Layers Off (Layers Trilogy)

by Silks, Lacey

  Layers Off

  by Lacey Silks

  MyLit Publishing

  Layers Off © Lacey Silks 2014

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains sexually explicit scenes which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ISBN-978-1-927715-09-3

  She’s gone through hell and back.

  He’s kept a secret that could send here there again.

  And they’re trying to find their way to each other.

  Rescued by the man she loves, Kendra Knight struggles to recover from a month-long captivity. Memories of her imprisonment as a sex slave haunt her as she battles withdrawal from drug addiction and fights to put a dreadful past behind her. With the help of her new friends, Allie and Laura, Kendra begins to question who she is, and Julian Cross’s true intentions for her future.

  Julian Cross, owner of a top investigations firm, has kept a secret from the woman he loves since the day he met Kendra. He watched her grow from a teen to a woman and fall in love with his brother Tristan, only to be broken into pieces in the end. Now, he vows to stand by her until she’s well, so he can tell her the dismal truth about her past.

  Will the truth finally set Kendra free or send her back to the drug-infused pit of hell?

  Be the first to know! Click here to be informed about new releases and future discounts.

  CONTENTS

  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

  About the Author

  More work by Lacey Silks

  Connect with Lacey online

  CHAPTER 1

  Death was my only escape. I wouldn’t give up on the Grim Reaper until I could taste earth in my mouth. I didn’t want to go on, and I prayed for darkness to take me away. Inside, I was broken into pieces – every ounce of my being shattered like tempered glass. Yet here I was, alive, wishing the doctors and everyone else would stop trying to put me back together, because I was convinced the task was impossible. At least not until I remembered my entire past. Not until those unanswered questions around my parents’ death were no longer a mystery. That shadow over my hazy memories needed some sun. But for now, I chose to grasp at the chance to forget my miserable life in any way I could, and death was the clearest answer to accomplish that.

  The corner of the room had been my safe zone for the past six days. My back hugged the little nook where the two wall sides joined. With my knees pulled up to my chest I held my arms around them, squeezing to ensure my whole body wouldn’t leave the safe perimeter I’d imagined. At least I thought I’d imagined it; it couldn’t be real, could it? Since Allie had found me at the hotel, the line between reality and make-believe was blurred most of the time. Drugs still cruised through my veins like a virus, fusing in the middle of my brain. They’d fed them to me like candy. My arms were showered with bruised patches the needles had left. Now the oval spots were turning green – a bit more pleasant than purple, at least.

  At times I was back in that dark room in which I’d been held captive, listening to the clatter of unlocking chains, screaming women, and crying girls: their wails still rang in my ears. But once the narcotics made their rounds to each cell, the skin-cringing sobs stopped. The prisoners either passed out on the floor or were too stoned to know how to let their voices be heard. Those times I stayed in my corner, quiet, pretending to sleep; praying they wouldn’t pry my mouth open to feed me the drugs. They’d sneaked enough into my body with the little food I got to eat.

  Once it quieted, only a faint hum of the flowing water outside remained. We had to be close to a river. But I didn’t exactly know where. Each time they prepared us for a job, our eyes would be covered.

  I fought against the need to sleep that month. In my stoned state, I was haunted by nightmares. Each dream seemed like a forgotten memory of someone being shot: the gun held tightly in my hands; blood leaking from the little spot in his back. He turned to look me dead in the eyes. There was something familiar about those dark grey eyes, yet I couldn’t identify them.

  In my cell, moisture flowed down the earthen walls. The space resembled a medieval dungeon. Sometimes I thought I’d stepped into a time machine, but after a while, I knew it was the hallucinogens I’d been given. Luckily, I’d managed to hold on to a piece of my past to realize I hadn’t been a whore my entire life. At my lowest, my memories drifted to a happier time, full of deep laughter, fresh smells, and carelessness – but even those were becoming scarce. I knew I had days if not hours left in me. And if I hadn’t been saved, I’d be dead – such a wishful thought at the moment.

  Right now my body shook. The trembles returned when I thought back to my month-long imprisonment by the lords of the sex trade. Jitters of fear and hopelessness embodied me. It was all too much. I didn’t know whether I could go on. I didn’t want to. As much as my body needed some kind of powdered boost, I hoped the pain of withdrawal could kill me. Even if I had drugs, I wouldn’t take them. I needed the feel of my aching muscles and nearly breaking bones. If I concentrated on my torture now, the horrific memories dulled. Each minute that passed felt too long. I could relive what had happened to me in half that time, and it hurt too much. But I had brought it all on myself. In that tiny cell, abandoned once again, I wondered whether everyone had forgotten about me. I wouldn’t blame them if they had. I deserved it. After all, I’d almost killed the man I thought I loved, and gotten my best friend buried six feet underground.

