, Joel’s mouth gaped. ‘Just stop! Talk to me!’
The more Joel’s fingers plucked frantically at the cord cutting into his throat, the more she pulled it taut.
‘I don’t want to hurt you!’ Elsa hissed, still unable to make sense of what was happening. She couldn’t comprehend the enormity of it; the insanity.
Joel wanted to kill her.
And then her anger surged, erupting quick and hot, burning her cheeks.
Only minutes ago, she’d almost said those three precious words. Had almost said, I love you. Offered them to him, to him, on a silver platter, and now look!
She’d allowed this man into her life, into her home, into her bed. She’d believed he was a dependable man who might prove a decent father to Harley and India.
She’d let him near her kids!
Just the thought of it made her instinctively tighten the cord. Joel’s face was turning purple; his eyes bulged in their sockets. Little ack ack sounds were coming from his mouth. It didn’t take long to make someone unconscious by strangling – less than a minute – but she needed him to explain.
‘Get away!’ she screamed when some idiot with a death wish came near, and then hissed into Joel’s ear, ‘I’m going to let you breathe, but let me down and I’ll snap your neck.’
Ack, he said. Ack ack.
Joel squirmed, not getting the message, and she twisted the cord tight; the plastic wire dug into her palms, the tendons in her long arms stretched taut. Ack ack. Joel’s eyes fluttered into his skull, and he went limp.
Alarmed, she slackened the cord – she needed information – what a Date Night this had turned out to be! – and fell for the oldest trick in the book.
His elbow pumped back into her gut and she doubled over, gasping. Joel let out a howling gasp as he scrabbled at his windpipe, untangling the cord, swinging the telephone around his head and launching it at her.
When she ducked, he came at her. The heel of his right hand snapped up beneath her chin, sending her careening over a food trolley. She hit the floor in a noisy clatter of greasy plates and dishes.
He lifted his leg to stomp on her head, heel first. She rolled, jumping to her feet, feeling all the old moves coming back, better late than never, and snatched up a metal tray, smashing it into the back of his head with a reverberating bong.
‘Stop!’ she shouted, but he kept coming.
Arms moving like pistons, chopping and pumping. Elsa blocked his attacks with the tray – his fists crashed against the metal, the sound like crashing cymbals, until it was so bent out of shape it could be worn as a hat – then with her bare arms and legs. Intercepting his strikes, soaking up the shrieking pain in lean muscle and bone. When his left arm went high, her right forearm met it; when his right leg whistled past her nose, she swung away, retreating into the dining area.
