Five Alarm Lust

by Elise Whyles

  He shot a hard look at the phone, a niggling doubt plaguing him. Was it possible the accident had been less than an accident? But why? Who other than Barbara would want to harm Gilli? Had her ex gotten out? Turning back, he strode to the kitchen and froze at the faint sound of a cell phone. He dug around his desk, his fingers rifling through papers and bins until he found his. The ringing continued as he tossed the phone down. Jack hurried over to where Gillian’s purse sat. Opening it, he winced as he dug through it. He grabbed her phone just as it stopped ringing.

  A tiny flashing envelope revealed there was a voicemail. With a sick feeling in his gut, he checked the number. He jotted it down, put the phone back, and stood. Should he call Rick? There wasn’t any reason to think the calls and Rick’s investigation were connected … was there? He had no doubt Gillian’s ex was behind the calls, but he had no proof.

  A pained whimper from his bed had him turning. He pasted a smile on his face and hurried down the hall toward Gillian. “Hey, sleepyhead, are you hungry?”

  “No.” Gillian struggled to sit up. “Thank you. I thought I heard the phone.”

  “Wrong number.” Jack smiled. He shifted uneasily at her look before she nodded and eased to her feet.

  “How much longer do I have to mope around? I feel as though I’m doing nothing.”

  “You’re healing.” Jack grabbed her arm when she teetered, and then wrapped an arm around her waist. Pulling her close, his palms caressed her hips. He smiled when she tangled her arms around his neck, her lips lifting slightly. With his head bent, he dropped a quick kiss to her lips. Instantly, the heat flared; desire rushed through his blood. He tamped down on the need and pulled back. “I feel all macho and manly to be taking care of you. Don’t want to ruin my mojo, do you?”

  Gillian flushed, a look of fear darting through her eyes. “You may just come to regret it.”

  Jack tensed, the threatening call fresh in his mind. Forcing a lightness to his voice he didn’t feel, he chuckled. “Naw.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I could never regret having you in my life, baby. Never.”

  * * * *

  The streetlight filtered through the blinds as Jack sat clad only in his briefs, his feet propped up on his desk. He stared at the growing number of calls from one number marked in red. Every day they came, every day he raced to answer them. Thankfully Gilli hadn’t answered a call yet, but there’d been a few misses. He’d noticed the more regular the calls got, the more Gillian tensed. She’d been plagued by nightmares. At first he’d figured they were of the accident, but he wondered if she’d answered one of the harassing calls.

  He raked a hand through his hair, cursing the disembodied voice on the other end of the phone. Every day he noted Gillian’s habits were becoming more and more prominent. His house had never been so clean, the smell of lemon and wood filling every room. His floors shone, scrubbed by hand. He shook his head. He wished she’d relax, let go a bit, but he knew she wouldn’t. Old habits died hard, and for her, scrubbing everything until it shone was a mechanism she’d long developed. The cleaning didn’t bother him so much; her logic for cleaning, however, irritated him, and he cursed her mother for the millionth time.

  With a curse, he tossed the calendar on the desk and rose. She still hadn’t told him why. Every time he went to broach the subject of why she had vanished, he got a timid, fearful look and she shut down. He didn’t doubt she knew something he didn’t, but he’d hoped she’d figure out he wasn’t going to just turn away from her. Bitterness nagged at him as he contemplated her reasons. Why would she run?

  A memory stirred, something nagging, familiar and important, but he just couldn’t place his finger on it. She’d gotten a call before…

  His train of thought was derailed by the faint sound of her cell. Trotting down the hall, he entered the bedroom just as Gillian opened the phone. A moment later, her face went white, the cell slipped from her fingers, and a terror-filled shriek filled the room. Screaming, Gillian struggled with the blankets.

  “Jack! Jack! God, no, please, no, no, no, Jack.” Sobbing, Gillian all but fell from the bed half a second before he grabbed her around the arms. Screaming, fighting, he narrowly dodged her fists and feet as she struggled. “No. Let me go. Jack!”