  My jaw tightened as pressure built in my lungs. Cold and fear surrounded me once again. I weaved my fingers into my tangled hair, pulling on it as hard as I could. The pain had to make it all go away. If I thought any longer about the thirty days stolen from my life, I’d crumble and never get up, so I pulled as hard as I could until auburn clumps remained in my clenched hands.

  Yes, the throb on my scalp helped. Who the fuck would care how I looked in my coffin? Would anyone even show up to my funeral?

  And then the warmth of strong arms eased everything. I remembered the same hold from a week ago, when Allie Green risked her life to save me, and then Julian Cross answered my call and came running i
nto the alley. Since the moment he embraced me in his arms that night, Julian’s strength had never truly let go. His caring grip around me eased the shakes. He smoothed his cheek against mine, holding my hair-filled hands between his, pressing his warm lips against my temple and forehead, cooing soothing noises into my ear. The smell of his freshness filled me and I leaned further into him, wondering whether it was just a dream. I prayed that by some miracle, I could relish in his comfort for a bit longer, because I didn’t want my gruesome memories to transfer to the present. Could this be true? Was it really over? And if so, how could his warm body be enough to tie me to life?

  I opened my eyes… and there he was, holding me in the safety of my corner; except I wasn’t exactly in my corner. Julian sat behind me with his legs and arms completely wrapped around my body, my back against his bare chest, his cheek pressing to mine. It was still dark outside. I must have woken him.

  “Shh, you’re safe Kendra. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  He repeated those words each time I had an episode. His voice and body always brought me back to the beautiful bedroom in his house. Julian slept on the mattress by the door. He wouldn’t let me leave on my own anywhere, accompanied me to the bathroom, and helped me get dressed when I just stood there, unable to move. Instead of dumping me at a clinic with doctors in white ankle-long aprons, Julian insisted on taking me home, and had cared for me ever since.

  I didn’t deserve his compassion or the time he took away from his work. But he said he’d never leave me again. He would never allow another man to steal me from him. Sometimes I wondered whether he was referring to his brother Tristan or to Martinez, the scum who kidnapped me and whom I killed.

  A regret I’d held onto for years loomed near my heart. I wanted to tell Julian the truth, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

  The nurse told Julian I could be suicidal; which I was. After all, would you want to live if you’d been raped by dozens of men, hit across your face if you were too loud, assaulted in ways no one could ever dream of? I didn’t think I could go on. How do you live after something like that? How do you put the pieces of your shattered body and soul together when you can’t even distinguish your true past from a dream?

  But as he held me right there on the floor, the hope I’d once lost grew. His warm skin infused mine with caresses I hadn’t imagined I’d ever have again. The soft lips I’d wanted on mine for years kissed my forehead, cheeks, and shoulders. The gentle touch of Julian’s wide palms around my hands soothed the trembles as my body completely eased into his, letting him hold me like no one ever had. These second long moments were enough to stir new dreams of a possible life. They were enough to pull me out from another relapse.

  CHAPTER 2

  The smell of chamomile tea and breakfast woke me, but I wasn’t hungry. Well, perhaps I was, but giving into food was like admitting I deserved to eat. The struggle to live tore me apart with every opportunity I could find to deny myself a necessity. My body still refused to cooperate. At first my stomach had rejected food, and they’d fed me through a tube. I’d even soiled my sheets in the hopes they’d have enough of me, but he never left. He always stayed by my side. And in the last two days, with Julian’s help, I managed to get a few bites into me at a time.

  “Good morning,” Julian’s cautious smile greeted me. I wanted to smile back and reply to him, but my lips had shut down completely. I hadn’t said anything to anyone since they’d rescued me. I didn’t know what to say. Before I was kidnapped, I swear I’d been possessed by a bitch. Some ghost must have really had it in for me. Or perhaps it was just a pretext for treating others like shit. I’d built this wall around me that no one could get through. It was a defense mechanism I’d used since high school; but I didn’t want that anymore, and I carefully measured what I should say first. Whom to thank, whom to apologize to; the first words out of my mouth were critical. They had to express my gratitude and regret and ask for forgiveness at the same time.

  But I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t know how to communicate what I wanted to truly say from my heart without sounding like the bitch that I used to be before I got into trouble. And pretending that someone had made me be that nasty was just an excuse. So I stayed quiet, hoping something would finally click in that drug-fried brain of mine. Did Julian think I was mentally ill? He probably did, and I couldn’t blame him. But incapacitated was still better than a whore and slut and a soulless friend.

  He strolled toward the bed with a tray and set it on the side table. “Ready for some food?” he asked.