  “I’m right here, baby, I’m right here.” Jack wrapped her in his arms, his body winding around hers as she sank into him sobbing. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

  Gillian clung to him, her body shaking like a leaf. “No, no, please. It’s not safe.”

  “Shh.” Jack reached for the cell and lifted it to his ear. His blood ran cold at the thin, raspy laughter echoing over the line. Hanging up, he threw it across the room. “Shh, I’ve got you now, baby.”

  “It’s him. I know it is, Jack. He said, he said…” Her voice broke on a fresh round of sobs. Her nails dug into his flesh as she tried burrowing into his chest.

  Listening to her sobs, Jack could take a guess at what was said on her phone. And as soon as he verified who the bastard was, he was going to make him sorry he’d ever been born. “Lie down, baby, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m never going to let him hurt you.”

  “He’s going to finish it. Why? Why didn’t I just keep my distance?” Gillian whimpered into his chest. “Why can’t they leave me alone?”

  “Who? Gilli, who won’t leave you alone? Your mother? Do you think she’s somehow connected to this insanity?”

  “It’s so hard, I don’t understand why. What did I do?”

  “I don’t know, baby.” Jack kissed the top of her head. “But we’re going to find out. First thing tomorrow we’re going to call the RCMP and speak to them.”

  “We have no proof of the threats.” Gillian hiccupped. “No evidence. We both know Michael may get away with it again.”

  “Rest.” Jack rubbed her back in soothing circles as he stared at the ceiling. “We’ll figure it out. No matter what, Gilli, Michael isn’t going to get away with this. I promise you, I’m not going to let him hurt you again. You’re mine now, and I take care of what’s mine.”

  * * * *

  Jack sat next to Gilli on the couch, holding her hand as Rick took up the chair. He offered a gentle squeeze to her fingers as she crossed her ankles for the tenth time. Uncertainty bled into panic as the plain-clothed officer she’d met before began taking notes. “I’m not sure there is any connection at all,” Jack started. “But we’ve been getting some rather unpleasant calls lately.”

  “What’s the nature of the calls?” Rick tapped his pen on the pad carefully.

  “Threats.” Gillian shot Jack a quick glance. “Varying degrees of violence. Intimidation against me, against Jack.” Ignoring the stunned look Jack threw her, Gillian curled into herself. “I’ve had them before, but this time it’s different. I can almost feel the violence. He means it this time. Maybe he’s getting close to an early release. I don’t know, but I have no doubt—”

  “Miss Hilliard, can you tell me who you think is responsible for these calls?”

  “Michael. He, um, he’s locked up at the moment.” Gillian tugged on her hand, separating herself from Jack completely. Hands folded in her lap, she stared at the edge of the coffee table. “Mother goes and sees him. He’s always been her favorite.”

  “Who exactly is Michael?”

  “Michael Kilpatrick. Her ex-boyfriend.” Jack smiled weakly at her. “Gillian’s told me a bit about him, and Barbara was at the firehouse and spoke of him. Said Gilli accused him of some bad things and…”

  Gillian swallowed, the pain grabbing hold before she could blink. “I didn’t accuse him of anything. Do you think you can make the calls stop?”

  “We need concrete proof. As much as this may sound bad, we can’t do anything without concrete evidence. I would suggest doing a pig-tail, get the proof we need, and then nail him to the wall.”

  Gillian tensed when Jack leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs for a moment. She closed her eyes and huddled on the couch when he
rose to walk across the room. She should never have gotten involved, never tried to have more than she had. If it wasn’t Mike, it was Barbara, and neither was willing to let her go.

  “I recorded times and dates.” Jack handed over a piece of paper. “I don’t have the calls recorded, but since he’s at Drumheller Institute you should be able to at least narrow it down. Maybe they record the calls.”

  “He’d have to have a cellular device. If he were making calls from the phones at the prison, he’d have been caught when he first started making them. Standard procedure is to record all outgoing prisoner calls. He’d know this and want to avoid getting caught. We checked, he is still incarcerated, so I’ll have to contact them and get them to do a search of his cell.”

  Flinching with each word, Gillian kept her head bowed, fear and self-loathing washing over her like a tidal wave. Why couldn’t the couch just open up and swallow her whole? Why did Jack have to be so organized, so attuned? Didn’t he understand? Did none of them understand it was dangerous?

  “I’ll look into it.” Rick leaned forward, setting his pad on the coffee table. “We have found out some information in regards to BMC Consulting. I’m afraid it’s not pleasant.”

  Gillian shrugged. “None of this is.”

  “BMC Consulting is owned by Barbara Meridian Clarke. It’s an umbrella company to a bank account, but doesn’t seem to be actually functional, yet has a steady revenue stream. We’ve gotten a production order for the bank records, and hopefully we can get some more details.”

  Gillian swallowed hard, bile burning the back of her throat. She rose and darted for the bathroom, her stomach revolting at yet another betrayal. She clung to the cold porcelain as she retched into the bowl, her breath coming in harsh, gut-wrenching pants.

  “Gilli? Baby? You okay?” Jack pushed past the partially open door and kneeled next to her. He grabbed a towel and ran it under the cold water before pressing it to her face. “Baby?”

  “I hate her.” Gillian exhaled shakily. “I really, really do.”

  “You mean Barbara?” Jack glanced behind him, a slight frown on his face before he turned back to her.

  A harsh, cynical laugh exploded from her chest. “My mother.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Meridian was her third husband’s name, Clarke was her maiden name. I’d be willing to bet she’s got a couple of other companies set up and is funneling the money through them.”

  “You’d be correct.” Rick’s voice drifted in from the hallway. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

  Struggling to her feet, her hand wrapped in Jack’s, she dragged her feet to the living room. Settled again on the couch, she listened to the officer continue speaking of what avenue they’d take in their investigation, her mind wandering. What else had her mother done? If she was willing to steal, willing to screw her boyfriend, what else could Barbara do that would be within the realm of possibility? Gillian shuddered to think of the answer.

  Thankfully, Rick left a few minutes later. Gillian sat alone in the silence of the living room. Finally, she rose and padded into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. She’d need to get a hold of Doctor Reimer to set up a new appointment. What a joke. She didn’t need a therapist, she just needed a new life.

  Hearing Jack, she glanced up. Her heart splintered at the rumpled, sexy look he wore as he gathered their cups from the living room. Threadbare jeans clung to his thighs and a worn old sweatshirt embraced his chest. Beneath the fabric she could see the play of muscles and it made her mouth water.

  What would it hurt to sample what he was capable of giving her? Did it make her a bad person to want to have him make love to her? The urge to touch burned her palms. She clenched her fists as she turned away from him. She couldn’t stay here. Sooner or later he had to go back to work—he’d applied for a position with the second fire station—and she wasn’t going to sit around and mope. No, she had to find something else. Somewhere as far away as possible so Mike couldn’t touch him.

  Why couldn’t I have stayed out of love? Why him? Gillian shivered as the answer whispered through her. Jack was the man of her dreams—sweet, caring, gentle, everything she’d never believed herself capable of having. And the longer she stayed with him, the more danger he was in.

  “You look pensive.” Jack wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Forcing a smile, Gillian eased out of his embrace and moved to get the milk from the fridge. “Just wondering when my life went to shit.”

  “True, this is bad, but nothing we can’t handle, nothing we can’t fix. Right?” Like silken threads, pain wove through his voice.

  “I don’t know.” Gillian blinked away tears. “My mother’s stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars from me. Money I didn’t even know existed until the other day. My ex has suddenly decided he needs to pop back up and threaten everything I hold dear. What’s next? A plot to kill me?”

  Jack eyed her. “I don’t know, Gilli, but I do know this isn’t you. This isn’t the woman I know. You’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

  “How would you know?” Gillian snapped, anger racing along her nerves. “You don’t even know me! You wouldn’t even fuck me for how long? How can you possibly say you know me?”

  “Like hell I don’t!” Jack slapped the counter top, fury flashing in his eyes. “You think this is some big joke? A way to pass the time until something better comes along?”