  I shook my head sideways and my gaze flew to the master bathroom. He reached for my hand the same way he had each morning, and knowing exactly what I needed, he led me to the sink. The room had been stripped of anything I could use to harm myself. I didn’t think I would; not with Julian so close to me. If I died on his watch he’d blame himself for the rest of his life. I couldn’t do that to him. And I couldn’t disappoint Allie or Tristan. They had all risked their lives to save me.

  I sat on the toilet just as Julian turned around. After what I’ve been subjected to the past month, this wasn’t embarrassing at all. Once done, I brushed my teeth and turned on the knob, letting the water fill the tub. At first the sound of flowing water was unnerving. It reminded me of the sound of that river outside of my cell, but it would pass as soon as I dipped my toes in its warmth. The feeling was so different than what I’d experienced in the nearly freezing dungeon.

  “You want to take a bath?” he asked.

  I nodded. Up until now, Clara, my nurse who’d been flown in from New Zealand, had helped me with the baths. Julian had always left so I could have some privacy. He stood up from the chair he’d been sitting on and said, “I’ll go get Clara.”

  I rushed to his side and gripped his hand, pulling him back down to the chair and begging him with my eyes not to leave me.

  “All right. I’ll stay, but I have to tell you I’m not an expert at bathing women.” The joke he tried to crack held a hint of nerves and something else I couldn’t quite place. He smiled with that lopsided curve that was so typical of the Cross brothers. Julian’s lips stretched in an identical pattern to Tristan’s. But where a scar lifted Tristan’s top lip, Julian’s genuine mouth curved so perfectly that I found it difficult to concentrate. Its plumpness and pink shade was nearly irresistible. The bubble mix I’d been holding slipped from my clasp, spilling on the floor and my fluffy socks.

  I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I thought, crouching to clean up the mess, fumbling with my hands to collect the purplish goo.

  “It’s all right, Kendra. It’s no big deal.” He lowered down to meet my gaze and took my hands into his. The soothing words worked wonders on the sudden tremors of panic that flew through me. Once, I dropped a bottle of water while imprisoned, spilling it to the floor. The consequences were detrimental to my body: I’d been assigned a punishment to the cruelest of fetishes.

  The memory of being stripped naked with my hands tied to a bar over my head and legs spread far apart was still fresh. The ropes at my ankles burned. My raw wrists bled as my entire weight hung from them. They’d placed a cold vibrating prod against my flesh. I tensed my thighs, trying to move away at first, but the more they touched the metal tip against me, the less I could resist. And after a while, even if I didn’t want to, my body forced my hips forward, pressing into the pulsating equipment, wanting nothing else but to relieve the pressure. Within a few minutes they’d brought me to a near climax, only to remove the glistening dildo.

  Please! I begged in my mind, slowly easing out of a state of frenzy. And they’d touch me again, repeating the process. This continued for a few rounds. I lost track of time and ached for a release because I had no choice. My entire body shivered, muscles strained, craving those few more seconds of a connection they denied me. A pounding pain throbbed from between my legs, cursing through my entire body. I imagined someone’s lips there, just so I could come and get the torture over with. But the sadists knew what th
ey were doing and wouldn’t allow an orgasm until I was nearly passing out from agony. I’d promised myself if I ever got out I’d never let anyone touch me there again. I just couldn’t.

  “Shh, you’re safe, Kendra. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  And as always I found myself in Julian’s safe arms, which brought me back to the present. I didn’t even notice when he leaned me against his body, but it stopped the memory, quite faster than usual.

  “I can clean this up later. Here,” he said as he led me to the bathtub where he poured the remaining mix. The smell of lilac sailed through the bathroom. White bubbles foamed on top of the water as Julian checked the temperature with his hand. “You can go in now. I’ll be right there in that chair,” he pointed.

  But I held onto his hand. I didn’t think I could stand him being that far away. He was my now, keeping me grounded to the present.

  “All right. I’ll stay with you,” he said, as if reading my mind, and then like a gentleman closed his eyes. “Go on in.”

  I removed my robe and cotton pajamas and stepped into the tub. Aware of my gaunt body, I wanted to drown in those bubbles, cover myself as fast as I could so Julian wouldn’t have to see me this way; so different from my perfect curves and round breasts I’d flaunted at every guy I saw, in the past, even at the women. Well, that was no more. I refused to behave that way. I didn’t want that kind of attention. I had to find my way back to my old self. How I used to be before I fell into alcohol and drugs: strong and confidant but not bitchy. The thought was like a fairy tale at the moment.

  I gazed down at my body. My nearly flat chest and bones poking through skin would be enough to deter anyone. Was that why I’d refused to eat? I didn’t want anyone’s physical affection. I couldn’t take their attraction because that meant they’d eventually touch me in ways I didn’t want them to.