  “Something better?” Gillian spun on her heel and stormed down the hall to the bedroom, pain and fury lashing each step like a whip. “Yeah, when is that going to happen, Jack? When do you think something better is going to come along? My mother’s throwing herself at you, my ex is out for blood, and where am I? Tell me! I’d like to know. I’d like to know where the hell I fit in. I should know by now loving anyone is foolish. If my mother doesn’t steal it out from under me, then the novelty wears off and I’m left alone again!” Slamming the bedroom door, she sank onto the bed, tears streaming down her face.

  “Who the hell said anything about you being alone?” Jack shouted through the door. It flew open, banging into the wall. Gillian’s gaze darted up to meet Jack’s furious stare. “Hmm? You tell me where the hell you get off saying something like that?”

  Gillian curled into a ball on the bed, tears streaming down her face. Fear surfaced, anger, but it wasn’t directed at Jack. With a bolt, she realized she respected his temper, but she didn’t fear him. Didn’t fear the fury within him—she was scared for him. “What? It’s the truth.”

  “It’s not the truth. It was never—”

  “Really?” The need to shred, to rip everything wide open clawed at her control. Why should she be calm and steady when her life was falling apart? How long until Jack realized he’d gotten the short end of the stick and left her? The bed creaked as she rose, her body vibrating with emotion. “You make me want things I know I can’t have, Jack. It’s not fair, it’s not right. How can you expect me to walk away, huh? I’m not like your usual women. I’m just plain, simple, ugly little old Gillian Rebecca. Flat as a board with more brains then boobs. Sexless, shapeless. Cold. Dirty.” Sobs of pain shredded her heart as she tore at her clothes, her skin. “I hate me. I hate everything there is about me. What man in his right mind is going to want a woman who doesn’t even know how to give a blowjob? Or understand why he wants her to do things? Hmm? I’m not like other women. I don’t enjoy—”

  “Gillian, stop it!” Jack grabbed her as she raked a hand over the dresser, sending his phone and alarm clock crashing to the floor. “Stop, just stop, baby. You’re not sexless, or cold, or dirty. You’re the woman I’m in love with.”

  “Don’t, don’t be nice. Don’t act like you care. Please, please don’t make it harder than it already is.” Gillian struggled in his grasp. The urge to run pulled at her, dragging her toward the end of her emotional rope. The warmth, the strength of his embrace, chased away the chills but couldn’t breach the very real ter
ror and hatred broiling within her heart. “Don’t think I believe it. I don’t. I don’t. I can’t.” She curled into herself and sobbed, her heart shredded, exposed.

  Chapter 25

  Gillian nursed a cup of coffee and sat on the deck, her eyes watching Jack and a couple of men working in the yard. She knew he’d picked up on the distance in her in the last four days. The pain in his eyes when he looked at her kicked at the already broken pieces of her heart. Wasn’t it better to hurt him now than later when it could kill him? How could he not see, not understand why? She’d stopped sleeping in his room. Instead she slept on the couch rather than share his warmth.

  Even the little things like having a shower were done alone, with a locked door between them. Every time she turned around his whispered words rang in her ears, reminding her just how badly she’d screwed up. Ignoring Doctor Reimer’s attempts to speak to her, she’d withdrawn into herself, her mind made up. If she wasn’t close, he wouldn’t get hurt. It didn’t matter if he thought he was in love with her, she knew the truth, knew he couldn’t be. Loving him was something she couldn’t bring herself to regret, bring herself to feel shame over, but she held no illusions. No one would love her, not if they knew the whole truth.

  Hearing the faint ringing of the phone, she sighed and headed inside to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Thank goodness, I feared I’d get your watchdog.” Her mother’s voice sent prickles of ice down her spine.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m in a bit of a pickle and I need—”

  “Yes, Constable Feller told me about it. What makes you think I care?”

  “Please, Gillian, honey. I have nothing. Lenny’s petitioned for divorce.”

  “Not my problem.” Gillian slammed the phone down and glanced out the window to where the men were standing, shovels in hand. Licking her lips, she turned and headed for the bedroom. Her things still occupied half the closet, and with Jack distracted it would be a good time to leave.